-A/N-: Chapter 12. Finally. And in Johnny’s perspective too.

---

The anger inside was overwhelming. The eldest was lying dead on the floor, lead embedded deep within bone. The others were panicking, horrified, lowering themselves to the ground, almost given up in helplessness.

But he refused. He wouldn’t give up. Wouldn’t give in. Just seeing them cower on the ground was too much for him to put up with. The burning sensation within was building and building and building so much that it scared him. His breaths were deep; his eyes were dark and his fingers twitched almost involuntarily, fumbling the metallic lighter in his hand. He was afraid, but would not let his fear show. He would never let his fear show. His fingers were steady, even if his hands shook, and the sound of his lighter snapping open rang through his ears.

It was almost as though he had no control over himself. He heard himself speak harshly out loud, but also partially to himself, reflecting.

“You know all those dangerous mutants you hear about on the news?” His fingers ran along side the cool surface of metal. And then the flame was lit, “I’m the worst one,” he heard himself state blatantly.

And he believed it.

As his boiling rage exploded outward, the inferno coursed through him, giving him the absolute power over the small fire from the lighter, causing it to grow--manipulating it to destroy.

It was as though he were watching from the sidelines, watching himself blow them all away with pillars of flame, sending the cars up in smoke with raging balls of fire.

And he felt in total control. And everything else didn’t matter.

But then he heard voices, soft at first, but gradually increasing in intensity within his mind. Voices. Voices. So many voices. They whispered, they screamed, they faded… And then they stopped. And he felt himself go weak. His powers faltered and his heart felt like it had stopped but at the same time, was pounding so fast he thought he was going to die.

He felt as though he were falling, falling, falling from a great height but never truly reaching the ground.

He was going to die.

He felt his power being drained rapidly and he had no idea why. His fire wavered and disappeared all together. He felt all the heat leave him and he was left cold inside. And he didn’t know why.

Finally, he looked down.

And he saw her clinging to his ankle with an expression of utmost horror.

She was horrified, not by what he’d done, but by what she was absorbing. There was no other way. She didn’t mean to; didn’t want to. But she did. And she was mortified.

His breathing turned shallow and his eyelids grew heavy and finally, he felt his legs give way. Kneeling on the ground, he looked up just in time to see the outcome of his destruction be extinguished by crystalline frost that was controlled by the one person who should not have control over that power.

And all of a sudden, the scene before him exploded. In fact, it exploded so rapidly that he couldn’t help but let loose scream. Everything was wiped out before his very eyes. But only one thing went through his mind.

Rogue.

-

John Allerdyce’s eyes flew wide open and immediately, he sat up in bed, looking around wildly and trying to make sense of his surroundings. His eyes finally landed on one of the only familiar things to him in the room. His lighter. He sighed with relief, knowing it was close.

It was another one of those dreams. They usually come and go on their own. But he didn’t know why this particular one kept haunting him with increasing regularity.

His thin, faded shirt was drenched through with sweat. He felt as though he ran a marathon, did a one-eighty turn, and ran all the way back again. He grunted, raking his fingers through his dirty-blonde hair restlessly.

That was when he glanced at the bed beside him and realized that the boy in which he shared his room with wasn’t in bed. Where the hell’s Pietro? His eyes flew to the clock on his bedside. It was well past lunch.

Hell, had he really been asleep all that long?

His thoughts traveled back to the night before. That’s right, he only got to bed at about two that morning. Well, so did Pietro really. But he was willing to bet that Pietro hadn’t spent half the time awake, contemplating about the events that happened earlier that night. If truth be told, John hadn’t really slept at all that night.

Pulling his damp shirt off, he stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom, taking his time to get changed and spending more time than was necessary in front of the mirror. He wasn’t surprised to find vague shadows under his eyes. He looked so goddamn tired. But he didn’t really feel it.

When he finally stalked out through his bedroom door, lighter in hand, he had only one thing in mind.

He descended the stairs, acutely aware of the silence throughout the deserted hallways, and passed the games room, finding no one but Kitty and Warren at the foosball table—both forcefully trying to beat the other.

“Hey? Any of you seen Rogue?” John couldn’t help but ask.

