"You know the best eastbound trains for hitching rides on?" Logan asked. The kid laughed, clearly taking the question as a joke.

"I catch a lot of the old hobos on the Cascade ride. That one goes straight through the mountains and stops in Spokane. b.a.s.t.a.r.ds think its fun or something. I tell you, I'm just waiting for one of those idiots to fall on the tracks underneath a train. It would serve 'em right"

"I sense a lot of love there," Rogue said.

"Yeah, I'm really feeling the love when I look into a cargo box and the holds have to be hosed down because someone decided to take a dump in the comer. Guess who has to do the clean up? Me."

"Tough life," Logan said, with only moderate sympathy. "We should be going now. Thanks."

"Sure thing," he said, his gaze drifting down Logans body. "I know we just met, but do you evera""

"No," Logan said. "Really."

"Ooookay," said the kid, and without another word, pulled away.

"That has to be the worst security guard ever," Rogue said, watching him drive out of sight around a parked train.

"Nope," Logan said. "But he's close."

They found the bike path, but Scott, Jean, and Kurt were nowhere to be seen. A thread of worry needled Rogue's gut, growing worse as they walked, but then she heard her name called and Kurt appeared from behind a clump of bushes.

"We found a shady spot and decided to rest." He led them off the sidewalk to a small patch of ground beneath some trees. The gra.s.s was yellow, littered with bits of trash, but Rogue found that once she stepped into that soft dry spot, the rest of the world seemed to fall away.

Scott and Jean sat cross-legged on the ground. Rogue joined them, dropping the sack of food. She saw the tip of a sandwich, the plastic rim of an applesauce container. Her stomach felt like it was going to crawl right out of her throat.

"You think we can eat this now?" she asked the others.

"Knock yourselves out," Logan said, still looking at the train schedules. "Just be sure to save some of it for later."

Scott sorted through the bag, pulling out chips, soda, cookiesa"that lonely sandwich and applesaucea"and several objects wrapped in aluminum foil, which turned out to be cold pizza.

"Lordy," Rogue said. "Nothing ever looked so good."

They had nothing to cut the pizza with, and resorted to pa.s.sing each slice around so that every person could take several bites. It was, in retrospect, a gross way of divvying up the food, but they were all too hungry to care. It was the best pizza Rogue ever had.

They washed the pizza down with a shared can of c.o.ke, and by the time Rogue took her last swallow of sugary carbonated perfection, she felt ready to run a mile. Her gut still felt hollow, but that little bit of food was going to her head like a drug.

"That pizza was still cold," Scott said to Logan. He stood up, brushing off his pants. "You didn't get it from Maguire's home."

"That's right" Logan pulled the stolen money from his pocket and handed it to him. Scott gave Logan a careful look and counted out the cash. Forty dollars. Rogue thought that might be all they had to get themselves home.

"You stole this," he said.

"I sure as h.e.l.l didn't borrow it."

Scott's mouth hardened into a white line. The expression was so familiar, so... Scott... that Rogue forgot, for a moment, that he was a woman. Jean stood up.

"Don't," she said. "We need that money."

"Jean," he began, but she shook her head.

"You're a good man, Scott Summers, but now is not the time for a morality play. We need to get home."

Scott stared at her. "Morality play?"

She smiled. "Doesn't mean I don't love you."

They left the shelter of the bushes and made their way down to the heart of Balmer Yard. Logan led them on a circuitous path around the trains, keeping close to the tracks so they could duck beneath the locomotives if any security vehicles came too near. Considering what Rogue had seen of the security in this place, she did not think it would be difficult to avoid them.

"There are almost a dozen trains scheduled to leave at noon," Logan said, pausing in front of an open boxcar and pointing down the line at the nearby rear device, "but only two are heading east across the Cascades. This is one of 'em "

"Should we jump in?" Kurt peered inside the open door. "It looks clean enough."

"What are the risks?" Scott asked. "Are these cars routinely checked before leaving?"

"It's a gamble," Logan admitted, giving Kurt a boost up into the boxcar. He gestured for Rogue to follow him and she did, grabbing Kurt's hand and clambering onto the hard dusty surface. She stood in the door, blinking under the bright sun as she gazed out at the train yard, searching for anyone who might be watching. In the distance, at the edge of Balmer Yard, she saw a police cruiser parked beside a white truck. She was not entirely certain, but the security guard leaning out his window and talking to the cop looked rather familiar.

"Um," she said. "We might have a problem."

"How big a problem?" Scott asked, as Jean shoved him up into the boxcar.

"The kind that has handcuffs and that would be highly motivated to arrest us."

"Great," Logan muttered. Jean bent over to give him a leg up. He stared at her.

