First gray lights of the morning filter through the light-colored curtains and wake her up. First a groan, she stirs in bed lightly, then one eye opens slowly only to find she was not alone in bed. Of course, she wasn't. She spent the night with someone else. That was not the first time, and would definitely not be the last. Sighing heavily, she opens her eyes, and suddenly, all of her body is fully aware of her surroundings. She knows the man who was fast asleep next to her very well.

Such a mistake it had been! Why? Why in the world did she end up sleeping with Deadpool? Him of all people! Yes, he was around quite a lot lately, what with them working together, spending so much time in each other's company, one thing led to another. First came his impertinence, then their casual banter, one little provocation that became something else. The chance was in the air and she just took it, jumped right into the cold water because that's how she rolled these days. But now that the room was silent, her thirst for sex was quenched, all that remained was regret and self-pity. Not only that, in fact, also, emptiness. She was hollow inside, devoid of feelings, sex had meant nothing at all and it bothered her.

'What have I become?' Her brows furrowed as the silent question popped up in her mind.

She could hardly believe what she had turned herself into. A player. She had been playing the game just for the sake of it and, in the end, what did it matter anyway? There had been so many nights with men she was not in love with that she'd stopped keeping count.

Touching her own lips, she thought of how they have kissed so many people who were of little importance to her.

Her mind was spinning, her heart was riding a roller coaster of emotions and realization hits her hard like a train.

A snoring Wade Wilson stirs, holding his pillow tighter and the sounds he makes annoys her. If only she had been wise enough not to let him stay the night, she thinks. She devotes a couple of seconds to watch him sleep. In the bright light of the day, his deformed face repulses her.

'Ugh! When did your standards get that low, Anna?' She mumbles to herself. But it is not the ugliness that marked his face that appalls her. No, not really. It is herself and her lack of emotional attachment to a man to whom she had just surrendered her once most treasured confession of love, her naked body, her sex.

This was definitely not about his looks, she pondered. She could love a man like him. She was not that shallow, love was not about one's looks, she decided. But this isn't love, he knows it and she knows it. Being in love once, she knew how it felt like, or, in that case, didn't feel. She runs a hand through her hair and decides to take a shower because she now feels dirty and worthless. She had to wash him off her body.

As she listens to the sound the water makes as it splashes over her body, she scrubs her body rougher than usual, and immerses herself in thought. Inevitably, memories of a happier time of her life resurface, unannounced and uninvited.

She remembers an afternoon at the mansion when Remy Le Beau and she were lying in her bed next to each other contemplating their future. Daydreaming together, they imagined how their lives would be once she controlled her powers. They ended up discussing sex, more specifically, deciding whether or not they should have sex the moment she was finally able to touch.

"Pre-marital sex is a sin, isn't it?" She asked him.

"I don't know about that, chére. If it is, well, I'm bound to go to hell already anyway, so…" He said playfully while twirling a lock of her hair in his fingers, flashing that devilish smile of his, making her insides turn and her breath quicken.

"Well, that's what I was taught, you know about my religious upbringing, but… to be completely honest with you, I don't believe it is a sin if we make love. I mean, if the couple really loves each other, you know? If a man loves a woman and she loves him back, then, it can't be a sin."

"I agree, chére. How could love be something dirty, something bad, huh?" He asks her while caressing her cheek with his gloved fingers, his eyes shining brightly as they were firmly fixed on hers.

"Yeah, expressing love can't be a sin." She concluded.

That night they had cuddled in bed and talked for hours on end. Just being close to him, smelling his scent, being on the receiving end of his unwavering stare was all she could ask for. He made her so happy.

The naivety in her, the sweetness of her words and feelings! As she replayed the scene in her mind, it almost felt like it was an experience in the life someone else, not hers. How could she have deviated herself from who she was, from that sweet Mississippi girl, from where she had come from?

Back then, she had loved that man and he loved her back. It was pure, genuine and simple. So when the time came, she didn't hesitate before she took her clothes off for him and let him make passionate love to her, not once or twice but many, oh so many times. And it felt right, it didn't feel like a sin, not in the least. It felt like she was worshipping God and his creations by loving that man with her body as well as her heart.

What had become of that naïve girl, she wondered. That Southern sweet girl that blushed whenever her colleague-slash-friend-slash-love-of-her-life said anything spicier or as much as brushed a gloved finger over her face, where was she? She was lost forever. But was she really? And if she was, why? She couldn't pinpoint a turning point, a determining factor, nothing at all. There had definitely been one, though. She knew it. Perhaps it was a collection of things, all that she had been through. All the battles, all the hurt, the pain, the loss of loved ones and the notion of how ephemeral everything in life is. So she drank from life, as much as she could, as often as she could. And it would be okay to do so was she not so conflicted about it, was she not raping herself, going against all the things that deep inside she still believed. Sexually liberated Rogue was not who she truly was, she was some character she created, a character she'd been playing for far too long.

She could deny it all she wanted, she could spend even more years, swimming against the tide, fighting against herself, trying to hide the truth. And the truth was as clear as the day, she could see it now. She was living someone else's life, someone else's dream. This was not her. Going to bed with virtual strangers was not her, fighting without passion was not her and, finally, living without love in her life was not her. The realization that she was living a lie was so strong, it threatened to engulf her, strangle her, she grew more and more agitated by the second and struggled to breathe. Her heavy breathing sounds woke up her previous night partner.

"Rogue, is something going wrong? Why do you look like you just played with a sandpaper dildo? Are you alright?" She rolled her eyes at his dildo remark and sighed as she moved past him, walking briskly. She was carrying a large duffle bag.

"I'm not, Wade." She called out from her closet. "But I will be." She poked her head around the door, her eyes found his and she smiled mischievously.

"I'm going home!"

-0-

Author's Notes:

I wrote this literally at one go. If you want to correct any grammar issues, feel free to be my beta on-the-spot. LOL This was an idea that was in my mind for some time, I had written some of it and then decided it was not good at all, ended up writing this at one sitting.

Should I leave it as a one-shot? Would you like to read more of it? If you do, let me know.