Burning Brightly

Author's Note:

The plot is beginning to move along. Pyro is sent out on his first solo mission. He is to "make a statement" on behalf of the Brotherhood. When he discovers Bobby in the crowd, what drives him to provoke "the Iceman?" How does he feel about what he's done?

I studied this portion of the movie and have tried to faithfully record the dialogue and actions of the characters as shown in the movie. John's reactions and motivations represent my own interpretation of his behavior. Feel free to disagree.

Warnings: Sex. (The boundaries of consent are pushed a little but not crossed in my opinion.) Profanity. Violence.

Please Rate and Review. Constructive criticism is encouraged, but I'll accept just about anything short of outright flaming. I know somebody is reading this thing, but nobody's talking.


Chapter Eight: Burning

The next few days were busy as all hell. Callisto was in charge of making sure everyone was packed and ready to go at a moment’s notice. Quill, Arclight and Psylocke were occupied with the scouting teams, so I didn’t have to put up with them.

I was starting to think that Magneto liked the sound of his own voice. He gave a “talk” of some kind at least twice a day to different groups. And Martha had to be there for all of them.

She was having headaches again, but if she was having nosebleeds, she was hiding them from me. Except for the speeches, she mostly stayed in the underground base, monitoring the news and waiting for agents to check in.

I had to drag her off for meals and to bed at night. That was about the only time I saw her, because I was busy, too. I had to keep an eye on Jean and make sure no one bothered her. And I had to keep a lid on the hot-heads. Now that things were getting tense, fights were breaking out here and there. Especially between the Omegas and the other recruits. If we didn’t make a move soon, the Brotherhood would soon tear itself apart. That was obvious.

I knew I was being an ass to Martha. All the tension was getting to me. I’ve never been one to handle stress well. Or at all. I usually wound up incinerating the day’s trash so I didn’t torch some knucklehead.

Yeah. I was a dick. I’d come and drag Martha out of her office. Pissed off and tired, smelling of burnt garbage. And fucking horny.

I don’t know how she put up with me. She must have eaten a whole bottle of Tylenol in those three days. I’d feel bad about it later, usually in the morning when I could see the dark circles under her eyes and the sooty fingerprints I left on her pale skin. I’d leave her sleeping and go start the whole mess again.

Then it was time to go. Time to make our statement. I was going to slip out without waking her up. She knew where I was going, what I was going to do. I knew she was worried and I just couldn’t deal with it right then. At least that was the excuse in my head.

“You going now?” She rolled over and mumbled a little more coherently than usual for this time of the morning.

“Yeah. It’s time. Everything’s set.” So much for sneaking out. I sat down on the bed and pushed her hair back from her face. I could see a smudge of soot on her neck that looked so much like a bruise that I felt queasy for a moment. “I got you all dirty.”

“S’all right. I like being a dirty girl.” She joked and smiled sleepily, rubbing her face against my shoulder.

“I should have let you sleep.” The dark circles weren’t getting any better. “Why didn’t you tell me to fuck off last night?” I knew she had a splitting headache all day yesterday, but I’d started in on her as soon as I got in last night. Like I said. I’d been an ass.

“Because I never know if it might be the last time.” She sat up, serious now. She pulled the sheets around her and tucked her hair behind her ears and looked at me.

“I’m coming back, baby. I’ll just burn and run. That’s it.” I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince, her or me. I was damned nervous about it. Not just about getting caught, but about possibly killing more people. Sometimes I heard that guard’s screams in my dreams at night.

“That’s the way it’s supposed to go.” She pulled her knees up and rested her chin on them. “I told you I think too much. Just be careful. O.K.?”

“I will. Don’t worry.”

“I’ll try.” She sighed and reached up a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. I got up and grabbed the Tylenol and some water for her before I left.

I knew the route in and out of the Camp by heart now. I took one of the ATV’s and headed for civilization. I also took a communicator so I could check in with Magneto and Martha.