She smiled. "Go on now, pretty lady."

His scowl deepened. Ignoring her help, he attempted to clamber up into the boxcar by himself. It was awkwarda"embarra.s.singly so. Patty was not an athletic woman, and Logana"G.o.d bless hima"had a mind that was far more willing than the body. Jean kept staring at his backside, and Rogue knew she was thinking about giving him one good push.

"I think you met your match," Scott commented, as he finally wriggled those precious last inches onto the platform. "Beaten by your own body."

Logan, feet still dangling out the door, scowled.

"The police car is moving," Rogue announced, as the cruiser pulled away from the white security truck and entered the main train yard. "He's not coming in this direction, but he's definitely looking for someone."

Scott pulled Jean into the boxcar. "Everyone get to the back. Logan, you said this thing leaves at noon?"

"It wasn't even ten when we got to that office. We've still got some time yet. You need me to play decoy?"

Scott shook his head. "I won't risk you getting caught."

"One is better than all. You can spring me when you get back home."

"When did you become an optimist?" Jean asked. "You're a.s.suming a lot."

"I'm a.s.suming that we might need a Plan B to get out of here, and if it means that not all of us make the trip, I'm volunteering to stay behind and get the cops off your trail. I've handled worse."

"We're sticking together," Scott said, more firmly this time. Rogue briefly wondered if Mindy had ever looked so resolveda"so harda"or if the inner person really did mold the outer. Mindy's face was almost beginning to resemble the real Scott.

For the next two hours they sat at the back of the boxcar. They did not speak, but peered through slits in the wall planking, keeping watch for any movement outside the train. Twice, they heard voicesa"engineers, employeesa"but those men and women did not linger. Rogue was just beginning to think they were safe when she heard the loud crunch of gravel, the growl of a car engine. She peered through a narrow opening in the wall and saw a white truck. A car door slammed.

Logan moved. Scott made a grab for his arm but he was too slow. Rogue, after a moment's hesitation, followed him.

They made it to the entrance of the boxcar at the same time as the security guard. It was the same young man.

"Whoa," he said, startled. "What are you two doing up there?"

"Research," Logan said. "We wanted to see what the inside of one of these things looks like."

Rogue edged closer to the edge of the platform, blocking the young man's view of the shadowed interior. He glanced up at her for only an instant before focusing on Logan.

"It's a good thing I stopped here," he said. "This train is due to leave in just a couple minutes. You could've gotten stuck up there."

"Nah," Logan said. "We were just leaving anyhow."

"Cool." He reached his hand out to Logan, who stared at it, unblinking.

"Um," said the kid, blushing. "You need help down?"

Logan opened his mouth. Rogue cut him off with a quick 'Yes." She ignored the dirty look he gave her. After a moment, Logan grimaced and took the young man's hand.

Rogue jumped down on her own. The security guard still held Logan's hand and was trying to lead him back to his truck. "Come on," he said. "I'll drop you guys off at the front gate."

"That's all right," Rogue said. "We can walk."

"It's a long walk," he said, "and this time of day there are a lot of trains moving out. It's not that safe, especially for you guys. You don't know all the rules."

"We know enough to stay out of the way of a moving train," Logan said, prying his hand loose. She halt- expected him to wipe it on his jeans, and sure enough, he did not disappoint. She almost felt sorry for the young man, who watched Logan's apparent disgust with flushed embarra.s.sment. He glanced at Rogue and she gave him a small smile.

"Yeah," he said softly. He began walking toward Rogue, and she stepped backward, startled.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

He gave her a strange look. "I need to check the inside of that boxcar."

"We were just in there," Rogue said. "It's very... clean."

"That's good. I still need to check, though. It's part of my job."

So much for being a lousy security guard. Rogue blocked his path.

"Before you climb up in there, do you think you could answer some questions? We're in a bit of a hurry."

"So am I," he said, in a sharper tone. Rogue thought he was just beginning to process the sting of Logan's rejection. "This train is going to leave any minute."

Rogue heard a loud metallic groan from down the line, a hiss and loud clack, like the tumbling of a giant lock. The young man swore, pushing past her. "That's just great. Now I've got, like, five seconds to check this thing outa""

Rogue could not stop him in time. He hoisted himself onto the edge of the boxcar and peered inside. Swore loudly.

"Hey!" he shouted. He looked over his shoulder at Rogue and Logan. "What the h.e.l.l kind of game are you playing? There are people in there! Why didn't you tell me?"

The train moved, a sharp rocking jolt, and the young man jumped off the platform. "I gotta report this," he said, reaching for the walkie-talkie belted to his hip. "G.o.d, I hate this job. And you two, don't move. I can't believe you did this to me."

