Three months. She had been on the road only three months, and she looked years older. Gently Marie pulled her hair back out of her face, still studying her reflection closely.

Marie had been a sophomore at the institute. She had once looked seventeen, and didn't bother to tell everyone how old she really was. In fact, she had claimed to have been on the road for a mere six months. If only she could have told them how it had been nearly two decades… She had been so alone, so lost. Her momma didn't know she had left, didn't recognize her when she saw her…

Well, at least she looked legal now. No need to mention the problems that it suddenly invited into her life. And besides, a teenager was a lot more inconspicuous, and innocent, than a woman of twenty-something.

There was so much wrong at that moment, with her life in general. A thought flitted across her mind, jolting her inner Logan back into awareness. 'Ah could die…'

'Don'cha dare think like that, Marie.'

Ignoring him, Marie changed her train of thought. 'If Ah keep agin' like this, Ah'll nevah be able t' settle down in one place.'

'Thought ya didn' wanna stay chained down.'

'At least Ah had that option. Logan, even if Ah were still welcome at th' institute, Ah'd have t' leave. Oh gawd, Ah let that damn charade carry on fer too long. It was so easy, lahke a good dream… Guess that's jus' what Ah deserve. Ah'm thirty-somethin, Logan. Ah have no home, mah momma's a former villain, an' Ah'm alone.'

'Darlin', th' charade's over. Do ya think that any innocent Southern belle could've survived even six months on the road without bein' hurt or killed? Mutant or no, that story's 'bout as likely as…'

'Start on that chain again, an' Ah'm gonna go raht inta th' suicide thoughts. Ya couldn't'a prevented Jean's death. Ya shouldn' feel guilty 'bout it, neither; Ah didn' absorb you after that fiasco.'

'Sorry. Maybe we should get outta here 'fore some thug shows up to get outta th' rain.'

Slowly Marie looked out the window. Small droplets were starting to fall, but she didn't doubt it would work its way into a full-fledged storm. Logan was right, too. The building she was in would doubtlessly be overrun shortly by whatever hobos couldn't find any other shelter in a few more minutes.

Her duffel bag was already packed up, her clothes piled in a corner. Everything that had once been baggy on her sixteen-year-old body was uncomfortably tight on Marie's suddenly older one. And she had changed so much overnight!

As usual, Marie had gone to sleep in the safest, most secluded place she could manage. This time, it was in the rafters of an abandoned bar in the middle of a busy city. She had covered herself up with her cloak, the same one she'd worn when she'd run away at sixteen, actually being sixteen. It had held up amazingly over the past twenty years.

When Marie had woken up, her clothes had been way too small. A quick glance outside had shown her she was, indeed, still in her own time, but a quick glance at a mirror showed her she was physically about five years older than she had been the previous day, and the cloak still fit. Somehow, she wondered if her momma's girlfriend, Momma Irene, hadn't planned it somehow.

Quickly, Marie pulled her cloak on and buttoned it up. She would attract less attention in a cloak than in clothes several sizes too small, but hopefully there was a place nearby where she could get some cheap outfits.

There was. The place was a small, run-down place, with gang signs in graffiti along the outside walls, but it had a sale going on and a sign guaranteeing everything under ten dollars. All Marie had on her was one hundred and fourty or so dollars, which wasn't a lot when faced with replacing an entire wardrobe and keeping her alive. Still, Marie knew how to make her money last for almost a year without resorting to begging or theft. Not to say she wouldn't; she liked to keep her options open.

-

When Marie left the store, she had six pairs of jeans, four tee-shirts, one pair each of tennis shoes and working boots, and a brown leather poncho with a hood. She didn't actually have a need for the poncho, but it had caught her eye and she had been able to spare the cash.

Not really, but she had wanted it and treated herself to it. Marie had all the clothing she could wear and a hundred dollars, besides. She had slipped easily and quickly back into her 'street' mindframe, which knew how to save and spend, and when she actually needed to eat.

Discreetly Marie emptied a large trash can into the dumpster, then climbed inside and changed. She emerged fully clad in a decent outfit minutes later, just as it was starting to rain. The water washed away the smell enough as she started to walk, cleaning and soaking her to the bone.

In a way, it was a baptism of sorts, washing away everyone she had ever been. She was starting over, and that was just the way she liked it.

Only, now came the real problem; a new identity. Somehow, that sounded wrong. It wasn't permanent, or rather, Marie didn't plan on living like a street rat forever. She could work her way up, carve out a decent life for herself. But as whom?

Quietly Marie looked down at her hands. Her skin had once been poisonous, and it was still pale from years of layering, wearing gloves. Hiding. Lying. She didn't want to hide again, pretend to be someone new and restart her life. She wasn't. She was just herself.

She was Anna Marie Darkholme-Adler, and she didn't have to impress anyone.