A meeting with Lady Death

AN: I managed to finish my work gg. So, here you go.

It was a slow beeping that somehow brought me back to reality. My eyelids felt like lead, but I opened them slightly to squint through the dim light of the infirmary. The smell and the sounds of humming medical equipment confirmed my location.

"Ah, you're awake," came a familiar voice.

I winced at the dull ache in my skull and shifted my head a little, and Professor Xavier was sitting beside the bed with his hands folded neatly in his lap. Though his face was serene, there was a tinge of concern upon it.

"How long was I out?" I rasped, my throat dry.

"Nearly six hours," he replied, his voice gentle. "You pushed yourself too far, Aron. I warned you about overreach."

I sat up slowly, ignoring the pounding in my head. Dang! It felt as if hundreds of people were honking in my ears. Memories of what I had seen in Fury's mind came rushing back. The alien signal, Trask, the Sentinels—everything. My fists clenched involuntarily, anger bubbling beneath the surface.

"Trask is building Sentinels, Professor," I said, my voice sharper than I intended. "And Fury knows about it. He's letting it slide because of some Council politics. They're playing games with our lives."

Xavier's expression darkened slightly, but he maintained his composure as usual. "I suspected as much," he said in a low voice. "Trask's hatred for mutants is well-documented. But this... it's worse than I feared. Still, Aron, your methods—"

"My methods?" I snapped, cutting him off. "I got us the truth, didn't I? If I hadn't pushed myself, we'd still be in the dark. How is that wrong? You are always too soft, professor. It's going to kill someone one day."

Xavier sighed, his tone firm but compassionate. "The Phoenix Force makes you feel all-powerful, at a cost. Your carelessness could have extreme repercussions—not just for you but for all around you. Do you see? Even with your healing ability, you can not heal your mental condition."

I wanted to argue and prove that I had done things right, but the headache and weariness prevented me from saying so. So, I leaned on my pillows in frustration and said nothing.

"Aron," Xavier continued, his voice softer now, "I know you mean well. But power without control is a dangerous thing. You must learn to balance your abilities with restraint. Only then can you truly master them."

I looked away, staring at the sterile ceiling. He was right, of course. But it didn't make the anger or the helplessness any easier to swallow. Trask was out there, building weapons to exterminate mutants, and I had to sit here, nursing a headache.

"Fine," I muttered. "What's next, then? Meditation? Another lecture?"

Xavier chuckled softly. "Rest, for now. Your mind needs time to recover. Pushing yourself further in this state would be unwise. And don't worry, Aron. We will address Trask and the Sentinels—but we will do so together, and with care."

The door to the infirmary swung open and in walked Hank with a tablet. His fur was an attentive shade of blue under bright lights as he questioned me with a look.

"Ah, you are awake," he said, in a voice that was both relief and exasperation. "You gave us quite a scare, Aron. What were you thinking, attempting a global telepathic sweep powered by the Phoenix Force? Do you have a death wish?"

"Noted, Hank," I grumbled, rubbing my temples. "I've been scolded enough already."

Hank sighed, handing the tablet to Xavier. "We're monitoring your vitals closely. Your brain activity was off the charts when we found you. Whatever you did, it strained your system significantly. I'd recommend no more mental gymnastics for at least a week."

"A week?" I protested, sitting up straighter. "We don't have that kind of time! Trask—"

"—will still be there in a week," Hank interrupted, his tone stern. "You're no good to anyone if you burn yourself out, Aron. Even with the healing factor, it can only heal your injuries, not your mental condition."

Xavier placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Listen to him, Aron. Rest. Regain your strength. There will be time to act—but not at the cost of your well-being."

I sighed, sinking back into the bed. As much as I hated to admit it, they were right. Pushing myself further now would only make things worse. But as I closed my eyes, letting the exhaustion take over, one thought lingered in my mind.

I'd seen too much to stand idle. Trask, Fury, the alien signal—this was just the beginning. I could just feel it... And I could feel something more...

Ah, crap! Jean stormed into the room, followed by Kitty. Both of them glared at Hank and the Professor.

"Alright," Hank raised his hands defensively. "Go easy on him. He still needs rest."

The two men retreated from the room, leaving me alone with an irate Jean and an equally worried Kitty.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Jean hissed, her eyes blazing with fury. "Pushing yourself like that? Did you want to fry your brain or what? And I am gonna give that Professor a piece of my mind. What kind of lessons is he giving you? I swear, if you pull a stunt like this again..."

Kitty placed a hand on Jean's arm, trying to calm her down. "Jean, I think that's enough. He's clearly learned his lesson. Look at him. He looks exhausted."

"Yeah, listen to her, I am exhausted," I grumbled.

Jean's eyes softened slightly, and she sighed. "Fine. But don't think you're off the hook yet. She turned to Kitty. "You keep an eye on him and don't let him do any funny business with his power." She was about to leave.

"Where are you going?" Kitty asked.

"As I said, I need to give that Professor a piece of my mind!"

I couldn't help but smile. "Jean, you're cute when you're angry."

She spun around, her eyes narrowed. "Sweet talk won't get you anywhere, mister."

She left the room, leaving Kitty and me alone.

"Well, that was eventful," I said, leaning back against the pillows. Arg, my neck hurts, and this freaking headache. I thought I had it under control. Well, gotta train more. That's the only way to avoid another situation like this. As for Trask, I am gonna kill that motherfucker in his sleep.

Kitty shook her head, a wry smile on her lips. "You really know how to push people's buttons, don't you? She cares about you, Aron. We all do. If something happened to you..."

"I know... I just got a little excited, that's all," I replied, closing my eyes. "But I'll be fine. Promise."

Kitty nodded, squeezing my hand. "I'll hold you to that. Now, get some rest. You need it."

I chuckled softly. "Wanna cuddle?"

Kitty laughed, rolling her eyes. "Sure, why not. Move over."

I shifted to one side of the bed, making room for her. She climbed in beside me, snuggling up against me. Her warmth was comforting, and I felt myself drifting off into sleep. The last thing I remembered was her soft voice whispering in my ear.

"Sleep tight."

...

The infirmary was quiet, save for the soft hum of machines monitoring my vitals. I shifted restlessly, my mind drifting despite the ache that throbbed behind my eyes. Sleep had been elusive since my telepathic overreach, but exhaustion finally won out, pulling me into a heavy, dreamless void.

Or so I thought.

When I opened my eyes, I wasn't in the infirmary anymore. The air was thick and cold, a shroud of mist curling around my feet. I stood on a barren, ashen plain, the ground cracked and lifeless beneath me. The sky above was a swirling vortex of black and gray, streaked with crimson lightning. A strange sense of foreboding settled in my chest, but curiosity compelled me to take a step forward.

"Lost, are we?"

The voice was soft and lilting, yet it carried an otherworldly weight that sent a chill down my spine. I turned sharply, my senses on high alert.

She emerged from the mist like a shadow given form. Her movements were fluid, almost hypnotic, as if the air itself bent to her will. Her beauty was otherworldly—pale skin that seemed to glow faintly, hair that cascaded in dark waves, and eyes that shimmered like galaxies trapped within them. She wore a black gown that clung to her figure, intricate patterns of bone and gold etched into the fabric.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice steady despite the unease gnawing at me.

Her lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. "You don't know? Oh, darling, I'm hurt." She stepped closer, her bare feet gliding soundlessly across the ground. "I am Death."

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