"It was easy," Logan said, and slammed his fist into the young man's face. The young man's breath escaped in a rush and he hit the ground hard. He did not move. Rogue, watching him, felt her stomach twist painfully in her gut. She remembered her hands around a man's head, pounding his skull into the floor with all her strength because she was humana"and human was not strong enough to killa"

She ran to the young man and fell to her knees on the hard gravel. She checked his pulse. It still beat, slow and steady. She remembered how to breathe again.

"Come on," Logan muttered. "Help me get him in his truck."

"We don't have time for cleanup." Rogue looked at the train, the boxcar inching ever farther away. Scott, Jean, and Kurt leaned out the door.

"Make the time." Logan lifted the upper half of the young man's body and with Rogue's help carried him to the truck and shoved him inside, very much out of sight unless one stood right beside the truck. Logan slammed shut the doora"

a"and then they ran.

The train had picked up speed. The gravel was difficult to run on. Rogue pushed hard, reaching back to grab Logan's arm and haul him with her. He was having even more trouble than her, and that was unacceptable, impossible, because if Rogue got on that boxcar Logan was going with her, or else she would just stop running now. She refused to leave him.

They reached the boxcar door; Jean, kneeling, stretched out her arm. Rogue grabbed Logan and shoved him in front of her. He protested, but Jean grabbed the back of his shirt and threw herself backward, hauling him off the ground. His kicking foot clipped Rogue in the shoulder and she stumbled to one knee. Pain shot up her leg into her hip; gravel cut her palm.

Someone shouted her name. She forced herself up. The boxcar had moved impossibly far, but she started running anywaya"fast, fast, she had forgotten what it was to be human and slow, and what she wouldn't give to fly againa"

Somehow, miraculously, she ate up the distance between herself and her friends. She did not feel her knee anymore; the pain in her hand was distant, feint like the sounds of those voices calling her onward, drowned out by the rumble of the moving train, those tracks, and then Rogue was close enough to reach out an arm and brush Jean's fingers, and Jean shouted "Closer! Just a little closer!" and Rogue threw herself forward, gasping, and Jean's hand closed around her own and pulled, pulled so hard she flew off her feet and slammed into the edge of the platform, her legs dangling close to the moving wheels, the grind of steel on steel, and then someone else grabbed the back of her pants and she was flying againa" flying and landing hard on a vibrating floor that swayed and swayed with the rocking of the rail. She lay there, clutching at that floor, gasping for breath. Parts of her body felt burned from the inside out Rogue heard low muttering by her ear. She flopped onto her back and looked up into Kurt's concerned face. He crossed himself and said "Amen."

"Yeah," she breathed, closing her eyes. "I'm with you on that one, sugah."

12.

THE TRAIN MOVED THROUGH THE CITY LIKE A SLOW- rolling caterpillar, following street bridges, crawling toward the Lake Washington Ship Ca.n.a.l, where Kurt got a nice view of the water and the boats. Later, pa.s.sing through a pleasant neighborhood of small well-kept homes, he watched a green park shimmer on the edge of Puget Sound, and smiled as kites fluttered high in the blue sky, children screaming and laughing below them.

Kurt thought it might be nice to go to a park such as that one, looking as he now did, and just ... be. Be a man, be anonymous, be something other than a mutant. Not that he minded what he was. Everything was part of G.o.d's great plan, including him, and to regret his circ.u.mstances, to wish himself different, would be to go against that which G.o.d had meant for him, and him alone. Every living person was blessed with individuality. Kurt was simply more individual than others.

And yet, still, that wistful wonder. He could not help himself, even if it was something he did not indulge for long.

The train increased its speed. Kurt stopped watching the viewa"Puget Sound and clay bluffs, great blue herons perched on rocksa"and focused instead on Rogue, sleeping nearby. He tried not to imagine what would have befallen her if she had not made it on the train. He thought he might have jumped off to be with her. His sister.

It was not something they ever really discussed, though the knowledge was therea"had been for years, ever since discovering that Mystique had mothered them both. Sometimes he wished they could talk about it, but his few attempts had accomplished nothing. Rogue was not ready to speak of their mother. He did not take it personally. Only, it was times like this that he wondered if she thought of him in the same way, as blood.

Jean sat down beside him. Long dreadlocks hung past her broad shoulders; her skin looked very dry and her lips were rough. Her eyes, though, were light with intelligence, and he could not help but smile when he looked into her borrowed face.

"That's one of the things I like about you," Jean said. "I can always count on you seeing the sunny side of any situation. I can always find a smile."

Kurt shrugged, studying his dark human hands. "I grew up in the circus, Jean. You learn how to smile through anything. You learn how to smile and mean it."