"Touch"

Author's Note: I don't own anything, obviously. "Touch" takes place after the fourth season of the series. I also do not own the title of the story, and/or the song titles, which are all titles of Diary of Dreams songs. Hope you enjoy, and if you do, please be kind and review.

Prologue

The sounds of their playtime followed her all the way to the gazebo. The background noise of half-hearted insults and gleeful screams irritated her almost as much as the hot air outside – it wasn't warm anymore, it was humid and hot, too hot for her to wear anything but a t-shirt. Hot enough that it made her almost sorry she didn't have a blouse or a tube top or something in her closet, and too little of the lighter shades of color.

Almost.

A small explosion echoed in the distance, followed by Doctor McCoy's roaring laughter. Judging by the small fizzling sounds following the blast, it was Jubilee.

What did it matter, anyway?

She took refuge in the relatively cooler shade. Kicking off her flats, she flexed her toes to relax.

Another explosion, followed by the familiar, wistling sound of Bobby's ice.

A fizzling blast. Tabitha, earning a scream of protest from a very exasperated Scott.

She sighed. The name brought on too much baggage to sift through on that day. She didn't want to delve into it in that moment, so she pushed it aside and decided to drown whatever feelings she might have been having with music. After all, she wasn't thinking straight and wouldn't be thinking too much straight until the weather necessitated clothes that could actually cover her skin. She was sure she'd still be wound up pretty tight, but at least then she could relax just a little.

Picking up her mp3 player, she put on the headphones and put the thing on shuffle, staring out to the horizon. The first notes of the opening song closed her off a little further. As the song progressed, it shut some more of the world out. She felt as if the music created an invisible barrier around her, one that nobody could see into. She was simply not there anymore.

She laid on her back and closed her eyes, allowing the sounds to carry her away.

Wary of movement around her, she sensed something drawing closer. She thought it was just some of the X-Kids seeking out a little down time, or a dive down the cliff (and good riddance, far as she was concerned.)

But then the presence drew closer. She feigned asleep, knowing nobody would be stupid enough to dare touch her.

Contact. A single finger, gently sliding from her wrist to her shoulder. Feather-light touch, almost absent.

She shifted, throwing a sturdy kick. She struck whoever was dumb enough upside the head and got to her feet, her headphones sloping off, inviting a rush of sound into her head. She tore them off.

"Shit! My glasses!"

It was just Scott.

Wait... just Scott? Why was he there? Why had he...

"They're right there!" She said, smiling, before she realized that he couldn't see. She bent down and picked them up.

Light playing on the ruby quartz lenses.

Gently, taking great care not to touch him, she put them on. "There ya go." She said.

"Ouch." Scott said, standing up. Rogue stood up with him, some semi-conscious part of her noting that he was standing in just a tight t-shirt and looked absolutely gorgeous. The conscious part of her mind simply erupted in rage.

"What the fuck do ya think you're doin?" Rogue asked, "What were you thinkin, touchin me like that!?"

"If I knew you'd kick me, I wouldn'tve!" he said, but his voice was far from angry, "Sorry. I was just..."

"Don't do that." Rogue said.

"What?" he asked.

"Get all sorry. If you start explaining yourself Ah can't stay mad at ya. Ya know that."

Scott sat down. Rogue followed suit, gathering her headphones and wrapping the cord around them to keep busy. To keep herself from staring at him.

His hair, that semi-conscious part noted, was all disheveled. It looked irresistibly cute. An itch in her palms told her to mess it up some more.

A heavy weight in her heart told her that she couldn't do that, and a devil on her shoulder told her she could look, but not touch.

"Why'dya do that?" she repeated. Noticing how close she was, she slid away to put some distance in between their bodies.

"I just thought if I touched you real light, nothing bad would happen. You should be capable of some kind of contact."

"Ah'm not." She said, "Ya know that."

Suddenly, too sudden for her to react, Scott reached out and grabbed her by the arms. Rogue almost screamed, and if she wasn't so fucking terrified of what was going to come next, she would. She was frozen in his grip. Her hands started to tremble and panic overwhelmed her.

Pulse racing out of control, muscles contracting too tight to make a move, mind a frantic mess.

Nothing happened.

"See?" Scott said, smiling, "Nothing. I'm still here."

"Whatthefuckdoyathinkyerdoinf orfucksakesyouknowwhathappen sjustletmegoletmegoletmegole tmegoletmegoLET ME GO!"

"No."

She tried to wriggle free, twisting and bending every which way, but he casually moved forward. He let go of her, but before she could leap away, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in a tight embrace.

Rogue's panic reached a tipping point.

She started screaming, trying to break his grip, her mind playing out scenes from her past, from all the moments that she had involuntarily harmed someone she had loved, or had to sift through the memories of lowlives just to get information.

Vision of Cody's body on the dancefloor, still.

