Rogue felt safest when she was wrapped up in Steve's arms while they slept. Not that she didn't always feel safe with him, but it was nothing short of a miracle that of all the nights they'd spent together, she'd only had a handful of bad dreams, and they'd been nothing like the debilitating nightmares she'd had shortly after her arrival in this world. The dreams had been unsettling, but only just enough to wake her, and once she'd seen Steve's face with those blue eyes she loved so much, she was just fine.
Date Night had been wonderful, as she'd known it would be. It was a beautiful dream come true to be able to sit in the booth at that pizzeria and laugh when Steve got a bit of sauce on his chin, to be called adorable by their waitress, to hold hands on the table. It had been one of their best nights together and Rogue was looking forward to sharing many more with Steve.
Perhaps that was what caused it. She let her guard down, let her mental walls slack a little in her peace and happiness, and as she slept things only got worse.
The nightmare that slithered into her mind was vivid and brutal, full of sharp edges of memories that were twisted into something not quite real but still traumatizing. Arriving at the camps too late and finding piles of bodies in ditches along the perimeter, corpses wearing the faces of her students, the children she'd vowed to protect and so completely failed. Watching the Sentinels burn the LeBeau mansion to the ground while Mercy and Henri screamed as they were trapped inside. Being strapped to that table and forced to kill so many innocent people, men, women, and children - they loved watching her fight to get away, they laughed as the children cried.
Remy throwing himself at the Sentinel to protect her, and being run through with its arm, then thrown to the side in the ensuing explosion. Holding him in her arms as begged her...
All of it twisted inside her, turning and tumbling over in her mind. Death, pain, hopelessness. Anger, grief, despair. Being abandoned by the people she'd thought were her family. Being tortured because of the way she'd been born. It welled up inside her until it was Steve on that table beside her and--
She screamed. It was a shriek of terror and pain, a banshee's cry as she pulled away in her sleep, jerking a few inches away from the touch she no longer recognized, the dream still clutching her in its darkness.
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Date Night had been wonderful, as she'd known it would be. It was a beautiful dream come true to be able to sit in the booth at that pizzeria and laugh when Steve got a bit of sauce on his chin, to be called adorable by their waitress, to hold hands on the table. It had been one of their best nights together and Rogue was looking forward to sharing many more with Steve.
Perhaps that was what caused it. She let her guard down, let her mental walls slack a little in her peace and happiness, and as she slept things only got worse.
The nightmare that slithered into her mind was vivid and brutal, full of sharp edges of memories that were twisted into something not quite real but still traumatizing. Arriving at the camps too late and finding piles of bodies in ditches along the perimeter, corpses wearing the faces of her students, the children she'd vowed to protect and so completely failed. Watching the Sentinels burn the LeBeau mansion to the ground while Mercy and Henri screamed as they were trapped inside. Being strapped to that table and forced to kill so many innocent people, men, women, and children - they loved watching her fight to get away, they laughed as the children cried.
Remy throwing himself at the Sentinel to protect her, and being run through with its arm, then thrown to the side in the ensuing explosion. Holding him in her arms as begged her...
All of it twisted inside her, turning and tumbling over in her mind. Death, pain, hopelessness. Anger, grief, despair. Being abandoned by the people she'd thought were her family. Being tortured because of the way she'd been born. It welled up inside her until it was Steve on that table beside her and--
She screamed. It was a shriek of terror and pain, a banshee's cry as she pulled away in her sleep, jerking a few inches away from the touch she no longer recognized, the dream still clutching her in its darkness.