Title: A Real Life Dream
By: X
X0832001@yahoo.com
PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I am getting no money
Summary: Fourth in the Love Letters Series. John and Marie, in the same place, both conscious.
A/N: "Friendship's Sacrifice" begot "One of Those Dreams" begot "Some Friends Aren't Friends" begot "A Real Life Dream" will beget "Shiny, Happy Morning" who shall be the end of the Love Letters lineage.
John sat up in his bed writing furiously in a simple spiral bound notebook that Mystique had brought him. The thoughts poured from his head onto the paper through the pen. He had always liked writing in pen, feeling the tool leave its mark as it was pushed across the paper. Keyboards of computers were fine for reports and a quick e-mail, but for what he was up to now he was glad Mystique had gotten the cheap little green book.
He'd woken up in his nice, warm, soft twin bed at the Brotherhood's latest "compound" and found the book lying next to his bed. He'd never expected heaven to be a 3 story stone house in Canada, and he never expected to get into heaven, but all the signs pointed to paradise. Then Magneto had appeared glass in hand. "Glad to see you're awake Mr. Pyro." The older man gave the glass to the boy. The substance inside was a mixture like milk and oatmeal. He was actually familiar with the beige nutrient drink. He could remember Dr. Gray insisting that he finish the whole glass as he sat on an exam bed getting his initial physical when he arrived at Xavier's School. He'd been a runaway for a long time before that and couldn't remember the last time he'd had a real meal. As soon as that admission had been made the red headed doctor had thrust the glass at him.
"I'm alive?" John had asked the newly arrived supervillian weakly.
"Yes my dear boy, you're alive." Pyro had smiled and sunk back into the bed. For a couple of days that was really all he could manage. But, by the third day he was feeling better and had begun filling the notebook. It was the beginning of a novel, a tale of secrets and love, and probably blood and death. "Write what you know" he'd mused as the idea for what to do with the notebook came to him.
It was kind of nice Mystique had made enough observations and spent enough time on him to know a notebook and pen could take his mind off the pain and boredom of recovery for hours, days even. It made him wonder if someone would have done the same back at Xavier's. Did anyone even know he liked writing there? He paused, thinking. Marie did, they'd talked about it in one of their friendly chats in the rec room. There had been so many, all late at night when neither could sleep and no one else seemed to be around. They would both just find each other in the rec room, not planned, but whenever either of them needed a friend to talk to, the other was already downstairs waiting.
John's thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Come in" It was Magneto. The older man was holding another glass of oatmeal milk and a folded up piece of paper. His expression was as vague and unreadable as always. Magneto didn't show an overt amount of compassion, but it was clear he cared about the plight of his teammates. He distanced himself because he was the leader, but John could tell he cared about all the members of the Brotherhood.
"I have some things for you Pyro."
"What?"
"Drink this first." He extended the drink. John rolled his eyes.
"More of this? When can I eat real food again man?"
"Tonight, if there are no complications. You should be able to handle something more substantial." John tilted his head back and finished off the glass' contents. He'd been feeling much stronger and wanted to get on with this convalescence. He surmised it couldn't be too much longer before he was back to his old self. He'd been up writing for most of the day, and the pain wasn't too bad. It wasn't too bad as long as he didn't move much. Redirecting his attention he handed the glass back to Magneto and fixed an expectant gaze on the folded up piece of paper.
The older man actually smiled and chuckled warmly. "All right, I suppose you're well enough for me to fulfill my promise." Pyro just looked confused. Magneto had made a promise about him? "When we liberated you from those small minded humans" Magneto could see the young man tense a little. He was no doubt being assaulted by a slideshow of horrors in his head. Images of what had been done to him accosting him as Magneto spoke "we worked with the X-men. One of them asked me to give this to you." He handed the paper to Pyro, nodded and left him alone with the note.
Oh God, the X-men. Wait, Marie! Crap, he was in a mess. What the hell had he written on that menu? When he wrote that letter he'd been expecting to die. It had been an almost delirious state he'd written in. He'd been delirious enough to think Marie wouldn't sneer at even the mention of the traitor Pyro's name. He'd though she would care what he thought as he lay dying. Here in the cold clear state of reality the foolishness of the idea hit him hard. It was like a punch in the gut, and he still had those broken ribs.
He couldn't remember much of what he'd said. It was probably stupid and incoherent. He groaned to himself. What were the chances that Marie would have been anywhere near Canada? At the FOH house? What were the chances she'd get that crumpled up menu? Chances were slim, could have made you a fortune in Vegas, because she'd gotten it. She'd gotten it and written a response.
It was probably a note saying she only saw his as a friend; that she was madly in love with Bobby. Heck, that would be the best case scenario. Something big had happened to him in Boston, then he'd left them. Rogue had watched him walk off that jet into the snow; walk out of their lives and into the arms of their enemy. He's walked willingly because that's where his beliefs lay. She probably hated him. Furious that he would even try to communicate with her like nothing had happened! This note could very well be filled with a hurricane of anger, betrayal, and hatred.
To read she hated him would be worse than all the FOH had put him through. He'd connected with Rogue in a good, healthy way he couldn't have expected. Before her he really didn't think he was even capable of what Rogue brought out in him. Before her he'd just been another messed up person no one gave the time of day to. He hid the changes, tried to keep up his act, but they were still there. Inside, he was different because of Marie.
But he had to know what she'd written, whatever it said. For all the good she had done for him she deserved to have her message read, even knowing chances favored the words ripping out his heart. He unfolded the paper slowly, read the short message and let his jaw drop.
But, you should know that I feel the same way for you as you do for me.
I love you John Allerdyce.