It took awhile before any of them answered. Finally, Kitty glanced up shortly to give him a reply of ‘no’ before redirecting her concentration on defeating Warren.

No? “Where the hell is everyone then?” he finally snapped, exasperated. He hadn’t really conversed much with Kitty Pryde before and this was probably the first time he was actually speaking to her since his return. He didn’t exactly like the girl, however he didn’t hate her either. But sometimes, she could get on his nerves.

Kitty rolled her eyes, “Don’t you know?” she intoned, annoyed, “Most of the students are all having classes right now.” She was distracted for just a fraction of a second and Warren took this opportunity to score a goal.

Kitty cursed and looked up to glare at John, “I could’ve beaten him. I almost had him! You-!”

“Okay! I’m outta’ here,” John cut through hastily, “Oh, and by the way, you seriously suck at foosball.”

He left the games room with a smirk, just in time to hear Kitty’s fist connect loudly with the foosball table and Warren’s short laugh.

So the students were in class. But Rogue wasn’t a student. Not anymore anyway. And he himself stopped taking classes long ago; he didn’t really bother. Not that anyone asked him about it anyway, after his return.

So where was she?

He found himself in the kitchen after awhile, unnerved at how peaceful and noiseless the mansion was when classes were taking place. He was also annoyed that the kitchen was devoid of life apart from the obvious presence of none other than Risty Wilde, in all her purple-haired, rebellious glory. She stared at him with scrutiny as he got himself a soda from one of the top cupboards. He had every belief that the girl was here because she had managed get out of class somehow.

“Wagged?” John asked lightly, taking a swig from the bottle in his hand.

“Me? Cut classes? Never,” she said almost imperially but her apathetic expression told him all he needed to know. “What about you, Allerdyce?”

John raised an eyebrow. “You know my last name.” His voice was blunt. It wasn’t a question.

Risty snorted. “Maybe I wouldn’t have remembered if it weren’t for Xavier announcing it to the world yesterday.”

He did? John gave her a strange look and tried to discern any hint of a lie in her voice. He was pretty sure the professor never once mentioned his full name to anyone. Ever. But he decided not to push the matter with this girl. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know how and from whom she learnt his last name from anyway.

“Heard about your little fight last night with that Ice mutant in that chick’s room—what was her name? I forgot. Anyway, yeah, heard about it. What the hell was that all about anyway? Heard you guys wanted to murder each other.”

“First,” John began, teeth grinding in irritation, wondering how the hell everyone knew about the fight between him and Bobby, “Her name’s Rogue. Second. Drake and I did not want to murder each other. Third. Nothing happened, okay. The end.”

Silence followed. And then Risty shrugged nonchalantly.

What the heck. John sighed collectively, his earlier feelings of impatience dissipating, and dropped into the chair next to Risty.

“You haven’t seen Rogue by any chance, have you?” he asked after taking a long drink from his soda.

Risty’s eyes met his and she looked at him for a while.

“She’s probably still sleeping, judging from events last night,” she said finally, “I’m sure it got intensely hot and heavy last night,” she added slyly, “Poor girl must be all worn-out.”

John nearly choked. What? “You wish,” he muttered darkly. You wish.

“Hmm?” Risty inquired.

“Nothing,” John said hastily and decided to change the topic, “So, what do you do anyway?” he asked, remembering that Xavier hadn’t exactly been too descriptive of her mutant gift.

“Me? Like, as in my powers?” she asked, looking away almost thoughtfully but at the same time sounding almost uninterested by the subject, “I’m what you might call a minor shapeshifter. They call me ‘Foxx’. Like, you know, that animal. Sly as a fox. That’s me.”

John raised an eyebrow, yet again skeptical. “Shapeshifter huh? Y’know, I used to know another mutant shapeshifter myself.” Mystique. Raven. Mystique. And his thoughts wandered over to the blue-skinned mutant whom he had allied himself to the moment he joined Magneto’s Brotherhood.

“Oh really?” Risty said, not sounding too amused. She checked her nails lazily. “I thought I was the only shapeshifter that ever existed.”

“Well, I thought she was too. Until I met you.”

