Disclaimer: There's noting more to it. Ready to be sent, everything included, even my very lousy attempt of drawing Anna Paquins lovely locks. So... which is Stan Lee's email address? Til I don't get that Rogue won't be mine. X-men still belongs to him... for the time being, that is.

CH 3 Who Am Ah now?

Her scalpel was still in her hand. She gently pressed it to her palm. It didn't heal. She took a deep breath, now she knew that Logan wouldn't interfere. Still in the empty room she didn't dare to make anything going on audible. At the distance she could hear arguments, possibly Jubilee and Kitty. But there was also some laughing, she heard it, but she wasn't sure where it came from.

Leaning out of bed it sounded as if it was from outside on the grounds. Sitting on the bed, she exhaled deeply and left the scalpel on the bed and moved to the window on the wall adjacent to the wall, this being a corner room it contained a window to the right and a bathroom at the end in which there was another one, smaller though.

There in fact were some people laughing outside. Colossus, Bobby and some others were outside laughing their heads, caused by impersonating different people, Rogue wanted to smile amusedly at that. But her facial muscles denied movement. She felt herself going into a deep trance, with too much thoughts reigning over her once more.

Your sacrifice shall mean our survival, Eric whispered to her. He was right; she didn't want to make them suffer because of her. It would be best to find someplace else, someplace nobody could retrieve her from. I don't like the sound of that, bub. Marie, you know you can always talk to me. He reassured her over and over, but it had become an empty phrase, poorly elaborated to bring her up, but it only deepened her more into the mist of her solitude. He isn't coming for you, and I am not coming back either, at least I'm not trying to feed you hopeless faith. John, honest, but to an extent not necessary at times.

With the idea fixed in her mind she returned to the bed, sitting without facing the door that led outside. She slipped the scalpel between her two fingers, index and middle. Seeing it in the light she knew that the metal was worn out, and that it was a bit too thin to cause serious damage. Thinking especially of Magneto she was able to change the scalpel to what could be defined as a very small dagger. Doing so was exceedingly exhausting. She relied on the bed once more to hold herself in place. She slumped, remaining at the edge in which she could barely graze the ground with the limp arm that fell to the side.

A few minutes later, she awoke with small intakes of breath from a nightmare. This time, it was Eric. A scene of the holocaust was projected very vividly in her mind, one in which he was only able to eat a few grains of bread left behind by the tougher people and for drink, lick the water that accumulated on the ground from the constant rains. It troubled her, to say the least, to see a person in such situation.

Steadying herself, she remembered what she must do. Make it stop, for everyone.

With her fully attention to the task in hand she conveyed the small dagger towards her skin, not to her palms that still had a bit of trace of blood, instead she went for her throat. Holding the dagger stiff in her right hand, she touched around her neckline with the other hand to situate the correct place where she would easily lacerate and release a large hemorrhage. She felt her pulse in one of the major extensions of the arterial system and slowly but confidently reached the dagger to it.

"And this room is where you'll be staying. Welcome to the Institute" interrupted a voice booming behind her that had just opened the door. In that spare second she hit her neckline in the right spot.

'Merci. Does de room include le belle fille?" a strange voice replied Mrs. Monroe. She looked towards the room and instantly noticed Rogue.

"Rogue?" She asked frightened, she was not even certain that it was her. Rogue however did nothing to respond. She stared blankly to the wall. Oh, the mighty X-men always interrupting us, John sarcastically said in her head, but very weakly. His voice left her.

The strange male had entered the room. After dropping a bag to the side he continued towards her, concerned that somebody was actually sitting in a bed that wasn't theirs, and had just become his. As if not to shock her he moved slowly.

Rogue could feel the blood leaving her body. She was enjoying the feeling, taking in the seconds that freed her, the rushness through her body that it made her feel, a thrill, or a high. But during all this she was self-absorbed, what would appear to the passerby to have aa very strange fascination to the blood, but in reality she was experiencing one of her favorite feelings. She thought of nothing but black, numbness starting to take over her, specially shutting Logan out. If he surfaced at all, his powers could kick in.

"Merde! She's bleeding!" the man yelped once he sighted her face and neck properly. Storm ran to her side.

"Rogue!" she said to the unresponsive body. The thrill was better than ever. "I got to take her to the hospital wing." She now turned to the man.

"Gambit can help. Lead the way, ma amie" he carefully surrounded her body and lifted her up, seconds later his shirt too was bloodshed. The dark color of her turtleneck misled how much blood she'd already lost.

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