AN: All recognizable characters belong to Marvel.
prologue:
She didn’t really know how they’d ended up on the road together. How two total strangers happened to be in the same place at the same time – and both so desperate – that they started out on a long, uncertain journey together. She could definitely blame it on the Mutant Registration Act. After all, if some government idiots hadn’t decided that mutants were too dangerous to wield the sort of power they had, she wouldn’t have been in Texas in the first place. And, speaking of power, wouldn’t it be easy to point the finger at her mutant ‘gift’. The damned thing had been the catalyst for so much change, both good and bad, in her short life. One more upheaval wasn’t that unexpected.
Maybe it was just fate. An accident. But that seemed so cold and empty. Whatever forces in the universe were responsible for looking after young, homeless mutants decided the two of them should share this trip. Heh. She decided she liked that idea best: it was always nicer to think that someone was looking after you, or that there was some sort of meaning to random events, even if it was just in your head.
Rogue had felt like this before – swept up in stream of events that she had no control over, but that had complete control over her.
What an odd couple we are, she thought. But when the doors had closed behind them at the detention center and the last of those fortunate souls who had homes to go to had been picked up by their friends and families - ushered into minivans and sedans by joyful loved ones – it had just been the two of them left. Rogue had glanced over at her companion - a boy dressed all in black, hovering like a shadow by the side of the road – a total stranger to her. The small hope that Logan, Bobby, or anyone she knew (but especially Logan) had been at the same detention center vanished.
Fuck it, she’d thought, and in a very un-Roguelike gesture, walked over to the boy and stuck her hand out.
“Hi. I’m Marie. Or Rogue. That’s my, um, nickname. You can call me that if you want. It’s, uh, nice to meet you”
The moment stretched out awkwardly as the boy looked down at her gloved hand then back up at her face. She finally noticed that what she’d first taken for a black scarf covering the lower half of his face was really a wrapping of bandages. They started just below his sharp nose, covering his mouth, and continued down his neck and under the black t-shirt he wore. Weird. Guess he doesn’t want to talk…
“Um,” she started lamely, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother…”
Before Rogue could finish her apology, the boy surprised her by reaching out and shaking her hand. She jumped just a bit before catching herself. His skin was surprisingly warm, even through her glove – like he had a fever. He pointed at his covered mouth and shook his head.
“Ah,” comprehension dawned. “I understand. You can’t talk.”
He nodded then held up his finger in a ‘wait’ gesture. The boy set his backpack on the ground and started to rummage through it.
“Well, that’s… That must be hard to deal with. I mean…You know…” Oh, god! I’m babbling like an idiot, she thought.
Meanwhile, the kid had pulled a small whiteboard and a dry-erase marker out of his pack. He wrote on it quickly and turned it toward her.
“Name’s Juno,” Rogue read aloud. She looked up at him dubiously. “Your name is Juno?”
He made a little exasperated gesture with one hand and scribbled a little more on the board.
“Oh. Jono. Sounds less girly, that way. Well, it’s nice to meet you, I guess. I mean, things aren’t that good right now, but meeting you is good. I mean…” Stop babbling, dammit!
The boy just nodded during her little speech. His skin was so pale, almost milk-like. Small reddish scars were visible just at the edges of the bandages. Burns? Or some other horrible accident. She shuddered thinking about what his face might look like underneath and immediately felt guilty. Jono’s clothes were shabby and worn through: faded black tee with some band’s logo on it, covered up with a ratty flannel, and leather jacket. There were patches covering patches on his black jeans and the toe of one Doc Marten was repaired with duct tape. A shock of unkempt brown hair hung in his eyes. Nice eyes, she thought. They were strangely bright and deep, like light shining through thick brown glass. Sad, though. The shadows underneath made them seem larger in his pale face. Guess, we’ve both seen a lot of stuff that’s not so good.
There didn’t seem to be much else to say after the introductions, so they’d stood together in a companionable silence for a minute or two. Rogue squinted into the late Autumn sun. So this is Texas, she mused. Not much out here. Guess that’s kinda the point. Really, besides the sprawling detention center, there was just an empty road stretching out into the flat, flat land. Normal people liked their mutant detention facilities far away from civilization, apparently.
Rogue rubbed absently at the little scar on the back of her neck. She could just feel the lump the metal implant made under her skin. She pressed on the little bump. Funny how such a tiny thing could conquer the power that had made her so miserable for so long. If everything else in her life was a disaster right now, there was still that tantalizing thought to ponder: what would it be like? To be able to touch again. To be normal.
She’d have to think about it later – right now there were more pressing matters. Like getting home, for one. Texas was quite a detour. But her life in the last couple of years had been a series of detours. What was one more?
“Look,” she turned to the silent boy next to her. “You got anyone coming to pick you up?”
He glanced over at her before shoving his hand into the pockets of his worn leather jacket. He shook his head slowly, warily.
“See, the thing is,” she said, “I’ve got this friend up in Canada. Least I think he’s up there. So I was thinking of heading up there. To Canada, I mean. Maybe trying to find him…” She trailed off, assessing Jono’s reaction to her plan. He just looked at her steadily with those big eyes, so she went on.
“Anyway, it might be a good idea to go to Canada. Some of the girls I was with were sayin’ that if you can get across the border, you can get the implants removed. Guess the government up there will even pay for it, if you apply for a special program or something. Cool, huh? That’s the rumor, anyway. And I don’t really have anything better to do. So, it seems like it could be a good plan, if you’re interested…” What was she doing, asking this complete stranger to go on a road trip with her? Maybe it was hasty, but the prospect of being on her own again just didn’t appeal. “But if you’ve got other plans, I understand…” she finished, lamely. Don’t want to seem too desperate, huh?
Jono squinted at her for a few moments before wiping his board clean with a grimy sleeve. “How far is Canada?” he wrote.
It took her a couple of seconds to realize what he was asking. “Oh, far,” she laughed, relieved. “Yeah, it’s far. I don’t know exactly how many miles. But I hitchhiked from Mississippi to there not that long ago. So, I mean, it’s not too far.”
Jono raised one eyebrow at her in a look of skepticism that startled another little laugh out of her. His eyes softened as he studied her. Finally, he dropped his shoulders – a gesture that seemed like a sigh to Rogue – and nodded, wearily.
And that was that. She’d gotten a traveling companion. A silent, leather-wearing, bandaged companion – he seemed more like a shadow than a person – but she wasn’t complaining. In some ways, Rogue felt excited by the prospect of a long journey, even if it wasn’t one she would have chosen for herself. “Logan,” she whispered. “I’m on my way. You’d better be up there, bub.”