-A/N-: I liked writing this chapter.

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That night, they all sat in the dim semi-darkness of the living room in front of the plasma screen television. A few months back, just after the catastrophe at Alkali Lake--after a few of them had gotten over the death of Jean and the betrayal of John-- the school had taken the liberty to improve the facilities on behalf of the mutant students, thus endowing the common living room with the overly large, almost theatre-sized flat screen. Which, not surprisingly, took up half the wall.

Jubliee, Piotr, Rogue, John, Kitty and Bobby were crammed into that one living room, occupying chairs and couches. Also, to everyone’s disappointment and annoyance, the silver-haired Pietro Maximoff was there as well, after vehemently insisting that he wasn’t too young for the horror movie and that he had every right to watch it.

“You heard me, woman. I get to watch this as much as you do,” Pietro stated audaciously in a tone of voice that managed to make everyone else in the room shoot him a dirty look.

“Fine. Then just keep your mouth shut,” Jubilee half-screeched, tired of the kid’s frustrating impudence. She set the bowl of freshly popped popcorn on one of the side tables unceremoniously and grabbed the DVD of The Hills Have Eyes.

Pietro meanwhile, promptly threw himself onto one of the long sofas, just in between Bobby and Kitty, who looked at him with mirrored expressions of disbelief and fleeting anger. Piotr himself had gone over to a lone chair and sat himself down, draping his arms haphazardly on top of the armrests.

That left the last couch for two. Which John and Rogue shared.

“I heard this movie’s really freaky,” Kitty murmured into the darkness to no one in particular as Jubilee popped the DVD into the player. “And the way they portray those mutants as murderous, mindless, crazy people…” she gave her head a small shake, “that’s just wrong. And insulting-”

“Shut up and let us watch the damn thing already!” Pietro snapped impatiently.

Kitty glared at him and Bobby growled.

“Hey man,” John started, fingers reflexively reaching deep into his pocket. He’d had about enough of Pietro’s cheek and was more than ready to give this punk of a roommate a good telling off - one that would probably include more than a few profane swear words, and involve someone being lit ablaze. He felt Rogue’s gloved hand grip his arm lightly as a sign to let the moment go.

Fortunately, the film started just about then and everyone’s attention was diverted to the television. Jubilee crawled back from the screen but remained on the ground, leaning up against the long sofa that Bobby shared with Kitty and Pietro.

Silence befell the mutants, and the horror flick commenced. Rogue was pretty surprised at the choice of movie that John so readily picked. Maybe it was because she didn’t think John, the ever-fearless Pyro, had been one to watch horror films. In fact, she knew that he’d never watched one in his life and that this was his first. She knew he enjoyed the action and adventure type movies where something usually explodes and goes up in flames. And she also knew something that the others probably did not; that he didn’t mind watching films of the romance genre.

She knew a lot of things about him that many people did not.

And she was fine with that.

Somehow, it made her feel special to know that she would probably be the only person to ever know John on such a personal level. It made her feel closer to him somehow and she owed it all to her powers of absorption.

So it wasn’t such a bad thing after all, having her mutation. It was still a curse to her, yes, but not all a bad curse. Not all.

As the movie dragged on, Rogue grew restless. She wasn’t paying full attention to it anyway, even when it came to some seriously disturbing scenes sprinkled full of blood, violence and gore. She was having strange thoughts running through her mind instead.

John noticed her uneasy restlessness and somehow knew that it wasn’t the movie that was causing her to fidget and squirm. It was something else. He instinctively reached his arm out and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her in and leaning her head against his own shoulder.

And this gesture on its own was enough to cause the fire within Rogue to flare up. She could feel her heart speed up erratically, or could it be John’s?

The oppressive warmth within her still remained. But she didn’t exactly dislike the gentle heat. It was something straight out of John’s very body and it was resting inside her, like something lively and overwhelming, fiery and passionate.

She knew exactly what was said between John and Bobby the previous night. But she didn’t fully understand what happened.

