Rogue walked into the bar hesitantly. It wasn't what she thought Loftlin City would be, but at least it wasn't home. She winced as memories assaulted her. The kiss, the ambulance, his parents.....

"In this corner we have the winner and still reigning champion WOLVERINE! Will anyone dare to fight him?" Rogue strained her neck and saw only a dark figure in a corner and a cloud of smoke. Dimly she heard the announcer go on and someone finally yell that they would fight, and walk up to the cage. But all of her attention was focused on the bare-chested shadow. Though she could barely see him, she felt...something. A charge. Rogue held her breath as his face slid out of the darkness. She glimpsed an intense, angry profile before his competitor punched him in the back. Rogue blinked rapidly, coming out of her trance-like state. She grimaced as the larger man punched Wolverine in the back, and proceeded to pummel him as he was down. After a vicious kick in the stomach, the man raised his hand and Wolverine turned, punching the man's hand with his own. The larger man howled in pain, and Rogue thought she heard the distinct clang of metal. Wolverine punched once, twice, and the man was out. The audience howled. Rogue covered her ears and tried to fight her way through the mob, holding her jacket around her body and pulling the hood around her face. She looked around frantically, her knap sack was being pulled on by people and was weighing her down considerably. She pushed past people and opened a small cabinet by the door of the bar. It was full of cleaning utensils. She stuffed her bag into the back of the cabinet and closed it, looking around to make sure no one saw her.

"Well what have we got here?" Rogue felt someone grab her arm and spin her around. A man, obviously drunk, grinned at her. Rogue struggled weakly; she hadn't eaten anything or really slept in days. "A pretty thang like you shouldn't be so covered up." He slurred, releasing her arms to push at her cloak. Someone pushed the man from behind and he let go of her to turn around and grab a guy by his lapels. "Whadda ya think ya doing shovin' me. Get outta here." When he turned back around, Rogue was gone.

Rogue slipped into the small and foul smelling bathroom. She walked over to the cracked mirror, and turned on the faucet, splashing water on her face to cool her off. Wearing three layers of clothing wasn't exactly great bar wear. She heard the announcer scream again, "Is there any others? Will any other man dare to take on the Wolf?" The crowd roared, and Rogue guessed another drunk had decided he was, as most drunks do, the greatest thing in the world. She heard the announcer scream for the fight to start, and a few seconds later it was over. The entire place shook as the audience screamed. She could only hope the guy who had gone up there was the man who had grabbed her. Well, she couldn't hide in here forever. That thought was cemented a second later when a couple slammed into the bathroom. The two were entwined in an intimate embrace that left nothing to the imagination.

"You. Out," he mumbled. Rogue was only too happy to obey. She stumbled out and saw that Wolverine had left the cage. Two men had picked up the last poor guy to fight him and threw him out in the snow. For some reason she looked around, trying to spot the man whose face she had barely seen.

"Lookin' for me sweetie?" she heard someone yell into her ear. She spun around and looked into the sweaty, red face of the man who had grabbed her earlier. His foul breath fanned her face as he laughed. "I knew you'd come back. Why don't we go somewhere less crowded." Before she could say anything he had thrown her over his shoulder. Rogue screamed as the room tipped crazily. She struggled in futility, looking around at the upside down bodies for help.

"Take care of that girl Stan!" one man said, hitting her rump heavily. She realized that this was just a big joke to them, and no one would be coming to her rescue. She thought, as the man carried her out the door, she saw a pair of light jeans and a bare chest walking towards her, but she might have imagined it. The man, Stan, lifted her off his shoulder and slammed her against the side of the building.

The door to the bar opened and Rogue held her breath hoping she would see the Wolf man come out. It wasn't him, but it was two other men. Maybe they would help her, she thought desperately. "You don't mind sharing, do you Stan?" one of the men sneered.

Rogue cried out in frustration. Stan grunted his approval and pushed the cloak down her arms, trapping her hands behind her. His hands grasped the top of her shirt, and started pulling downward. She was able to free one of her arms out of her jacket, but with it went her glove. She reached up to pull his hand away from her. As soon as she came into contact with his skin he stiffened and released her with a strangled scream. Rogue pushed him off of her, grabbed her cloak and ran toward the woods surrounding the bar. She could hear the men yelling and she thought she heard one of them trying to catch up with her. But the snow, coupled with her heavy clothing and strong wind slowed her and in a few seconds she felt faint. She stumbled and slumped to the ground. Whoever was running after her was only a few feet away. With the rest of her strength she struggled to pull of her other glove, sobbing. She didn't want to hurt him, but whether she touched him or not, he was going to die.

