Sleeping in an actual bed was a welcomed improvement, but I wasn't sure what to make of my change of scenery. Was it because they trusted me more, or less? Had Dabi somehow forced Shigaraki's hand by destroying the quirk-suppressing collar? My headache wasn't entirely gone, so that made it hard to think. I was still weak and tired.

I heard a sound, and groggily opened one eye. Shigaraki was lounging in the upholstered chair facing my bed. I sat up quickly, too quickly, and my vision started to spin.

"I do hope I'm not disturbing you." His voice was high and strained.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, waiting for the room to stop moving.

"Hungry? Kurogiri sent you up some tea and toast." Shigaraki brought over a tray and placed it next to me on the bed. He patted the top of my head, and I tried not to flinch.

Was this his attempt at… nice? I could play this game. "Thank you." I noticed that he was no longer covered in hands; there was only one, covering his face. He looked almost normal this way. I took a sip of tea. It had a mild flavor, and felt good on my dry throat.

"Are you feeling better now, without the collar?"

"Yes, very much." I wondered if he was only being polite, or fishing for information. "I don't know how much longer I would have lasted with it on."

"That concern was brought to my attention. Don't think this means I'm going soft on you."

"No, of course not." I didn't want to screw this up, and I couldn't make Dabi regret helping me. "I just assumed that stashing me here was the next best option." I took a bite of toast.

"Precisely." He absently scratched at his neck. "Would you mind if we chatted for a while?"

I couldn't exactly tell him no. "Sure."

He sat down on the bed and pulled one knee up, making himself comfortable. Despite my skin crawling, I forced myself not to move away. "I have to admit, Rogue, I'm a bit star-struck having you here. To land such a big fish on my team, sometimes I can hardly believe the luck!" His voice cracked as he spoke.

"I'm not a big fish."

"Don't be so humble. The League of Villains is still relatively unknown, but the Brotherhood of Mutants? You were legends! Truly awe-inspiring. What was it like to serve Magneto himself? Wait, no, don't tell me! It's better left to the imagination."

"Okay." Was he fangirling?

"I'm quite eager to see your work in person." I felt his red eyes on me, though I couldn't see them clearly behind that creepy hand. "You may not know this, Rogue, but you and I have something in common."

It was such a typical villain line, I almost rolled my eyes. "Really? What's that?" Here comes the spiel.

"When I first got my quirk, I couldn't touch anyone without destroying them." His words hit surprisingly deep. "Still only a child, I was feared and rejected."

It was not what I was expecting him to say, not even close. Was he trying to bond with me?

"No matter what I tried, I ended up hurting those I loved most. I believe you understand that kind of pain."

I couldn't speak, so I nodded.

"I noticed that you often wear gloves. Most people use gear like this to protect themselves. But you and I, we need it to protect others from us." Shigaraki stretched out his hand, showing me his glove. It only covered two of his fingers and half of his palm.

I wondered about the specifics of his quirk. Based on the design of his gloves, he had better control than I did. My gloves usually covered my entire hand and forearm, going up past my elbow. I noticed he had bandages around his wrists, with specks of blood seeping through. Carefully, I brushed my fingers over the gauze.

He made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a hiss. "Some experts say that physical contact is a basic human need. Do you suffer from the lack of it, Rogue?"

"Yes."

"There is something that I find helps me, and I've been wondering if it could help you as well. Would you like to try?"

Turning him down would not be prudent. "Okay."

He giggled, a scratchy sound that sent chills through me. "Hold out your hand." He dug into a pocket of his long jacket.

I braced myself. Whatever he was about to offer me, I would have to accept wholeheartedly. I prayed it wouldn't be one of his weird, disembodied hands.

It was.

I tried not to show my disgust as he tenderly placed the thing in my open palm. "This is Sister," he explained. "She will keep you company, and your quirk cannot harm her. Consider this a peace offering from one outcast to another."

"Thank you," I managed. The hand felt cold and lifeless.

"Go ahead," he urged. If he expected me to put this nasty thing on my face, I might just ask him to kill me instead. He noticed my hesitation. "What's the matter, Rogue?"

