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 familiar, I do not own it. I do not own X-Men: Evolution or 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 One: Nightmare

Green. That's all Rogue could see as she opened her eyes. Sharp, searing pains racked her neck, or rather her whole body, whenever she tried to turn her head. In her periphery vision, she could barely see the other side of the tank she was held captive in. Tubes were connected randomly around the glass, reaching into the box, connecting on various places in the body. The tubes where weren't as much tubes, yet claws, digging painfully into her skin. They were everywhere; in her arms, legs, back, stomach, neck. Within the numbness of the pinch, she felt yet another needle-like poke, as if a bee had injected its stinger into the area. On the ridge of her nose stood the tight air mask supplying her with oxygen.

Rogue looked up. The bright surgical light was refracted by the color around her. Through the top of the glass cage she could faintly make out the silhouettes of men. They moved around the confinement, looking at the girl as if she was a circus freak. She squirmed uncomfortably, but was silenced by the agonizing pain. Yet when she did move, she noticed the green almost jiggled in place, as if it was cheap gooey hair gel you would buy at a corner pharmacy. The green didn't slosh around like liquid whenever she made any slight movement.

Suddenly, the claw's pressure dissipated. Gone was the needle pinching her skin, the grasp gone, giving relief to the slowly sinking Rogue. She couldn't move, she was slowly sinking to the bottom of her imprisonment. Something pressed up against her back, lifting her upwards to meet the light. Above the green gel, she looked around frantically to the sides of her. Surgical lights blinded her from over her; metal gleamed to the side of her. A snap of gloves grabbed her attention from the other side of the room. A figure decked in an operating robe, mask, and gloves approached the side of her. He motioned to the other side of the room, and out appeared more operators coming to his aid.

One fairly young looking doctor yanked off her old gas mask roughly, then pressed a new one upon her head, adjusting it, then turning on a knob from a tank next to her. The words on the cistern ran blurry on her mind, she could barley make out the figures that meant to stand as letters. She willed herself to scream, to let the doctors know she was awake, but no sound came out as she opened her mouth. Instead, gas filled her nostrils and mouth. A drowsy sensation clouded her mind, giving her the fuzzy idea that what they had given her was sleeping gas, meant to numb the pain. The young doctor didn't turn up the pressure enough; Rogue could still feel the excruciating pain.

Intense twinge inflicted the girl's body. She tried to shrink way, thinking that the doctors would stop the slashing as she shifted; yet she was wrong, for more pain exploded. Instinctively, Rogue knew she was being cut open in long, deep slashes. Her eyes darted around frantically, meeting the glare of something metallic in her periphery. The pain occurred all over, she couldn't tell where exactly the slashes were pinpointed, or why, for that matter. Green was all she could remember seeing of this day.

Another jarring pain pressured her body. A slow and agonizing death was waiting for her from this. Each ripple grew stronger and longer with every slice. Her mind worked in overdrive, imagining after every sliver her skin being pulled open; her inside inspected, tweaked with curiosity. Pressure built everywhere in her bones; they were on fire. Something was being rammed into her skin, and then ignited like a match. It felt like a bolt was being twisted hard and squeezing her insides. It grew agonizing. The torturing feeling built up farther and farther until she felt she could not live any longer. She needed to stop the pain.

Her body twitched involuntarily and gave her the strength to try and move her arms and legs, but they were tied fast to the gurney. Dizzy and tortured, the Rogue lifted her head, gasping at the sight in front of her very eyes. Surgeons and nurses surround her body, each a metal part in hand. Yet, out of the army, only one surgeon was working on her arm. Blood poured out of the wound, staining her body and the bed. It stained not only around her arm, but the perimeter of her body. No longer was the bed white, yet a deep crimson red, the true color of blood. What were they doing to her?

