Summary: It's after Apocalypse and everything is peachy for everyone on the X-Men team. Everyone that is, except the one known as Rogue. Slowly, the psyches in her mind are taking over her life and her mind, making her sink into a deep, dark depression. Will the Rogue topple over the edge, or can a certain Remy LeBeau keep her sane? It's all about ROMY, baby! I will have hints of other couples, but FYI, it's definitely a ROMY. Rated for occasional profanity, cutting, depression, suicidal-ness, and lots of dark thoughts.
Disclaimer: If anything sounds remotely familiar, I do not own it. I do not own X-Men: Evolution nor any of its affiliates. If I did, do you think I'd still be living in a crap-pile-of-a-town? I would be off in some happy place, like the Bahamas, Malibu, New York… 'nuff said…
On With The Show!
Tormented Sanity
Chapter 2: StolenLight.
She cringed at the mere thought of it. It always singled out an omen for her. Whether it was to follow the light at the end of the tunnel or what not. Today, the omen spoke to her. It told her to wake up. But she couldn't. She loved to stay in her self-created reverie of happiness and contentment. She hated the light. Late afternoon light was okay in her book, twilight light too, even. She drew the line at the crack-of-dawn light though. Morning light meant another day. Another day to live a worthless life doused in fear and isolation. Another day to spend timelessly, effortlessly with people, who in her mind, couldn't usually give one goddamn about her poor pathetic existence.
Just another day.
A bright and beautiful one at that, complete with full breathless sunrise that assured someone else's happy-go-lucky day. She hated that. And now, on this other goddamned beings blessed day, she was late.
She hated that more.
Rogue popped her eyes open. Her head turned groggily towards the alarm clock with a pop. Five thirty AM. That time rang a small bell within the sanctuary of her mind. She thought about why that time felt so familiar… Wait… Didn't Logan's Danger Room Session start at precisely 5:30 AM? As in fully dressed, waiting with the rest of her teammates, and waiting for instructions?
Rogue flung her black covers off ferociously. Clothes flew wildly over her head as she attempted to find her training uniform. More clothes flew as she stripped down to her slinky black underwear and bra set. She pulled on her black and green spandex, praying it wouldn't rip in her haste. Quickly, she rushed to apply simple black eyeliner on her emerald eyes, then her thick white foundation. This was a rule no matter how late she was. She would never, EVER let anyone see her without something on her eyes. Somehow, she had gotten incredible skill on putting on her make up. It almost took her longer to put on her clothes than to apply eye make up. Rogue next opened her drawer in her vanity, digging into it and recovering her simple black gloves. Always the necessity, always the curse, she thought bitterly. Taught she pulled on them as she raced out the door.
………
'Faster, Faster, Faster!' Rogue pleaded for her body to obey her for once. 'Just a little bit faster.'
Danger Room Sessions.
Oh, how she hated them. Why Logan insisted on having them so early, or rather having them at all, she'd never in her life understand. There was no way anyone could continuously get up early and attend them, unless you were Scott or Jean. Especially if you stayed up nearly the whole night, fearing your nightmare. Or rather, in Rogue's case, the memories of others trapped and engraved into her brain. Logan's memory scared the shit out of her. Just the remembrance of it was enough to sends shivers down her spine and vibrate every bone in her body. Just one minute of shut-eye stuck tiny needles down her body, poking and prodding at her, sucking at her blood like a vampire would. Needless to say, she couldn't close her eyes without flashes playing in her mind. She would always wake up from the revelation in a cold sweat, unable to catch her breath. Her sleep was fitful, and with her luck, only an hour at most.
So here was the Rogue. Fighting for what it would seem like her life or her death for no apparent reason at all. Running around like madmen for a small, red flag was pointless and stupid to Rogue. In fact, training at all was worthless now. Apocalypse had been gone for a few days and no return in sight. Everyone was still somewhat recuperating from the valiant fight… yet Logan still insisted on training. Of course the Professor agreed with him.
Now, normally this was the routine whenever they accomplished a battle. That was under normal circumstances. She inwardly smirked. What was being under normal circumstances? Not being a mutant? Being near killed by sharp metallic objects, one being your very own instructor, every single day? Or was it being overseen by one of your enemies? The training hadn't been normal in any chance. In fact, it showed to be rather abnormal in the fact that one of the X-Men's sworn enemies was now residing under the protection and care of Charles Xavier. That's right, their number one adversary was watching them perform tricks like whipped dogs.
Magneto.
