The battle raged on for what must have been hours. Two undefeatable titans continuously colliding; then both having to fall back. His flesh healed over after each blistering punch. Her indestructible hide impossible to bruise with mere mortal fists such as his. But despite the lunacy of a unwinnable war both participates fought with every ember of the now burning cells inside their bodies. For as hard as she struck his face and the force he put into the upper cuts to her spleen both knew the other was holding back. The fight would not always be the pointless dance of brute strength that it was now. Each kept their final blow tucked away. Him behind a thin layer of skin and her behind a thin layer of cotton. But who would be the first to tire of the game? She wanted something from him. Something primal and violent inside her screamed to take it from him. It was something he was not willing to give. And he knew her well enough. He knew she could not beat it out of him. As long as he could keep
her swing punches at him he was safe from her.

They knew each others battle plan. She was trying to tire him out and he was trying to keep her distracted from her ultimate goal. But she could not be deterred. There was nothing inside her mind except for the lurid chant that drove her here to this place where the sky was purple-grey, making the green surrounding them a hideous brown.
Here to him. She would take what she wanted--no, needed-- from him. She would take it or die trying. She was glad when he didn't beg her for mercy. She was glad to take it from him. The adrenaline flooding her veins gave her an appetizer to the high she would soon experience. A high he would give her. A high she had gone far too long without.

For in this place, this place where birds did not chirp, because nothing could live. In this place he was not her team mate, not her friend. In this place he was only a source. She could not distinguish him from the others. There was no conscience inside her to warn her of her betrayal against humanity. No heart to remind her that the one she wanted to violate most was the one who she trusted the most. All that mattered was she needed it. She needed it more than she ever needed air in her life.

She was knocked off her feet, the breathe she was about to take fled from her lungs. He prayed he had her down when the bloodshot eyes that had been glaring at him were now closed. The sweat slid down his arms to the space between his fingers, resting on the patches of skin that were now bright red, before dripping to the dead earth at
his feet.

She groaned. He took four quick steps back.

He instantly regretted his decision of a mini-retreat. It allowed her the seconds she need to rip a glove off one hand. There was no point continuing with the former strategy. He answered her removal of the other glove with both sets of claws ready at his side, giving the sweat a whole foot less to fall.

When she rose to her feet he meant to charge her. But his defiant animal cry was shortened when he was slammed and pinned to one of the many charred black trees. He never considered that this power was part of her arsenal. He hoped she either no longer had it or it was too hard emotionally for her to use it. The painful metallic buzz of his bones reminded him that this was not merely a persona covering and driving a helpless girl, but the girl herself in her purest form.

She leaned heavily against his chest, as if to remind him that she had pinned him. That 'she' was the dominate predator and her kill was as good as made. Slowly her uncovered hands moved past his elbows up to his shoulders. The gentle caress ended there when she
forcefully seized his face in her grasp. Tightly she clenched her eyes shut and screamed out in ecstasy as his memories and his very soul poured into her. With every image that she ripped out of him, flashing just behind her eyelids, she felt herself strengthen. She felt the rage of every target she had never killed, the freedom of
living in a wilderness she had never been, the pride of holding the male infant she had never fathered, the lust of screwing women she had never fucked, the confidence from honor she had never earned, the determination from saving lives she had never saved.

In her orgy of feasting she could not hold the foreign power she wielded. Without the magnetism forcing him to the tree her body was not enough to hold him even in his weakened state. He shoved his knee forcefully to her groin making her break the connection between her skin and his. She moved to lung at him again but he easily grabbed her neck and leveled her to the ground. He straddled the bucking mutant holding her legs down with his while his hands attempted to pin her super-human wrists above her head.

Gurgling, hissing noises escaped her throat in frustration and he growled in response. She fought against every binding he had to her with all her strength, unable to move the 350 pound man above her.

When her eyes finally did open the were the vindictive ones from before. They were just as bloodshot, making her green irises the same color of death as the green of vegetation around them.

"Ya have ta kill me, Wolverine," she informed him, her voice sounding as if it was something she stole from someone as well.

"No."

