Time by Sarah McLachlan

Time here
All but means nothing
Just shadows that move
'Cross the wall


They keep me company
But they don't ask of me
They don't say nothing at all


And I need just a little more silence
And I need just a little more time


You send your thieves to me
Silently stalking me
Dragging me into your war


Would you give me no choice in this
I know you can't resist
Trying to re-open a sore


So leave me be
I don't want to argue
I just get confused
And I come all undone
And if I agree
Well it's just to appease you

Cause I don't remember
What we're fighting for


You see love
A tight, thorny thread
That's you spin in a circle of gold
To have me, to hold me
A token for all to see
Captured to be yours alone


I need just a little more silence
Yeah I need just a little more time
For courage to pull away
There will be hell to pay
Deeper you cut to the bone

So leave me be
I don't want to argue
I just get confused
And I come all undone
And if I agree
Well it's just to appease you

Cause I don't remember
What we're fighting for


Time here
All but means nothing
Just shadows that move
'Cross the wall
They keep me company
But they don't ask of me
They don't say nothing at all

So leave me be
I don't want to argue
I just get confused
And I come all undone
And if I agree
Well it's just to appease you

Cause I don't remember
What we're fighting for…

Title: The Dawning

Pairing: AU James/Marie (Wolverine/Rogue)

Author: 1LiLRoGuE

Summary: AU (Alternative Universe). Mutants are hated and feared more than ever by all of humanity. They are seen to be blasphemies, sins, utterly abhorred and abominated. Many are tortured both physically and mentally; and there is no law against open experimentation. Charles Xavier is merely a rich, crippled man—with a dream. To gather together this burgeoning new race, and teach them to control the powers that can often lead them to insanity. James/Marie (Wolverine/Rogue)

Author's note: Yo, yo! Here I am again, totin' along a brand new shiny fan fic. Yeah, I promise to update the other stuff eventually, but I GOTTA write this out first ^^ This fic was brought on by intense watching of both Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel. Basically, I've combined every guy I've ever liked (Wolverine, Spike, Angel, Eli—lol--) and made them into James Howlett, a troubled teenager who is spouting mutant powers left, right and center.

Enjoy! -Katie

Disclaimer: *Blinks dully at screen* Any person who is stupid enough to believe an idiot like me owns Marvel, doesn't deserve to read my work. J/K. I do not own any of the characters in this story, except for any OC (Original Characters) that might show up. ^^

Dedication: To Eli, my love. He's so silly, and about as evil as a marshmallow, although he vehemently denies it. He's also my fiancé! Woohoo! He popped the question this March J

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His face expressionless, the boy tossed the cd case across the room. With blank eyes, he watched it crack, a long line seeping down the hard plastic shell. In a way, he thought, it was him. Cracking up.

It was hard, constantly hiding it. Getting harder and harder by every passing day. His hearing had advanced, was still advancing, so greatly that he could hear the noon train ripping through on the other side of town. He could hear the local gang raping a teen girl at knife-to-throat point---and laughing. The sound of his girlfriend secretly taking a little on the side, with his best friend.

James' face hardened, his hearing focusing on the one voice.

"I can't take it anymore. He's just so moody all the time, and so fucking quiet. It, like, creeps me out."

He listened as his friend agreed with a grunt.

They just don't get it, he thought, his heart frosting over. He didn't talk because his voice bothered him, gave him a splitting headache. It sounded like a deafening explosion in his ears. He'd taken to wearing headphones 24/7, although he never played music anymore. He'd thrown all his CDs out. It was a laugh, thinking of ever playing them again.

It was the same with his wardrobe. Colors were starting to get too bright for his eyes, making them ache and burn; so now he only wore black. Of course, everyone assumed he'd sworn himself to goth. He'd made no protest, accepting their judgement, as it was an acceptable explanation.

