The Boy Who Destroyed the World
an original X-Men Movieverse fan fiction
written by: jennifer s. a.k.a. assassinelektra
I do not own the X-Men movies or comics, or their characters. This is a fan fiction story meant only for the enjoyment of myself and other X-Men fans.
Title: The Boy Who Destroyed the World
Genre: Action/Adventure, Romance, Angst
Setting: Right after X-Men 3: The Last Stand
Author's Note: There are definitely X3 spoilers. And yeah, I ship Kitty/Peter, but this idea occurred to me after seeing the movie. Plus I don't want Pyro dead…I imagine this will be a short fic though.
This fic has gotten such great reviews over on live journal, so I decided to post it here as well. If you can't wait to read the updates, I've got up to 14 chapters there, so just go to live and look up the user uniquebanality for all of the chapters.
"Once there was boy who had vibrant glow, but as it goes, someone took it from him."
AFI "The Boy Who Destroyed the World"
"There may be a great fire in our soul, yet no one ever comes to warm himself at it, and the passers-by see only a wisp of smoke.""
Vincent van Gogh
He couldn't move. The world was dark and cold, and every muscle he was still aware he had was aching like he had never known pain before. He tried to move again and still found that he couldn't.
John opened his eyes very slowly. They argued with him the entire way, wanting to stay closed, to keep from seeing what was going on around in reality. The air was smoky. He nearly couldn't see. And the noise, it was unbearable. People running around, screaming. Dying.
Finally, adrenaline jolted his muscles back into the present, and John sat up, looking around. He felt stiff and sore still, and as he tried to stand he failed. His first instinct was to look for Magneto. He was the leader, knew what to do. Even if he was an almost intolerable ass.
But John's eyes locked on to one person, and it wasn't Magneto. She stood at the end of the bridge, skin darkened by black veins, eyes so red they nearly looked alien. She had been his teacher once. The teacher all the elementary school kids had a crush on. Only they hadn't been at an elementary school, and John had seen her as more of a friend than someone to lust after. She was admirable, respect worthy, but now she was nothing but a shell of the woman she had been.
And there was that annoying Logan, making his way up towards Jean. His skin and flesh melting away as he took step after step. It healed, then disintegrated again, and he was in incredible pain, but he never stopped. Maybe the Wolverine really was a good guy.
They were talking, and John couldn't hear what was being said, nor did he really care. He thought back, trying to remember what had knocked him onto the ground and disorientated him so badly.
He glanced down at his hands, still blue and frosted over from Bobby's ice. "Damn it." He snapped, trying to stand again and this time actually succeeding. He looked around frantically for his lighter. It was nearly a part of him. And he wondered why he hadn't noticed it missing right away.
John's heart raced as he panicked, looking around for it. He relaxed once he saw it lying near his feet and picked it up. Everything was okay if he had his fire. He flicked the lighter on and watched his hands thaw out. Then he glared at the chaos around him, looking for Bobby. There would be hell to pay once he found his old friend. If they had ever really been friends.
But everyone was running, horrified as the world around them was literally ripped apart. John watched a nearby soldier float in the air and then just disintegrate into a dust that eventually became nothing. He made a disgusted face, then glanced back towards Logan and Dr. Grey. Could she really have this much power? To rip people apart like that? And if so, why was he still standing there alive?
No need to stand there any longer and tempt her. He turned around and took off running, trying to get to the bridge before the entire island disappeared beneath his feet. Everything had been so simple only minutes before. What the hell had gone so wrong?
It was raining. Hours later, it was still raining. As if her powers lifting the ocean had altered the weather completely. And he had no doubt that it had. Maybe Dr. Grey was still alive. Maybe she actually was controlling the weather.
Whatever it was, it pissed him off. Rain meant water all over his hands. And although that didn't make it entirely impossible to control the flames, it did make it difficult to create them to begin with.
He hated that.
John only had half a power the way he saw it. What good was controlling fire if you couldn't create it? That's why his lighter was so damn important to him. Without it, he was helpless. And he hated that too.
And now, here he was, walking on the sidewalk, avoiding the glances of people who passed him and recognized him. Yeah, he was infamous now thanks to Magneto. How long had he been under the mutant's wing? A year? Two? He couldn't even remember what it was like to sleep at Xavier's school anymore, in a bed that wasn't cold and metal.
He sort of missed it. The stupid classes with their stupid homework assignments, and the stupid students who sat pathetically around him, trying to be normal when they clearly couldn't.
He missed getting detention and burning some obscene phrase onto the desk until Dr. Grey saw it and made him burn it flat. He missed beating Bobby's ass at basketball while his lame girlfriend watched and pretended to not be impressed. He missed teasing Kitty because of that one time she fell asleep during class and fell through her chair. He missed the way Xavier would give him 'the look' right before he was about to flick his lighter on.
But most of all he missed the feeling that very building gave him whenever he was there. He'd never admit it to anyone, not even himself, but there was a part of John that felt completely safe at Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. It had been the closest thing he had ever had to a home.
He was jarred from his thoughts most irritatingly by a passing police officer. "Hands in the air!" And then the officer muttered something into his radio about 'having one of them.' A slight smirk crossed his lips as John raised his hands in the air, his thumb resting on his lighter, just waiting.
"Is there a problem, officer?" He asked.
"Don't get smart with me. Turn around and get against the wall." John's smirk faded and he flicked his lighter on, throwing a ball of flame at the man.
"You know, I'm already having a really bad day." He said, irritated. "And you're only making it worse."
People nearby had stopped to see what the policeman was rolling on the ground screaming about. He couldn't get the flames on his face and chest and arms to die or smother, because John kept feeding them with life. It was like his very will was feeding the fire, keeping it alive, forcing it to grow and eat at the man's flesh.
And then he felt a very sharp pain at the back of his neck. John glared as he turned around, pulling the needle out of his neck, and looked at the man who had shot him. "You bastard!" John snapped, hand held outwards and lighter ignited.
For the first time in ten years, John's hand actually burned. "Shit!" He turned the lighter off and stared at his charred hand in shock. He hadn't been harmed by fire since… And staring at the needle he'd tossed to the ground he suddenly realized what had happened. John looked up at the officer in shock, eyes opened wide.
He didn't know what to do, how to react. So he did the only thing he'd ever been good at even before discovering his mutant power—he ran like hell.