It was a long exhausting trip, mostly by bus. I never fly if I can avoid it. Usually I can. Besides, security was a lot tighter in the airports than it was in the bus stations. So it worked out, anyway.

The first “Cure Clinic” to open in New York Sate was going to open its doors at 9:00 AM. There was going to be lots of media coverage and it was located on the opposite side of the country from our base camp. Hopefully, that would keep the authorities guessing. And, as a bonus, it was right on the X-Men’s doorstep. That should send a clear enough message, according to Magneto.

I got there at 8:45 AM and worked my way into the crowd of protesters outside. It turned my stomach to see that the line of “patients” was already all the way down the block. The protesters were screaming and waving signs and many of the mutants waiting for their “Cure shots” were hiding their faces.

I was looking for just the right spot to make my move when I recognized a face in the crowd. He was out of uniform and was looking anxiously at the door. What the hell was he doing here?

“Getting the cure so you can go back to Mommy and Daddy?” He couldn’t possibly believe taking the Cure would fix things, could he? For a moment, I thought maybe he wouldn’t even speak to me. He looked at me almost like I was a stranger.

“I’m looking for someone.” Now that did make sense. Had she really given in? The idea disgusted me. Made me angry. Could it really be so fucking bad that she’d give up her birthright?

“Oh, I get it. Your girlfriend. I figured she’d want the cure. She’s pathetic.” Magneto had told me to start an incident, something big. There were cameras on the protesters right this second. A good old showdown would fit the bill. Then I wouldn’t have to torch the clinic or the people in it.

I look down and Bobby’s hand had turned icy blue. His blue eyes sparkled with that cold anger I’ve seen a few times. Though I’ve never gotten it to spark so easy before. I lit my wrist lighter, all ready and willing to go.

“Come on, Iceman. Make a move.” Go with it, Bobby. Just for once. This fight is going to happen. It has to happen sooner or later. The Iceman has got to crack one day.

He gave me this disgusted look then turned away. Like he didn’t have time for me. Like I didn’t matter. Like I wasn’t a threat. Like she was more important. Just like it’s been ever since she showed up.

“Same old Bobby. Still afraid of a fight!” He didn’t look back. Didn’t even pause.

I had no choice. The doors were opening and the first “patient” was about to walk in. If Bobby wouldn’t give me a fight, then I had to strike now. I sent a fireball into the clinic’s windows and willed it to explode.

I heard screaming and the shattering of glass. Since I knew it was coming, I was already moving away, ahead of the scattering crowd of protesters. It should be a big enough blaze to look good for the cameras, but not so big as to turn this into a massacre. Kill too many mutants and they would turn against us, too.

God. I hoped no one was in there. I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter if a few pathetic humans bought it. And maybe a couple of mutant losers who couldn’t hack it. That’s what Magneto would say, but he’d use fancier words. Make it sound civilized.

Shit. I hope she wasn’t in there. Bobby would never forgive me.

Why do I care what the Iceman thinks about me? Why does it still matter? We stopped being friends a long time ago, didn’t we?

I tried to stop thinking about it. Tried to push it aside. Tried not to look at the T.V. in the bus station. Tried not to listen to the people all around me talking about it.

I called in to tell Magneto it was done, but it wasn’t really necessary. It was already all over the news. Since no one was on my tail, it looked like Bobby was the only one who’d spotted me. I was lucky that there was no camera on me when I did it.

But, Bobby knew.

Why did it matter so much?

Because I did it for him.

He did everything right. Everything. Good looking, good grades, never lost his temper. He was so fucking nice you couldn’t even hate him for being so god damned perfect. He even dated the untouchable chick. A girl he could probably never even fuck. And they shit on him. Treated him like scum.

Treated him like me. Just because he was a mutant.

So I’d do the dirty work. Get the blood on my hands. Give them something real to hate and fear. Let him go on playing hero with a clear conscience.

All I really wanted to do was go back home. Except I didn’t have one. Not anymore. Just the Brotherhood and Martha.

