She still had the memories of the trucker swirling around in her head. She had a clear picture of what he had planned on doing to her. It disgusted her.

But the realization that he was planning on killing her, just as he had done to two other girls, scared her even more. She hadn't been this terrified since she had run away from home.

She knew what he had done to those girls, where their bodies were buried. Now she wished she had held the bastard longer, drained everything from him, so there would be no chance of him ever recovering. Just as his victims had not been given a chance.

Just as he hadn't been planning on giving her a chance.

There truly were some animals in this world, human animals, and she knew she was going to have to learn to deal with that if she stayed on the run.

X-MEN -a novelization by Kristine Kathryn Rusch and Dean Wesley Smith

If she could just stay immobile a little longer, he would think she was dead. Hopefully, when he left she could dig her way out.

She fought to hold her breath as the dirt fell on her face. Just a little longer she told herself, it didn't matter that she was freezing and most of her body had already gone numb.

She screamed when the third shovelful of dirt was thrown in her face. She struggled to sit up, his maniacal laughter ringing in her ears.

"Shh...I got ya."

She tried to blink the silt from her eyes, tasting the grit that filled her mouth. She wanted to break the tight grip that was trying to pull her down. She could beat death's embrace, Logan had taught her how to fight, to never give up.

"It's okay, Marie. You're safe."

Light penetrated the darkness, bringing with it another voice.

"Logan?"

"She's fine, Jeannie, go back to bed."

"You'll call if..."

"Yeah, now go before Cyke comes looking for you."

Home. She was home and Logan was holding her. She felt his hand, encased in warm leather, brush the damp hair away from her face. The tension slowly drained from her; Logan would take care of everything. She opened her eyes to see the concern on his features. He gave her a reassuring smile, wiping at the tears that gathered at the corner of her eyes.

"Sorry, kid. You shouldn't have to fight my demons."

She tried to respond, but found that her mouth was dry, her throat raw. He placed a glass to her lips and she let the cool water clear away the last remnants of the dream.

"Not yours," came her hoarse whisper. "All mine."

He gave her a weak smile, one she thought was meant to appease her. She nodded but saw the guilt in his eyes. Guilt for not being able to protect her from Magneto, the source he believed, of her latest nightmares. In a way she wished she had his or Magneto's nightmares, at least those she could distance herself from. Even in sleep she knew they weren't hers, and over time they had become nothing more than bad dreams, which rarely woke her.

These new ones, though, he shouldn't feel guilty about. He had taken her in before that trucker made it a reality. She shivered at the thought of what the trucker had planned for her, what he did to those other girls. He had been a low-level telepath, he had known about her mutation and his plans had been set accordingly.

Logan shifted next to her, pulling the covers tighter around her when she shivered. "Will you stay? Just for awhile?"

"Only if you don't hog the bed."

She let him get comfortable, rearranging the blankets, before snuggling next to him. "Did I wake you up?"

"No, darlin'. I was still awake."

She lay motionless, letting his breathing, heartbeat and warmth lull her towards sleep. "Logan, did I ever thank you for saving my life in Canada?" He gave a soft grunt of acknowledgment. "I'd be dead now if it weren't for you."

A few minutes passed before he responded. "Me too, darlin'. Me, too."

"I can't keep giving you sleeping pills. After this, when you ask, expect a full medical check up." Jean felt Rogue's uneasiness at the prospect, but she had already given the girl quite a few sleeping pills this month. "Are the nightmares still interfering with your sleep?"

Rogue straightened from where she had been leaning over the desk, her nervousness starting to give Jean a headache. "Yeah...you won't tell Logan will you?"

"No, Rogue. That's for you to do. However, Professor Xavier could help you work through any problems you're having."

Rogue fidgeted with the top of one of her gloves, creasing and re-creasing it. "I know. I just want to do this on my own. Besides, from what I hear he will have his hands full with this year's incoming students, not to mention the recent turn in politics."

Jean sighed inwardly. Rogue's life had not been easy since her mutation manifested and only recently gained some equilibrium. Jean watched her walk through the med-lab towards the corridor and called after her. "I'm always here if you need to talk."

Rogue turned and smiled. "Thanks, I'll think about it."

She had waited for the perfect time. Logan was off helping an old friend and would be gone a couple of weeks at least. The teaching staff was busy preparing for the new school year. Xavier and Jean were pulling late nights, readying themselves for the next Senate hearing set two weeks after classes began. With her friends away, few people would question her leaving.

