Chapter 1

When the Mutant Registration Act passed, it took them all by surprise. But maybe that was the point. The professor, Storm, and Scott were in Sweden, attending an international conference on mutant rights. That had left just Mr. Wagner and their new doctor in charge. And Logan, sort of – he barely counted as a responsible adult, although he seemed to be making an effort at being a better role model. As senior students (and junior X-Men) she and Bobby helped look after some of the younger kids at the school. Fortunately, it was the middle of summer, so when disaster struck many of the students were home with their families.

The day that it happened seemed like a blur to Rogue. She remembered watching the news with Bobby and Jubilee, all of them in shock and disbelieving. Dr. McCoy had gotten off the phone with the professor, when the frantic calls from parents could no longer be ignored. He’d told them to stay calm – that the professor was working with the government to get this sorted out. Don’t panic. And then, they'd all been taken away...

***

The detention camp was interesting, she guessed. An experience that not too many other people were going to be unlucky enough to have. And Rogue got to experience more of it as well. Since her mutation was problematic (wasn’t it always?), she was sent to a longer-term facility in Texas with all the other ‘difficult’ cases. Apparantly, it was tricky to turn off a mutation that was always on.

Rogue hated to admit it, even to herself, but she was terrified when she saw the center for the first time. It was a sprawling complex: two rings of outer fences, topped with razor wire, surrounded a huge, impersonal block of a building. Maybe if they planted some trees around it, Rogue thought as she was brought in with a handful of other mutants, maybe then it would seem less empty.

Her roommate (cellmate) at the center was a nice enough lady, who talked constantly about her husband and her two kids. Kathy was also ‘untouchable’, but instead of the marginally useful side-effect of gaining some interesting powers – with a troubling assortment of memories and thoughts – along with sucking the life out of people, her touch just caused painful tumors to sprout uncontrollably. So, naturally, Kathy was pretty excited about the prospect of a power-reducing implant. Rogue wished she could be as optimistic about the future.

“It’s amazing, really. The stuff they can do nowadays.” Rogue thought her cellmate sounded like some kind of religious zealot. But, hey, maybe she was in a way… “If I’da known we’d be gettin’ these, I’da voted for the registration act myself. It’s a Godsend.”

She’d looked down at her hands. Maybe thinkin’ about what they’d done, thought Rogue. At least that she could relate to.

“Can’t wait to touch my kids. It’ll be almost the first time – haven’t touched em since they were born. And that doesn’t really count, ya know?”

Rogue could sympathize. Be nice. To have someone out there. Waiting for you to touch them. Or just waiting for you to come home. Maybe even make all this crap worth it.

Days passed slowly at the camp. She wasn’t really abused, exactly. There was nothing specific for her to complain about. Just the fact that she was treated like a thing. The doctors talked over her, not to her, as they performed their little tests and adjusted the controls on her implant. “Is this better? How about this? What do you feel now?” A steady stream of questions, but no one paused to hear her answers.

At the implant’s highest power levels, her skin felt weird and tingly, almost like all the nerves were going numb. Too low and she could still put a lab rat into a little rat-coma – leaving the terrified and abstract thoughts of the animal skittering around in her brain. The doctors finally settled on a level that at least allowed her to feel normal. And the rat seemed perfectly fine in her cupped hands – his little claws scratching at her – without donating any unwanted rat essence to her.

Not so bad, really. What are you missing? Nothing. Nothing at all.

At night, the center was so quiet. It surprised her that so many people could make no sound. Amazing what we can accomplish when we work together! Rogue lay on the hard antiseptic-smelling mattress and dreamed the same familiar dream. The one that had woken her on so many nights...

She was running, always running, through some cold, snowy landscape. The trunks of trees around her – dusted with shimmering crystals of ice – felt like the enclosing walls of a maze. She was searching for something. Desperate, so desperate, to find it. But what was she looking for?

There was a tantalizing scent on the air. She could feel the taste of it filling her nose, her mouth, warm and hot, almost like blood. It teased her – flitting here and there through the trees like a live thing. So familiar to her – pulling at her mind. But she couldn’t remember what it was or why she should be chasing it or… anything. Anything at all.