Risty snorted, and then asked, “Was she like, really cool?”

John looked at her. Odd. Was she just feigning interest? Seemed pretty apparent.

“Yeah,” he replied after awhile, “she was awesome. Don’t know where she is now though. Last time I saw her, she… took the Cure. Yeah.”

Risty tilted her head to one side, seemingly surprised. “Why the hell would she have wanted to waste such extraordinary powers?”

‘She had no choice,’ John wanted to say. Well, she didn’t really.

“That’s just absurd!” Risty went on hotly, “An abomination!” she almost seemed to yell. Her eyes suddenly flashed with anger but John didn’t know who the anger was directed at or why she was furious in the first place. Maybe she has the same ideology as Magneto, he conceded, and then realized that he himself would’ve been outraged at any mutant as well if they had taken the Cure—like when he had been genuinely upset that Rogue had taken it.

In the distance, somewhere vague and remote, the school bell rang, signaling the end of classes for the day. And as though a switch had been flicked, the quiet peace of the mansion was instantly transformed. Desk and chairs could be heard being scraped across the floors and students’ voices filtered down corridors.

It was almost like an indication to take his leave.

“I’ve gotta’ go,” John said, standing and tossing his soda bottle into the bin with careless aim.

Risty shrugged, “Yeah, cool. It’s been fun talking to you, John.”

He only nodded once in her direction before leaving the kitchen. The way she had said that last sentence… John was yet again hit by a wave of familiarity that emanated from this girl. He was so sure he recognized her from someplace, somewhere.

Well, whatever. He didn’t really care.

He ran into a couple of recognizable faces on his way to Rogue’s room as well as plenty of unfamiliar ones. He nearly walked into Jubilee who was carrying a large stack of books, he passed Piotr who greeted him mutually, and he briefly encountered Bobby who only gave him a nod of acknowledgement and nothing more.

He finally came to her door and knocked.

“Who’s there?” came Rogue’s barely audible, muffled voice--as though she had her head buried in her pillow and was deeply annoyed at the disturbance.

“Pyro.”

Pause.

“John?”

“Yeah. You awake?”

“I am now. You can come in. Door’s not locked.”

She doesn’t sleep with her door locked? What the hell? Yes, this was a school. Yes, it was probably safe. But still…! He was going to have to talk to her about that.

He entered the room quietly and just as he thought, Rogue was lying in bed on her stomach, head buried deep within her pillow. The way the rays of light filtered down on her through her window made her seem almost angelic, her white lock of hair illuminated silver by the sun.

“Morning,” she mumbled even though she knew it was way past morning and that the school had already been dismissed for the day. “What brings you here?”

John shut the door behind him and leant against it, crossing his arms to survey the girl before him. “I’ve been looking all over the damn building for you. Should’ve known you were still in bed.” He smirked.

Rogue looked up blearily for a second.

“Sleep deprivation,” she answered. There was sarcasm in that voice somewhere but the corners of her lips were twitched upwards in a small smile.

John grinned. “My fault. Sorry,” he apologized. Then he looked around, spotting the conspicuous burn marks on the opposite wall. “Sorry about your room too. I just didn’t feel like turning into a Popsicle last night so I had to defend myself.”

“Mmmhmm. He’s at fault too,” Rogue mumbled. She didn’t mention his name, but John knew she was talking about Bobby. Obviously.

He wondered whether he should tell her…

“I gotta’ ask you something. Last night, while I was hiding and Drake came in, you were telling him about how-”

“He and I can never ever be ‘just friends’ anymore?” She shifted her position, lying on her back to stare at the ceiling.

“You’re serious.”

“It’s true,” she said bluntly. “There’s no faith between us anymore, no trust. Nothing can rebuild that. Nothing. I’ve still got pieces of him trapped in my mind and even they are fading.” Pause. “Can we just not talk about this?”

John nodded once. She still got upset when the topic of Bobby arose. Not that he could blame her.

It was a characteristic silence between the two of them now.

A very uncomfortable characteristic silence.

And it grew.

And grew.

Until John couldn’t take it anymore.

“I had a dream about you last night,” he blurted. And wasn’t even sure why he said that.