The way he looked at he made her skin crawl. He would peer over the controls of the Danger Room, inspecting every X-Men, until his gaze would finally fall upon the Rogue. It would rest upon her as she dodged flying objects and tackled her teammates. It felt like he was searching for something hidden to present itself at any moment's notice. Her uncontrolled, raw, and plentiful power just waiting to be let loose like a bomb. Word had most definitely gotten around to Magneto that she had a freak-out; therefore, he knew the extent of her powers. Magneto was waiting for the right moment, when Rogue would become vulnerable to anyone who helped her. Then, she knew by instinct that he would contract her into joining his imaginary misfit of a team. A little voice inside her head told her so.
The sad part was, she wasn't joking.
She had absorbed Magneto on more than one occasion, after all. But for now, what could she base her accusations on? He was oddly quiet and obedient to the Professor's rules. The real, life-sized Eric Lenshurr was innocent.
On and on Rogue ran, every footstep aware of Magneto's keen eye watching her with sick approval. Yet Rogue forced her tired body to carry on, trying to silently run away from nearby 'enemies.' She searched for the little hidden flag everywhere. Through her little X-Microphone, orders were barked to her by her other teammates. It was Cyclops, Nightcrawler, Jubilee, Cannonball, Iceman, Colossus, Multiple, X-23, Boom-boom and Pyro on her team. The other team consisted of Jean, Shadowcat, Magma, Wolfsbane, Sunspot, Havoc, Angel, Spike and Berzerker. Both teams were ordered to search a designated area, report to the team if they found the flag or anyone from the opposing team. Of course, no doubt it was every team and person for himself or herself, meaning if an opponent was uncovered, you used everything you had against them.
Rogue hid behind a large tower of crates. 'Very creative, Logan,' she thought sarcastically, that déjà vu feeling creeping itself into her system. 'Just like when we battled the Acolytes for the first time,' she thought bitterly to herself. The boxes were only stacked two to three high, next to each other to create a maze. There were some supposedly deserted warehouses slightly beyond the thicket of wooden boxes. It was no problem to get lost and create a full circle in this confusion. You always ran into someone, which is what most of her teammates did.
Already she was told that everyone from the other team, save for Jean and Shadowcat, had been taken out. As for Rogue's team, it was just her now. Cyclops had been taken out a few minutes ago. 'Wonder how that happened,' she wondered. How they got any of the advanced students out, she would never know. How she herself hadn't got out, was a mystery within itself. This training session was only supposed to last an hour at most, and most of the students were out. 'Logan's not going to be too happy,' she groaned.
Already, the hour was almost up. Only five or ten minutes were left in the gathering and Rogue had yet to find the flag or the last two mutants. From behind a large crate, she peered out, anxious to find something that would end the session. Another long ally of crates met her, narrow into solitary confinement. Nobody was there. She hid back again. An overwhelming nervous sensation attacked her stomach. She knew it wasn't hunger or anxiety for once, only that someone was there. Foretelling clenched her heart, pulsing it to beat faster. A few seconds passed before she dared to look out again.
On the other side of the wooden wall, Shadowcat's brunette head barely popped out from the crate, phased only until her neck. Rogue yanked her head back from Kitty's view, praying she hid in time as to not have been seen. A loud breath slowly left Kitty. She knew Kitty had fully left her phased state.
Something swelled in her mind. It was familiar, usually always came before a psyche in her head decided to have their say. 'You know what you have to do,' the psyche chanted in her mind. The voice was deep and commanding; it led her to do the one thing she absolutely hated. Yet, she obeyed, knowing it would eventually cost her.
Off came the black glove on her right hand and into the belt it went. Again, she peered out, finding that Kitty was walking down the other direction of where Rogue stood. Kitty walked cautiously down the narrow pathway the boxes created, slowly checking each direction on her left and right sides, both hands stance in a fight position. Dread washed over Rogue and left her heart and mind numb. The voices simmered then hushed quickly, watching Rogue's movements through her own eyes in a dazed stupor. Closer to her friend she stepped, hand outstretched, slightly shaking, then jumped as Kitty started to speak.
"Jean, like, where are you?" she asked in her valley girl tone, speaking into the microphone.
"I'm on to of a pile to the right of you. Have you found Rogue yet? She's the last one." Kitty peered out slowly to the new pathways she found before answering softly.
"No. She's going to be hard to get, especially since Mr. Logan said you couldn't use your telepathy. I, like-" Kitty stopped dead. A cold hand pressed itself against the back of her neck and held it there.
"Shadowcat?" Jean called her name out through the microphone after she had stopped dead. When Kitty didn't answer, she grew urgent. "Shadowcat- are you there? Have you spotted Rogue? Kitty!"
