Disclaimer: I don’t own anything, only the plot. Damn it!

A/N: This chapter is short; it’s a prologue for the story. The storyline in this chapter begins before Alcatraz fight and then it continues after the battle. We hope to complete the fic with ten chapters. Oh, yes, we are writing this little thing; my wonderful friend Hemo is also playing around with this story along with me. Enjoy!

-XxX-

Rogue gained consciousness sometime in the earlier hours of the morning, groaning softly at the way the sunlight pounded on her eyelids, demanding for her to wake. She grimaced, not wanting to give into the demands, and tried to move to shake the sleep from her limbs; a peculiar heaviness on her waist stopped her. Her body stiffened as she felt the soft skin of the person next to her move over her slightly. That arm brought memories of the day before into her mind. She kept her eyes closed; oh, what had she done? Moving her head, afraid of what she would see, she took a soft breath and opened her eyes. Her heart skipped a beat.

Nose inches from hers, sleep softening the usually hard expression on his face, her Pyro was holding Rogue as close to him as she would allow.

Immediately, she was flooded by a swarm of contradictory emotions. As she continued to stare at him, fragments of a conversation came crashing down on her.

“You’re so pathetic. Did you do it for him?”

“No; I did it for me. This is what I wanted.”

He grabbed her roughly by the arms. “Oh, please, spare me the excuses.” He said snidely, grip tightening.

“John, you’re hurting me.”

“This is nothing…you have no idea how much I want to hurt you right now, Marie.”

He raised his hand, the igniter creating a ball of fire. She stared defiantly back at him. Who would have guessed that she was going to die that day, burned down to ashes, after she’d taken her chance at freedom? Now she would never find out if it worked. As the two continued to stare at each other, John flicked his wrist and a gust of flames surged from his hand in the direction of the clinic where she’d been given the shot. Before her horrified eyes, the building exploded, engulfed by smoke and flames.

And then…he kissed her. As he worked his mouth over hers, she was delighted to find out that the cure did work. She stepped towards him, into the kiss, as panic-ridden protestors screamed all around them, running towards safety.

That kiss burned Rogue, even now, leaving behind a searing mark inside of her. It left her breathless, wanting more than just one little kiss. In one wonderful moment, on a whim, she had accepted what he offered her. Erasing forever all those countless nights where sleep eluded her, thinking of him. Stopping the thoughts in her head, plaguing her with that tortuous “what if…” She hated “what if.” The thought of that phrase left her with an empty feeling, one that taunted her with what could have been, had she just made a few decisions differently.

She had desired one memory to guard fiercely as her own. Destiny granted her one. For all eternity, the memory of skin on skin, of his mouth on hers, would remain in her heart; his heat was forever branded in her soul. This was the memory that would chase away the coldness of lonely nights to come. The only thing that would keep her going in months to come.

She got out of bed, careful not to wake him, and looked for her clothes scattered in the cheap motel floor. She cringed inwardly; how low had she stooped to have that night with John? Behind her, John snored faintly meanwhile she dressed. Grabbing her duffel bag, she turned around to stare at him. He lay sprawled on the bed, completely unaware of the turmoil inside of her, the sheets covering the lower half of his naked body. She wished…

What?

A fairytale ending?

Her very own happily ever after?

She was stupid and naïve if she thought she’d ever get those. Walking defiantly towards the door, she continuously fought the urge to go back and lie beside him, to have those strong arms around her one more time. She turned her head slightly, giving him one last glance to etch in her mind, before she opened the door. The chilly air of the morning made her shiver. Or was it because she was leaving behind her other half?

She walked briskly, the more distance she added between her and John, the more it dwindled down the possibilities of returning to him. And then, just as she thought she was in the clear, the sound of crystal exploding halted her abruptly. Closing her eyes painfully, not daring to turn and see what she knew was happening. There was no doubt in her mind; John was setting the place on fire. Her eyes filled with tears, a hand coming swiftly to her mouth, covering a heart wrenching sob. She started running, as fast as she could, as soon as she heard that scream full of pain and rage.

This was never meant to be. Still, she didn’t regret the decision she’d made the day before that allowed her that night with John. She had wanted it too much to regret it.

Rogue currently was a nervous wreck. She had dragged Logan along with her this time. She couldn’t face the possible outcome alone; she needed someone else with her. Staring ahead, sitting between other watchers (surely family of those deceased in the Alcatraz fight), her eyes fell on the San Francisco Seal. Beside it was the lady of justice, blindfolded. She couldn’t help to snort. How blindfolded could justice be for a mutant?

“Are you alright, kid?”

She just nodded. Hell, she was a liar. She was far away from feeling alright. A rough hand gripped hers tightly. Horrible scenarios were crossing her mind. She was afraid, completely and desperately afraid. Scared, indeed, of what could happen to her John if he was found guilty. Prison. That word made her shudder. There were so many horrible tales about those places…

A door opened and she blanched. John entered, his hands and ankles shackled. She wanted to run to him, to hold him and protect him from all of the angry spectators and have him hold her once more, like he’d done that fateful night. Logan must have felt it, or sensed it, because his arm came to rest on her shoulders.

It wasn’t the first time she had seen him like this, though. She had come to his first trial, venturing through that one alone. It was a huge mistake. John had looked at her once, just once. He had sent her a fulminating glare meant to cinder her to ashes in the spot and that was it. The judge began to speak about ‘maintaining fairness and the absolute presumption of innocence until not found guilty’. She doubted they would be fair and presume innocence for a mutant; nobody wanted fairness, they craved revenge and John was their ticket to get it. After setting the date for his last trial, she came near him.

“I don’t want to see you ever again.” He said icily, his deep voice devoid of all emotion.

But she knew that he was hurt by what she’d done and in all honesty, she couldn’t blame him. That, however, didn’t stop her from collapsing on the floor, outside the courtroom, her body racked with uncontrollable tremors. She began to sob soon after that. Ultimately, it was Logan who came all the way from New York to pick her up from a nearby hospital.

As he walked towards his spot, John once again looked for her presence among the audience. That soulless stare made her want to retch what she had for lunch. They all stood up, the judge entered the room and afterward, sat down to listen. Her eyes were trained on John the whole time and she couldn’t hear a single word. The blood was racing in her ears, creating a zooming, deafening sound.

The judge called for the jury representative.

The nausea worsened.

The man said the first offense listed against John; murder in the first degree. Not guilty.

Rogue closed her eyes, briefly, holding back the gagging sensation.

Then the second offense was named; murder in the second degree. Not guilty.

She silently thanked heaven; Erik had sent him a good lawyer.

She clenched her hands; the third and last offense; premeditated arson. Guilty. She began to fall and fall, the words of the judge repeating inside of her head. Ten years of imprisonment with a hearing for probation in five years. He would be gone for, at least, five years; five long, terrible years. She tried to fight for consciousness, her vision becoming hazed, and a great desire to scream at everyone in the courtroom, who began clapping and whooping with joy, began to rise within her. Logan caught her just inches before she hit the floor, the cloud in her mind taking its toll on her.

“Take her out of here, damn it!” She heard John roar over the order of silence from the judge.

Logan didn’t need to be told twice. Cradling her in his arms, he pushed through the aisle they were on, glaring at all the spectators, and walked out of the courtroom. Once they were outside, Rogue began to try and climb out of his arms.

“Logan, put me down.” She whispered urgently. Grudgingly, he complied, but still held her by the waist just in case.

As a sickening feeling rose within her, Rogue wrenched herself from his arms and ran to the bathroom across the hall, spilling the contents of her stomach in the toilet as soon as she was inside.