At long last the surgeon stepped back. He announced something to all the nearby nurses. They all left the room, leaving Rogue alone and strapped to the table. The pain consumed her. Her joints, skin, bones, and hair even, felt as if scraped off brutally, burned to oblivion. She twitched. Something injected her back. The single touch of the needle end began another pained spell. Electricity zapped her, making her jump around mercilessly. Then, the pin slowly eased, diminishing into a faint remembrance. It took a while, but soon there was not a trace of the agony once endured by her. She stopped twitching. Around her wrists and ankles, she could feel the straps that had previously held her down being loosened and opened. Rogue cautiously got up, wondering what the deal was. An odd feeling enclosed her skeleton, like she had been stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey. This feeling especially swelled around her wrists and hands. She looked down, blown away at what she saw.

Metal was poking out from each hand, positioned in the middle of her knuckles. They weren't attached to her skin; they were attached under it. What had they done to her? She stared at her hands in disbelief, slowly backing up into a wall. She screamed finally, letting out a ferocious roar so loud, she could feel the vibrations bounce off the metal room to meet her again. She ran around the lab like a mad man, overthrowing objects, using the metal to slash wildly, ripping apart everything. When everything was just about destroyed to dust, she stood in the middle of the dome and yelled a pitiful cry, only to fall to her knees in heap. All around her she heard a clicking sound, like millions of guns loading. She looked around. What she hadn't noticed before was how the lab she was in had holes, rather large openings really, around it, specifically aimed at her. Within a split second, the guns exploded.

With a shudder, Rogue jerked forward, lungs gasping for air, hair stuck to her sweaty neck and forehead. She looked wildly around herself, unable to identify where she was in the piercing darkness. Her chest heaving, she couldn't remember where she was. Was she in her own room or was she still back in that horrid lab? It was too quiet to tell. Rogue groped around, trying to find something to hold on to and help recognize where she was. Fear rose like a maniac in her mind. Panic made her heart race desperately. Where was she?

Rogue reached all around, trying to find anything useful. Something tangled her feet together, she realized, desperately kicking her feet. She kicked too hard while reaching toward her right… then promptly fell of the bed. Head first.

"Fuck," she hissed as her head banged something hard. Muffled running feet sounded and pulsed into her room. Light flooded into the room as someone flicked on the light. She closed her eyes quickly, unadjusted to the bright light. She timidly peeked out, almost fearing which reality she would have to face. Standing in front of the closed door stood Kitty, obvious with worry and concern crossing her delicate Valley Girl features.

"Like, oh my god, Rogue! Are you like, okay?" The valley girl attempted to whisper, but squeaked instead.

Rogue looked around. Black curtains adorned the windows, blocking out the stars and bright night sky's moon. Posters of dark, gothic bands covered the walls, almost making it hard to decipher the true color of the walls, which were a dark, romantic, kind of purple. Tangled around her feet were the black comforters of her bed. She let out a sigh of relief. She was back in her room, not the disgusting laboratory. She glanced back at Kitty, who was giving her a puzzled look and still waiting for an answer.

"Yeah, Ah'm okay, Kit," she replied half-heartedly, while rubbing her sweaty forehead. Her head throbbed from where she hit her head on her nearby nightstand.

"Like, what happened?" Kitty implored. She moved closer to the fallen girl.

"The bed fell offa meh," came the sarcastic remark. She untangled herself from her binds and plopped her covers on the bed.

"What really happened? I was like, going to the bathroom and heard you tossing and turning like, really loudly, and then I came back and heard you fall," she explained, making a note to be quieter when her friend flinched at her loud tone.

"It was nothin, jus a bad dream," Rogue answered quietly. A migraine was rearing its ugly head again, and she needed a pill. Bad. She began remaking her bed. Kitty knew she was tired, and began to walk back to the door.

"Hey Rogue?" Kitty started. Rogue stopped what she was doing and turned around. "You would like, tell me if something was wrong, right?" Rogue gave her a ghost of a smile.

