Disclaimer: Recognizable characters and/or plots sadly do not belong to me, but rather to those gods among men, Stan Lee and Joss Whedon. I am but a lowly peon, bound in humble servitude to their brilliance.

A/N: Hello all! No, your eyes are not deceiving you – ishandahalf is alive and insane as ever, ready to start churning out the fics once more. I'm sorry it's been so long since I've posted anything new; part of the reason behind that is that real life was being somewhat hectic, and another part is that my muses simply would not cooperate. I seem to have wrangled them into some sort of temporary submission, so here's hoping they'll be better behaved from now on.

Now, before we begin, some important notes:

The idea for this fic actually struck me about a year ago, when I decided to watch all of my Buffy the Vampire Slayer DVDs. What can I say – it was summer, I was bored. However, when I saw one particular episode, I just couldn't stop thinking about the possibilities of translating it over to X-Men: Evolution. And thus, here we are! So yes, what I'm trying to say is that the basic plot is not actually mine, but rather lovingly adopted from episode 117 of BtVS – Normal Again. If you haven't seen it, or don't remember it, might I recommend not worrying about it? I wouldn't want to spoil you for what might happen here. ;)

X-Men-wise, this fic occurs somewhere after Self-Possessed, and is a quasi-alternate version of the Dark Horizon episodes.

Right, I think those are all the boring technical details out of the way… I guess all that's left to say is enjoy!

SOLIPSISM

Chapter 1 – Commitment

She opens her eyes and sees nothing but gray all around her.

The walls are gray, the floor is too, and even the ceiling with the thirteen cracks that she counts over and over again every night from her rock-hard bed, since there is nothing better to do.

Sleep never comes easily; at least, not when she wants it. Yet even when slumber does manage to overtake her it is no pleasant escape, for she always dreams in colourscolours that feel foreign to her, colours that mock her, because she hasn't seen real ones in so very long. Even black and white would do; any sort of extreme would be welcome in her dreary world…

But instead everything is dull and lifeless – and she feels the same way. She just sits and stares and gets lost in her mind. Even when there are finally signs of life around her she scarcely reacts, barely blinking when the door opens with a slam –

Rogue awoke with a start, flailing around in the tangled blankets for a few frantic seconds before catching her breath and recognizing the room around her. She was in her own soft bed with its warm covers, and the beginnings of the sunrise streaming through the window illuminated all the colors all around her. It was her bedroom, exactly where she was supposed to be; so why the feeling that she had been somewhere completely different, somewhere wrong?

It had only been a dream, she realized, shaking her head firmly. Only a dream... In fact, now that she tried to think back on it, there was only a blur.

But why didn't her sense of unease fade away along with it?

It didn't matter, Rogue told herself obstinately. She was more than used to weird dreams (nightmares, a snide inner voice corrected), and wasn't about to let another one throw her off; that had been happening enough over the past few days anyhow. Determined to ignore it, the girl hauled herself out of bed and decided she might as well get ready for the morning training session. At least she had been woken early enough so she wouldn't have to fight the other students for the bathroom.

She went through her morning routine without a second thought, washing her face and brushing her teeth robotically. Then picking up her comb, she began running it through her hair, finding herself relaxed by the repetitive motion. Dozens of strokes later had her lulled into a daze, so much so that when she looked up at her reflection in the mirror it took a few moments to truly grasp what she was seeing.

She gasped – staring blankly back at her was a much more disheveled girl, with gaunt cheeks and limp locks, and horribly empty eyes.

The clatter of the dropped comb on the tiled floor made Rogue jump, and with a blink there was only her normal reflection appearing in the glass. She frowned and carefully took herself in; then rubbing her eyes, she critically examined herself once more. There was nothing out of the ordinary about her image this time, so she slowly backed away and out of the bathroom. She clearly needed more sleep…

The Southerner swiftly dressed and made her way down the hall, reaching the elevator and pushing the button a few times with a gloved finger. She peered around idly while she waited for the doors to open, and her gaze was drawn to a window opening out onto the backyard of the Institute. Despite the sun barely being up over the horizon, it was already shaping up to be a nice day –

– but no matter what the weather was like outside, those sterile steel bars welded over each pane made every single room seem cold.

Startled by that intrusive idea, Rogue didn't notice Kitty racing towards her from the direction of their room.

"Geez, you couldn't wait a minute for me?" she cried as she skidded to a halt, and then took in the other girl staring intently at the window. "...Uh, Rogue? Are you okay?"

She jerked back to attention at the question. At first her mind tried to focus on the strange moment that had just passed, not wanting to let it flit away, but then Kitty's words finally began to sink in. That was all anybody asked her lately, ever since the incident with her powers. Not a day went by without her hearing, "How are you feeling?", "Doing okay, Rogue?", or something of that ilk. The mansion's floors may as well have been covered with eggshells, the way everybody was tiptoeing around her.

