(no subject)
Author: velvetglitter
Title: He'd Be Fine
Rating: M (for coarse language and violence)
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Marvel and Fox, I just borrow
Summary: Pyro leaves with Magneto and Mystique after Alkali Lake, and Magneto's impressive-sounding morality turns out to be nothing like Pyro expected.
Written for: kalimando
Pairing/scenario requested: John & Mystique and/or John & Magneto. Explore what might have happened on the helicopter after they left Akali Lake.
Warnings (if any): none, really. Unless you're not fond of blood and swearing and a touch of angst.
He’d be fine, thank you very much.
He stared out of the window as the helicopter took off, catching a glimpse of the weakening dam walls. A part of him felt bad for making sure he was safe before the water cascaded, but isn’t that what people do? They save themselves, they look out for themselves, and they don’t notice someone else drowning.
John refused to believe in heroism. Maybe it was cynical of him, but who the hell cared? He survived. He lived. He went on. He didn’t stick his neck out; he didn’t think he was any better than anyone else. He didn’t look down on anyone; send them pitying looks when no one was watching.
Oh, he’d seen them. How could he not see them? John may have been the angriest student at the school, easiest of the mark when it came to using his powers, but that didn’t stop people talking behind his back. Why was he so angry? What happened with his family? What was his deal?
Even Bobby fucking did it. Perfect fucking Bobby Drake. The school golden boy, the boy that could do no wrong. John had taken the fall for his shit more time than John could count, had talked Bobby through his crushes on Jubilee and Angelica, been his fucking "best friend" even though it had screamed against every one of his instincts. Don’t let people close, don’t let people in.
He hadn’t broken his rule for anyone else. Not for any of the girls he dated, not even when he’d screwed Amara in the pool house. It had been a fun time, and that was all. He didn’t need people. And he didn’t need friends.
A hand gently rested on his shoulder, and John jumped, staring up at Magneto. His wrinkled face curled into a smile, and he squeezed John’s shoulder.
"It’s not easy to let them go, is it?" He remarked quietly. "They won’t understand. They can’t understand, because they can’t conceive of how some one could take a stand. Whatever happens from now on, that’s what you did this day."
"I didn’t take a stand," John muttered under his breath. "I saved my ass. I’ve seen what they think they’re fighting for, and it will end with me having a bullet in the brain."
"Saving yourself is taking a stand, Pyro. Your duty is to yourself, first and foremost. To ensure your own survival over the survival of those who would sacrifice you for the supposed greater good. There is no greater good than your own life."
John stared at Magneto, suddenly uncomfortable with matters being stated so plainly. He didn’t consider his life any sort of greater good, and from what he’d heard of Magneto, John wasn’t sure if he followed that creed to the letter. But for better or for worse, this was John’s place now.
* * * * * * * *
He’d thought he’d be fine, thank you very much.
Lying in a pool of blood, he realized he really wasn’t. After the escape from Alkali Lake, Magneto and Mystique had been busy. Planning, collecting allies, spying, that’s all they would do. Pyro would be forgotten for days on end, until it was time for him to make contact with someone, or more frequently, to do the grocery shopping.
He’d missed Xavier’s more than he realized. He’d thought he hadn’t let anyone in - other than Bobby - but that turned out to be a lie. He’d lie awake at night, remembering. The way Kitty had smiled on their first date, the way she’d sighed when he pulled away from kissing her. The way Bobby had frozen the pool to teach them all how to ice-skate, the way he’d wake up in the middle of the night frozen to the sheets. The way Amara’s fire had burned as hot as his, the way she’d moaned when he touched her. The way Jubilee had kicked his ass when he’d told her she looked fat in her prom dress, the way she’d steal his lighter to watch him squirm. The way Rogue had cried for hours in his and Bobby’s room after Logan had taken off, the way she hadn’t been able to help smiling at him taunting the kids in the cafeteria. He’d forgotten that he wasn’t Pyro to them, he was John and he was a dick and he was a show-off, but he was their friend.