I found myself missing her more than I thought I would. It was better than worrying about whether I’d just killed my best friend’s girl. So I concentrated on that as I rode the bus out of state. It was a long fucking trip.


It was late and I was exhausted when I finally made it back to Camp. I stopped just long enough to check in with Magneto and Callisto before heading to my room. This would probably be our last night here. I undressed quietly. Martha was already asleep and I slipped into bed and spooned up against her naked body.

I hadn’t been able to sleep at all since I’d left New York. I wrapped my arms around her and buried my face in her hair, smelling the scent of her. She mumbled something in her sleep and snuggled into me. Funny how I got used to having her there so fast.

I fell asleep almost immediately. Then the dreams came. Flames came licking and dancing. I saw the clinic exploding, police cars burning, my aunt’s ugly wallpaper curling and blackening. I heard the screaming. The prison guard that shot Mystique, hoarse and deep. My aunt’s screams of anger and fright. I heard the screams of the crowd as they ran from the fire I created.

I fought the dreams. Tried to run from them. Run from the flames like I used to do when I was a kid. Run away from the images. Faces in the flames. Burning, screaming faces. That guard, my aunt, that woman that stood at the head of the line at the clinic, her long brown hair twisting and smoking. I saw Rogue in the flames. Heard her screaming. Heard Bobby calling her name. I saw Martha in the flames too, heard her calling my name.

I smelled smoke…

“John! Wake up! John!” Martha was shaking me and there was smoke in the air, and heat. She was kicking at the spread, kicking it away where it landed on the floor in a smoldering heap. “John!”

I sat up and stared at the smoking pile of fabric. I reached out and snuffed the half formed flames.

“What the fuck?” I looked around in confusion.

“You were having a nightmare. You set the bed on fire.” Martha was clinging to me, her voice raspy and frightened.

“I didn’t. I can’t make the fire.” The images of Rogue and the others burning were still in my mind.

“You did.” Martha gave me a little shake. “You did, John.”

“People were burning. I was burning them.” I was fumbling, trying to understand. I held up one hand and imagined the fire there. Felt the fire there, the heat of it. Saw the glow there. And it was there.

Fire. Brilliant. Glorious. Deadly. Beautiful fire. I let the flames lick across my palm, sheathing my hand in flame.

“Oh God…John…” Martha was backing away from me. I turned to look at her. I raised my hand and let the flame’s light bathe her in its glow.

She was made for fire. The glow picked out the red glints in her hair. It painted her pale skin in warm reds and yellows and oranges. And her silver eyes caught the flickering images, reflecting them back on me.

A woman of flame. The beauty of the flames made flesh. Substance that I could touch. I held my hand closer to her, watching the flame’s light flicker over her body. Little tongue’s of orange and yellow and red lapping at her skin.

“So beautiful…The flames…”

I was vaguely aware that she was speaking. She was huddled against the head of the bed, watching me with eyes of flame. I reached for her then, dousing the flame. She was stiff in my hands as I pulled her away from the headboard. I grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her hard, pressing my tongue between her lips.

The fire wasn’t gone. It was in my head, in her eyes. She was flame in my hands, hot and warm and alive. I pushed her down on the bed and sucked at her neck, biting and tasting her skin. She whimpered and pushed at me. I caught her hands and pinned them down, straddling her hips as I continued to nibble and lick at her neck.

The fire was in my blood. Pouring through my veins. All I could think of was the heat and the flames and fucking her. Fucking this woman made of flames. Made for me.

“John…” She pushed at me again.

“Pyro…My name is Pyro. And I’m gonna fuck you.” I kissed her again, biting her lips and sucking at her tongue. She whimpered again. She’d stopped fighting me, but she wasn’t responding either.

Something began to trickle through the flames in my mind. A sense that something wasn’t quite right. I rose up a little and looked at her face in the dim light.

“John…Pyro…Please…” She was frightened. Really and truly frightened of me. I sat back.