Her eyes flickered briefly towards Bobby and then she glanced up at John beside her, his fingers gently brushing her on the shoulder. Comparing them both is like comparing pitch black to stark white, she told herself silently, forever different no matter what--friends or enemies. They’ll always be the opposite of the other. Rogue smiled to herself. And I’m probably the shade of grey in between, sometimes more towards white, sometimes more towards black.

When they were finally finished with The Hills Have Eyes and the credits started rolling, Pietro decided to share his opinion on one of the characters in the movie to everyone.

“That was just plain stupid!” the teenager stated blatantly, “That Doug guy is so stupid!”

Jubilee groaned. “Shut up, Pietro. He’s not stupid,” she said, glaring at him from the floor, “Actually, he’s kinda’ hot. In a cute, scruffy way, kinda’. He’s played by someone called Aaron Stanford or something. He’s awesome.”

“And you’re crazy,” Pietro muttered, getting up and stretching.

“Hey, who the hell d’you think you’re calling crazy? I mean, hello? I’m sure even Kitty and Rogue agree with me that Doug’s hot. Right, guys?” Jubilee turned to look at Kitty, then at Rogue.

Kitty laughed and nodded, causing Piotr and Bobby to roll their eyes.

“Yeah, he is I guess,” Rogue said off-handedly, not really caring in the least.

“You kidding me? Him? Hot?” John snorted in what seemed like feigned incredulity.

An unfriendly sound resonated within jubilee’s throat.

“Okay, alright. Fine. He doesn’t look too bad,” John said, giving in and then smirking, “But if there’s anyone who’s hotter than that Aaron Doug Stanford whatever-his-name-is dude, it’s me.

Pun not intended? Rogue wanted to ask. But she was pretty sure that it was intended. So charmingly typical of John Allerdyce.

“Careful, Johnny,” Bobby said to John then with mock forewarning, “you might actually get too hot and one day explode. I swear.”

John reached within the popcorn bowl and grabbed a handful of the remaining popcorn, flinging the fluffy pieces at Bobby.

There it is, Rogue told herself. As though they’ve never had a falling out.

“Jeez. And here I thought you two like, hated each other or something, after that fight,” Pietro drawled. Rogue had the distinct impression that he wasn’t just talking about the fight in her room, but the one where they went all-out against each other as well. The one she didn’t see because she wasn’t there.

Since when did Pietro see that?

“Since when did we not hate each other?” Bobby said in response to Pietro’s question.

John smirked.

“Guys, it’s getting late,” Piotr mumbled with a yawn.

Rogue tilted her head to stare at the wooden clock that was mounted to the wall with bleary eyes. It was exactly ten.

Jubilee made a grab for the remote control to switch the television off but accidentally flicked the channel. The late night news flickered onscreen and most of their eyes were immediately drawn to the headlines displayed behind the newsreader at the moment.

‘Dangerous Mutant Still at Large’

Rogue consciously felt John’s breath catch. Dangerous Mutant Still at Large. Dangerous Mutant Still at Large. Dangerous Mutant Still at Large. Dangerous Mutant Still at Large. And she knew what was coming.

The newscaster’s voice was dull and bland as she spoke.

“Mutant criminal mastermind by the alias ‘Magneto’ is once again, at large. He had been cured by the anti-mutagen weeks ago at the war zone at Alcatraz Island. However, now that it is ascertained that the so-called ‘Cure’ is only temporary, this man,” a picture of Erik Lensherr dressed in white and looking old and weary was displayed behind the stoic newsreader, “is still highly dangerous. Currently, the federal police are striving to ensure that Magneto will not get a chance to attempt to resurrect his once sizeable organization of extremists,” the picture of Erik was replaced with an unfocussed, low-quality picture of some of the members of the Brotherhood, “No one wants another war with Magneto’s mutant army.”

No.

All of them turned to stare almost apprehensively at John, who had suddenly fallen silent and cold. Detached. They were looking at him as though they were seeing him for the first time.