He was suddenly numb with shock. "I love you" No one had ever said they loved him. In his whole life he could never remember hearing that simple phrase. He'd had a real crappy family, a series of foster parents that kept returning him to social services like he was an ugly Christmas sweater, then he'd been on his own. It had been quite a while before Xavier's troops marched in to pick the firebug off the streets. No one said they loved you in those places.
The whole idea was overwhelming to him. He hadn't really allowed for the idea Marie might care for him as more than a friend since the week after the Liberty Island thing. It was more than he could have hoped for. He was so excited! It was amazing! He felt like jumping out of bed and dancing. Of course he defiantly didn't have the strength for that. Instead he picked up his notebook and began writing like a mad man. Out of him flowed the most beautiful love scene he'd ever written. All the things he felt flowed out through the pen onto the blank white pages. Everything, all the happiness and wonder that he felt jumped into his story.
He wrote steadily until Mystique appeared in the doorway carrying a tray. A bowl of soup sat steaming in its center. "I hear you want to eat some real food." John looked up from where he was writing on the back cover of the notebook. Glancing around, a little confused, he realized hours had passed while he wrote. He smiled at Mystique and her food.
"Yeah, I am so sick of that goop". She looked at him with raised eyebrow. Pyro was not a big smiler. He was a kid that had some tough breaks and developed a thick skin because of it. She'd seen that look in people more than enough to recognize it in Pyro. He didn't look at you with giddy smiles. She spotted the folded up note and sat down on the bed in front of it. Holding the tray in one hand she adjusted the blankets and moved the notebook and pens before setting the tray down. John didn't notice she'd pick up his note; he was too focused on the first real, solid food he'd gotten in days. It only took a moment to read Marie's short note. Aww, little Mr. Pyro was in love. In love with an X-man, talk about shooting yourself in the foot. They were the enemy; the most they could possibly get from each other was a battle where both made it out Okay.
"Enjoy" she smiled as she left. Having Pyro around had been making her do unusually maternal things. She found herself walking down the stairs, changing into a random middle aged Asian man. She walked out the door and down the street, towards the corner drug store. She was going to buy Pyro another $0.75 notebook. It surprised her, the interest she'd taken in the young man.
The drugstore was close; they'd started building them every 20 feet so that wasn't surprising. She smiled a little at the teenage clerk and headed down the appropriate aisle. She'd seen Pyro writing before he'd gotten hurt. Every so often she'd pass by and he'd be typing away with barely a pause between the clicks of his keyboard. She picked up a handful of notebooks; green, red, purple, yellow, blue, black, one of each color. That should be enough to keep him occupied.
She blamed this nurturing junk on being a woman. She was a blue, scaly mutant, but still a woman. When they'd found Toad he'd been in much worse shape than Pyro. Badly burned, nearly drowned he'd managed to get himself back to the hideout. When Mystique had arrived after her hospital breakout she'd barely recognized him. She'd babied him like she was doing now for the fire manipulator. She'd brought Mortimer soup until he could get out of bed, made sure her duties as Senator Kelly didn't keep her away from him too long, it was a womanly curse.
Placing her items on the counter the teen looked up from her book and stopped twirling her hair long enough to push a couple of buttons on the cash register. "Total is $4.77" Mystique smiled and handed over a $5.
Oblivious to the friendly gesture the girl hit a couple more buttons and the drawer sprung open. "23 cents is your change, have a nice day" the clerk deadpanned as she handed over the dimes and pennies. As soon as the change left her hand she was reading again. The cover of the drivel featured a muscular man clutching a petite raven haired individual to bare his chest as they stood on the deck of a ship, the wind blowing back the long hair they both had in a most sexy way. It was a typical trashy romance novel. Mystique had never gone for the genre, but, to each their own. Mystique gathered up her books and headed for the door.
It didn't take long to get back to the base. When she arrived at Pyro's room he was just finishing the soup. She pulled out the purple notebook and handed it to the boy. "Looks like you needed another one" she commented, gesturing to the full book on the bed.
"I kinda got inspired" he laid the original book by the foot of the bed and started to work filling the new book. He wasn't paying attention when Mystique scooped up the book on her way out the door. She couldn't say why she did it, mainly she was just curious. Taking the notebook back to her room she lounged on her bed and opened it.
Mystique had never read anything Pyro had written. Despite being the main patron to his art she hadn't read any to know if he was good or not. It really didn't matter what he wrote, just the act seemed to be a kind of therapy for him. So she wasn't expecting much when she picked up that first yellow notebook. Two pages in she was utterly floored. It was great! Eloquent and captivating the characters were vivid, complex beings. She hadn't expected writing like that from the angry young Pyro.
She read on, entranced by the budding romance, tangled up in duty and honor. Duty and honor were main themes in a story created by Pyro? She just couldn't put it down, it was certainly more interesting than the last piece of fiction she'd found time to read. Without an intentional thought it became a pattern over the next few days, he'd fill up a book, she'd sneak it away, read it, and sneak it back.
It was clear he was in love. It was even hard to believe he could be that passionate for someone he'd probably never even touched. The woman that so inspired him was his enemy. She was mainly seen across a battlefield when he saw her at all. He'd left the X-men mansion months ago, but fire still burned. She laughed at the incredibly lame pun her mind had just made. She read his story and just couldn't bear to deny him a chance to actually be with the woman he loved. In his novel the man was a gypsy, separated from his love when his band is driven out of town. He can't change who he is, and is honor bound to stay with his family, to forever be kept form his beloved. They love each other so much, but are forced to rely on quick visits, hidden under the cover of darkness. It was tragic.
Mystique had an idea. She pulled out a piece of paper and started writing.