"Ah won't stop. "

"Yes you will. "

"Ah won't. Ah can't."

"You don't have to do this."

"Yes ah do. Ah can't fight it anymore. Please, Wolverine. Ya can't let me drain everyone ah love. We love. Kill me now. Please. Ahm beggin' ya! Don't let me go on livin' like this. Ah can't control it. Ah can't control mah powers; they're drivin' me insane," she bucked hard against him again, "ah jus' want it ta end!"


The high-pitched piercing scream came with her to the realm of reality when she shot up from her bed. Sweat plastered the white streaks to her face as the rest of her hair laid limply against her back. Her lungs couldn't bring air in and out of her fast enough. It was especially painful forcing air into them with her chest
burning as hot as it was from the sheer friction of her heart beating against it's confines. Her mouth was completely void of moisture but at the moment she wasn't sure she remembered what water was. Or if she cared.

Slowly her mind eased out of its terror, although her heart was not quite sure it was over. She cursed herself for having another nightmare. For weeks she has been dreaming of touching others. 'Touching' she echoed to herself. At first she wasn't too worried, they were pretty innocent. Just shaking the Professor's hand or playing twister with Jubilee and Kitty. But two weeks ago
they took a very different turn. She wasn't touching them to feel skin against skin. She wanted to practically rape their souls. She wanted to steal their memories, emotions, their very essence as if that was the nourishment her body lived off of. Her dream was right,
she was completely losing control. Yesterday she even told Peter that she wanted to learn Russian, and if she could just absorb it from him--- She didn't dare look down at her naked hands. She was afraid of what she might see.

A knock and her door opening pulled her out of her trance and she buried as much skin as she could under her blanket.

"Rogue, dear, are you alright?" Storm's regal, angelic voice floated over to her through the air of evil she felt surrounding her. "I heard you screaming."

She swallowed, trying to get some spit into her mouth so that she could talk. "Fine," she managed to answer.

The older woman eyed the shaking girl before her with soft
eyes, "Another nightmare?"

Rogue nodded. She had one six nights ago about touching Storm while they both were flying. She vividly remembered watching the shell of the woman fall as dead-weight to the earth.

"You poor thing. Another one about Logan?" The white haired beauty guessed.

"Yeah." The past four nights have been reserved for Logan. But she knew that Storm thought they were the labs when she told her the nightmares were about Logan. Letting her think that was better than letting her know that she was much more demented than any military doctors.

"You just get dressed and I'll go start you a pot of coffee, how's that sound?" Rogue tried to smile in response but the action made her stomach flip so she just quickly nodded, wanting her out of the room and as far away from her as possible. Storm complied, leaving her
safely to herself.


**********************************************************************

She was avoiding him. That was pretty obvious to everyone in the mansion. She didn't go to the lower levels in the morning or late at night, that's when he trained. She didn't take her meals with everyone, but ate early, saying she was busy. The garage was completely off limits. When they were together as a team she sat tapping her fingertips and shaking her leg till she could run out when Scott have them the 'all dismissed'.

At first he let her side step him. He figured it was some girl thing. But at dinner one night Scott asked him why she had been acting so weird lately. He didn't have an answer for him, but he didn't have to. Storm chimed in that she has been having nightmares for a month now. Scott said that doesn't really explain it, she's had
nightmares before. The goddess agrees but says that evidently these are much, much worse. That conversation started a myriad of thoughts in his head. It was pretty obvious that whatever the nightmares were they were about him. Why else would she avoid him instead of talking to him about them? He still wasn't going to ask. He would just wait till she came to him, they'd talk about what ever grotesque image she was seeing, he'd apologize for an hour or so, and then they'd go about their lives.

Another three days went by and the situation only worsened. She accidentally walked into him when he came in the lounge, her panicked scream all but busted his ear drums and he could only watch as she ran away faster then she ever had ran in training. That's when he decided he'd had enough of this.


He was the Wolverine and stocking prey was one of his better talents. At ten o'clock at night there wasn't a lot of other scents mixing with hers so she was easy to find. She was in the kitchen and had not heard him enter because she didn't break for the nearest exit. Once he was close enough to her and was sure he was blocking
both doors he made his presence known.