---

"What the.." She heard him gasp a few feet from her. She heard a snarl and the man groaned as someone barreled into him. She was breathing so hard she couldn't quite hear the fight, and didn't have the strength to get up. A few seconds later two strong hands hauled her up.

"Get into the bar," a low, gruff voice demanded. Her cloak, hanging slackly from her hand was wrapped around her.

"Wha..." The light snowing had turned into a near blizzard and she couldn't see the man's face.

"Go," he growled shoving her none too gently. She stumbled in the direction of the bar lights. Her mind drifted and her sight failed her many times, but she made it to the door. She didn't dare look to her left to see if the man was there. She stumbled into the bar and slid down the wall into one dark corner. The place was still in full swing, and no one seemed to notice her entrance. The use of her powers must have drained her. That was her last thought before she fell into a dark sleep.

Rogue awoke what seemed like an eternity later. She shivered, wrapping her damp cloak more securely around her. She got up slowly, her sore legs screaming in protest. The bar had cleared for the most part, only a few people remained, playing pool, passed out, or watching the TV. She walked unsteadily to the bar and sat down, rubbing a hand over her face. Her hand....she looked in horror at her bare hands and arms. She scrambled off the stool and looked around wildly. She ran over to the cabinet where she had put her bag and opened it. She grabbed her knap sack and rummaged through it, finding another pair of long gloves.

"Hey! What are you doing over there!" the man behind the bar called.

"I..I.. just put..put my bag in here earlier," she said slowly, walking back over.

He glared at her. "This ain't no storage house. You carry your own stuff."

"Y-yes sir." She mumbled. She looked outside, wondering if she could walk to the next bar. Rogue bit her lip, and decided it wouldn't be a good idea. She saw the man who had given her a ride here asleep on a couch, maybe she would ask him for a ride to where ever he was going next.

"You want anything? You look to young to drink," the bartender asked gruffly.

"Just...water please." He snorted in disapproval and ran her some tap water. She sipped it slowly and pulled on her gloves, trying to recall what had happened. Someone had helped her, was it Wolverine? She couldn't remember his face, just the low growl of his voice in her ear. She shivered and eyed a jarful of money labeled 'Tipping is not a city in China.' Hunger, which had been gnawing at her for days, was finally erupting. She didn't know the value of Canadian money, but she knew it would be enough to get a soda and several bags of Salt and Vinegar chips. She looked longingly at the jar.

"You want something new? Stick to water," the bartender said, moving the jar safely away. Rogue blushed and looked down.

"Beer."

Rogue looked up and saw Wolverine pull up a chair and throw some money on the counter. Had he helped her? She looked at his clothes, they didn't seem wet...although it must've been at least a couple hours ago. He caught her staring at him and gave her a dark look, chewing on his cigar. Rogue gulped and looked down.

"...everything from global weather to the new mutant population..." The words drowned out as Rogue stared at the screen in horror. Where was she going to go? Everyone knew about people like her, it would only be a matter of time before someone found out and she was put away. That law, she had heard her parents talking about it. Everyone she knew thought it was a good idea. Someone tapped her on the back and she turned around. Two men, one of the guys that had followed Stan out, were looking at her. "You owe me something girl."

"I..I don't know what you're talking about." She glanced at Wolverine but he was staring at his beer, his first was clenched tightly around the bottle.

"No man passes out from a touch. All you did was grab his hand and he clear passed out," the man said, his voice rising.

"C'mon, he was just drunk," his friend said, pulling his shoulder.

"No, drunk people don't scream before they pass out."

"I didn't do anything," Rogue whispered. "He attacked me."

The man leaned closer. "I know what you are freak." Rogue froze as a switchblade appeared in his hand. Before she could scream she heard Wolverine's beer bottle shatter and the man was pulled off of her. She turned and saw Wolverine slam the man against the wall. The knife flailed wildly and embedded itself into Wolverines' side. He growled, and yanked the knife out, sending it clattering to the floor. The man kicked him in the groin and pushed him away. Wolverine held onto the man's jacket and shoved him into the wall again with one hand, while holding his fist out a foot from the man's neck. Rogue watched in fascination as four deadly blades ripped from Wolverines skin and surrounded his neck, one pressing lightly into his jugular. The bartender held a shotgun Rogue had not seen him get, against Wolverine's head.

"Get out of my bar freak." Wolverine turned slightly and paused before swinging one hand behind him, cutting the gun in two. He stepped back, glaring at the two terrified men and walked out of the bar, not sparing Rogue a glance. Rogue looked wide eyed at the two men and then at Wolverine's retreating form. She hesitated for a moment, experiencing an odd sense of deja vu and then hurried after him.