"Ah'm fine," she snapped, before returning her gaze to the window.

Once again, there was nothing out of the ordinary there at all. No matter how much the Institute felt like a prison to her sometimes, the Professor certainly hadn't installed steel bars; it was only her mind playing tricks on her… Her mind and nobody else's, she tried to reassure herself, before abruptly turning and entering the open elevator.

"Okay, whatever you say," Kitty chirped back, but the older mutant couldn't help but notice her perky voice didn't correspond to the worry in her blue eyes; and she certainly noticed the distance the other girl kept from her inside the tiny lift, practically phasing herself into the opposite corner.

Unbelievable. It had been weeks since her powers had gone haywire and everybody was still acting nervous around her, like she would erupt at any second and they had to be ready to jump clear of the blast. She hated all the looks she received, whether they were the weak attempts at understanding and sympathy from the adults, pity from Kitty and Kurt, or outright fear from everyone else.

And now Rogue had to wonder if maybe they were right to be so jumpy – what if the dreams she kept having, these things she was now seeing, were somebody else's memories? What if the psyches were acting up again?

No, she told herself firmly, insistently enough so that she had no choice but to believe it. This was not like before. There was something different about it – although she couldn't precisely put her finger on what. So what if she was having odd little flashes? It wasn't anything she couldn't handle. She would be fine.

Rogue wouldn't let herself be anything but.

When the elevator reached the sublevels, she stormed out and left Shadowcat to trail behind her. A Danger Room session would be a welcome distraction right now; she could certainly do with something to relieve the tension that had built up inside of her.

- X -

"Okay X-Men, listen up! We'll start today off with an easy warm up," Cyclops called out, eyeing the team as they lined up before him. "The objective is to get from this end of the room to the finish line while dodging obstacles and energy blasts. We'll take the run one at a time – any volunteers to go first?"

The Mississippian leaned against the wall as she watched Nightcrawler, Jean and Shadowcat each run the gauntlet, evading the plasma bursts and laser beams that the room threw at them. When Scott then asked if she was okay to go, she grit her teeth in annoyance. Did she really need to be treated with kid gloves?

"Ah'm fine," she bit out, stomping up to the starting line. Then the buzzer went off, the timer began, and she let herself get swept up in the action and adrenaline.

Dodge, jump, twist, roll, dodge, twist, duck, leap… It was as graceful and flowing a well-choreographed dance and Rogue enjoyed every step of it, falling into a rhythm almost unconsciously. She hardly had to think, merely letting her body's own instincts and motions guide her – until she suddenly felt dizzy. Her vision blurred for a split-second, and Rogue faltered mid-step. Before she even had time to register it, an energy blast hit her in the right arm and –

– she screams, thrashing about wildly and trying to free herself from their grasps.

"Don't fight us!" one of the men yells as he attempts to finish pushing the injection into her right bicep. "You're only going to hurt yourself!"

The syringe has stabbed through her flesh, pumping chemicals into her bloodstream, and she screams in both pain and frustration.

"She's going to break the needle!" the other one exclaims, exasperated with the task of trying to subdue the still struggling girl.

The first man withdraws the hypodermic and drops it into the pocket of his uniform before readjusting his grip on her. She flails around as much as she can, hoping to escape their clutches, but they are too strong and she is too weak. "We're going to have to strap her down!"

She follows their gaze to the bed, taking in the leather restraints before shrieking, "No!"

A new surge of desperation courses through her. Lashing out with all her might, her legs make contact and kick them hard, and they marginally loosen their tight holds on her. It is enough, and she wrenches herself away and flings herself into the corner.

"No, no, no…" she whimpers, vainly trying to burrow further into the padded walls – but there is nowhere else for her to go, nowhere else for her to hide.

"Hey, it's okay, we're not going to hurt you," one of them tries to convince her as they both tentatively approach. "We only want you to calm down."

"No…" she weeps, shaking her head as she feels her body start to weaken, and she slowly slides down to the dingy tiled floor. She goes limp, and forceful hands lifting her up by her straight jacket-clad arms are the last sensations she registers before everything fades to black.

- To Be Continued… -

Well, despite her best efforts at denial, something definitely seems to be wrong with Rogue! Cue the dramatic music.

Next chapter – rather than receiving a respite, Rogue ends up getting an interesting visitor instead…

So, I hope you all remember the drill – please click that little button down there and leave me a few words! Because this is the first major work I've posted since my little 'sabbatical', I'm eager to see how it's being received. Well, that and I've missed having my inbox inundated with reviews! ;)

Toodles,

– ish –