Shivers made Kitty stop cold and end what she was saying. Energy was quickly making its way out of the small brunette's body, as if her life was being sucked away by a powerful vacuum, leaving her to feel drowsy. The brutal urge to sleep her life away slapped her immediately. Time had stopped in her mind. Her jumble of thoughts quickly became sluggish and muddy. She could no longer remember what she was thinking about. Noise faded, leaving the only thing for her to hear was the sound of her thunderous, but slowing heartbeat pound in her head. The cold on her neck was left as a thing in the past. Slowly she saw the ground come up to greet her, almost smacking her on the head. Before it could touch her, soft arms caught and cradled her, placing her safely on the ground. Sleep was coming to drown her, and as it did, she heard a twanged voice whisper.
"Ah'm sorry, Kit."
It took the standard few seconds until the new memories forced their way into Rogue's mind. She swayed as it quickly clouded over in her head, confusing and blending with her memories. 'I am the Rogue,' she chanted over and over as she forced herself through the muddle. Soon she could feel the thoughts and memories return to their true owner. The new, revitalized voice rang in her head, comforting the hurt soul.
/Like, it's totally okay, Rogue. You, like, do what you have to, right/
Rogue took one last sad look at her weakened friend. Remorse filled every inch of her being, like a strengthened wildfire. It was for this reason Rogue hated these battling sessions. Using your own curse to battle against your very best friend make her want to crawl in a dark hole and cry. She looked away abashedly and stood up. She now had Kitty's power for the time being. Was it really worth it?
Holding her breath, she phased through an empty crate on the right of her and walked through some to find another pathway. Nothing. Again, she ran into more crates, and popped her head out. Still nothing. She propelled herself upwards, poking her head through the top. Only a mere box over stood the ever-so-radiant Jean Grey, facing the other way in perfect poise. Obviously, she searched for the one named Rogue.
Kitty's phasing power slowly ebbed away from Rogue's mental grasp. It would last for only another thirty seconds or so, and then she would be forever trapped in the crate if she didn't get out soon. The rest of Rogue phased up soundlessly and stood behind her, close enough to smell the faint scent of her luxury perfume.
Jean was specifically told not to use her telepathy just to make it harder for the perfect red head. Even still, Rogue built her mental blocks for precaution that Jean decided to ignore the rules and search for Rogue mentally. Hand still ungloved from her last attack, she quietly, yet swiftly, made her small steps towards the tall, glowing telepath. Breathing became harder; her heartbeat had quickened on an adrenaline rush. It was time for the kill.
Rogue stood right behind her, hand outstretched, nearly touching the flawless neck. Warmth flared off of the girl in front of her. Vitality, memories, and energy pulsed through her veins and she could feel it in her sensitive hands. Desire awoke in her. She wanted so desperately a part of that life, those memories. She wanted energy to flow freely through her trembling body and make her fearless of the consequences. This desire quaked from the darkest depth of her thoughts. It was accompanied by the dark voice that commanded her earlier.
/Do it./ it hissed, echoing of the chamber of her thoughts. It vibrated, seeming to be spoken, yet no words were said. It left as soon as it came. That deep tone confused her and ruptured her logic, sending her into a sleeplike haze. It led her into the deep recesses of her own delicate psyche. From the back of her mind she watched, as her world grew hazy and quiet, as the dark voice took over her body. What was once hers was not; she was helpless and alone, unable to gain control.
The voice stepped closer towards the red head and took of the remaining glove, the clasp's noise alerting Jean that someone was behind her. Rogue watched as Jean whipped her head around and took a step back, gasping in bewilderment. She watched as her body took a step forward and closed both of her bare hands on Jean's surprised and seemingly scared face.
She was locked in an uncontrollable nightmare, the kind where you sleepwalked; you knew where you're going, but couldn't seem to pull yourself up from the dream onto the surface of consciousness. You were to be buried alive by the dream, to be aware, yet unable to act. It didn't occur to her what she was doing; until she felt the vacuum of her pale fingertips work its magic. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. Floods of memories flowed into Rogue. They all reeled in her head, like a silent movie gone too fast. She looked around her head; images played like a movie, each revealing something different: Jean's first kiss, being with Scott, her powers evolving. Everything was coming to her head at a rapid pace, cluttering her mind dangerously. It shouldn't have gone this far, the memories should have been gone by now. Then she realized the problem.