"It's okay." He murmured, his hands idly caressing her back, "It's alright. You're not going to hurt me."

She whimpered another plea for him to let go.

"Why?" she sobbed, "Why are you doin this!?"

"Because I love you. Because I know you can touch me. You're safe. I'm safe. Just look. Feel it. I'm here. You're not going to hurt me."

"Don't fuck around with this!" tears started to stream down. She couldn't stop herself.

"You're not hurting me. I'm okay."

She was mumbling now, babbling on at a thousand miles per minute pace, shaking, sobbing, gibbering.

Cheek-to-cheek. His five o'clock shadow, gently sliding against her skin.

Skin to skin, flesh to flesh.

Warm breath in her ear, soft whisper breaking through.

"I'm right here."

Everything, every little thing inside her, every single forgotten emotion and ignored sensation exploded. She broke completely. Scott was still holding her. Started to rock her, gently, back and forth.

Fingers in her hair, moving, caressing.

"Shhh." Whisper, gentle. "Shhh, don't be sad. I'm here. I'm right here, you're not hurting me."

"S-s-scott..." she whimpered, unable to keep her voice from quivering, "Ah can't... Ah can't..."

"Yes, you can. See? It's been minutes and I'm fine. You can touch me... I mean... if you want to..."

He stated to draw away, prompting her to wrap her arms around him in panic. She was afraid that if he broke contact, she would never be able to do it again, able to feel him. She held onto him tighter and tighter... the tighter she held on, the slighter his presence became.

No!

She tried to hold onto him, grab onto something, but he was slipping away. It was as if he was falling.

She followed him down and leapt.

Falling...

"Rogue..." Scott whispered.

Falling, wind in her hair, his presence fleeting... slipping away...

"Rogue!" Scott said, his voice louder. Louder, but still distant.

Everything slipping... and...

Scott's face, his concerned, creased brow – his messed up hair. His hands, inches away from her arms, his shadow covering her.

The sound of music blaring in her ears. Something loud and fast, something she would love in another day. Not in that moment.

She took the headphones off as Scott leaned forward and gave her a hug. She froze, but he let go after a second or two, drawing away. Enough for her to involuntarily draw a feeling from him – the distinctive sense of worry, predominant, loomed over his ever-present care.

Worry for whom? Her, or himself?

The memory of her psyche-breakdown was on his mind most clearly, as he had felt the same thing he felt now.

She sat up, moving away from him.

"I tried not to wake you." He said, "But you were crying. So I inferred that it must not have been a very nice dream to have."

The sense of teardrops on her cheeks and around her eyes. She wiped it off with the back of her hand.

"What did you dream about?"

Her immediate first reaction was honesty, but she stopped the words just short of her teeth.

I dreamt that I could touch you. I dreamt that you could hold me for longer than that panicky, cautious second and not draw away.

I dreamt that you were there for me.

I dreamt that you loved me.

I dreamt...

"Mystique." She said, "Ah dreamt of Mystique. About that night right here. But she wasn't a statue, she was the real Mystique. Just not able to move, y'know?"

He caught her eye. He was listening. He was listening intently, his focus was on her. Had that slight move of the right eyebrow, the signal that he was analyzing every word.

I dreamt that you were holding me close to your heart.

"And she was beggin for me to take her back. To forgive her, Ah dunno, anything she knew, Ah suppose, to keep me from pushin her off the cliff."

You told me you were right here and I believed you.

"And Ah didn't do anything about it – Ah cursed and shouted and then..."

...you said it was alright.

"...Ah pushed her. Kurt came. Shouted at me, told me things, Ah don't even 'member most of what he said..."

You said that we were safe.

"That's it. You came by just as he was screaming his lungs off."

You said...

"Hm. That's understandable, I guess. It's been like what, a month since we dealt with Apocalypse?"

"Yeah?"

You said...

"You're just coming to terms with it – you haven't really had time to get over the shock of everything. Of Apocalypse, the Professor's vision of the future... it's normal." Taking one look at her, he added, "Not any less painful, of course, but normal."

"Least Ah'm not a freak for once." She said and upon seeing his eyebrows drop along with his shoulders, immediately regretted it.

"You never were a freak, Rogue." He said, "Cause, you know, if you're a freak, then I'm a freak."

She just looked at him, unable to think up a comeback. Had nothing to say to that. Scott, however, seemed somewhat insulted by the whole "freak" angle, so she proceeded to apologize.

"Scott, Ah'm sorry..." she began.

"No need." He said, with a sigh. Small twitch of his lips told her that there was a need for it, "Come on, let's go back to the others."

"Ah'm gonna stay a little longer. Least until the crowd's cleared."

Scott's knowledge of Rogue told him her reasons, at least to his satisfaction, and he left her in the gazebo, walking away with his hands in his pockets. She watched him leave and mentally slapped herself for the freak comment.

The sensation of her lips, chapped and dry. Longing.