Rogue always woke from these dreams feeling restless, like she hadn’t been asleep. And maybe she hadn’t. She half expected to find pine needles stuck to the bottoms of her cold, wet feet. The dreams seemed that real. And they were, in a way. But not to her. Logan, again, in her head. A parting gift courtesy of her mutant power. Rogue wondered if the implant would put a stop to those as well. Wouldn’t it be nice? To dream her own dreams for once?

After a few more tests to make sure she was no longer dangerous – these involved checking the implant with a little hand-scanner device that looked suspiciously like the one Rogue had seen on those animal rescue shows – she was deemed safe for society. Rogue suddenly found herself scheduled for release with the next batch of newly registered mutants. After 2 months at the center, she was going to be free. A woman from social services came and asked if there was anyone they could call to come pick her up. Rogue didn’t think the school’s phone would still be working, but since she didn’t know how to contact the Professor in Europe, she called Westchester anyway. There was no one there, of course, just the Professor’s cultured voice on the answering machine saying that he was sorry he couldn’t take your call at the moment, but if you’d like to leave your name, number, and a short message…

So, since she was eighteen and not a criminal, she was given a brand-new registration card (mutants were no longer allowed to have driver’s licenses) and released. All she owned in the world were the few clothes in her old backpack she’d grabbed before leaving the mansion and the toiletries they’d given her at the center.

***

Now she was here. No, Rogue thought, that’s too definite. Now she was just… somewhere. By the side of some highway in Texas, sitting in the dirt on the shoulder. Dusty, grimy, and hot. She even had some sort of thistle-type thing pricking her butt. What she wouldn’t give to have Bobby here, cooling her off. Wonder what he’s doing right now? Or even where he is. God, she missed him. A shadow fell across her, then moved off, and fell across her again. Jono was pacing back and forth along the edge of the asphalt.

“Stop it!” she said. “Right there.”

Jono looked down at her.

“Yep, that’s the spot. Now just stand there and keep the sun off me”

Rogue grinned up at him and Jono flicked the little bit of grass he’d been shredding at her. She laughed a little and got up, dusting off the back of her filthy jeans. They stood together for a bit, peering out at the empty road.

“Well”, she finally sighed, “not much point in hitchhiking when there aren’t any cars coming.” Rogue reached down and slung her pack over one shoulder. “Come on. Might as well get moving.”

Jono just shrugged and grabbed his backpack. A girl could get used to a guy who just does as he’s told. They started off again towards what Rogue hoped would be a more definite place.

After a few more hours of walking – by that time Rogue’s feet were really starting to ache – they eventually did manage to catch a ride. A young guy driving an old, beat-up pickup stopped for them. Rogue got to ride up front in the cab, which smelled of stale cigarettes and old hay. She glanced back at Jono. He was nestled in between a couple of bales in the bed of the truck, head tipped back against the window and eyes closed, the wind whipping his hair around.

“So, you guys come from the camp?” The young driver had one hand draped lazily over the steering wheel and the other hanging out the open window. The wind and the sound of the ancient engine were defeaning – they had to practically shout at each other to be heard over the din.

“Yeah. Got out today.” She eyed him warily. Shit. He’d seemed harmless enough – kind of a redneck maybe, but the friendly type. Rogue was hoping the whole subject of mutants just wouldn’t come up.

He seemed to sense her uneasiness. “Naw, man,” he smiled and snorted through his nose. “It’s cool. Look.” He pulled the back of his t-shirt down a bit to show her the small scar on his neck. It didn’t look quite as fresh as her own.

“Damndest, thing,” he went on. “Didn’t even know I was one, ya know, until they did those tests. Guess I’ll never find out what my amazing power is now, huh? Never be a superhero.”

“Guess not,” Rogue laughed. “I’m Marie, by the way. Sorry I was so weird back there and stuff, but… I just wasn’t sure…”

“Hey, no problem. Gotta be careful, I can understand that. Anyway, pleased to meet you, Marie. Name’s Seth.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “And your friend? He got a name?”

“Oh, that’s Jono. He doesn’t talk much.” Rogue glanced back to make sure he hadn’t fallen out or something. But Jono was still there – slouched down so she could just see the top of his head. Bits of hay were stuck in his hair.