Now he was one of the bad guys. He’d torched buildings and cars and whatever had needed to be done. He was a good little lackey, risking his life for ‘the greater good’. His life wasn’t the greatest good that Magneto had espoused. He was dispensable, just like the rest of them. Magneto was the greater good, his dream, his life, his plans.
He’d thought of giving once - just disappearing, jumping on a train to somewhere and never seeing any of them again. He could lose himself amongst the humans, get a job working in a crappy grocery store and live in a tiny one-bedroom apartment. It’d be fucking fantastic. Needless to say, he’d stayed where he was, and he and Avalanche had destroyed some government offices the next evening.
In the end, he’d still ended up with a bullet in the chest.
* * * * * * * *
In the end, Pyro had been surprised by some Secret Service goons who were making sure the area was clear so the President could arrive. He and Avalanche had chosen the wrong night to go raiding.
It wasn’t Avalanche that found his bleeding body, wasn’t Avalanche who took his body from the scene. A government advisor had come along, and despite warnings from the Secret Service, he’d crouched over the body, carefully touching his cheek.
"You were one of Xavier’s kids, weren’t you?" He asked quietly. John had no idea how this blonde stranger could know that, but he just nodded and slipped further into death.
When he woke, John was in the med labs of Xavier’s school. A strange guy with gold skin stood by his bedside, his hands over the area where they’d once been a bullet hole.
"You’ll be alright after all," he said with a smile. "You’re lucky Mister Summers found you when he did."
John stared at the kid, not really comprehending what he was saying.
But he was alive. And at Xavier’s. Someone had brought him here, even though he was dying. And now he wasn’t.
"Welcome back to Xavier’s, Saint John. You sure do show up like a bad penny, don’t you?" That familiar voice. The Boston accent. Shit, it was Bobby Drake.
"Given my return from the dead, I think I prefer phoenix," he croaked.
Well, shit. He was home.
Title: He'd Be Fine
Rating: M (for coarse language and violence)
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Marvel and Fox, I just borrow
Summary: Pyro leaves with Magneto and Mystique after Alkali Lake, and Magneto's impressive-sounding morality turns out to be nothing like Pyro expected.
Written for: kalimando
Pairing/scenario requested: John & Mystique and/or John & Magneto. Explore what might have happened on the helicopter after they left Akali Lake.
Warnings (if any): none, really. Unless you're not fond of blood and swearing and a touch of angst.
He’d be fine, thank you very much.
He stared out of the window as the helicopter took off, catching a glimpse of the weakening dam walls. A part of him felt bad for making sure he was safe before the water cascaded, but isn’t that what people do? They save themselves, they look out for themselves, and they don’t notice someone else drowning.
John refused to believe in heroism. Maybe it was cynical of him, but who the hell cared? He survived. He lived. He went on. He didn’t stick his neck out; he didn’t think he was any better than anyone else. He didn’t look down on anyone; send them pitying looks when no one was watching.
Oh, he’d seen them. How could he not see them? John may have been the angriest student at the school, easiest of the mark when it came to using his powers, but that didn’t stop people talking behind his back. Why was he so angry? What happened with his family? What was his deal?
Even Bobby fucking did it. Perfect fucking Bobby Drake. The school golden boy, the boy that could do no wrong. John had taken the fall for his shit more time than John could count, had talked Bobby through his crushes on Jubilee and Angelica, been his fucking "best friend" even though it had screamed against every one of his instincts. Don’t let people close, don’t let people in.
He hadn’t broken his rule for anyone else. Not for any of the girls he dated, not even when he’d screwed Amara in the pool house. It had been a fun time, and that was all. He didn’t need people. And he didn’t need friends.
A hand gently rested on his shoulder, and John jumped, staring up at Magneto. His wrinkled face curled into a smile, and he squeezed John’s shoulder.