She had arranged her 'trip' with the Professor earlier. She felt bad for lying to him. Actually, it had been easier than she expected. His attention was already drawn in several directions and she knew he required greater concentration to read her when she was nervous.

Which she had been, overly so, and if he sensed the truth behind her story he didn't say. She told him that she wanted to get away from the students, letting him believe that she was uncomfortable throwing herself into the mix.

That last part was true, to a degree. Returning students would be aware of her mutation, but newer students wouldn't be. In a way she really did hold some apprehension toward them.

She quietly slipped away on a hectic Friday morning the week before school started. She packed the back of the sedan the Professor let her borrow and drove her way west. It would take her under a week to reach the truck stop outside Edmonton. The same truck stop Mac had picked her up at a year ago. The exact same place he had picked the other two up. Her research showed that he stopped there twice a month on his runs to Northern Alberta.

The month before Kitty left for college, she'd helped Rogue investigate the life of Mac the truck driver. Kitty had been eager to show off her computer skills and didn't ask any questions after Rogue told her that he was a relative she wanted to contact. Together they discovered his home address, current employer and route. The trucking company's gas card receipts indicated where he filled his tanks and when, which made him ridculously easy to track.

The drive west would give her plenty of time to think over her plan. She still needed a battle strategy.

When the nightmares had first surfaced a couple months earlier, she had searched through the memories of the three males residing in her head, trying to figure out who they belonged to. It surprised her to discover that the dream was the product of none of them.

They belonged to the trucker that gave her the lift to Laughlin City. He had picked her up at a busy truck stop in Canada. The ride had been uneventful until that brief touch as she jumped down from the rig.

By the time Logan sat down at the bar she had processed Mac's plans for her and knew she needed to find a different ride. Compared to Mac, Logan seemed like a safe alternative, seeing what it took the other fighter to provoke him into violence.

Then with the accident and the events that followed the next couple of days, Mac was pushed to the back and forgotten. It wasn't until over a year later, when her life took on something resembling normalcy, that his memories crept back into her subconscious.

She considered going to the Professor, but she was afraid he would want her to go to the authorities. That in and of itself wouldn't be a problem, until they started asking questions.

After all she knew how the girls were killed down to every last detail. She also knew exactly where they were buried. That gave her reason to pause and then wonder how many others there had been in the year she'd been at Xavier's. How many more would there be before someone discovered him?

She desperately wanted to seek Logan's advice, but knew his first instinct would be to protect her. That meant he would rather spend endless, sleepless nights helping her work through nightmares than expose her to any accusations or ridicule.

She reached Edmonton four days later with a plan of attack formulated. It was simple: hang out at the truck stop during the week, trying to look scared and alone. That wouldn't be too hard; even at eighteen she still looked younger than her peers, and hiding in her cloak would only foster the impression of a runaway.

She spent a restless night in the motel next to the truck stop before she began her daily vigil. The next morning she shouldered her bag and made her way across the parking lot to stake out a place by the diesel pumps. The day passed slowly as rig after rig re-fueled and pulled out onto the highway. Several times she was offered a ride, but told them she was waiting for someone.

Waking up before daylight the second morning, she gave up trying to fall back asleep and made her way to the pumps again. After noon she bought a soda and used the restroom.

Looking over the pumps as she resumed her post, she eyed a rig that belonged to the company Mac drove for. It must have pulled up while she was inside. This was what she'd been waiting for.

Grabbing her pack, she headed for the furthermost pump where the rig was fueling. On closer inspection she didn't see a driver in the cab or out by the trailer. Walking around to the far side, a man appeared from between the tractor and trailer, startling her. He jumped down, pulling greasy gloves from his hands. Looking up, she noticed a broad smile break across his face.

"Rogue!" He said her name like he was greeting a long lost child.

She shifted her bag nervously, nodding in acknowledgment. "Mac."

Logan took his time at the gas pump. This would be his last stop for some time and he wanted to take full advantage of it.

He was eager to get back to the mansion. He had spent less than a week at Joe's before he was overwhelmed with the need to leave. A nagging feeling lingered at the back of his mind.

He had called the mansion and was reassured that everything was fine. However, that feeling wouldn't go away, so he was headed back to see for himself.