I had to keep it together. "It's very thoughtful, I'm just not sure what to do with… her."

He reached out to help. I froze in place as he turned the hand over, lining it up so our palms were touching. Then I felt the thing move, its fingers intertwining with mine. My stomach twisted, threatening to send the toast back up.

"Ah, there you go," he encouraged.

I tried to smile. "Great." The hand was starting to feel warm against my skin. It almost reminded me of a real hand, a live one, the kind usually attached to another person.

"Rogue, tell me; the lack of human connection, what does that do to you?"

I stared at the pale, dead hand holding mine. "It makes me lonely."

"I didn't ask how it makes you feel."

"I hate it." My voice was barely above a whisper.

"So much suffering. Being pushed away, cast aside, all because of something we never asked for!" He pulled the spare hand off his face. He had gaunt, pale features, and his lips were cracked and peeling. "Tell me, Rogue, have you ever gotten so angry that you hurt someone just to ease the pain?"

My breath caught in my throat. I could lie, but he would know. "Yes."

His mouth curled up in a crooked smile. "You shouldn't keep such an incredible gift bottled up. I can give you ways to use it productively, for a greater cause; something far bigger than either of us."

There it was: the spiel. Except, he had rattled me. I hadn't planned on that.

"But not yet." He put his extra hand back over his face, then rose to his feet. "I won't pester you any longer. Take good care of Sister, don't lose her."

"Of course," I assured him, gravely serious. Like I could ever take my eyes off this monstrosity.

"I truly look forward to us working together, Rogue. We're going to make quite a stir."

He left me alone with his gift. I pried it off my hand and put it on the chair, then laid back down on the bed. Occasionally I glanced over to make sure the thing wasn't coming after me like in some cheap horror film.

My skin felt cold where it had been attached.

I wondered what the thing actually was. It obviously wasn't simply a chopped off hand, for it to cling like that and not decay or rot. Maybe it was some kind of artificial intelligence, or a combination of organic and technology.

I tried to remember the last time I had properly held hands with someone, but I came up blank. I wondered if maybe I ought to make the best of it. If Shigaraki thought I didn't like his gift, things could go badly for me. I retrieved the hand from the chair and put it beside my pillow.

Well, I had done weirder things.

I reached out and cautiously ran my fingers over the back of the hand. Except for the temperature, it felt near enough to a real hand. I turned it over and pressed my palm against it. After a moment, it responded, curling its fingers over mine.

If anyone saw me like this, they would think I had lost my mind. Although no one here seemed to judge Shigaraki for it. At least no one treated him any less for it. Clearly, everyone respected and feared him.

The hand had warmed to my skin, and almost felt alive. If I were to close my eyes, it would almost be like holding hands with a person. Only there was no way I would close my eyes with this thing so close to my face. I absolutely refused.

If only I wasn't so damn exhausted.

Later, I knocked on the door, and a guard showed me to the bathroom. Outside of my room was a long, wide hallway with bare wooden floors. It was some kind of boarding house or dormitory.

I was delighted when they let me have my bag. It had clearly been searched, but everything important seemed to still be there.

The bathroom was small, but it had a bathtub shower, and the closet was stocked with towels and washcloths. I turned on the shower, then brushed my teeth while I waited for the water to heat up. I hadn't bathed in weeks. The warm drizzle felt amazing, and I took my time scrubbing every inch of my skin with the bottles of hotel soap I kept in my bag. I washed my hair three times before my scalp felt clean again.

After I dried off, I wrapped my hair in the towel and dug through my bag for clean clothes. The bathroom door flew open, and I tried to shield myself with the closet door.

"Hey!" It was Toga.

"You scared the shit out of me!"

She laughed. "They told me to ask if you need anything. You know, like period stuff?"

"I'm covered, thanks. But, maybe a razor?"

"Okay, I'll tell them. Bye!"

"Next time try knocking," I shouted after her. Her lack of boundaries reminded me of the girls I'd shared a cabin room with. I had to believe they were doing fine without me.