A.N I don't own anything. But do recommend the sights I use they are fun!

From requests I redid this chapter. Enjoy hope it's easier reading now.

Chapter 2: First Encounters

Three years had passed quickly since Rogue's powers had first manifested. She was now sixteen and fully into the swing of her new life. Her days were filled with living-in-the-moment situations, such as where her next ride was coming from, or her next meal. Sometimes Rogue was forced to hoof it. More often than not, she went hungry; making her desperate enough to hunt down scraps that other people leave behind, even looking at trash baskets near fast-food stands. She was even known to sneak into hotels in the morning and grab as much continental breakfast as she could without being caught.

Rogue's nomadic ways moved her slowly up the west coast and eventually curving around to the upper Midwest. Presently she was bumming a ride on the back of a v-twin magazine Slammer riding the open prairie lands of South Dakota. The Ironhorse, belonging to a burly man named Red Bob. Red Bob was a man who made the pilgrimage out to the Sioux Empire nearly yearly. The road was crowded with bikers everywhere. Chrome and leather filled both lanes of the highway I90. Rogue was eagerly witnessing the phenomenon called the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally. Her trench coat was billowing out into the wind, and her well-gloved hands were clamped securely on her current Good Samaritan.

Pulling into Sturgis was beyond amazing. The bikes, the people, the mere attitude exhibited was enough to knock the breath from Rogue's lungs. The bikes not only lined Main Street but were packed in throes down the center of it; small town parking style.

"Wow, this is some sight." She grinned, "If you're into bikes, leather, and babes."

Red Bob chuckled at her display of awe, recalling his own first time. "Well, this is the end of the line for me," he said slightly reluctant to part with such sweet company.

"Oh thanks." She chirped.

"Hey, if you're determined to get to Canada, I know a guy who heads back up after the rally."

"Yeah?"

"Sure, I'll introduce you if you'd like just show up at one o'clock at One Eyed Jacks Saloon."

"Ah'll be there fer sure."

Red Bob smiled down on the brunette. She had been a pleasure to have as company as far as hitchhikers go. "You're accent came back thick just now."

Rogue sheepishly ran her hand through her hair. "Yeah, it does that every now and then. It's been fading out the last few years now, but pops back up now and then to let me know where ah come from. Not that I'd ever forget."

"You can take the girl outta the South but not the South outta the girl, huh?"

"Ah guess, sugah." She threw it on extra thick for fun.

Smiling cheerfully Red Bob shook his fiery mane to keep the chuckle in his throat at bay. "Well I'll see you at One Eyed Jacks Saloon in about four hours then."

"Ok, see ya later, thanks again for the ride."

Rogue wandered around Sturgis, marveling at the enormity of the crowd. Not to mention the seemingly endless sea of skin, leather and tattoos. Rogue couldn't help but think how avant-garde some of their styles ended up. However everyone seemed perfectly comfortable in their skin. Well everyone but the Rogue herself that is.

Eventually the weight of her bags, plus the bulk of her clothes were slowing her down. The day was so incredibly hot to begin with that Rogue feared she'd get heat stroke at this pace. The sun wasn't even directly overhead yet, and she knew it would only get worse as the day stretched on.

Rogue searched out a bathroom and after waiting in a line that seemed endless; to which she was most grateful she didn't have to actually go, she was able to find solitude in a locked bathroom stall. She felt relieved to be able to shed some of the bulk wrapped around her body. This was only something she could do when there was no one else around. The fear was deeply ingrained within her. There had been other minor accidents since she had left Mississippi three years ago. The voices, the memories, the skills, and the absolute horror was more than she could bear.

Sweat ran in small streams down the back of her neck. Using toilet paper she dabbed herself dry. Mathew's coat hung on the stall door.

"I can't stand the thought of putting it back on." She grumbled. It was just too hot.

Rogue opted to put on a long sleeve shirt made of a shear material instead. "Lord, I thought it was suppose to get colder up North." She spoke out loud to no one in particular.

After changing, Rogue scooped her things back into her bags. As she exited the water closet, Rogue removed what little money she had from her backpack and slipped it into Mathew's old wallet.