Fiddling with his sunglasses, he frowned. He had to take them off in the house, or everyone raised their eyebrows. He was trying to keep it as low-key as possible. The idea of them suspecting something about his rapidly advancing senses terrified him beyond reason. He knew what they did to people like him.

He didn't know how much longer he could hide it, though. Tastes, smells---they were starting to overwhelm him, and there was nothing he could do about it. It was terrible, forcing food against his gag reflex. But he had to eat, there was no alternative. And there was nothing he could do about the smells. He almost passed out yesterday in PE class, during the locker room. He'd been able to pass it off as overexertion, but not for long.

Feeling his head starting to throb again, James reached edgily for his backpack. His headaches were rapidly overtaking pharmaceutical drugs; he was now immune to Tylenol, Advil, and Aspirin. Lately he'd been trying out a few different things, and had found that only taking a combination of four different pain relievers did anything anymore.

"God," he said, and instantly regretted it. A tear leaked out of his eye as his eardrums felt like they had been shredded.

Zipping up his bag, James tossed the pills into his mouth and swallowed without water. He couldn't stomach even the clear liquid anymore; and the pills alone burned his throat all the way down. Waves of nausea sent him doubled over to the bathroom, clutching his stomach.

A knock soon came at the door. "You okay in there?" his mom asked, alarmed by the sound of dry heaving.

James winced, feeling as if a cannon had gone off in his ear. Shit, he thought, exasperated. He had no idea how he could stand hearing his own voice crack his skull.

"'M---okay," he gasped, his bloodshot eyes tearing up. Damn.

"You sure?"

Fucking…helll…his brain slurred.

"Jus…stomach bug…." He managed. Sweat trickled down his forehead. "…lll be O..K."

Hearing his mother leave the area---and the footsteps down the stairs that were louder than explosions—he crawled up to the sink and with shaking hands turned on the cold tap so a trickle of water came out. Even the seemingly gentle sound of the water tinkling into the sink made his head throb. To him, it was like a deafening waterfall rushing down and crashing on a metal sheet.

What's…wrong with me? He asked himself dully, running a wet hand over his forehead and brushing away his sweat dampened, black hair. There's nothing left. I can't keep on like this. It's too…much. Too fucking much. Fucking hell. Dully, he contemplated killing himself. Death had always seemed daunting before.

Before this, before his life became a single line of decay, he had been a normal boy. Good at school, athletic, enjoyed music, games, and girls. Didn't really do bad stuff, sheered off drugs, kept smoking down to a toll. He'd even been somewhat popular. He'd always been on good terms with his single, hard-working mom. He'd been looking forwards to graduation, which had been just a little over a year away.

Then it'd started. It began with just touch. He'd felt like he had a fever, and blew it off, thinking it was a cold. He'd even enjoyed it a little, at first. Felt like being on drugs, gave him a rush to feel things with his skin. It worked like an aphrodisiac, too. But as it intensified, it began to bother him. His bones ached from the sensation of walking. His feet burned in his socks. The sensation of brushing his hair stung so much that he broke his usual habit of gelling it and went to school with bed-hair, wildly sticking up in points.

Needless to say, shaving became a bitch. He'd quit when it felt like peeling his face off his bones, and now had an admirable growth of stubble. People began getting a little leery of him when---to cope with his suddenly hypersensitive eyes---he'd taken to wearing faded black clothing. His normally amiable 'aura' became snappy and unfriendly, even borderlining on psychotic at times. Even the smallest things began to irritate him, and he'd occasionally make unreasonable demands, like snarling at his classmate who sat next to him to 'go blow her fucking nose or (he'd) gut her with her fucking pencil' during the time she had a cold.

Rumors contemplated he was into drugs, deep. Everyone became afraid of him, assumed he had a gun. All of his friends abandoned him, save a precious few, and thanks to his horribly acute hearing, he now knew even they were deceiving him. Can't take it, he thought, blinking stupidly as he scanned the bathroom for something sharp.

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