A/N: this has been in the works for quite awhile. But I finally got insperation and just let it out!!!! Also really wanted to start writing about her again...so yeah sorry its taken me soooooo long.

Disclaimer: I own nothing familiar to you.


I was staring up the ceiling, my limbs felt like lead attached to my body. I hardly wanted to move but the fact that I was inside and not out in the cold, or in a police station, was enough to spur me into a sitting position.

I instantly recognized were I was. John's home or what he called his home. Once upon a time I used to come here every day, before everything went wrong. Before he abandoned me for something he obviously considered better then me; 'freedom'.

John's home consisted of the bed I was laying on; the wooden stairs were against one of the cement walls with a railing, two cabinets, a refrigerator, two, rather uncomfortable, metal chairs with an ancient wooden table that looked like it had gone threw several world wars, a dresser, a makeshift closet under the stairs, and a TV.

It certainly wasn't impressive, but it worked for him.

John was sitting on one of the metal chairs his eyes focused on me. There was a newspaper next to his elbow, which he casually picked up, he walked over to me and dropped it in my lap.

I instantly knew what he wanted me to look for, the murders. I flew threw the paper in record time dropping the ones I read on the ground until I'd finished and all the paper was spread on the grown; one article clutched in my hands. Two missing men. Missing not dead.

I nearly let out a sigh of relief before guilt flooded over me. I felt John looking down at me. He plopped down next to me and let out a sigh his fingers running threw his hair.

"I suppose you can tell me what you came all the way over here to tell me" he gave me a bored look. He hadn't always been like this, cold, foreboding, and rebellious. But that was what time did to people; it changed them even if that meant ripping friends apart, or making them worse.

If this was his way of attempting to be nice then he was failing miserable "Everyone hates me" I could see from the look on his face that he certainly didn't want to hear a sob story.

"Well gee I wonder why!" he exclaimer raising his arms and leaning backward "maybe it's because you almost killed them!" It was like he had just added salt to an open wound.

"It was accident!" I fought back.

"Sure!" he growled "just like trying to kill me was an accident!" it felt like someone had just smacked me, it had been a very bad idea to come over here. But that's not what hurt most: I had gotten my hopes up over the thought that he might actually attempt to understand.

"You hurt me!" it was a lame excuse, but it was the truth, it was exactly why I'd tried to kill him. It was an attempt to let my anger boil out in a different way.

"So you kill me!" he exploded jumping to his feet "that's great you are a monster you know that!" he laughed bitterly, "you should leave before your precious brother gets worried" his snapped word's were much harsher then I'd ever heard them before, the word 'brother' was dripping in sarcasm.

To be considered so low by the a person that I still thought would understand me felt horrible. But so did knowing that he also considered me a monster. He was just like everyone else except he let me know how he felt.

"Your right" I said looking at the ground "I am a monster" I glanced up and for a second I could have sworn I saw a flash of regret in his angry brown eyes.

I stood up looking up at him for a few more seconds "bye John" I mumbled fully knowing that he wouldn't reply. I slid past him purposefully brushing his hand with my fingers, just to see if he reacted. He simply closed his eyes and stepped to the side.

I climbed his stairs, pushed open the door and stumbled threw the junk on the first floor until I reached the front door; nudged it open then stepped out onto the broken cement.

The sun was shining but that didn't help warm the day up, it was already a chilly September morning. I gave one last lingering look at the house before running down the steps and onto the sidewalk.

I was going to be walking for awhile. Which would leave me time to think. Time I didn't want.

But it was inevitable...

----

John flopped onto his bed feeling a little guilty. It had been awhile since he'd seen Tamara. She was so pretty with her blonde hair cut short and her sad gray-blue eyes. When they were younger they'd always been together, playing pranks on the older kids or sneaking out to go make trouble in the supermarkets or gas stations.

John closed his eyes recalling the last time the two of them had truly been close, it had been when William Striker attacked the mansion, John and Tamara had been talking in his dorm room planning what they'd do that night, the plan consisted of putting whipped cream on Scott's, Peters, and Bobby's pillows or hands depending on which one they liked better, and recording it.