Rogue sat up.

“Is that something I should be worried about?” she asked.

He blinked, not knowing what she meant by that, but he decided not to take any chances. “It’s not what you’re thinking, if that’s what you mean,” he said hastily. Why the hell was he getting all flustered? Over this?

No way would he even think of dreaming that up. Well, yes? No! Maybe… But that’s not the point!

“Actually, it was more of a re-living of the incident at Drake’s house. And you were there; took all my powers and everything.”

“Oh,” she said softly, looking down at her bed covers.

She seemed… disappointed? Upset? Well, whatever it was, she sure as hell wasn’t happy.

Way to go, Allerdyce. Bring up the topic of her deadly mutation, why don’t you? John silently reprimanded himself as he eyed her watchfully.

“Actually, forget it. Didn’t mean to mention it. I know how sensitive this-”

Rogue waved her hand dismissively in the air, seemingly indifferent. “No. Doesn’t matter. After all, it’s something I’ve got to live with for the rest of my life,” she said, deliberately avoiding John’s eye. It was a curse. Her curse. And she believed that it was going to stay with her forever.

She flipped her hair back over her shoulder and sighed. “I can’t touch people. Yeah. I’m bloody untouchable. And I can live with that I think. Whatever.”

He wasn’t stupid. Her voice was bitter and she was lying. She said it didn’t matter but it did. She acted like she didn’t care but she did. She did she did she did.

But she also did one thing.

She had given up.

And he could hear the defeat in her voice.

John walked over to her slowly and sat on the edge of her bed, looking into her eyes gravely.

“You can’t just give in to it like this, Rogue.”

She snorted. “Who said anything about giving in? I touch people, I kill people. It’s that simple.”

It’s that simple. Isn’t it?

And it happened so fast that Rogue didn’t see it coming. John had leaned in and caught her lips in his, effectively surprising her. Her eyes went wide with fear but she didn’t break the kiss. She wanted to push him away but she couldn’t.

She was frozen in place, unable to move, unable to comprehend, as his lips brushed against hers, and she was terrified. She felt as though she were burning. Burning, burning with such intense heat. She felt so terrified--for John mostly, but for herself as well--and at the same time, she felt something else. Something else and she didn’t know what it was. She was exhilarated. She could feel him and she felt herself melt… Melt with the heat emanating from him—his skin, his lips, his tongue, himself.

And she finally realised what it was she was feeling. Bliss.

And John was the person who gave it to her.

Then, she felt it all too soon—the intensifying pull of her power, rushing to claim fire through skin—and she realized she was doing so much more than just feeling. She was absorbing him. His power, his memories, his emotions, his life.

But he didn’t stop even as he felt himself go weak and cold. It was Rogue who finally pulled away quickly. She didn’t want it to end it. But she didn’t want to kill him. The kiss had hardly lasted ten, or even five, seconds. But that was enough for her to take, and probably even more than what John could.

Her head was overpowered by so many vague but stark, obscure yet blatant sensations of different memories and emotions.

She looked at John in fear, wanting to ask him if he was alright. He didn’t look alright. He looked exhausted, drained, breathing heavily… And his face was ashen and pale.

“John…” she began, not really knowing what she was going to say.

But she didn’t have to say anything. John beat her to it.

“See?” he said triumphantly with a weak smile. “You’re not untouchable, Rogue. You never were.” He staggered to his feet.

She stared at him, her mind a muddle of chaos and confusion, and brought her fingers up to touch her lips in wonder.

John made it to the room door with almost no difficulty. Almost.

“I think I’ll go lie down now,” he said quietly. “I’ll see you later. Or something.”

As he sauntered out, Rogue was left alone in her room, contemplating every single second of the unbelievable experience that she had just shared with John Allerdyce.

---

-A/N-: Okay, this chapter took me forever to write. I even got a migraine part way through it. So, yeah. My brain’s dead now. At least I managed to incorporate a few faintly obscure scenes that could’ve been plenty amusing to some.

Apparently, Ellen Page and Ben Foster hooked up with each other while filming X3. Yes, that was my excuse to put Kitty and Warren together in the games room (grins).