All accept Rogue, who couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She wanted to tell them to please stop looking at him like that and turn the stupid news off. She had been put in a similar spot before, when they announced on the news that the Cure wasn’t authentic, and she was sure the looks they were all giving him were affecting him as much as it had affected her.

Bobby glanced away and coughed uneasily, snatching the remote out of Jubilee’s slack fingers and promptly switching the television off. And Rogue was grateful. So, maybe Bobby knew as well how conflicted John was at the moment.

It was a nice thought. But Rogue didn’t know what to think right now. Just awhile ago, John had been far from downcast. Now, he seemed despondent, with his eyes glazed over, deep in thought but not really thinking at all, looking almost vulnerable.

And no one ever thought of John as vulnerable.

He stood slowly and their eyes followed him, curiously (Jubilee), amusedly (Pietro), piteously (Bobby), skeptically (Kitty), inquiringly (Piotr). And Rogue dying to scream at them to fucking cut it out.

“I think I’m gonna’ get some… air.” John said monotonously, voice bleak. “Don’t wait up.”

And without another word, not even a simple ‘good night’, John left. And everyone, including Rogue, felt the perpetual heat that surrounded the room disappear with him, leaving all of them cold.

She knew that his last statement was directed at her because he knew damn well that she would be the only one to go looking for him.

“Do you think he’ll go back now, to the other side? Now that he’s back?” a hushed voice rang through the silent room. Rogue wasn’t sure who said it. Didn’t care. All that bothered her was the fact that this revelation on its own made them want to judge him, with no rational thought on how he actually felt. Who were they to be so judgemental?

WHO WERE THEY?

A metallic candleholder flew across the room and hit the wall with a loud crash. Kitty screamed. Everyone looked around wildly. Bobby, for a fleeting instant, thought that Magneto was in the room with them.

“What the hell?” Pietro screeched.

Rogue was breathing heavily, looking as taken aback as the rest. But the anger she had felt before had evaporated and turned into perturbed disbelief.

“Did you do that, Rogue?” Bobby asked her shakily--the first time he’d said something to her in a while.

Rogue only continued to look at the dent in the wall and then at the candleholder on the ground, now misshapen and bent out of shape. Finally, she gazed down at her gloved hands.

“I… I don’t know.”

-

John Allerdyce threw the front doors of the mansion open, greeting the darkness outside appreciatively. He knew he was probably breaking one of the more major rules of the school—going outdoors after hours. But he didn’t care. If he had so readily set fire to the toilets in the past - scratch that – if he had so readily joined the ‘dark side’ in the past, what could they do to him for simply just sneaking out?

The night was chilly but it didn’t worry him. He had spent half his life fending off the cold.

As he neared the familiar courtyard where the two gravestones were placed—Jean Grey’s and Scott Summer’s— with every intention to just sit himself down and clear his head, he caught the memorable smell of burning tobacco in the wind.

Someone was already there.

Slowing his walk, he wondered if he should just turn around and walk back before that someone knew he was there. However, he had no time to do even that.

“Who’s there?” came a gruff voice from the shadows, “Don’t make me come after ya.”

It was Logan.

John silently cursed at the man’s heightened senses.

Should’ve known, what with the smoking and all.

But what was he doing here?

“It’s me,” John said evenly, stepping in front of Logan who was sitting on a bench in front of one of the gravestones. John glanced back—Jean Grey’s gravestone.

“It’s a little late for you to be out here, don’t you think?” Logan said, looking hard at the boy.

“Yeah, well. Don’t think I really care. Slap me with a detention and get it over with. I just want to be alone right now.”

Logan stared.

John looked back defiantly.

And Logan shook his head. “I don’t give kids detention,” He closed his eyes and took a long drag from his cigar, “Never believed in that sort of crap.”

John raised an eyebrow. With Logan smoking, he was sure the man would be setting a pretty bad example to the students. Not that he cared or anything.

“So, what’s eating you?” Logan continued, glancing at John from where he sat.

You, John wanted to snap, but thought better of it. Sitting down next to the man indifferently, John decided to ignore the Wolverine’s question totally.

“You got another one of those?” he asked in a voice that everyone knew belonged not to John, but to Pyro.

