Innocent little girl with the big brown eyes. Always a little afraid, a little shy. I play the part well.

I play it so well; in fact, that I doubt even the Professor knows how much of a lie it is. He can't read me. Something about all the different personalities in my head, he can't get a real fix on me. That's a good thing. If he knew...

I'm going again today. It's been almost a month, and I've been climbing the walls for days, waiting for the weekend, waiting to be set free.

So I can hunt.

The time between my trips is shrinking. At first I went almost 6 months, before the frightened looks and flinches drove me into the city. I didn't know what I was searching for, or even that I was searching. I just knew I had to get out, get away. Something in me hungered.

And then it was fed.

I didn't plan to do it. I didn't want to do it, but he came out of nowhere. As the knife pressed against my throat, I pulled off my glove and laid my bare hand onto his. And I held on, until he dropped and lay there cold on the sidewalk.

I had touched before. I had drained before, but this time was different. This time, I don't know why, but I didn't fight it. I opened up the connection and just let it flow. I took it all.

And I liked it.

I made my way back to the Institute and while the Rogue that walked through the gates looked the same, she wasn't. This one knew the awesome nature of her power.

This one wasn't afraid.

---

Logan came back almost 2 years after he left. He dragged himself up the stairs to his room and slammed the door behind him. It was almost three days before he came out again and he looked no better than he had when he arrived. He looked... haunted. I asked what happened, but he put me off with a small, sad shake of his head and a ruffle of my hair.

He came to my room that night, long after the others were asleep. He didn't knock, just slipped in and stood inside my doorway and watched me. He knew I was awake, but said nothing. I watched him war with himself, until I could take it no longer and I held out my hand, welcoming him to my bed, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "What happened?"

He answered with another small shake of his head and I knew then, that he'd never tell me, but maybe, just maybe he'd show me. The question was in my eyes as I reached out with a gloved hand to smooth back his hair. He gripped my hand tightly and pressed a kiss to my gloved palm, before leaning in.

My name was on his breath as he pressed my lips to mine, and the connection opened.

I saw it all: the bars, the abandoned bases, the fights, the women, the dreams. I felt it all: his pain, his loneliness, his terror, his love.

That shocked me most of all. Not because it was there, for I had felt the beginnings of it the last time we touched, but because of the intensity of it, the desperation it was cloaked in. The image of me he had in his mind; the innocent, cleansing spirit.

I pulled the blankets back over him and sat watching him, guarding him as he slept. His redeeming angel.

---

I don't know why I kissed her. Why I let her see the things that haunted me during the days and tormented me at night. I shouldn't have done it. Shouldn't have let her see. She was too good, too pure for the things I've seen and done. I never should have touched her.

Her soft lips drained the nightmares from my soul. I don't know how she did it, or even why. She could have held on and taken everything - killed me with a kiss.

I wish she had.

I left the next morning without looking at her. I didn't want her to see my disappointment at seeing another dawn.

---

We didn't speak of it. I wouldn't have known what to say, and I know he didn't either.

We circled each other for weeks. I watched and waited for him to say something, to ask me something, but he didn't. He simply took up life at the mansion without missing a beat; taking up classes and donning the uniform when called.

---

I didn't dare approach her again. Too afraid I'd beg for her to kill me. So I watched her instead. Day in, day out, I watched. I watched her eat. I watched her study. I watched her train. I watched as she avoided the others; she looked on as they played, with longing on her face.

It was the same look that was on her face that night. The night I kissed her. The night I let her drain me. But if the darkness I carried tainted her, I didn't see it. She was beautiful, radiant even as she walked amongst them. Untouched by it all.

Untouched by me and my demons.

---

I knew I couldn't last. They never lasted. Even Logan, whose presence I clung to so tightly faded into nothingness and I was left alone in my head. Alone and lonely. And it hurt. It hurt because I lay exposed for myself to see, no longer cloaked in the voices and thoughts and memories of others, I was forced to look at myself. And I do not like what I see.

I need the others. I need them in my head, clouding my thoughts, letting me live, letting me touch and experience all that my mutation has barred to me. I live through them, even as they die.

---

I watched her slip away, cloaked in the darkness. I wondered where she was going, why she felt the need to sneak away. I'd sensed her edginess the last few days, but talking and discussing 'feelings' wasn't my thing. She'd come to me if she wanted to talk. I think. She'd be fine, I assured myself as the alarm sounded and I zipped up the black leather.