"It’s not easy to let them go, is it?" He remarked quietly. "They won’t understand. They can’t understand, because they can’t conceive of how some one could take a stand. Whatever happens from now on, that’s what you did this day."
"I didn’t take a stand," John muttered under his breath. "I saved my ass. I’ve seen what they think they’re fighting for, and it will end with me having a bullet in the brain."
"Saving yourself is taking a stand, Pyro. Your duty is to yourself, first and foremost. To ensure your own survival over the survival of those who would sacrifice you for the supposed greater good. There is no greater good than your own life."
John stared at Magneto, suddenly uncomfortable with matters being stated so plainly. He didn’t consider his life any sort of greater good, and from what he’d heard of Magneto, John wasn’t sure if he followed that creed to the letter. But for better or for worse, this was John’s place now.
* * * * * * * *
He’d thought he’d be fine, thank you very much.
Lying in a pool of blood, he realized he really wasn’t. After the escape from Alkali Lake, Magneto and Mystique had been busy. Planning, collecting allies, spying, that’s all they would do. Pyro would be forgotten for days on end, until it was time for him to make contact with someone, or more frequently, to do the grocery shopping.
He’d missed Xavier’s more than he realized. He’d thought he hadn’t let anyone in - other than Bobby - but that turned out to be a lie. He’d lie awake at night, remembering. The way Kitty had smiled on their first date, the way she’d sighed when he pulled away from kissing her. The way Bobby had frozen the pool to teach them all how to ice-skate, the way he’d wake up in the middle of the night frozen to the sheets. The way Amara’s fire had burned as hot as his, the way she’d moaned when he touched her. The way Jubilee had kicked his ass when he’d told her she looked fat in her prom dress, the way she’d steal his lighter to watch him squirm. The way Rogue had cried for hours in his and Bobby’s room after Logan had taken off, the way she hadn’t been able to help smiling at him taunting the kids in the cafeteria. He’d forgotten that he wasn’t Pyro to them, he was John and he was a dick and he was a show-off, but he was their friend.
Now he was one of the bad guys. He’d torched buildings and cars and whatever had needed to be done. He was a good little lackey, risking his life for ‘the greater good’. His life wasn’t the greatest good that Magneto had espoused. He was dispensable, just like the rest of them. Magneto was the greater good, his dream, his life, his plans.
He’d thought of giving once - just disappearing, jumping on a train to somewhere and never seeing any of them again. He could lose himself amongst the humans, get a job working in a crappy grocery store and live in a tiny one-bedroom apartment. It’d be fucking fantastic. Needless to say, he’d stayed where he was, and he and Avalanche had destroyed some government offices the next evening.
In the end, he’d still ended up with a bullet in the chest.
* * * * * * * *
In the end, Pyro had been surprised by some Secret Service goons who were making sure the area was clear so the President could arrive. He and Avalanche had chosen the wrong night to go raiding.
It wasn’t Avalanche that found his bleeding body, wasn’t Avalanche who took his body from the scene. A government advisor had come along, and despite warnings from the Secret Service, he’d crouched over the body, carefully touching his cheek.
"You were one of Xavier’s kids, weren’t you?" He asked quietly. John had no idea how this blonde stranger could know that, but he just nodded and slipped further into death.
When he woke, John was in the med labs of Xavier’s school. A strange guy with gold skin stood by his bedside, his hands over the area where they’d once been a bullet hole.
"You’ll be alright after all," he said with a smile. "You’re lucky Mister Summers found you when he did."
John stared at the kid, not really comprehending what he was saying.
But he was alive. And at Xavier’s. Someone had brought him here, even though he was dying. And now he wasn’t.
"Welcome back to Xavier’s, Saint John. You sure do show up like a bad penny, don’t you?" That familiar voice. The Boston accent. Shit, it was Bobby Drake.
"Given my return from the dead, I think I prefer phoenix," he croaked.
Well, shit. He was home.