"Hey, kid."

She jumped, dropping the cup in her hand to the counter and wheeled around on him. "Lo..Logan." She tried to back up more but the edge of the counter digging into her lower back reminded her that she was stuck.

"There somethin' you wanna tell me?" his eyebrow quirked as he across his arms over his chest. She shook her head and that made him frown. "Neither one of us is goin' anywhere till you tell me what the fuck is wrong. You'd been acting like a scared kitten around me and I wanna know why."

"Now." He added for emphasis.

She took a deep breathe to prepare for what she had been planning for a couple of days now. "Ya have ta stay away from me, Logan. Me and you can't be alone together. Not like this, not on missions, not ever again."

The shock was evident on his face. That was not anything close to what he expected. "Look, Rogue, whatever it is you saw in your dreams. Whatever I was doing to you-- or..or..whatever. Whatever it is. I'd never hurt you. You gotta know that." Shit, what the hell was him in her head showing her 'now'? He prepared to add hours onto his apologizing schedule.

"No! No. No, it's not you. Its me. Ahm tryin' ta protect YOU from 'me'."

He'd never been so relieved in his life. He allowed his body to breathe again, no longer punishing it. "Darlin', I ain't goin' anywhere. And I ain't goin' out of my way to stay away from you neither. I ain't scared. And you shouldn't been either."

"Fine." she huffed, "I'll leave the mansion then. Its safer that way for everyone anyway." She tried to push past him while he was still absorbing her words, but he blocked her again.

"Woah. Woah, there. You ain't going anywhere either. This is ridiculous, Rogue."

She threw her hands down and stomp her foot hard on the tile floor. "No its not, Logan! It's serious!" She backed away from him again, fighting the horrible urge boiling up inside her to take off a glove and grab his uncovered arm.

Watching her struggle with herself tore his heart up and he knew the only way to fix things, "Alright, darlin'. You're right, this is serious. How 'bout you an' me go to that lil' shit hole down the street that we like so much and talk about you leavin' over a couple of Molsens?"

"Logan--"

"No, listen. It'll be a little goin' away party between the two of us. Just a coupla beers, a bourbon, and five or six shots a piece then I'll even help ya pack. We got a deal?"

She reluctantly nodded and he couldn't stop the smirk from creeping onto his face. The bourbon always got her.

**********************************************************************

They both sat lumped over the thick, oak bar, ten or so beer bottles and countless shot glasses scattered haphazardly around them. Most of the patrons had retired for the night, although there was four guys playing pool, the clicking noise of the balls providing practically the only sound in the place. The bar looked like someone
bought an old barn and replaced the smell of horses with the stench of liquor. Although the hay remained on the floor.

"Alright, spill," he finally turned his head to look at her. The only words that either of them had spoken the whole time was to the bartender.

She leaned her head back, letting another shot slid into her mouth and straight down her throat. She looked at him, then back to the empty glass in her hand, "No." He watched as she lazily tossed the glass over her shoulder and it crashed almost too quietly on the floor just behind her.

"Come on, what's it gonna take?" his attention was back on her.

"Mah bourbon for one."

He snorted a laugh. "You got it, darlin'. Hey Todd, bring me an' the lady here a bottle of bourbon," he yelled over to the bartender.

"What kind ya want?" the old man yelled back, as if they weren't going to hear each other in the silent room.

"Do we look like we care?"

The old man shook his head and grabbed the closest one off the third shelf and set it heavily on the bar in front of him. "Need glasses?" he asked, although he'd been drinking here before so he figured he already knew the answer.

"No, thanks." Logan took the bottle and unscrewed the top before effortlessly sliding it over to her. "Its all yours, darlin'."

She smiled. He hoped the smile was for him but she was facing the bottle when it graced her face. Then she took the handle and took one long gulp followed by a slow drag of the back of her hand across her mouth.

"So you've been havin' shitty dreams--" he started her off.