Off to save others.

And lose myself in the process.

---

It was three days before I returned, battered and bloody and exhausted beyond measure. It was late, but I headed straight to her room anyway. I needed to see her, needed to hold her and look upon a face, a soul, that the evils of this world, despite their best efforts, couldn't touch. I needed to bury my face in her hair and pray that her kiss would wash the blood from my hands.

---

I heard the Blackbird return and nervously awaited his arrival. I'd walked the streets for three nights, resisting the urge to feed. Struggling with my urges, my needs, my hunger. In the end, it was the look in his eye the night he kissed me, that sent me running back to the mansion, unfed. For his look proclaimed me innocent... good... worth saving.

And I wanted to be that - for him and for me.

I would tell him everything. Tell him of the hunger, the need to drain their souls, to drink of their memories, their fears, their desires. I would spill it all and ask for absolution.

My resolution didn't last. As his bulk stood masked in the shadows, I could feel his desperation, his longing. I held out my bare hand to him and he stepped into the light cast by a waning moon. Whispering my name, he pressed his lips to mine.

And the connection opened.

---

I've gone to her again and again. I shouldn't do it. I know I shouldn't. She doesn't need any more of me in her head, poisoning her mind and her heart. My resolve falters with every bloody confrontation, with every bruised and battered and shell-shocked kid that I bring through the gate. And I seek my redemption in her touch.

---

Every time I hear the Blackbird land, I steel myself to tell him no, to send him away. But deep down I know I won't. I can't. I need him as much as he needs me.

He argued with Scott again tonight. Scott thinks he touches me. He does, but not as Scott believes. They think our nights are spent kissing, and caressing. They don't realize that the only kiss is the chaste one on my lips and the only caress is mine as I stroke his hair as he sleeps off my touch.

The others think he's taking care of poor, sweet little Rogue. They think his devotion is sweet. They don't know what darkness lies behind my door.

---

The Professor got a lead and Logan's run off on one of his trips. I watched him go, wishing he'd take me with him, so I could have some adventures of my own. Maybe my own adventures would keep me from having to feed on him, on others. He didn't ask me to go with him, and I didn't ask to come. It would have exposed everything. Better to have him think of his angel awaiting his return, than for him to know how hungry I am for any scrap of life. I smiled and placed my scarf in his hand, as he had placed his tags in mine so long ago and watched him roar out the gate.

Maybe he'll find his peace this time.

I know I won't.

---

I hoped I could do it. I hoped I could last until he returned, but I couldn't. I hunted again tonight. Slinking along the streets of New York for the third time since Logan left.

I fed. Twice this time, as if one would not sustain me until I could get out again. They watch me now, Scott especially. They think I'm mourning, Logan's departure. I guess I am, but not for the reasons they think. I mourn, not because my lover has gone and left me, but because now I go off to hunt, and I lose what's left of my soul with every touch.

---

He returned as dark and broken as I've ever seen him. The horrors of his newly emerged memories... his loss... his frustration... his rage... As he reaches for me, there's a slight flicker of, I dunno, regret maybe in his eyes. I wonder if he suspects. If he knows, what I've done to get along while he's been gone. How could he ever, in his wildest dreams or darkest nightmares suspect that his angel has done the things I have in his absence?

As he presses his lips to mine, I realize that he doesn't know, doesn't even suspect. To him, I'm still young and pure and innocent. He believes he taints me with his touch, that he doesn't deserve the words of love I whisper, that he's only an animal. He doesn't realize how every touch; every gentle kiss gives me one more day. Once more chance to do what's right.

A chance to say no. The chance to redeem the tatters of my soul.

---

I should stop this. I know I should. I knew that the first night I kissed her and let her power burn through me. I knew it for sure the night I came and she was sitting up waiting for me, gloves on her hands, and a serene smile on her face. I knew right then that I should turn and run, but that smile drew me in with its promise of redemption.

Redemption I don't deserve. Not for the things I've done. Just like I don't deserve her love. Not like this. Not when I'm using her.

But I'm not strong enough to stop. I can only hope that she will be. That maybe this time, when she sees who I am, what I've done, that this time she'll push me away.

Or just kill me.