Checking the bike one last time, he noticed a car in the motel parking lot not fifty feet away. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It looked like one of Xavier's cars, but what would it be doing here?

Walking over to the sedan, he eyed the license plate, which identified it as being from New York. Peering inside, nothing seemed amiss; not even a map was left on the front seat. The car had been there at least a couple of days by the smell of it. There was nothing fresh, but something was familiar, something that made him want to know more about the car and its driver.

Twenty minutes later, after checking at the motel and the truck stop, he called the mansion.

Scott's voice greeted him in the usual manner. "Xavier's School-"

Wasting no time, he cut him off. "What's Rogue doing in Canada?"

He heard others as Scott talked to someone nearby. "She took a sort of vacation before school started. Why?"

"I found one of the school's cars parked outside of a truck stop in Edmonton. She's been hanging around the diesel pumps for the last two days. Someone thought they saw her hitch a ride with a trucker."

There was more talking in the background, followed by a seeming endless moment of silence. "Cyke! What's going on?"

"She just contacted the Professor. We're on our way." Scott quickly gave him what information he could about her location.

In a flash, Logan was on the bike and headed north. He was only too glad that he had once again borrowed Scott's bike as he hit the speed button.

They traveled for the better part of two hours before Mac broke the silence. "Hope you don't mind, we ain't heading to Laughlin City. I don't want to chance losing you this time. I got great plans for us."

He leered at her. She caught a glint in his eye...confidence? He'd gained a lot of confidence.

Instantly, she knew she was in over her head. Her plan to drop him once they reached the graves wasn't going to work. She could fight, but he had always had the advantage of size and now he had the advantage of even more experience. Way too much experience.

She began to panic. Frantically she scanned the cab for something, anything that would help. It was then that she noticed that there were no handles or knobs on her door.

If she tried to bail it would only be after successfully breaking the glass and squeezing through the window. She cursed her stupidity for not having the foresight to even pack a weapon in her bag.

In her visual search, she noticed a bundle of rope and a roll of duct tape on top of a shovel behind the seats. Unlike her, Mac had learned to be prepared to carry out his plans.

Fear bunched her stomach into a tight knot. "How many?" She was surprised at how calm her voice sounded.

A huge grin of delight spread across his rotund face. "Twelve, you'll make thirteen."

He began laughing at a joke she obviously wasn't privileged to. "Get it. Mac Baker. You make a baker's dozen." He continued to laugh uncontrollably, shifting gears as the semi climbed a steep grade.

She almost gagged on the bile that had risen in her throat. What had she been thinking? Her mutation didn't make her invincible. She was such a fool.

It was hard to think straight with her mind racing in a million different directions. If only she could reach the Professor, he would be able to help her.

She let her mind seek him out, sending images that she hoped relayed her fear.

~Rogue?~

~Oh god, Professor. I've~

His thoughts quickly cut her off. ~The team is on their way. Right now I need you to concentrate on keeping me updated with your location.~

She knew that the last bit was more for her benefit than his.

~He's a mutant, Professor.~

~Yes, he has some telepathic ability. I am having a hard time communicating with him. I will be able to make contact once I reach Cerebro.~

She began actively seeking out landmarks along the roadway as darkness began to over take the daylight.

Mac's comment broke into the observations she was relaying to the Professor.

"He didn't scar you, did he?" At her blank expression he continued. "I saw those knives come out of his hands. He didn't use 'em to cut you? 'Cause I would hate to have to work around scars he left." She was horrified at his suggestion. Although Logan had been modified to kill, he would only do so when pushed. Mac, however, took delight in such a grim task.

He didn't seem to notice her lack of an answer and continued on with his one-sided conversation. "Your pale white skin will look beautiful with all my wonderful red designs traced into it. Just like strawberries and cream."

"See," he said reaching into his boot, "I had this knife specially made. Isn't the red coral inlayed into the ivory nice? It cuts so smooth, leaving thin lines behind. I haven't had a chance to use it yet." He tilted the blade slightly so that it glinted in the dying sunlight. He unnerved her further with his smile. She watched in silence as he slipped the knife back into his boot.

He reached to pat her gloved hand and she flinched away. She had no desire to even chance having his visions of death fill her mind. She remembered the first two. His telepathy allowed him to see and feel their fear. His favorite fantasies a year ago had been of their last horror filled moments replayed in his mind. She didn't want to know what new terrors got him off these days.