"Ah, here we go, just what I need. A storage locker." It hadn't taken her long to spot it. From a practiced technique she jimmied the key free of the lock with a wire set she had created a year ago. Rogue stuffed the locker with her duffel and pack filling it completely when she added the old trench coat on top.

"Crap." She muttered under her breath as she heaved against the locker door. After a little effort she got it to close completely. To make sure it wouldn't reopen, she checked the security of the door. "Good." She whispered as she stood up slipping the key into her back pocket.

While wandering around, checking out the bikes, Rogue came across a few conversations about the Mutant Crisis. Everyone seemed to have his or her own opinion on the subject. She heard scatters of conversations, some more informed than others. Some people were bitter, and others sympathetic. She tried to blend into the background and desperately tried not to touch the abundant amount of exposed flesh. The last thing Rogue wanted was these conversations in her head not just in her ears.

"I tell you there is a vast migration of Mutants headed toward the border."

"Well that's easy enough to figure out. Canada claims to be a safe haven for their kind."

"Do you think it's true?"

"Who knows?"

Rogue weaved her way through the crowded Main Street, but the undertones were all alike in the end.

"What's your take on that Mutie deal?"

"Good riddance."

"Yeah!"

"Oh, come on. They're just people."

"Deadly people."

"All people are deadly."

"Not like this, they ain't."

"Yep."

"Heck yeah that's what I'm talk'n."

Unable to take it, Rogue eventually darted away. She was tired of this type of talk. She had experienced it everywhere people gather for the last few years. Mostly it had been belligerent, but even pity got on her nerves, eventually. That's why she knew her best bet would be Canada. With the gossip and rumors of a 'Safe Haven' Rogue knew this was her only chance at a normal life.

"Canada has to be safe. Has to be." She told herself.

Time eventually moved forward enough that Rogue had to turn back towards the One Eyed Jacks Saloon and her meeting with Red Bob's friend. Despite the infamous news topic, Rogue found the vendors, and bike tricks pretty distracting enough that the four hours went by pretty fast.

As Rogue entered the One Eyed Jacks Saloon, she became instantly jarred by a tall auburn haired male exiting the establishment. Rogue had started to fall backward only to have his hands catch her about the waist abruptly bring her descent to an immediate stop. He looked to be about eighteen or nineteen years of age and cute as the dickens.

Quickly regaining herself, she shoved his hands away in near panic.

"Sorry Chere."

"Whatever, sugah." Waving him off in a desperate attempt to calm down. 'How could I be so clumsy?' she thought. Their skin hadn't touched thanks to her clothes and his biker gloves but she was still skittish at contact in general. Before the boy could say anymore Rogue slipped by him.

A charming lopsided grin graced the young man's face as he watched the Southern Bell weave a path through the crowed room. He was hard pressed not to be spell bound as he shook his moppy hair and explained away his sudden fascination. "Just she can move like liquid, keeping her distance in dis traffic be all." He told himself, not really believing it. But never the less the young emerald-eyed beauty disappeared among the throes of bikers and Wild West decor.

Avoiding the mingling crowd Rogue quickly spotted Red Bob. He really looked like he could relax in this Wild West background. He's a hard man to miss however even in this packed space. His bushy fire red mane, and beard gave him his nickname. His stature gave him the air of a biker which luck would have it was exactly what he was. And across from him sat a very cantankerous looking man. His dark wild hair and build was enough to tell any lesser man to back off.

"Ah, here she is."

"Humph!" mutter the gruff Canadian. He hardly glanced in her direction.

"Hello."

"I leave right away after the rally, kid. And I won't wait if you're late."

"I understand."

"I go as far as Winnipeg. Then I turn to the countryside. Your best bet is to jump rides in Winnipeg, got it?"

Rogue nodded. "Ah'm, Rogue by the way."

He replied at first with an incoherent noise followed by a muttered "Whatever, kid."

"And you are?" she prompted.

"James. James Howlett."

Rogue glanced at the dog tag dangling on James' neck when the two men stood to take their leave of her.

"Wolverine." She muttered to herself.