Disclaimer: The X-Men are property
of Marvel. No one in this story is mine, I don't think. Not
even Rogue's husband, Daniel, who, by the way, is property
of the extremely talented Amanda Sichter.
Again, Amanda, thank you for letting me write this. :)
Dreams to a Reality
Rogue stared at the trail of brimstone in front of her. Pity,
she thought mutely. That was the only way he had looked at
her. Not with love, not with friendship, not with frustration,
and not with anger. Just simple, loathsome, pity.
Rogue touched her right cheek gingerly and winced at the
very feel of it. Her husband had been in one of his violent
rages and was "teaching" her a lesson when Kurt
had paid a surprise visit. It was a blur, though, the events
that had followed. Kurt had wanted to tear apart his sister's
husband but was kept under control by his sister's pleas.
He had left her husband alone, he must have, because before
she knew it Kurt had teleported them away to a nearby stream.
And then he had ripped off parts of his shirt to wipe the
blood away from her face.
Rogue knelt down to the river and stared at her reflection.
She was still young, not even 26, so her beauty still remained
intact. But it was only physical, and it would last only for
so much longer. Each of her friends, the X-women -- if she
could still think of them as friends, considering their growing
distant relationship -- was also physically beautiful. Elizabeth
Braddock had an exotic look. Long, straight purple hair with
white skin. But there was also a quiet determination that
resided in her face and made her even more beautiful. Jean
Grey-Summers possessed fiery red hair and vibrant blue eyes.
But beyond that, more importantly, was Jean's friendly and
loving nature that made her the "big sister" of
the X-Men members. Ororo Munroe was, quite simply, a goddess.
She had rich chocolate-colored skin and brilliant white hair.
Even more brilliant, however, was her sheer elegance. Katherine
Pryde was young and had the girl-next-door look. There was
a youthful innocence about her that complimented her appearance.
Rogue's eye misted. Yes, she was still extremely beautiful.
Even with her healing and newly formed scars. But there was
something missing. It had been missing for more than two years
now. Her spark, her optimism, her hope, her vitality, they
had all vanished soon after her marriage. For two years now
she had not been whole. She had been missing that which had
defined her, which made her her and not anyone else. The part
that a man called Remy LeBeau had fallen in love with.
This time, Rogue's eyes didn't just mist. Tears freely ran
down as she remembered a time not so long ago. A time when
touch was impossible, but love was more than possible. It
was. It existed. Between her and Remy. But then she had met
her future husband -- and he had possessed a mutant power
that enabled him to touch her.
It was a tough decision. One that required much soul-searching
and self-realization. A simple question but a tough decision.
To live a life with touch or to live a life with love. She
had chosen to live a life with touch. For she was certain
that her love for Remy would eventually dissipate into love
for Daniel. But her love never did change. It remained constant.
As constant as her husband's love for PHYSICAL abuse. As frequent
as her desires to have her husband turn into Remy.
Rogue watched, felt, her tears trickle down her eyes. They
seemed to joyfully fall away from her and into the river.
Rogue swallowed hard. Kurt had tried to avoid the subject.
But Rogue wouldn't let it go. So then he had tried to make
excuses. The rest of the team was too exhausted from their
mission to come by with Kurt and visit. But Rogue knew better.
It was her own fault, really. She was the one who had cut
off ties. She was the one who didn't return calls or letters.
She knew it couldn't be true, but she couldn't help but think
it. Slut. Whore. She threw away true love for the human touch.
For sex. For carnal pleasures. But she knew, or at least desperately
hoped, that words or feelings such as those would never pass
between the X-Men's lips.
But was it fair for them to judge her? They were never denied
human touch -- a simple need that everyone needed. Yes, she
had made her choice two years ago. No one could live without
human touch. But, as she had come to realize, neither could
you live without love. And her life for the past two years
had been completely devoid of love. She had left a life abundant
with love but devoid of touch for a life devoid of love but
abundant, much too abundant, of touch. And she knew, deep
in the depths of her heart, that she could neither survive
in her current life or live happily in her previous life.
So once again she was at a standstill with herself. Not to
choose the better life but to choose the less-harsh life.
To stay with her husband and have his touch or to return to
the X-Men. The people she had effortlessly abandoned. The
mother who had disowned her after hearing of her upcoming
nuptials. To return humbled. To return to a life devoid of
touch, and, perhaps, of love.
Remy. Did he still love her? Was he, like her innocence,
gone with the wind? He had always been on her mind. His cocky
smile, his Cajun accent, the smell of his cologne and cigarettes,
every part of him thrived in her heart and mind. He couldn't
have stopped loving her. Just as she couldn't stop loving
him. The very thought of him brought a spark to her. But it
was short-lived. She could not go back to him -- them -- and
live without human touch.
A dark shadow loomed over Rogue. It was such a delicious
Why could she not have both? Love and touch. The shadow seduced
her completely. His voice engulfed her entire being and promised
her her most hidden desires. The very thought of living with
Remy and the X-Men with touch was overwhelming. She wanted
to hear more. The shadow was pulled into her as much as she
was pulled into it.
Rogue had always possessed a strong mind and will. But the
disillusionment, the reality of who her husband really was,
what their marriage really stood for, had weakened her mind.
A crack had formed in her mind. But, now, with the shadow,
she was becoming whole. It was filling in all the gaps of
her mind, heart, and soul. It was becoming her as much as
she was becoming it.
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