I've often enjoyed Mike Carey's run on X-MEN. It had the advantage of being something fresh an exciting in the long history of the book, which was even more astonishing when you consider that M-Day all but murdered the forward momentum of the entire concept for no real upside that I've been able to discern.
Naturally, Carey was punished for this and X-MEN was turned into a continuity clean-up book, which--don't get me wrong--has been nominally good, but hardly seems worth the trouble when you get right down to it.
Anyways, of late, Carey's been on a mission to fix Rogue, who was one of the later newer X-Men to really break out. Part of that was because of Rogue's gradual prettifcation (eventually supplanting Kitty Pryde in the Which X-Men Do Maladjusted Fanboys Crack One Off To Sweepstakes) but mostly it's because her character is naturally compelling.
As with the best X-characters, her power is her curse--sure, she can steal people's powers, but she also steals their memories in a violent, invasive kind of way. Over and over, stories involving how bad Rogue has it involve her stealing someone's memories, often finding their innermost secrets or, more recently, losing her mind or going catatonic or whatever.
The blueprint of this trope of hers is best exemplified by her first opponent, Ms. Marvel. For years onward, the repercussions of her stealing Ms. Marvel's powers (apparently permanently) was, basically her storytelling engine. And it was a damn good one, because in addition to not being able to touch anyone without essentially brain-draining them, thus isolating her within herself, she now had the added burden of trying to be a hero with a pretty serious black mark on her record (I mean, for all intents and purposes, by invading her mind--and permanently stealing her memories--and taking her powers, she's committed the superhero equivalent of rape, hasn't she? Never mind she didn't know any better, she was being manipulated--the assumption of guilt's the same no matter the mitigating circumstances) which means her ongoing search is for a way to live some kind of a normal life, but also to redeem an irredeemable act.
(Mind you, given how ham-fisted this kind of thing is treated in superhero comics today this may be opening a Pandora's Box to look at what Rogue did in these terms, but ah well, we can dream we have writers who can rise above the juvenile, can't we?)
Because it's so heinous however, Rogue, like Batman, is destined never to fully redeem herself, but that's what makes it an evergreen storytelling engine, dunnit?
Had no real beef with anything Carey mentioned in the article above--reading it simply meant I could serendipitously share my thoughts on the character with y'all.