"They're not shitty, Logan. They're completely fucked up. 'Ahm' completely fucked up." She took another swig and then began recounting the events of her latest dreams, all the while studying the pattern of the label on the bottle. She mentioned the fight, absorbing him, the need and the desperation she felt, even the part
about begging him to kill her, free her. Only thing she left out was the memory of the boy. There was no point in getting him relied up from something that came out of her imagination.

"So why where we fightin' in the first place?" he asked, enjoying his beer. His glaze never for a moment left her, even though she wouldn't return the favor.

"Ah don't know. It always starts at that same point."

"Maybe it ain't you. Maybe its me in your head wantin' you to touch me. You know, tryin' to use your subconscious to get a lil' action."

She smiled and that time he knew it was for him and not the bourbon.

"That's sweet, sugah. But ahm afraid ya can't take tha blame for this one. Ah have dreams 'bout touchin' otha people, too. Your's jus' seem ta be tha most prevalent lately." What little humor was in her voice morphed into hate and her fingers tightly clenched the neck of the bottle as she snarled, "Ah feel like a damn starvin' parasite."

He shrugged his shoulders. "So touch me," he nonchalantly pointed out.

She finally turns her head to face him, "Or you could kill me, like mah dream suggests," she matched his complacent tone of voice.

"Nah. Who would I booze with? Darlin', you hold your liquor better then any man five times your size." It was his turn to look away from her and concentrate more on his alcohol. She laughed a little, she knew it was a compliment in the Book of Wolverine. And he didn't hand out compliments very often. But then the silence settled back in between them. The pool boys were packing up so the only sound they had was that of their own throats when they swallowed their liquor.

She couldn't help but think about what he said. That maybe the Wolverine in her head was playing more than a passive role in her dreams. None of the others had been so elaborate or personal. They never really fought back like he did. There was never any kind of dialogue between them. There certainly wasn't any actually memories
of their's in the dreams or the emotions behind the memories. And those were definitely in his. Not only that but she realized since she started having his she'd never dreamed about anyone else. She swallowed half the bottle when she realized that those were actually his memories. That he might actually have a son somewhere out there.

"Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"What do ya think 'bout havin' kids?" she really hoped that didn't seem too off base to him.

But he seemed unphased and she was sure the six bottles of beer and four shots of Tequila in his system help soften the question. "I don't know, ya know, with my life n' all. But it'd be nice to have a family of my own. A family I 'know' is mine."

His soft voice just ate away at her. She thought to herself how much he really did deserve a family of his own. Maybe she should touch him, try and find some more memories about the child. If she could reunite them maybe it would prove she wasn't some evil parasitic
creature.

"Let's do it, sugah. I'll touch ya." she prayed that she wasn't just convincing herself she was doing this for him just to feed off him--- She swallowed the bile that rose to her throat and regretted the words immediately. Something deep inside her told her that was exactly what she was doing.

He quirked his eyebrow at her then nodded and threw a handful of bills on the bar. "Come on, darlin'. We should do somewhere a little more private, eh?"

The bar stool moved quickly out from under him when he kicked it with style only a man that had spend a lot of his life perfecting it could manage. He offered his hand to her and she stared at it. He watched the deliberation in her eyes like it was some big life altering decision. A grunt escaped his lips and he rolled his eyes before
snatching her hand off the bar and hauling her off the stool and all but dragging her behind him towards the door.

**********************************************************************

He cut the engine when they were a few yards away from the mansion. He wanted to make sure they were close enough for medical attention but far enough away for a little privacy.

"Alright, darlin'. Touch away," he turned his body in the seat so he was facing towards her.

"No, Logan this is a bad idea. Ah don't know what ah was thinkin'--"

"Rogue, shut up," he interrupted her, taking one of her shaking hands in his. "If the beast is telling you its hungry then we should feed it. Take it from me, kid, sometimes its better to just not fight it."

"What...what if ah can't stop it? What if ah loose control and ah hold on till ya ain't nothin' but a twitchin' husk?" Tears were starting to glaze her eyes over. What upset her the most was how much she really wanted to touch him. Because deep down she knew that
holding on was exactly what she wanted to do.

He playfully tug on one of her long white bangs, "You're not going to. You're just going to take what you need."

