Notes: Marie: Thanks so much for the review, I'm thrilled you like this fic :-) Queen-morganalefey: Hope it wasn't too hard a wait for this chapter, and thanks so much! Unearthlyangel89: Thank you! And ya know, I never actually thought about Adams' motives but he's not strictly a mutant hater, just an all-around bad guy who's using mutants to make money. I think that somehow makes him more evil, at least to me. Jade: Thank you! I couldn't be that mean to Rogue and let him escape, as you'll see in this chapter. XX-Goth-Gal: Err… it was a lucky guess on her part? And sneakiness on his? I'm really not sure, I told you I was bad at mission things, lol. As for changes to Rogue… well, you get hints at the end of this chapter but for a real answer, you'll have to wait, but there is an answer, promise. Sangofanatic: Thanks! I actually wrote this chapter pretty quickly in two, fairly quick sessions, hence the quick update. Not sure when I'll update next though.

So, I actually like this chapter. I'm a little iffy on how I characterised Adams, not sure if he bears too much resemblance to Kendell, but other than that, I think this is a pretty decent chapter and makes up for the lameness of the last one.

Chapter Eleven

She had known that Adams was evil. She'd known that he was manipulative, sadistic and greedy. She'd known that he was easily angered and controlling of every aspect in his life. What she hadn't known was that he was a weak, pathetic little man that was easily scared. She found that out after just a few minutes of entering the tunnel, when she managed to locate a soft, whimpering sound. It was distinctly male and accompanied by the heavy, uneven tread of someone trying to run and failing.

Shaking her head in disgust, Rogue quickened her pace, tightening her grip on the gun in her hand until her knuckles were white and the sharp edges dug into her palm had enough to break the skin. She focused on that pain, studying the feeling as it mingled with the various other pains until it was just a wash of feeling through her body. It was his fault, all of the pains and aches and bruises and cuts were, in way or another, his fault. He had hurt her, and now, she was going to hurt him. Simple as that.

There was a slight curve in the tunnel ahead of her and she paused before rounding it, preparing herself for what she knew was about to happen. Then she slipped around the bend and looked at the man who was solely responsible for every ounce of pain she'd suffered in the past month. She was surprisingly calm about seeing him, staring at his back as he stumbled and staggered along the tunnel, whimpering and snivelling like the pathetic weasel he was. She was angry, yes, and she really wanted to see his blood splattered against the ground, but it was a distant feeling, held back by the practical logic of the hunter. She couldn't afford for her emotions to have any sway over her and this situation, couldn't afford to let her anger overwhelm her. She had a mission, a job, and she wouldn't, couldn't, fail.

Her first kick was perfectly aimed, her foot connecting with the back of his knee with enough force to dislocate it. He screamed and crumpled to the ground, rolling over onto his back so that he could see his attacker and when he did, he let out another shrill cry.

Rogue didn't waste any time, landing three more kicks in quick succession, one to his already injured knee, crushing the bones under her boot, and two to his stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs and making him gag on bile and spit. He rolled over and struggled to get to his feet. Rogue let him, watching impassionedly, the hunter urging her to kill him now, to finish this whole thing. But the real her, the being she thought had been driven out, temporarily, by the hunter, held that desire back, wanting more satisfaction, wanting to see this pathetic excuse for a man suffer.

Adams had managed to get to his feet, supporting himself almost entirely on his left foot, one hand pressed against the wall in an effort to steady his swaying body. He had his back to Rogue and when he managed to turn around, hopping and shuffling, she caught a glimpse of silver. Her mind immediately recognised the half-glimpsed object and she dived to the side, the bullet whistling past her with a sudden explosion of sound that echoed in the tunnel.

