The stench of blood overwhelmed, almost exhilarated Dahlia's senses, causing her muscles to tense and pupils to narrow as if she were still in front of the man's mangled body. Her conflicting emotions spiked her pulse; images of his torn throat overtaking her vision. She shook her head in a desperate attempt to make them leave, to regain the strands of humanity she desperately clung to.

All of her senses set on edge as she sat on the sink's counter in Mortimer's bathroom staring vacantly ahead of her. She could sense him moving frantically in the apartment; his heart beating twice as fast as usual, breathing unsteadily, the stench of sweat surfacing on his already pungent skin. Beside her, water from the tub roared in her ears violently, as if she were standing at the base of a waterfall.

Dahlia flinched; the sound of a trashcan being kicked over just outside the door and its contents spilling out onto the floor was followed by Toad's angry footsteps into the bathroom. Her head snapped up from his feet to his face in a heart beat, pupils no bigger than tiny slits.

"Bloody sapiens, they are; to hell with them." Toad muttered in such a low, angry manner, spitting each word out as if it were poison that if her hearing hadn't been as acutely tuned as it was, would never have even heard.

She knew by his stiffly controlled movements that he was trying his hardest not to spook her more than she already was. Every now and then, a shiver would pass up her spine and images of the man's eyes rolling back into his head, images of blood and torn flesh, would fill her brain, but emptied out as quickly as they came.

He ran a rag under the faucet beside her quickly and gently began wiping the splattered blood from her bruised cheeks, all the while muttering profanities about the human race. Briefly she wondered if he were right. He rinsed the rag under the sink once more and wiped the blood from her neck and chest.

Her eyes fell onto his, studying the greenish, black color of them and the concerned look they carried so intently she didn't notice him pausing to meet her gaze. She lifted a hand and with one clawed finger, traced a faint electrical scar that traveled from his neck into his shirt.

He placed a hand on either side of her face and lowered his head onto her chest, breathing in slowly.

"Humans are terrible creatures, love." He said quietly, trying to keep his voice gentle and controlled. He cupped a hand behind her neck and resting his forehead to hers, meeting her gaze closely. "They hate us. They all hate us. You can't trust any of 'em. They know we're the superior race and they're going to do everything possible to kill us off and I'm begging you," He took her hand and held it to his chest.

"I'm begging you not to blame yourself, because I know you and I know you will. That man? He deserved what happened to him. They all deserved what happened to them. I regret that I didn't kill every last one of them, because love, you aren't going to be the last life they try to take."

Dahlia's tail that hung limply off the edge of the counter curled up around his leg and she brushed her finger tips under his chin, claw tips just barely felt. How right was he really? Everywhere she went she had to hide from humans…because they didn't accept her, because they wanted to hurt her, because they didn't want her species here…Because she was dangerous, because they were dangerous.

"We're dangerous." She said quietly, a small frown tugging at the corners of her lips.

"We're superior."

She pulled back from his face suddenly and lifted her chin slightly, searching his eyes for something he wasn't sure of… then, just as the moment began it ended and she cupped her hands behind his neck and pulled his lips to hers.

Toad laid back on the sofa with Dahlia's nude body fast asleep on his; his fingertips brushing up and down her spine lightly while he paid close attention to the slow rhythm of her breath. Three weeks ago Dahlia joined him with his title of murderer; a pang of sadness pierced his heart still when he thought of her lost innocent. No matter who you are or why you do it, protecting yourself or not, murder changes you. Taking a life however innocent or evil it is, it never leaves you the same.

She'd barely left his side since the incident, clinging to him like a small child; it wasn't something he had a problem with though. He liked her neediness; the way she reached out to him when bloody images woke her in the night, or the way she grasped onto his shirt timidly at a trip to the corner store when someone eyed her too closely.

It was also because of this however, that he hadn't been to work since that night, something James wasn't entirely happy about. While things were moving along with a new recruit here and there, they were still largely at a disadvantage without another experienced pair of hands around.

Part of him was okay with this. He imagined himself staying here, with their naked bodies sharing warmth under the blankets while the TV mumbled quietly on its lowest setting, and he felt content. He wasn't driven to be superior or to take revenge on the people who caused him grief his whole life. He just wanted to be here, with her, warm and okay.

He had a job to do though, a duty to the mutant race, a duty to Dahlia. Those people that hurt her were still out there. There would always be more of them and she would never be safe…not while mutants still bowed to the sapiens hand.

Anger burned in his chest and he took a deep breath to calm himself down before he disturbed her sleep but it was too late. Dahlia stirred, her ear twitching at the slight change in his breathing and she nosed her face closer into the crook in his neck before taking a deep breath and releasing it again as she fell back into unconsciousness. He breathed out in relief and as he pulled the blanket closer up to her neck and wrapped his arms around her tighter, he made a decision.

Tomorrow. He would get back to work tomorrow. Anxiety swelled in his throat and he pressed his lips to her head in attempt to comfort himself. Rather or not Dahlia would insist on coming with him, he wasn't sure…Then, rather or not she would accept what he did he was even more unsure.

Surely she would now that she's seen the reality they were living in. The bruising around her eye still a clear reminder of how much man couldn't be trusted. He thought of the way she clung to him and avoided the world outside now and he begged whatever higher power existed in this sick joke of an existence that tomorrow of all days he would have some sort of sound judgment and self-control to handle whatever came up.

He passed his fingers through her hair slowly, taking comfort in the soft strands of hair that passed over his callused hands.

"I'll make sure of it…" He told her sleeping ears quietly, just barely a whisper. "No bodies ever going to hurt you again, love. I'll never leave you."

Her ear twitched and she nuzzled his neck again, this time grasping the blanket and pulling it up to her chin.

"You promise?" Her sleepy, quiet voice startled him slightly and he was quiet for a moment.

"Yea…I promise."