'Whare am ah?'
'Rogue?' a voice came from above her. Rogue's eyes fluttered open. There was a girl looking down on her, her blonde hair trailing down her back, her blue eyes sad and pitying. Rogue sat up and looked around her. It was endless white, to the extent that you couldn't tell when the walls met the ceiling and floor.
'Mah achin' head…' Rogue stroked back her hair and felt something wet on her hands. Not water wet. Thick, like soup. She looked at her hand and saw red blood trickle threw her fingers. She frowned, and then looked up at the other girl.
'Are you a' angel?' The girl smiled.
'Kind of.'
'Am…am ah dead?' The girl's smile vanished, her eyes growing dim. 'Ah am aren't ah.' The angelic girl frowned.
'Well, Rogue. That is up to you.' Rogue stood up. The pain in her back had left and she felt fine. But she didn't. Did that make sense, she wondered. Something inside her still ached…something deep inside her.
She dusted herself off, her black tank and black pants looking a bit out of place. Even the angel was dressed in white, a silk gown that trailed behind her.
'What d'ya mean it's up ta me?' The angel smiled a saddening smile.
'Do you want to die Rogue?' Rogue thought about this a moment. Sometimes she wondered if the X-Men would win more battles if she didn't come with them. Maybe Kurt would grow up more effectively if he didn't have Rogue as a sister. Maybe the world would be a better place without her to screw it up. Six months earlier she would have welcomed death with open arms and yet now…something had changed…
'Ah did…but now…now ah'm so confused!' She clasped her hands to her head as if she were shielding them from something. The angel seemed to have a warm glow radiate from her as Rogue said these words.
'Then there is always hope to guild you.'
'Hope…Prof. X told us something about hope. Like it was a little light that kept us going even when things got bad.' The angel nodded, and pulled a mirror from behind her back. She grasped it to her chest.
'This is the mirror of Barachdur…an ancient world where mutants lived, but was lost forever in the depths of time. It was used to give the people hope and show them why they were needed.' She placed the mirror face down in Rogue's hands.
'What do I do?'
'You will know. And may you find your way home, child of the Light.' The angel waved silently, as she and the white room faded into darkness. Rogue was left alone, the only thing she had was the mirror. She lifted it up so she could see her face. But she wasn't there at all. It was someone else entirely…
Wait…it is me, she thought. Rogue was lying on the ground, her face expressionless and dead. But she was in someone's arms, a man who was lurched over her. At first Rogue thought he too was dead, but he was not. His face was as dead as hers, but inside his skin he was very much alive. But in pain. He took off one of Rogue's gloves and put it to his cheek. The worst Rogue had feared was true. She was dead; her powers were gone, and there lay an empty shell of a girl. But she wasn't dead, she was right here. This man loved her and she loved him, she needed him to survive.
'Without him, I am dead…' she whispered quietly to herself. She closed her eyes and repeated to herself, 'I want to be with Remy…Ah love him…don't let me die…'
But all she could do is wait for a sign.
'Rogue?' a voice came from above her. Rogue's eyes fluttered open. There was a girl looking down on her, her blonde hair trailing down her back, her blue eyes sad and pitying. Rogue sat up and looked around her. It was endless white, to the extent that you couldn't tell when the walls met the ceiling and floor.
'Mah achin' head…' Rogue stroked back her hair and felt something wet on her hands. Not water wet. Thick, like soup. She looked at her hand and saw red blood trickle threw her fingers. She frowned, and then looked up at the other girl.
'Are you a' angel?' The girl smiled.
'Kind of.'
'Am…am ah dead?' The girl's smile vanished, her eyes growing dim. 'Ah am aren't ah.' The angelic girl frowned.
'Well, Rogue. That is up to you.' Rogue stood up. The pain in her back had left and she felt fine. But she didn't. Did that make sense, she wondered. Something inside her still ached…something deep inside her.
She dusted herself off, her black tank and black pants looking a bit out of place. Even the angel was dressed in white, a silk gown that trailed behind her.
'What d'ya mean it's up ta me?' The angel smiled a saddening smile.
'Do you want to die Rogue?' Rogue thought about this a moment. Sometimes she wondered if the X-Men would win more battles if she didn't come with them. Maybe Kurt would grow up more effectively if he didn't have Rogue as a sister. Maybe the world would be a better place without her to screw it up. Six months earlier she would have welcomed death with open arms and yet now…something had changed…
'Ah did…but now…now ah'm so confused!' She clasped her hands to her head as if she were shielding them from something. The angel seemed to have a warm glow radiate from her as Rogue said these words.
'Then there is always hope to guild you.'
'Hope…Prof. X told us something about hope. Like it was a little light that kept us going even when things got bad.' The angel nodded, and pulled a mirror from behind her back. She grasped it to her chest.
'This is the mirror of Barachdur…an ancient world where mutants lived, but was lost forever in the depths of time. It was used to give the people hope and show them why they were needed.' She placed the mirror face down in Rogue's hands.
'What do I do?'
'You will know. And may you find your way home, child of the Light.' The angel waved silently, as she and the white room faded into darkness. Rogue was left alone, the only thing she had was the mirror. She lifted it up so she could see her face. But she wasn't there at all. It was someone else entirely…
Wait…it is me, she thought. Rogue was lying on the ground, her face expressionless and dead. But she was in someone's arms, a man who was lurched over her. At first Rogue thought he too was dead, but he was not. His face was as dead as hers, but inside his skin he was very much alive. But in pain. He took off one of Rogue's gloves and put it to his cheek. The worst Rogue had feared was true. She was dead; her powers were gone, and there lay an empty shell of a girl. But she wasn't dead, she was right here. This man loved her and she loved him, she needed him to survive.
'Without him, I am dead…' she whispered quietly to herself. She closed her eyes and repeated to herself, 'I want to be with Remy…Ah love him…don't let me die…'
But all she could do is wait for a sign.