Of course they never got to do that since the next thing they new was a piercing scream basically blowing out there eardrums. Tamara had gotten away, or at least that's what he'd thought, in truth she'd managed to be one of the eight kids to be taken to Strikers base. He wasn't sure if it really bothered her that she'd nearly been killed there or not, but he was sure that It'd bothered her that he'd completely abandoned her.

He forced his eyes back open banishing the memory. He'd promised himself never to regret his choices just because of her. But she had been the only one to understand exactly how it felt to be ignored, and how it felt to be shunned, and he had honestly cared about her.

Hopefully she wouldn't come back. A small part of him wanted for her to come back. But John was not going to allow himself to bend even the slightest bit in his resolution to disconnect himself from her completely.

His eyes slowly closed until he was nearly asleep; when there was a loud crash then complete silence. "She wouldn't have the nerve to do that" he grumbled to himself as he flung his legs over the side of his bed and stood up. He stomped up his steps to stare at the door completely ripped off its hinges. The last of the setting sunlight showing off a piece of crisp white paper laying on the floor directly in front of the door.

John slowly walked towards the piece of papers scanning his surroundings with each step he took. He bent down and snatched it off the floor turned it over and read:

Dear John,
I was recently informed that you knew a girl named Tamara Drake, if you didn't then I would ask you to burn this paper now...but if you did then please continue reading.
It has come to Eric's attention that this girl could be extremely useful to the Brotherhood; as you know we are reforming. I'm the one that has been assigned the job of recruiting her, with force if it is necessary, in this case Ms. Drake has no choice she can join us or die. I'm sure she will choose the latter of the two choices.
I trust that you will not attempt to warn her since you still owe Eric your allegiance. Yours Truly - Anonymous.

John's hand was clamped on the paper so tightly that it had actually begun to rip. He dropped it to the ground flipped his lighter up and made the piece of paper turn to ash.

He then stared out the door contemplating what he should do. screw this he growled to himself and ran out his door and down the steps before he even knew what he was doing.

How was he going to find her? Especially if she began to fade; like he was sure she probably was. He opened his mouth to yell for her then stopped. bad idea. Flinging himself down the first street that made sense for her to go down he say nothing but an empty, cracked, road.

Damn-it! Why did I have to make her sad? he berated himself as his feet continued to slam against the ground.

He slowed down looking down three roads when he finally saw her. With a sigh of relief he ran towards her then heard them behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see three people of differing heights running towards her also.

Tamara had her head down, her shoulders hunched.

He glanced over his shoulder again to see the biggest one pick up a rock, run and throw it "Mara duck!" he yelled, to him it felt like sandpaper had suddenly rubbed up against his throat. Tamara looked over her shoulder, of course she didn't duck and was throw to her back by a huge rock.

A scream burst threw the air then several curses. Then the rock simply dissolved. This is not good.

Tamara sat up her hands clutching her head. John finally reached her coming to a skidding halt, his feet slipped and he slammed onto his hip. Scrambling up he brushed her shoulder coming to her level "Stay calm. All right you'll be fine"

She looked up into his eyes and nodded very slowly before forcing herself to stand up and watch as the three anonymous people ran at them "Who are they?" She asked.

"Magneto's new recruits" John answered as he flipped his lighter open and pulled the flame into the palm of his hand. It revolved quickly into a ball of fire.

"What do they-" she stopped realization slipping over her. She went stiff and straightened "Thanks John but I think I'll go with them" John stopped so shocked that he thought his jaw would hit the ground.

For a few seconds he struggled with himself then snorted "I don't think so. You see I never thought you were fit to make these sort of decisions" before she could react he had hit her harshly on the back of her head. Her eyes rolled back and she fell, and she would have fallen to the ground if he had not caught her and gently set her down.

He pushed his sleeves up reforming the ball of fire. He was going to enjoy this.


Alright I might dedicate the entire next chapter to the fight┘might not. Donno. Do know this though Bobby is gonna be pissed.