Rogue smiled to herself. “We just met, really.” She hesitated, considering. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“How’s it been like for you since they let you out? I mean, how hard is it?”

Seth pushed his baseball cap back on his head thoughtfully. “Well, I’m from a pretty small town. Everyone kinda knows everyone else. So, they were all really welcoming when I came back. Truth be told, I wasn’t gone for all that long, anyway. To them, nothing had really changed: I was still the same kid they’d always known. Guess I’m lucky that way – to have a place like that to go to. A home.” He glanced over at her and shrugged. “Some of the new restrictions suck. Like I had to apply for a special license so I could keep driving and stuff – had to show proof that I needed it to get to and from work.”

Shit, that’s right! she thought. ’Driving while mutant’ was now officially a crime

“Other than that, hasn’t been too bad. But it’s not like I’m really obvious or anything. Don’t stand out too much. Don’t make waves.”

Rogue nodded, serious. Definitely could be worse. She had it easy. She glanced back at Jono again. Seth followed her gaze, meeting her eyes briefly before turning back to the road.

Rogue leaned against the window and stared out at the empty landscape. It was just beginning to turn into night: the sky was fading to an impossibly deep, heartbreaking blue. She could just see the twinkling lights of distant truck stops and traffic signals on the horizon. To her, they looked like stars that had fallen to Earth, blinking green, yellow, and red.

Seth managed to light a cigarette despite the wind. “You two just be careful out there.”

***

It was full night by the time Seth dropped them off at the bright collection of fast food joints and motels where the lonely highway crossed an interstate. Seth waved briefly as he drove off, a flurry of hay and dust lifting up from the back of the truck.

Rogue stared after him until Jono poked her shoulder. He raised his eyes quizzically at her. What now?

Rogue looked around. They were still out in the middle of nowhere – a few semi trucks sat around an all night diner. “Probably too late to get another ride… except with a trucker, maybe.” She’d had some bad experiences with that type before and didn’t feel up to having any new ones tonight. “I’m pretty beat, anyway. I say we get a room here tonight. I’ve got enough money for that and…”

Rogue suddenly realized how that sounded and blushed.

“I mean… That is, um… If you don’t mind sharing. I trust you to be a gentleman. You will, right?”

Jono gave her an innocent look. Who, me? Rogue grinned and whacked him on the arm. “Come on. Let’s find something that’s not super sleazy.”

Rogue ended up paying for the room with her emergency cash, while Jono stayed out of sight around the corner. The brightly lit office made her nervous, too exposed. But the bored looking girl behind the counter – about Rogue’s own age – barely glanced up at her. Rogue debated, but ended up paying for two adults so her request for two beds didn’t seem so suspicious.

The room was shabby and dark: rust-brown carpet, green walls, outdated and crooked prints hanging above the beds, an old television. A relief after the too-clean, too-bright rooms at the center.

“Free HBO… But there’s no remote.” She checked around the sides of her bed. Nothing. TV just wasn’t worth it if she couldn’t click. Jono had pushed his boots off his feet (Rogue noticed that his socks didn’t match), taken off his jacket and flannel shirt, and flung himself on the other bed, arms hanging off the sides. He made a dramatic sighing motion and pretended to fall asleep.

“Yeah, it’s been a long day.” Rogue sat heavily on the other bed. “I…” she hesitated and looked up. Jono was watching her expectantly, waiting for her to go on.

“Do you need to use the bathroom?” He shook his head. “Good, cause I’m gonna use it. Be back in a bit.”

Rogue grabbed some more comfortable (and slightly cleaner) clothes from her bag. She locked the door behind her and turned to face the mirror. The light in here was too bright – reminding her of the center, again. She stared at her washed-out reflection. Yikes. After the initial shock of seeing herself, she decided she didn’t look too terrible… for a homeless, mutant refugee on the run. Heh. You know things are bad when your life sounds like a shitty country song. She studied her new haircut – they’d given her a shorter, shoulder-length cut at the detention center. She’d been seriously pissed at the time, but then she got used to it. Kinda cute, actually. She might have to consider dyeing her white streak to match the rest of her hair. Or maybe blue or purple, a color that was more ‘trendy’ and less ‘mutant’. Whatever. She’d have to think about it later. Not that it would make much difference if she kept hanging out with a kid with no mouth.