"Yeah, sure Kit," she lied. Kitty smiled at the answer.

"Good, because I'm like totally here for you." Kitty phased half of herself out the door before calling back a soft goodnight.

"Naght Kit," she whispered. She turned off the light and waited by the door for a minute. After a safe amount of time had passed, she quietly opened the door and peered out. There was nobody in the halls and no lights were visibly turned on. Taking one step, she quietly began walking down the hall. Logan's room was just ahead, around the corner really. Her quickened pace diminished to a snails crawl. With Logan's enhanced hearing, it would be harder than hell to get by unnoticed. He heard everything, from something a mile away to a mouse's fart.

It took forever to pass Logan's room. Small baby steps were all she could manage, and barely at that, she couldn't help but make the tiniest squeak. No doubt that if Wolvie found her after hours, wandering the passages of the Xavier Institute, he'd either give her a heart-to-heart or a week of Danger Room Sessions. With her migraine building steadily, she really didn't need either. Finally, Rogue reached her destination: the kitchen.

Rogue looked around before she entered. Empty. It was dark and lonely. Rogue placed a barefoot upon the cold tile and turned on one of the dimmer lights. She took delicate steps towards the back of the pantry and fumbled around boxes of cereal to find a container of aspirin. She quickly took out two tablets of Tylenol, and then placed it on a nearby countertop. Finding a clean cup and filling it with water; she quickly pushed the tow tablets in and drowned them with water. Now swallowing then was the issue. Not now or ever would she be able to get used to the feeling of swallowing pills. No matter how many pills she would need for the constant drumbeat living in her head, she would always feel the need to throw up. But you do what you have to right? She swallowed the pill with a flinch and a shudder passed throughout her spine. She downed the whole glass of water in hopes to dissipate it all so she wouldn't feel the familiar lodge in her throat. She turned to refill it, and then downed another glass. About to gulp the rest, she was rudely interrupted by a gruff voice.

"Stripes, what are you doin up?"

The voice of Logan surprised Rogue, nearly causing her to choke. She thought that when Logan didn't follow her out the hall that she was home free. How wrong she was. Caught, she waited for her water to go down before talking.

"Jesus Chrast, Logan! Ya tryin' tah kill meh?" she gasped, still recovering.

"Nah, not yet," was his quick answer. He took a lazy seat on the nearby stool. Rogue did the same; silently sipping her water while Logan stared at her with questioning eyes.

"What's it this time, Stripes?"

"Couldn't sleep," she replied monotonously.

"And why not?" he asked, bored with her answer. They both knew she was lying.

"Too much caffeine," she replied again, almost rehearsed. Logan sighed. That sigh was Logan's way of letting you off easy. She knew what it meant. Heart-to-heart.

"Them nightmares again?"

Rogue looked away, somewhat frightened at the thought of her recent nightmare. Only the teachers knew about her nightly journey through the darker side of dreams. Sure, the students residing knew about the incident where she had a nightmare about Kurt's past, but that's all she would allow them to know.

"Whose?" Logan asked a little more gently. Rogue inspected her hands. She had some idea of whose it was… but it couldn't be…

"Ah'm… Ah'm not sure," she started off, unable to find the words suddenly, "It was dark. Ah was in some sorta lab. When Ah finally opened mah eyes, all Ah saw was green. Then, Ah was taken out and put on a table. They gassed meh an started cutting meh open. It was a long surgery. An extremely painful." Rogue unknowingly massaged her arms, wincing at the thought of it all. "Ah could feel the pain, Logan, even now…" Her body involuntarily shook. Merely thinking about the pain drove shockwaves through her system. Each shocked her and lingered on until another shockwave feed it more power to pulse further. "It hurt so bad. It felt lahke every little cut was followed bah someone rippin mah skin wider n wider. Then, ah looked up and saw metal in the nurse's hands. They were rippin apart mah muscles an settin mah bones on fire. Ah looked up and…" she diminished, trying to remember what came next.

