Her screams echoed throughout the camp. What a horrible sound it was, and it was clearly obvious that the screams were those of terrible agony. Just what were they doing to the poor girl?
He curled up in the corner of his cell, fighting back tears. Why was he refusing to cry, when his spirit was broken at the first cry from her lips? Why was it that in particular that made him break? He was stronger than that. No singular female meant that much to him.
Well, there was one.
But now wasn't the time to travel back to memory lane. No, now he had to focus on drowning out the screams and whimpers and pleas for mercy. He had chosen her torture, Their sick form of punishment for both. But he had to choose between that which could kill her, and that which would scar her. There just was no choice in the matter.
After what seemed to be hours the screams subsided and the whimpers dimmed down so that they were barely audible. This could mean two things. Either she was dead, or They had finished their fun. He hoped it was the latter, the former just too gruesome to comprehend.
Indeed his cell door opened, letting in a silver ray of light. First the light was cast upon the first corner, her corner, and there was no one. The cold metallic floor shone in the light as the door was pushed open more and more to reveal him in the corner, cowering and whimpering just like a beaten dog.
How could he be reduced to this? He was stronger than that.
A large shadow stood in the doorway, blocking any possible exit. Though it was least likely that he would run. There was no where to run to, no one to run to.
Another shadow came up behind the first one, and the second shadow whimpered. The guard was holding the girls limp and barely live form. The first shadow moved aside, letting the other shadow come in and toss her limp body into her corner. They closed the door without a second glance at her, and the two were submerged in darkness yet again.
After what seemed to be eternity she stirred, pulling herself onto all fours and sitting back on her bottom, leaning her face against the cool metal. He couldn't see, couldn't find any source of light. They had taken his Zippo upon the first chance they got. But he knew that she was bleeding, bruised, most likely had something that was broken.
He scooted out of his corner over to her. Gently he placed a hand on her shaking shoulder. At first she shied away, and she inhaled so sharply it sounded like a hiss. His fingers felt warm compared to her cooling flesh. But his fingers were sticky, and immediately he knew that her shoulder was just one of the many things that were bleeding.
She whimpered, leaning into his chest for the slightest bit of comfort. Before he was dragged here, any sort of soft act he would avoid, or just not do. He was a hardened Pyromaniac. Criminals don't have touchy-feely-lovey-dovey moments. But he was nothing like his former self now.
"I'm sorry," he whispered to her, his frail arms wrapping around her equally frail form. She whimpered in pain but didn't move. His comfort was needed, and any sort of pain she felt in the mean time was worth it. "I'm so sorry."
She shook her head against his chest, her hand going to his cheek to caress it softly. Their stomachs had long stopped growling for the food they were denied though their lips were still aching for the water that they scarcely got to enjoy. "Don't apologize John, I don't hold you responsible."
Those words sent his mind tumbling into thought. How could she not blame him? It was him, him and Magneto that set the example that mutants were not to be trusted. It was his fiery attitude and his refusal to break that made this place so horrid. Why didn't she blame him?
She shook her head against his chest again. "Don't think such things. You couldn't possibly be the single one at fault…" She pushed away from him to look him in the eye. "I know we'll get out of here John Allerdyce. And if we don't, someone up above will have mercy on our souls and we will be redeemed."
He brushed a strand of brown hair from her eyes. Their eyes had adjusted to the darkness now and they would see each other rather well in the dimly lit cell. The small barred window let in a tiny square of light, and if she moved just an inch to the left it would shine on her. He moved her so it did, so he could see her completely.
"It might not be all my fault Haley, but it is some my fault. I'm not perfectly innocent. And no one's coming for us. Now please, stop reading my mind it freaks me out."
She frowned, her blue eyes darkening to a sapphire blue before she nodded, pushing away from him more and leaning up against the wall. She hissed in pain as some broken ribs were jostled, and some bruises were pressed. He always did this. He started out nice and tender, and just when it seemed that she was getting to know him, even just a little, he became an ass, pushed her away and became venomous.
John sighed, crawling back to his side of the cell. He knew what he was doing. The last time he let someone into his heart it had ended in disaster. She had torn him into two and had barely shed a tear.
She was so alluring. It is human nature to want what you can't have, and he could never have her. Not just because she was falling for his best friend, but because a simple touch would mean his demise. He could remember summer nights spent on the roof just looking at the stars. It was one of the few moments that she had escaped the clutches of her overly clingy boyfriend to spend with other human beings. Other males.
"John, I know how you feel for me," she said in her sweet southern drawl. "It doesn't take a mind reader to know."
He chuckled nervously, trying to unsettle her and make her think he wasn't bothered. In fact, he was, terribly. Starting a conversation in that manner always left room for heartbreak. He didn't like where this was going.
"Been reading my journal have you?" he joked back, nudging her side playfully.
She sat up, chocolate brown eyes gazing at him in confusion. "You have a journal?"
He frowned, putting on a rather comical pout. "Gosh you know how to kill a joke Rogue."
He snapped out of his daydream. Admitting to himself her name just made it all the more real. He was trying to forget. Pretend it never happened. He couldn't, he just couldn't. She had hurt him, deeply, and there was no forgetting that.
Haley suddenly got to her feet, stumbling a few times and staggering before pounding on the metal walls of their entrapment. She let out a pathetic cry, throwing everything her little body could muster into her throws. The flesh of her knuckles became shaved off, leaving a bloody mess in it's wake.
John leaped to his feet as well, reaching out for her and trying to hold her back. "Haley, Haley stop! What's the matter? What's wrong? Talk to me please!"
She turned to him, holding her hands out and using her mental energy to push him to the other wall, stopping just a hair's breath of slamming him into it. She didn't want to hurt him, really. After that was done she returned to the wall, punching it and kicking it with all her might, letting out the loudest screams she could. Her bleeding knuckles left red smears on the metallic wall, and left an equally metallic scent in the air.
Suddenly she stilled, breathing heavily as the effort of her actions suddenly took a told on her body. She swayed on her feet and John leaped forward, catching her in his arms as her legs gave out and she collapsed. In the silence he could hear movement outside, more than the usual hustle of harassing other mutants in the camp. There was a hum, a familiar hum of a jet that he knew all too well.
"Haley," he whispered, but a twinge in his mind stopped him. She was silencing him, she wanted to hear this, to sense if they were good or bad.
"Haley," he whispered even softer. "They're not the bad guys. They can help us."
She whimpered again, burying her face in the crook of his neck while the heavy metal door was pulled off it's hinges. A rather large hairy blue creature stood in the doorway, his yellow eyes peering into the cell with disgust.
"Oh my stars and garters," the blue creature muttered, reaching forward and gently taking Haley into his arms. She struggled, squirming every bit of the way. Her frail arms reached out for John, pleased to find his hand as he too was reaching for her when another figure pulled him off the floor too.
Don't worry Haley, John thought as strongly as he could, knowing that in her state of trying to reach him her mind would be wide open to him. I'm not going anywhere.