He was surprisingly competent with the gun, tracking her movement and firing another shot that had her flipping out of the way, brushing aside the great wave of pain that the move caused. She landed in a crouch, aiming her own gun and squeezing the trigger in one movement, her bullet hitting his bicep. He howled again and she used the momentary distraction to knock the gun out of his hand, seeing it spin away and not caring where it landed, just so long as it was away from Adams' hand. She followed up with a hard, bone-breaking punch to his jaw, delighting in the howl of pain that quickly turned into a whimper when he realised that his jaw was broken.

"You're a fucking weakling," she hissed, the first sounds she had made since entering the tunnel, not realising that she was echoing the words she'd said to Kendell, using the same, venomous tone. "You're a pathetic, sad, miserable little excuse for a man and I can't believe I spent all this time being afraid of you!"

She punched him again, not so hard this time, and sent him sprawling to the ground, blood and spit dribbling down his chin. She looked down at him, evaluating the damage she had inflicted and trying to decide if it was enough. It wasn't, but then, it never really would be. No matter what she did, no matter how much pain and suffering she inflicted on him, it would never compare to the torture he had put her through, both physical and mental. Nothing would compare to the feeling of losing herself, her mind, her fucking soul. Nothing would erase the damage he had done, give her back the precious few shards of innocence she'd managed to cling to over the years. And when she realised that, she realised that this was all pointless. So she shot him, her bullet taking him in the throat and bringing forth a small river of crimson liquid.

Rogue looked at the limp, broken, bloody body of her former capture and tried to feel something, joy, triumph, relief, anything. She couldn't.

Sighing, she closed her eyes and felt a deep, painful shudder run through her body, letting the hunter dissolve into nothing as her true self took control of her thought processes again. Then she turned and walked back down the tunnel, ignoring the heavy, throbbing pain that was slowly taking over her body now that she had completed her mission. By the time she reached the stairs, she was shuffling and having to steady herself with a hand to the wall.

She wondered, as she slowly climbed up the stairs, what the others would say when they saw her. What would Kitty think of her thin, malnourished body? What would Ororo think of the mind-numbing weariness that was evident in the way she walked? What would the Professor think when he glimpsed the aching nothingness in her heart? What would Scott think when she told him Jean was dead?

That thought made her pause, realising that her mission wasn't quite over yet. The prisoners were free, the guards dead, Adams dead, but Jean… Jean was dead, too, and Scott didn't know that yet. She had to tell him.

Shaking her head, she continued climbing until she entered the office. She was close to the exit, she knew that from the map, and she began walking there automatically, trying to figure out just what she was going to say, something that was made harder by the painful need for sleep and a lot of medication. She still hadn't thought of anything when she stepped out of the elevator and realised that freedom, real, true, breath-the-free-air freedom was just a few feet away. That thought pushed all other thoughts to the side and she stumbled forward, tripping over her own feet in her desire to get outside.

Thick, grey clouds hid the sky from her view, shrouding the moon and stars, but she didn't care because the sky wasn't important. She took a deep breath, dragging the clean, crisp winter air into her lungs, and collapsed to her knees. Free, she was free.

She didn't hear the surprised exclamations, nor the worried murmurs that followed, so when hands suddenly closed around her shoulders, old instincts kicked in and she jerked herself free, jumping up and back, aiming her gun at her assailant before she realised who it was. She stared in disbelief at Kitty, who was tense with shock and fear. Absently, Rogue lowered the gun and took a cautious step forward, not daring to believe, her mind insisting that this was some cruel trick, a wicked hallucination cooked up by her morbid imagination.

"R-Rogue?"

No one else had that voice, that little Valley girl lilt. It was a completely unique sound and utterly unfakeable. Only one person had that sound. Her heart thudded painfully within her chest and she let out a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding.

"Oh dear God, Kitty." Dropping to her knees again, she didn't tense or jerk away when Kitty tentatively put her hands on her shoulders. She stared at her hands and slowly let the gun clatter to the ground. She was free, she was safe. She repeated it in her head like a mantra, but it was too much, after the night's events, for her mind to handle, so she did the only thing she really could do-she fainted.