"Ya looked around to see yer blood surroundin ya. Then they would all leave and the pain would finally stop, right?" Logan finished, unable to look at her. Rogue yanked her head up in disbelief. A knowing look was returned to her.

"Oh mah gawd… Logan…That was your memory?" she gasped. "Oh mah gawd, you had to go through that? Ah… Ah'm so sorry, Logan."

Logan sighed and ran a hand through his tinted hair. "No ya shouldn't be the one sorry, Stripes. I should. A kid like you shouldn't have to be plagued by other people's memories. I'm sorry ya had to see that."

"Don't beh sorry, Logan, it wasn't your fault," Rogue responded. A far away look was cast into her jewel like eyes. She stared off into space, looking at the cup she was gripping with glassy eyes. A gaunt shade was pasted on her flawless face, yet it wasn't her make up this time. Weariness of not having a decent night's sleep in a while showed upon this dangerous face and formed dark circles under her eyes. Rogue looked like she was going to topple over. Logan noticed all of this of course.

"Rogue," he started, breaking Rogue out of her sleep like trance. "What's wrong?" Rogue massaged her temples then rubbed her eyes.

"Ah dunno, Ah guess Ah'm jus tired, that's all. Ah gonna head ta bed raghte now. Naght Logan," she responded feebly. Quietly, she picked up her empty glass and stuck in the always-full dishwasher.

"Night, Stripes," Logan called after her. Rogue made no response back. Instead she quickly sauntered off.

'You'd think after the whole Mystique and Apocalypse deal the poor kid would be given a break,' Logan sighed silently.

It hurt Logan to see Rogue suffer like this. No child should ever be given a troublesome burden like the one bestowed upon her. Yet, even so, Rogue somehow always managed to carry on, no matter what shit life threw at her, which was a lot. Sure, she always had a good-natured complain, as with every other kid, but she never went so far as to give up hope.


Logan knew; it was the only thing keeping the Rogue together. Hope for control, for trust, and for a better life. Now, as the days dragged on, each last thread of hope stretched, waiting until the right time to break. It wasn't too long until all would be lost and the girl would hit rock bottom Logan feared for that day, along with most of the instructors, feared for what the Mississippian might do. And this fear led Logan to become a "replacement" father for the girl. Rogue had always won a special place in his heart with her strong will and stubbornness. It was these two qualities that reminded her of him. He was lost, too, at one point in his life. Not wanting her to walk the same path resulted in the protective mature and the constant check ups. But, even behind all of this, he knew she would do and think what she wanted. And there was no stopping it.

Holy mother of crap-doodles.

It has been one whole year since I updated. Wow. I am so incredibly sorry. Sorry to all those out there who've already read this chapter and have waited patiently for more. Kill me if you wish, all those 8 reviewers who have waited so damn long for this. This year has been… crappy and this is one of the things that has suffered from it. This has been on my mind, but the other things have taken over my thoughts and the will to write well… but never fear! The summer has come at last and now I'm here to write my cough arse off. I hope.

As you could have probably already seen, I have decided to re-upload this chapter. There are some minor changes in this, and such that, the chapter's essentially the same. This is a total ROMY. And essentially, that's it. I will make some minor comments about the other couples living in the mansion, but its all about the southerners. The romance, sad to say, will not come for a few chapters. I need to get rid of the wonderfully depressing aspect of Rogue before our favorite lil Cajun charmer can charm his way into our hearts. And then, MUCH MADNESS SHALL ENSUE!

Until then, don't maim me yet. Maim me if I promise to get updating everyday, because that is not possible for me. I'll try to update at least once a week, because I've just looked on all my files and realized that I have the first four chapter of my story done. All I have to do now is perfect them all… oO this shall be interesting, non?

Until then, press that lil purple button down there, cuz ya know ya wanna. And because I would cry if you didn't… sniff

Toodles to your Noodles!