She used the toilet quickly. After washing up, she reached for her gloves out of habit. Seemed kind of pointless now, assuming the implant worked. Rogue could just feel it – a faint tingling across her skin – if she concentrated. Well, now she was officially classified as ‘normal’. Maybe it was time to start acting like it.

Rogue finally emerged from the bathroom. Jono was still in the same spot, apparently asleep for real now. She walked in quietly and sat on the edge of her bed. The gloves were still in her hands. Green velvet, her favorite pair. They were so dirty now. She stroked them gently, thinking. Hard to give up a part of your life. Particularly one that she associated with so much pain and joy.

A rustling from across the room made her look up. Jono had dragged himself into a sitting position and was looking at her intently. He pointed to her hands and raised his shoulders in a shrug.

“Yer askin’ about my gloves?”

He nodded.

“I wear ‘em because of my power. I mean, I used to wear ‘em.” She sighed. How to explain? “If I touch people, I sort of, um, steal their life-force, or something. I can take another mutant’s power that way. And use it myself. It would be cool, except… it hurts the people I touch. There’s that. Plus, I get all these memories and stuff from them. Feelings. Stuff I don’t really want…”

She paused, thinking about Logan. And Bobby. And John. All the people she’d hurt with her power. And others, too. That poor kid in her economics class (Jaime?) who’d accidentally brushed against her bare arm. She hadn’t gotten much from him – just a giddy, wild thought about some girl he had a crush on – but even that little thing was pressed and burned into her mind like a brand. And from the others… She’d taken so much more.

She glanced up at Jono, embarrassed, but he just looked at her with sympathetic eyes.

“Anyway, I couldn’t turn it off. I can’t, couldn’t, touch anyone for too long without hurting them. Killing them. But this… thing,” she gestured to the back of her neck, “seems to work. They let me out, at least.”

She shrugged and tried to smile. “And that’s that. Another mutant sob story, huh? So what’s yours?”

Jono shrugged. Guess our conversations are gonna be kinda one-sided, she mused. Rogue was about to apologize for asking him – the poor guy couldn’t talk, after all – but Jono lifted one pale hand to the bandages on his face, a resigned look in his eyes.

Rogue was inexplicably afraid, all of a sudden, of what might be under there. What if her new companion was some kind of monster? Something she couldn’t handle? God, Marie, what kind of thing to think is that?

Jono had his head down while he carefully unwrapped his face. A strange blue glow was leaking out. Soon, the walls were awash with a faint, flickering light, almost like someone had lit a small campfire in the middle of the room. Swamp light, thought Rogue.

Jono raised his head slowly. He glanced at her, but quickly looked away, his eyes distressed. The rest of his face, Rogue could see now, just sort of ended somewhere below his nose. Weird flames spewed out of the empty space where his lower jaw and the front of his neck should have been, surrounding his face in a strange wreath of light. He’d only unwrapped the bandages to the bottom of his neck, but she noticed the fire continued down, welling out of his chest.

Rogue got up, fascinated by the strange light, and wanting to see more. It wasn’t scary at all really, just different… and almost pretty. Jono fidgeted as she approached, his eyes darting nervously from the floor, up to her face, and back down. The little licks of flame becoming more agitated as she got closer.

“Hey,” she said gently. “Is this okay?”

Jono searched her eyes for a moment, brows furrowed. Then he nodded once. Now that Rogue was standing so close, she could see that the edges of his skin were ragged, like they’d been torn, but the wounds looked old and healed. Definitely nothing underneath, but more of the strange fire. The swirling, shifting light was hypnotic: Rogue watched deep blues and cool turquoise moved around in complicated patterns. She could also feel a faint heat coming from it – from Jono – like morning sunlight falling on her face. The flames must be hot, but not too hot to touch…

Rogue realized almost too late that her fingers were inches from the very edge of the blue fire. She jerked her hand away and gave her head a little shake to clear it. What’re you thinking, Rogue? Got your gloves off for five minutes… But, maybe….

Before she could back off, Jono held out his hand. The corners of his eyes were crinkled up in what Rogue recognized as a smile. He raised one eyebrow at her. The dancing light reflected in his eyes gave him a mischievous look.

