X-Men: Dark Mirror (17 page)

pockets. He found two wallets and stole cash from both.

"Logan," she hissed.

"I'm not taking it all," he said.

Maybe not, but it still made her sick—sick because she wanted that money, knew they all needed that money, but to be so desperate as to fall into thievery—

'This isn't better than begging," she said.

"And didn't I say you wouldn't have to do that?"

"What about the homeless shelter?"

"You don't pass up opportunities," he replied. The coats were too big to stick unnoticed in his bulging bag, or else Rogue thought he would have snatched those, too.

"Don't look at me like that," he said, and pulled her from the tiny lounge. Rogue kept her body between Logan and Shelly as they left; the secretary waved goodbye, never paying attention to the bag clutched tight against Logan's side.

They quickly left the office building, and only when they were clear of the doors and back into the cool fresh air, did Rogue say, "That was wrong."

"Think I don't know that, darlin'?" Logan gave her a hard look. His cheeks were flushed. "You think it's
not
going to take things like that for us to get home? What matters more to you, Rogue? Morality or survival?"

"It would be nice if we didn't have to sacrifice either

one."

"Right," he said. "I think you're smarter than that."

She bit her tongue. He was right, of course, but it rankled her to no end that she could not think of an alternative. Get a job? Sure, if they had time, if the urgent press of some unknown danger wasn't bearing down on their shoulders. Strangers had their bodies, and even now at this moment, some man or woman inside her physical self might be using her powers to hurt others. She could not bear the thought of that.

And besides, you trust Logan. You know he would have taken the high road first if he could have.

Because Logan was an honorable man. A very dangerous, oftentimes unpredictable man, but decent all the same. If he thought the situation warranted sacrificing some of his hard-fought pride in order to do right by her and the others, she could not fault him.

Logan pored over the schedules as they walked back to the bike path. Rogue carried the plastic bag for him. She peered inside and saw sandwiches, soda; her stomach growled loud enough to drown out a passing train.

"Didn't need mutant powers to hear that one," Logan murmured, still reading the paperwork.

"Shut up," she muttered, embarrassed. The comer of his mouth twitched.

A white truck, spitting gravel alongside the rails, pulled up beside them. Its window was rolled down; a young man peered out. Rogue did not miss the way he checked out Logan. He barely spared a glance for her, and she wanted to laugh. Tough and dangerous was sexy, huh? Maybe in Logan's book, but not for this kid.

"You ladies lost?" he asked. She saw a security patch on his shoulder.

"We're doing research," Rogue said, "for school. The University of Washington."

He gave her a look that said quite clearly he thought she was far too ancient to be in school, and said, "You a professor?"

Logan made a small movement with his hand and Rogue—utterly bewildered that the young man could mistake her for someone of learning—said, "Yes."

"Huh." He looked at Logan again and smiled. Logan smiled back, but she knew her friend well enough to notice the hard line of his gaze, the "I just might beat the crap out of you" tilt of his head. "You need any help?"

"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. Bastards 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 ever—"

"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 grass 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, cookies—that lonely sandwich and applesauce—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 passing 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 Coke, 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 hell 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 awkward—embarrassingly so. Patty was not an athletic woman, and Logan—God bless him—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 assuming a lot."

"I'm assuming 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 resolved—so hard—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 voices—engineers, employees—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 embarrassment. 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.