It was Logan’s turn to lift an eyebrow, as if to ask, you smoke? And if John were to tell him the truth, he would have said ‘yes’. No matter how much he tried to kick the habit.

“You know, I shouldn’t be handing out cigars to students like you. Charles would flip.”

“I know,” John replied uncaringly.

Logan smirked and silently took out a second cigar and handed it to John.

“Need a light?”

John glared.

“Sorry. Stupid question.”

Logan was silent as he watched John draw his lighter and flick it open, lighting the end of the cigar skilfully. As John shut the zippo nimbly, Logan wondered to himself how long the kid himself had been smoking.

The both of them mutely took a couple of deep puffs before anyone said anything.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Logan said languidly, flicking the ashes off the butt of the cigar. He could tell that the kid was troubled, no matter how well he was trying to hide it. Logan could almost smell it. “The thing on the news got to you, huh?”

John’s head snapped up, his eyes flashing. “How the hell did you know that?”

Logan gave John a smug smile and tapped his ear.

Liar, John wanted to say. No way in hell could he have heard the television from out here.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Logan said, leaning back on the bench and looking up into the sky.

“And why do you care?” John spat.

Logan glanced at John with a frown. “I don’t,” he said shortly.

The night seemed to grow colder. John didn’t care.

“Each man to his own problems,” Logan said then, more to himself than to John.

John nodded and took a short drag. He was pretty sure that Logan was thinking about Jean Grey. Must’ve sucked to have been the murderer of the one person you loved.

“But seriously,” Logan turned to look at John, “about the brotherhood and Magneto, I hope you don’t think of doing something foolish.”

John looked grimly at the Wolverine. He didn’t understand. Logan could never understand.

“Magneto told me that I was a God among insects, you know?” he confided quietly, “When I joined the Brotherhood, he was more of a father figure to me that anyone had ever been.

“Huh,” Logan grunted and let the boy continue.

“And he trained me, him and Mystique, to be able to fight and use my powers without restraint.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Logan said dryly, recalling the way Magneto and Pyro had rained flaming cars on all of them almost a month back.

“They made me who I am today,” John said, ignoring him.

“Bullshit,” Logan growled immediately. “That’s bullshit and you know it, Pyro. They trained you, yes. They raised you for a few months, yes. But they sure as hell didn’t make you you.”

John looked up, startled, into the stern face of Logan.

It was then that Logan stood and threw his cigar to the ground, stepping on it hard.

“I’m going,” the man said gruffly, “Don’t stay out here too long. Don’t want Chuck to kill me.”

He started to walk off, but not before turning back to say something else.

“Just remember, kid. They didn’t make you who you are. No one can do that.” Pause. “Besides, I don’t think they ever taught you how to fall in love. You did that.”

And before John could say anything or even think anything, Logan had left with a small smile gracing his lips.

John glanced at the cigar in his hand thoughtfully. And then slowly put it out with a single thought.

--

-A/N-: The Hills Have Eyes. I'm surprised not many of you know that Aaron Stanford starred in that as well. He looks so stunningly unrecognisable though. In a scruffy way. But I reckon he looks awesome either way (as both Pyro and Doug)… Hmm, cookies for Cheetah girl 15, The 42, we-r-the-cure, xLiLix, PsYcHoThErApY17, Jess and the sillylittlepanda for picking that up!

Also, in response to we-r-the-cure, Risty Wilde isn’t Mystique’s rival. Where’d that come from? (Is confused) If you really want to know who she is, go visit my website (on my profile page) where I give out little hints for this fic. Oh, and she’s not going to die. Or at least, I never once intended to kill her off. Sorry those of you who got that impression. Must've been the way I posted that Author's Note thingy.

Hugs and kisses to Dama Jade, jade598, Cheetah girl 15, Chica De Los Ojos Cafe, The 42, we-r-the-cure, xLiLix, Anon, PsYcHoThErApY17, yaba, Obiwanfan, UltimateRider, Jess and the sillylittlepanda for the reviews.