A challenge, huh? Was he testing her, or the implant? Or both? Rogue bit her lip, debating. Well, why the hell not? She had always been rather impulsive, anyway. So she reached out and grabbed his hand.

His palm was warm – much, much warmer than her own – and slightly rough. Rogue waited for the familiar shock that was always followed by the horrible feeling of otherness invading her. But it didn’t come. Instead, there was just the warmth of Jono’s skin. This was a completely normal handshake.

“Cool! It works. I mean… It’s not there! I can’t believe it worked. Awesome…” She was grinning like an idiot and babbling, she realized, but it just felt so good to feel… nothing. “They got one thing right, huh? Maybe this whole thing is all worth…”

She broke off. The stupid grin on her face fading. There was something happening, she realized. It wasn’t the exact something she was used to, but it was similar. Rogue could just barely hear a quiet murmuring of voices. Whispered words that she couldn’t quite understand. But there were no rushing memories and no onslaught of intense, raw feeling threatening to overwhelm her. Instead, she felt like she was overhearing a conversation from the next room. Only this conversation was in her head.

Rogue was so focused on trying to understand what the voices were saying that it took her a few seconds to realize Jono was staring intently at her. He was concentrating, she realized.

“You!” she exclaimed. “It’s coming from you. Not me. Are… are you trying to talk to me?”

He nodded, still concentrating. The voices swirled around in her head. No. Not voices, she realized. One voice. Jono’s. But it was indistinct and the words overlapped, lost in static.

“I can’t hear what your sayin’,” she said.

Jono lifted his eyebrows in consternation and then he seemed to double his efforts. Although, Rogue still couldn’t understand the voice, she realized suddenly that there were also faint images flashing in her mind. But these were different than those associated with her own power – not overwhelming her. She relaxed a bit and let them come, and with them, a gentle wave of feelings.

Rogue closed her eyes as the images flashed in her mind. An old guitar, honey-brown and scratched, laying in a patch of sunlight – so many warm feelings associated with it. Her fingers (but not hers!) on the frets. The feeling of rightness as the strings fit underneath her calluses. Smoke. The taste of dark, warm beer in her mouth. This was where she belonged: on stage in an old bar.

And then, suddenly, light – so much light – burning her! And with it came pain. Pain that should have been unbearable, but somehow wasn’t… A cold darkness swallowed her. Covering everything she had known before, everything she was. She was lost in it.

Rogue felt a tear trailing down her cheek, but she ignored it. She could see herself now…

A reflection of orange fire in the mirror. It was her. She was on fire, but she wasn’t burning. She could barely make out her own face – what was left of it – behind the flickering light. Regret… and sadness. Sadness so profound that it smothered her, settled around her like a shroud. Nothingness…

“Wait, wait…” Rogue realized she was breathing heavily. That crushing feeling had seemed so real. “It’s too much. Just… slow down a little bit.”

Jono’s face was pained. He loosened the grip on her hand and started to pull away.

“No!” She didn’t want to break the spell. “No,” she said more quietly, squeezing his hand. “You’re not hurting me. It’s okay. Just, maybe you should try something a little easier. Like, where are you from? Show me.”

She tried to give him a reassuring smile. He crinkled a little at her in return. This was hard for both of them. Jono closed his eyes and relaxed his shoulders. Rogue felt herself being pulled back into the flood of images, although this time she didn’t feel she was drowning in them. They lay before her like pages in a book.

Home, family. Gray streets. Worn, dark wood. Green grass on a hill that she would roll down. Spitting out the bits that got in her mouth. Rain and the smell of wet wool, like an old dog. Small houses in rows. Low walls along the front. Somewhere foreign to her. She had an odd sense of strangeness and familiarity. And a thousand emotions associated with the place – an entire childhood – in a few flashing images.

Rogue managed to find her own voice. “You’re from… Europe, somewhere?” She opened her eyes and the flood of images lessened. Now she could only hear the faint voice at the edge of her mind. What was he saying?

“From England?” Jono was nodding his head excitedly now, eyes definitely smiling.

Rogue smiled, too. “I think I must have heard that one. Don’t think I could tell England from, uh, France by just seein’ it.”