The semi slowed, pulling off the main highway to follow barely visible ruts. Rolling to a stop, Mac gave a happy sigh. "Good to be back. I need to start coming here more often. They get lonely."

He reached behind the seat pulling out his supplies. Uncoiling the rope, he began to mumble to himself. She found it extremely unnerving; it was as if he was having a disagreement with someone.

She scanned the cab again, looking for anything that might help her. Rogue considered slamming the door when he jumped out. Then she could hole up in the semi until help arrived.

He smiled at her. "Don't bother. There aren't any locks on the doors."

~Professor?~

Jean answered instead. ~Hold on Rogue. We're only minutes away. The Professor is trying to communicate with Mac right now.~

~Jean, don't leave me alone. Please!~

~I'll stay as long as I'm able.~

Jean's presence in her mind helped her remain calm as she sorted through possible escape routes with the other woman.

Meanwhile, Mac bound her hands in front of her before climbing down out of the rig, mumbling the entire time. He looked back up and offered her a hand down. She didn't even want to think about accepting.

Hand still out, he looked around wildly, then abruptly slammed his fist against the open door. "No! Stop it! Quit telling me what to do."

He began shaking his head as if to clear it. "She needs my help, nobody else wants her. They keep throwing her away."

Jean's voice cut through the confusion. ~Do it now, Rogue!~

Kicking out hard, her foot caught Mac on the chin, snapping his head back and laying him out on the ground. As he struggled to figure out what happened, Rogue scrambled down. She began a frantic charge for a small grove of trees that stood out against the night's sky.

She found it hard to navigate the uneven terrain. Her bound hands made the dash even harder. Only half way to the trees, she fell. Gaining her footing, she felt the slow trickle of blood begin from scrapes on her elbows and knees.

Crouching and taking a moment to control her breathing, she listened for any sound of pursuit. Mac could be heard in the distance, still arguing with Xavier, as he picked his way toward her.

The landscape was now totally immersed in darkness. She couldn't make out the expanse of land between her and the trees. Even though she had a good lead on Mac, she felt the need to make a blind run. Trying to stay low, she started for the trees.

Within a few feet she stepped onto a large mound of loose earth. Reacting too slowly, she lost her balance and stumbled forward. She felt her body sliding head first into a vast emptiness. Twisting at the last moment, she landed hard on her back.

She stared up at the stars, attempting to catch her breath. Her view was limited, and she realized that she had fallen into one of Mac's pre-dug graves.

Maneuvering to her feet, she began hoisting herself up to the level ground. After struggling for what seemed like hours, she was able to swing a leg over the almost shoulder-high side of the hole. Rolling over, she lay still for a moment to gain her bearings.

She could no longer hear Mac, only a low rumbling like thunder in the distance. Feeling the need to move, she pushed herself into a sitting position. That same instant a boot scraped the ground and the night exploded with light.

She knew that staying still was not going to fool him into thinking she was dead. This was not one of her nightmares that she would wake up from. This was real and Mac was working quickly to fill her grave with dirt.

She frantically struggled with the ropes that bound her hands. It was difficult with the weight of the dirt bearing down on her. It had already filtered into her ears and nose. She didn't dare breath through her mouth, for fear that the dirt would fill it also.

When the next shovelful of dirt hit her face, she screamed. She struggled to sit up, the sound of metal on metal ringing in her ears.

Suddenly she was not alone in her burial plot. Backing into a corner, she barely made out the words. "Shh...I got ya."

Mac was a telepath, she told herself, he must know about her nightmares. He was using them against her, because this wasn't the mansion, so that couldn't be Logan.

She tried to blink the silt from her eyes, tasting the grit that filled her mouth. She fought the tight grip pulling at her body. Logan had taught her how to fight, to never give up.

"It's okay, Marie. You're safe."

Light penetrated her darkness as a gentle hand brushed matted hair and dirt from her face. She heard another voice from above.

"Logan!"

"I got her, Jeannie."

"Do you need help getting her up?"

"Yeah, and get Cyke to..."

"He's already taking care of the trucker."

Logan. He was holding her. She opened her eyes to see the determination and fear on his features. He gave her a shaky smile. It was only then that she let the tears flow as the tension slowly drained from her.

She rested her head on Logan's shoulder, letting him take care of everything.

~*~