"What if I need it all," she whispered, hoping and praying he didn't hear the words that involuntarily escaped her.

But he did, because he heard everything. Not only that but he could probably smell all the emotions pouring off of her. "Relax. I trust you to not kill me and you trust me not to let you kill me. Right?"

She nodded, although she wasn't sure he really would do whatever he had to in order to stop her. She never actually finished the dream to find out if he killed her or not. But he held both his hands out in front of her, willingly offering himself up.

She thought about the boy as she peeled off her gloves. The beautiful child she vividly remembered holding in her arms and the love for him. She knew that the memory belong to Logan and she had no right to claim it as hers but she couldn't help it. That one memory was the only thing that made her feel a little bit pure again. Before she could change her mind she grabbed his hands in her's and felt him tighten his in response.

She felt the pull and repeated 'the boy, the boy, the boy' to focus herself and not relish in the 'rapture' she was feeling from having another person flow through her. 'The boy, the boy, the boy, the boy, the boy, the boy, the boy, the boy...'

It didn't take her long to find the memory she wanted. She was holding him again, but she wasn't happy like before. 'Oh God,' she screamed, although she wasn't sure if it was just in her head or out loud. He was dead. Her son was dead...

Her heart wanted to stop beating, despite her mind forcefully urging it on. She jerked her hands away from his wanting the image to stop. She didn't want anymore of his emotions, any more of his pain. She knew she was hyperventilating and she welcomed it. Never had see wanted to die more than right now, the loss made the lack of control of her powers seem like a sunny day.

Besides a pounding headache and being more than a little tired he still felt okay when she pulled away from him. But he was utterly confused at her reaction. She was completely falling apart. She was screaming, alternating between 'oh god' and 'no'. Tears were pouring down her face making it red and puffy in a matter of seconds. Unsure of what to do he placed his hand on her knee and could feel how bad her body really was shaking.

"Rogue, what's wrong? What did you see?" He was scared. He was scared that with one touch he manage to make the nightmares so much more worse then before. But she was still too incoherent to answer him and could only shake her head in acknowledgment that she even heard his voice.

He took the fact that she hadn't pulled away from him as at least a little improvement and scooted closer to her.

"Please, darlin', talk to me. Say something. Anything."

She concentrated on separating his memory and personality in her head from hers and the distance made the pain a little easier. Her mind assured her now very fragile heart that it wasn't really her son, not her loss, that the worse thing that ever happened to her was still only the lack of control. Now she only had to wrestle with her own sadness for her friend's loss. One he didn't even remember.

"Nothing's wrong, sugah, ahm fine." she answered when she was sure her voice could handle speaking. She quickly decided not to tell him about the baby. She deserved the painful memory but he remembered enough blackness in his past already. And she knew him well enough that for him it would be worse then any memory of the labs.

"Rogue--" he warned.

"No really, ahm fine. It's just ah told ya ah was really desperate and how bad ah needed it, right?" she wiped her hands with her bare hands before putting her gloves back on. "But thank ya. Thank ya so much, ya don't know how much it means ta me. It worked. Ah can honestly say ah don't have an urge to absorb anyone any more--" Dealing with her own pain was hard enough, she wasn't sure she could handle carrying around the weight of everyone else's. A lot more of her hair than her bangs would be white.

He relaxed when her face quickly regained its color and she seemed to stop shaking. "I'm glad you're feelin' better. And next time if you need a hit just come find me, eh? There's no point in making yourself crazy."

She rewarded his efforts with a second genuine smile just for him, "Oh, admit it. Me being crazy is why ya like me so much."

"You're right, darlin'. Because me and you are just alike. Two crazy, redneck, liquor guzzling, good-looking badass that know how to have a good time."

"Is that suppose ta be ah compliment, sugah?"

He nods, "I've never given a woman a greater compliment in all my life."

She busted out into a fit of laughter because she knew it was true. She managed to squeak out, "How do ya ever get laid?" between giggles.

His low chuckle joined her light laughter and he started the truck back up to take them the rest of the way home. "It's the pointy hair," he answers honestly. He slapped her hand away when she reached up to ruffle it.






THE END.