Rogue opened her eyes finally and yanked her hands away from Jean's face as if it was fire. Hesitation filled her head and hands. It was as if her hands didn't want to let go, yet relish the feeling of another's skin. It couldn't have been her; it was the voice that controlled what she just did. Her begging didn't stop it, or her internal screams. It did what it wanted. Rogue had left her silken hands on Jean longer than she had ever wanted to touch anyone. Jean's perfect body fell and lay limp on top of the crates before Rogue could catch her. The voices shook her mind before she could whisper her standard apology.
Thousands of voices exploded, each talking at their own speed, own pitches, own slang. They all pounded in her head. She pressed her temples, and then covered her ears in attempt to drown out the noise. She fell to her knees, crying at the pain still throbbing in her head.
/Is Jean okay? Is Rogue okay/
The last time she absorbed Jean, this did not happen. Jean's powers had certainly grown since before Apocalypse; obviously, so had Rogue's.
/Somebody needs to get down there now/
/Fire, no fire, fire, no fire. An' Pyro said let thea be fire/
Voices rang in her head, rather poured into her ears and collected in her mind as if they were actually spoken next to her head. At first she assumed the psyches were driving her mad again, but they were not. It was Jean's telepathy picking up thoughts from all around. She recognized whose thoughts they were; they were the ones of the X-men.
/I wonder what I should wear to school/
/Man, my hands are totally aching./
The voices, there were just too many of them. She was being drowned under everything, left unable to think for herself. She started gasping for air and moaning loudly. Within her own mind she felt like she was being caged into a trap. It was all too much. The pain slowed her thinking to a dull murmur. Conscienceless, she could feel her mind and body go into shock. Registering anything took much concentration, which she had no energy for.
/Is she really lifting all of those crates around her/
/It's a total mad house down there! What's wrong with Rogue/
She knew she was still cradling her head, waiting for the pain to pass. She was watching herself dream. It was quiet, like a black and white movie. It felt like the quiet destruction of the world portrayed in movies- mass chaos with the pictures showing silent reels of toddlers crying and people screaming. All she realized that was she couldn't help herself out of her mental stupor. From her hyperventilation, she felt dizzy, unable to concentrate.
Finally, she opened her emerald eyes wearily. Black dots danced in front of her face. She was still in the Danger Room. It had to be over, it just had to be. There was no sound but the dreary hum of her heartbeat in the back of her mind. It was the only thing there, the deep monotonous ticking. It went slow. It pulsed with the pound and throb of her migraine. It flowed with the rush of her blood. It swirled with the thoughtless mess. She struggled to not fall over and sleep. She fought to focus wearily on one thing: the flag.
/Such power, uncontrolled and raw…/
/Mein Gott! Mein Schwester! What is she doing/
/She's going to hurt herself with those crates/
Rogue was the last X-Men standing. She needed that flag, to prove her worthy. Using Jean's still present powers, she lifted up herself slowly, drowsily over the crate.
/Xavier, ya need to get down here now/
/Hank, get the room ready/
Through the black spots dotting her vision, and slow blinking, she could faintly see the flag waving in a space surrounded completely by boxes. It waved its red end about carelessly. It took all of her energy to fly towards the flag. Slowly, she could feel the source of Jean's power die, along with her own energy. Rogue blacked out, and fell from the air.
And then the nightmares came.
Eep! This is late! I honestly meant to post it on Thursday, honestly! But I got lazy and distracted by the evil that is called internet… Beware it's awful powers…Oo So anyways… Thank all of y'all for reviewing. Y'all made me feel loved D I got onto AOL a while after I posted and I saw emails and reviews. sniff And here I thought I wouldn't get any! You know how to make a gal feel special. Keep those reviews coming in! I want more reviews this chappy! And don't be afraid to give me suggestions because, gad knows I can't think at all during the summer. I probably won't make any shout out references…
Jus for your info, there is no ROMY yet… But stick around cuz there will definitely be ROMY in my lil story. It'll just be after the 3rd or 4th chapter. (I gotta get through some depressing things before our favorite Cajun marches his way into our hearts.) I'll definitely make some other couples present BUT NEVER FEAR! This is a total, full blow, fluffy-ish romy story. Because we got to give props out to the Southerners! I'll probably only make mentioning of the other couples…
I'm trying my best to remember my ideas and write them down, but with summer school and job hunting and driving classes… and the constant urge to sleep, its been a little difficult. And the fact I have very little attention span and usually spend all of my time on the internet… Jeez, I wonder how my poor little lappytop can take it anymore! Oh jeeze, someone shut me up I'm rambling. So, anyways. Its my goal to finish this story by summer's end. So if I don't, don't be afraid to bitch at me. I probably deserve it.
Until next time, press the lil purple button! You know you wanna!
Toodles to your noodles! w00t!
MidniteAngelGoth