“I need you. I need this. The fire is inside me…” I struggled to put it into words. “The fire wants you. A woman of flame.” I raised my hand and the flames came again, easier than before, painting her in its glow. Flickering in her eyes.

“You’re scaring me John. Just…” She watched the flames for a moment and her expression changed. I saw a shadow of that hunger I saw on Magneto’s video. Yes, the fire knew her. And she knew it. She licked her lips. “Be careful.”

“I won’t hurt you.” I reached for the nightstand drawer with its dwindling supply of condoms and fished one out. I tore it open impatiently and put the thing on. I felt her relax a little. I reached out a hand and set the candle she’d left on the nightstand alight. One of those girly things that gave off some sort of perfume.

Her eyes followed the motion and again the flames reflected in her eyes. Then she reached for me, pulling me closer, clinging to me. I leaned down and shifted above her, pressing my knee between her thighs. There was no more resistance and soon I was driving hard into her, feeling the burning in my blood. I slid my arms beneath her and held her body close to me as I pumped harder. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and buried her face in my neck. Her grunts and moans were loud in my ear.

The room seemed hotter than ever. The little candle flame grew larger and brighter, sending flickering shadows across the room. It reminded me of the images in my dreams and I closed my eyes. I concentrated on the feel of her skin against me, the wet, hot, tightness of her. The little noises she was making in my ear. The slick feel of sweat between our bodies. I held her tighter as my grip began to slip a little.

She whimpered a little. I knew I was being rougher than I’d been before. But, it wasn’t just me, it was the fire inside.

“Pyro.” I heard her whispering in my ear. “John…God…Please…”

Then the burning inside me seemed to flare up with a roar. I came with hoarse groan, clutching her as tight as I could. I felt the burning seem to drain away from me and the room started to cool. Slowly I became aware of the cold sweat on my back and Martha’s breath warm against my neck. I started to let her go, but she held me tighter.

“John…”

“I scared you. I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry.” She was shivering a little, whether it was from fear or the cold sweat on our skin I wasn’t sure. Her arms loosened a little and I pulled away long enough to chuck the condom and snuff the candle.

“What…What happened?” She was fumbling at the sheets, picking at them nervously.

“I don’t know.” I kicked at the ruined spread on the floor. It was useless now. I grabbed a pair of sweats off the floor and tossed her one of my shirts. “The spread’s toast. It’s cold.”

“I…Just come back to bed, John.” She pulled on the shirt quickly.

“You sure you want me to? I could have killed you. Both of us.” I was freaked out. I’d never made the fire out of nothing before. At least I don’t think I had. There had been a few times when I couldn’t figure out how it happened, back when the fires first started.

“Come to bed. I want you to. Please.” I climbed back in the bed and she pulled me close to her, resting her head on my shoulder. “Are you O.K?”

“No…I saw somebody I knew at the Clinic. Used to be my best friend. He was looking for his girlfriend. She was going to take the Cure.”

“Was that what the dream was about?” She reached up and touched my face. “Was he in it?”

“They both were. In the dream, I burned her.” I closed my eyes, seeing the images again. “I don’t know if she was there. If she was in the clinic when I blew it.”

“You didn’t listen to the news?”

“No. I didn’t want to know.” Somehow it was easier to talk in the dark. I probably shouldn’t tell her these things. It was too late to back out now. Much too late.

“There were some injuries. Three humans and one mutant were listed in critical condition last time I checked. But, there were some copycat incidents at other clinics. People were killed there.”

“Did they say who they were?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t…Don’t say anything about this. About the fire.” The doubts I was having were making me paranoid maybe. But, I didn’t want Callisto and especially Magneto to know.

“To Magneto?”

“To anyone.”

“O.K.” She was silent for such a long time I thought she was asleep. “I trust you, John. You can trust me, too.”

“I know. Go to sleep, baby.”

She shouldn’t trust me. God knows nobody should.