Title: Dream On

Written By: Lucky Shamrock

Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men, I'm just playing in Stan Lee's sandbox for a little while.

Rating: PG-13 (Violence, and Language)

Summery: Rogue's depression is eating away at her, is there anyone that can help her before it is to late?

Genre: Angst/Romance

Time-Line: Set 6 months after the events in X2

Pairings: Unknown as of this time, could be Rogue/Remy or Rogue/Logan hell, it could even be Rogue/Scott for all I know.

Authors Note: Well, it looks as if my muse struck again. I know that Depressed Rogue has been done before, but hopefully mine is still pretty good. I like depressed Rogue, because honestly…wouldn't you be a little depressed if you couldn't touch without worrying if you were going to kill someone? There are a few issues addressed in this fanfic, namely Self Mutilation (cutting). So, you've been warned.

Also, at this point in time the pairing isn't decided, Rogue is either going to end up with Remy, Logan, or Scott. I'm just not entirely sure who. This is told in Rogue's point of view, but it will also occasionally change to third person. If you have any vote for who Rogue ends up with, now is the time to say so.

So now, onto the chapter.


"Hey you pale and sickly child
You're death and living reconciled
Been walking home a crooked mile."

Chapter One: Life Or Something Like It

My head hurts, a dull ache that started in my right temple and spread throughout my head. Opening my eyes caused my vision to blur, and me to moan out in pain in my empty room. I was having the nightmares again, and waking up to a severe headache definitely wasn't my way to start the day. Nobody knows that I still have the nightmares, although Xavier might…but he has ethics and I'm pretty sure he isn't wandering around in my head unannounced. Besides, I already have too many people in my head.

Cody, Logan, Erik, Bobby, John…the list really does go on. Most of the time they were silent, and other times they were deafening. Sometimes I'll have a nightmare from Logan or Erik, both of who usually say that they're sorry I had to go through their pain once I wake up. At least the voices are pleasant. They could be so much worse.

When I can finally open my eyes without being hit with a wave of pain, I glance over towards my nightstand clock. It's almost noon, good thing it's a Saturday otherwise I'd be incredibly late for classes. Kitty and Jubilee have already left for the day, both of their beds are empty, and I'm pretty sure they got the professor to let them use one of the school cars to go to the mall. After I had broken up with Bobby, because I just couldn't take the stress of having to worry about our emotions getting the best of us, I distanced myself from everybody. Jubilee and Kitty barely talk to me anymore, and I really don't mind.

Getting close to people isn't something that a person like me should do. Because I couldn't get close to them. If I did, they would be dead within seconds. The only person I bothered to get close too has been gone for five months on a search for his past, which he'll probably never find. Logan left only two weeks after Jean died. He gave me his word he'd be back, but so far there hasn't even been a letter from him.

Rolling out of bed, I stiffly twist my neck first to the left, then to the right before standing up. This was my usual routine, later I'd probably grab a book from the library and head to the woods to read. It was mid-October, so I might as well get in as many nice days in the woods as I could before it turned too cold to bare.

I could hear Erik in my head telling me I didn't know what cold really was. That I was lucky I didn't freeze like he had in his youth. I told him to stop being such a drama queen and he shut up, leaving my thoughts to myself for now. I grabbed my usual clothing from the closet I shared with Kitty and Jubilee, you could easily tell what was mine because, my clothes lacked color. I was dressing in all black lately. A few people commented about it, but other then that they left me alone.

With clothes in hand I walked out of my room and across the hall to the girls bathroom. It was blissfully empty, which was the good thing about waking up so late. You didn't have to worry about having to take a cold shower because you were the last one to get in. By now all the water has heated up and as I step under the harsh stream of heat, tension in my back washes away.

The water is so hot that it burns my skin, but I don't bother to turn the water down. It feels good to feel something against my skin. People take touch for granted, they tell me how my mutation really isn't that bad…but they don't understand. They don't know how much we relief on touch, it's such a simple thing…but so important.

It takes me only awhile to shower and clean myself with vanilla scented shampoo that I had picked up the last time I was at the store. Once I was satisfied that I was clean the water was turned off and towel would be grabbed. I quickly dried myself off, while trying to avoid seeing all my scars. There were many on my arms, and stomach, hell even some on my legs. All made by a razor I stole from Bobby's room while we were still dating.

I cut myself so I can feel, and it's easy to hide the fact that I do so. People don't question me for wearing long sleeves, people don't tell me that it's a bit hot for a sweater. Because they know that if my arms are bare I could kill them.

Life is so damn complicated. I tug my black jeans on, and just as quick I tug on a black long sleeve shirt with two stripes of white running across my chest. Feet were slipped into tennis shoes that were well worn and looked as if I could use a new pair. Hair combed, I tucked it behind my ears and didn't really think about how curly and unmanageable it would be later if I left it down. Purple scarf was twisted around my neck, and black leather gloves were secured onto my hands.

I didn't bother looking into a mirror before I walked out…because I already knew what I looked like.

Weird.

I'm a freak, I can accept that. Tossing my dirty clothes onto my bed, I leave for the library…this was my life, or something like it.