She chuckled a little. I’m gettin’ silly. Must be tired. Or maybe some of Jono’s excitement was rubbing off on her. And why not? Why shouldn’t she feel a little excitement? It was the first time she’d been able to touch another person – without causing a total disaster – in about three years. Of course, she’d been forced to touch people at the detention center to make sure she was safe, but this was special because it was on her own terms.

It was Rogue’s turn to fling herself onto the bed. She landed with a satisfying bounce. Mattress wasn’t too bad, a little on the hard side, but she wasn’t complaining. When she opened her eyes again – a struggle, considering how tired she was – the room had dimmed slightly. Jono was sitting on the edge of his bed. She watched as he expertly wound the bandages around his face and neck. She waited until he was finished.

“Your… power… the fire?” She tried to remember all the things she had seen and felt. “It used to be orange, before they gave you your implant. Now it’s blue.”

Jono nodded.

Rogue spoke slowly, trying to sort out her impressions. “You hate being a mutant,” knowing as soon as she said it that it was true. “When your power manifested, it hurt you badly and your life changed. A lot.”

She was practically whispering now.

“You’d give anything to go back to the way things were before. The way you were before…”

How many times had she had the very same thought? Laying in bed at night, sleepless, eyes squeezed shut, praying as hard as she could for things to just be… not the way that they were. Please, God, please! Please let me be normal! Make me not a mutant…

Did she still feel that way? Rogue wasn’t sure anymore. She’d come to appreciate her life, and that even included the part that was her hated ‘gift’. She certainly wouldn’t give up the experiences she’d had as a result. The friends she’d made. But, maybe, when she got to Canada… maybe she wouldn’t get the implant removed right away. She’d have to think about it…

Jono was staring at her, considering. Rogue smiled a little.

“Sorry. Guess I understand a little of what you’re goin’ through. Not the same, but I know what it’s like…”

Jono nodded and the two of them sat for a little while in silence. Finally, he leaned over and reached into his backpack, coming back up with the whiteboard and dry erase marker. He started writing on it .

“They give you that at the center?”

Jono nodded, still writing.

“Nice of ‘em,” she said dryly.

Jono looked up at her, eyes crinkled at the corners. He turned the board around.

“I have $25,” he’d written. “How much do you have?”

Rogue sat up. “Oh, yeah. I guess that’s important.” How much money did she have now? The room had cost about forty-five dollars, plus the burger she’d had for lunch…

“I’ve got about one-fifty left. So with your twenty-five, that’s about one-seventy-five.” She paused for a second. They were poor!. “It’s not a lot, I guess.”

Jono nodded, considering, then erased the board with his sleeve. He seemed to be thinking things over – running one hand absently through his hair. Rogue waited, letting him work it out. Eventually, he started writing again.

“You’re serious about getting to Canada?”

“Yes. I am.” She paused. “If you don’t want to come with me, I understand…”

Jono waved a hand at her impatiently and wrote some more on the board.

“We’ll need some things for a trip.” He flashed that at her, then erased and wrote quickly: “sleeping bag, food for you, pot, canteen, torch, warm clothes, shoes.”

“Hold on,” Rogue protested. “It’s not going to take that long to get there! We’ll be hitchhiking and…”

But Jono was already shaking his head and writing again. “Things are different now. Not allowed to pick us up. Won’t if I’m there.”

Maybe he was right, dammit. Now Rogue was worried about it, too. How long had it taken her to get to Canada that first time? Too long. She went hungry and slept out in the cold too many nights. Mansion-living had spoiled her, but that all seemed so distant now. Things were different. The money would run out soon and they didn’t have a backup plan if rides were scarce. Jono was right – they should spend the money they had now on supplies.

“Okay,” she conceded. “It might take a while to get up there. So, I guess we should buy some stuff. But it’s still gonna cost more than we got…”

Jono’s shoulders slumped – his version of a sigh. He wrote on his board and hesitated before turning it around reluctantly: “Bloody Walmart up the road.”

Rogue couldn’t help giggling. Jono glowered at her.

“Sugah,” she drawled, “ya know us rednecks love shoppin’ at Walmart.”

***

Chapter 2 coming soon!