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

by Aimee Boling Sze
Prologue

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 idea.

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.

Next: Homecoming

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