WOOOO! My first fanfic! This is the story of a young Rouge, a misunderstood cat, and what stands and what doesn't in Hero communities.

Alexandra is mine, all the other Sonic characters belong the SEGA (or who ever created them)

(R&R please!)

She sat on the roof of her penthouse apartment; the only sound was the wind as it rustled past her snow white fur. She gazed at the moon through her perfectly blue eyes, her purple shadowed lids half covering them. She sat with her long elegant legs pulled up to her ample chest, the white and purple boot gleaming in the moonlight. The black membrane of her wings made a cocoon around her tanned form and the small bag of gems tied to her belt.

Rouge's mind was calm, calmer than it had been in years. The moon seemed to soothe her from her thoughts of wealth and her fight of evil. But no matter what she did she felt like something was amiss.

Why did she steal? Why did she fight evil? What was her purpose?

Those were always the question that she left unanswered. But she knew that they all led back to the girl she'd met almost half a decade ago. Alexandra. What had the others called her? Alexandra the Thief, Alexandra the Evil, Alexandra the Dreaded. How had she introduced herself? Alex the Cat. Why had the cat even wanted to be a hero so badly? Rouge tried to remember the day they met, but she forund that she had seemed to forget that fateful day. Had the Heros been looking for recruits?

Rouge turned her head to the small door across the flat roof, as if to look back on what had happened those years back. Why had she not gone with Alex? Was it because her relationship with Knuckles would've been shot? Had she even liked Knuckles then? This was beginning to give her a headache. Rouge turned with catlike grace and leapt from the small ledge where she was perched, landing silently on the gravel cover ground. There was something that Alex had given her before she had disappeared back to the place she called Akloria.

As her gloved hand turned the door knob, Rouge realized that she had never put this much thought into the old cat. But she had never thought of her on a full moon either. Maybe that was it, maybe she just wanted something to occupy herself since she had been seen stealing the small sack that now hung beside the dark cat suit that covered her limber body. But whatever it was Rouge felt something she hadn't felt in a long time. Determination. But there was something else driving her, it couldn't be love, she loved Knuckles. At least she thought she did. Perhaps it was that thrill and feeling of adventure that Alex had.

As she descended the stair towards her apartment, her mind returned to the cat. How strange she had been. Not only on the inside, but on the outside. It wasn't ever day you met a dirty blonde cat with huge black bat wings. She'd said her got them from her dad, and her looks from her mam, as she pronounced mother in that odd growl of a voice. Her heels tapping on the landing, Rouge reached for the handle and drifted into her rooms. To her left was the bedroom, the large bed open to the hall that connected to the kitchen and then the hoard, as she had taken to calling her library. The pure white streets and comforters were thrown across the mattress, making the dozens of pillows invisible.

The walls were all painted white, and the occasional plant hung from the ceiling. She moved into the small but sleek kitchen, the lights from the city below shining through the window and onto the black marble counter tops. Rouge absently grabbed an apple from the bowl of fruit on the nearest counter; as she hadn't eaten yet that day, and continued into the lavish library. The room was painted completely rouge, not unlike her namesake. There were two tall cushioned armchairs with small side tables standing at the left arm. Five redwood bookshelves covered three of the walls, filled with leather bound novels and building plans for the bat's many hits. Rouge tossed the sack on her belt into the chair to her left, and moved past the bust of an old sage of some kind. Her hand fell to the bust's brow, where there was a hidden cut that was perfect for storing gems, and pulled off the round bald patch. There, within the white mass was a brown sackle no bigger than her palm.

She grasped one of the thin draw stinks around the sackle and lifted the thing out of the bust, replacing the bald patch and flomping into the unoccupied arm chair, her back resting one one arm while her legs were bent over the other. Rouge opened the velvet bag and pulled out the small sapphire inside, it gleamed in the light of the lamp to her right.

What had the cat said? 'Look at this when you need me.' Rouge thought about this for a moment. She didn't need anybody, not even Knuckles. But she wanted Alexandra back; she missed the mutant's mumbled comments of Sonic and the way she would toss rum or vodka bottles into the air before mixing the perfect cocktail. Perhaps that was why the cat ran a bar in 'Akoria', the strange love of the chatter of the city and the buzz of a good pub. Rouge looked back into the sackle, only to find a small scrap of paper with a line scratched hastily onto it.

'Press to forehead for best result, regain memory if brainwashed. (Not safe for use by heros of emos)

Loves, Alex.'

Well, thought the bat, I got nothing to lose. With that she pressed the gem to her snowy brow, closed her eyes, and became incased in her lost memories.