Title: Playing Fireman

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Bobby is always one to be the hero. John wasn't surprised he was playing Fireman.

Warnings: Character Death. Don't read if you don't like. Angsty.

Pairing: John x Bobby

Author: Angii Burnt-Pidgeons

Notes: I really shouldn't be writing angsty fics…note to self. ;

Oh. This is un-beta'd. All errors are mine. ;

--

...There was fire everywhere.

…You couldn't see inside the room, the flames were so bright and everywhere, the smoke obscuring the rest of it.

…All you could see was the flames licking at the walls.

…No screams. No nothing. All you could hear was the hissing and roaring of the fire as it found some carpet or shade or a notebook of his—he always liked to write, you see, so there goes his life—or knocked down a door or something.

A window burst.

Sirens filled the air-oh what good those would do.

The neighbor, a frail old lady—who he had avoided in his time there—had called the fire trucks.

Oh the fire trucks got there. But it wasn't near fast enough.

The fire was growing as they spoke in hurried whispers or yells—it depended on whom and where they were—as it started to devour the whole house. It was too powerful. They couldn't go inside. It didn't matter that someone was inside, or so the old lady told them. It was much too dangerous for them to go in there. They'd get burned. Already the fire was too hot for any normal human, which was why they wished they'd had some sort of mutant on their team…but it was too late for that now.

Nobody could go in and save him.

The house creaked and let out a loud groan.

Another window burst.

They didn't think the guy inside was actually going to make it, the poor kid.

A whirring filled the air and everyone looked up, because, of course, it was unexpected. Not many airplanes flew this low over this area that often, after all…

It didn't even need to land as two figures jumped from it, seemingly desperate to get to the building.

Nobody paid much mind to them, except a couple of fireman who weren't stunned by the jet to tell the kids off. As hard as they tried—and they were trying, doing everything to put the fire out—it wasn't going to work. The building was doomed.

They told them.

A bitter laugh greeted from the first boy, as he shook his head and ran off past them. "Back off." He said with a snarl to anybody who tried to get close to him.

The second person apologized to anybody who got in the first boy's way. It was Kitty, of course.

The two best people for this team, they thought.

…Then again, it wasn't as if Bobby would let anybody else go to get John, once they got readings of him using his powers through Cerebro.

After much arguing, with a groan and a sudden exit from the Iceman, Kitty had followed him. It'd help if they could get through the fire, couldn't it?

Kitty ran after Bobby, grabbing his hand and pulling him back, because she actually saw the flames and she actually was using her head.

"Bobby, are you sure about this? It doesn't look like it's going to last much lon—" Bobby pulled away before she could finish, because he heard another window burst, and was starting to feel the fire.

"I'm Iceman, remember?" Another bitter laugh, and this was so unlike Bobby.

Kitty was wondering where the other Bobby had gone to, but she didn't exactly have time for it…She bit her lip as Bobby basically ran into the burning building, the door having collapsed on its hinges with a 'PHWOAR', or something relative to that.

Kitty raised her arm to her face as she attempted rather lamely to protect her face from the flames. Luckily, it only got real hot around her, and nothing was burned.

Apparently, Bobby didn't want her to go in, because he suddenly iced up and left without her. Talk about a change of plans?

Kitty bit her lip, and of course she was worried. Bobby ditched the plan, and left her, going to run into a burning house, just to rescue…rescue someone that i hated /i his guts!

A sigh and she ran back towards the worried firefighters, going to see what she could help with, and explaining to them that Bobby was, of course fine.

--

As soon as Bobby iced up—regretfully or not, he'd learned to take control of it and he had soon learned how to control the icing up, unlike last time he fought with John, he actually knew what he was doing—and burst into the door, he had stopped for a few moments, looking around the room, momentarily blinded by the brighter-than-normal flames and ears adjusting to the hiss of the flames.

He knew he was being timed, in a way, because the house could collapse any minute, and that wouldn't exactly help him and John, now would it?

But where was he?

As much as Bobby listened, there was no sounds, no noises to help him, and Bobby feared that he was already dead.

All these years—six, to be exact—and he'd never gotten to apologize to John, or find him and actually talk to him…and it killed him a bit more every time they missed him. John had been avoiding the X-Men, avoiding him, avoiding everyone.

Every time John had used his powers, he had enough sense to be gone by the time Cerebro located him, because apparently he was being stubborn, as he always was, and set on them not finding him.

And as much as Bobby would like to protest, it wasn't exactly…well. John wasn't here to hear it.

He'd changed, and so had everyone told him.

When John gone, he had gotten colder, more true to his name.

Personally, he thought he'd gotten more desperate.

And less caring…

But that was beside the point.

He was just so tired of looking and finding nothing, and oh how he looked. He'd just given up on everything. There weren't many reports from John these days, anyway…

So when the Professor had called him down to find that he had found John, and didn't think he was exactly going anywhere, Bobby was definitely shocked. Shocked, but pleased.

And then the fact that 'he wasn't going anywhere', which bothered him. What had Xavier been talking about?

It had all been quickly explained and then Bobby was almost immediately out the door.

A shake of his head as Bobby pulled himself away from his thoughts, because he didn't have time to think, didn't have time to waste on thinking.

A shift from, well, something and Bobby immediately went through the doorframe—the door's hinges had already been melted and the door was somewhere, probably fuel for the fire by now—and Bobby ignored the heat that was around him.

"John?" He called, looking around for the movement and wincing, because the house let out another loud groan. "John?" He called again, though this time he was louder as he ran about the room a bit, determined to find the source of the shifting, because it couldn't be something burning.

…well it could, but Bobby was determined not to let it be.

Another shift and Bobby just knew that it wasn't something that was simply burning.

Bobby's heart jumped, because it was most definitely John—who else would be in this house anyway—and he rushed over to where he heard the noise…and to his disappointment, was greeted with a slightly charred Body, though the flames were suddenly flowing away from it, and with a flash, they were gone, whatever force that was protecting the body from the flames was gone.

A gasp, and Bobby told himself that it couldn't be John—though it undoubtedly was—and that he wasn't dead. Because he couldn't be dead. John…John couldn't die. It was just…impossible. Unfathomable, really.

Bobby rushed over to the body, grabbing at what he saw of the hands, swallowing hard. "Johnny?" He asked, pulling the body close to him as he knelt down by it. A creak, and a crash, and he realized that he didn't have time to waste here.

It didn't matter that the body was shifting; Bobby didn't notice it as he picked up the frail and slightly charred figure of John, wrapping the arms around his neck—grinning widely as he felt the arms tighten slightly around his neck, because that meant that John was, in fact, alive—and holding John to him around his back.

John had never been that much bigger than him, he was actually always fairly small, and so it was rather easy to carry him now.

"What happened?" He asked, attempting to speak over the flames—'CRASH'—something fell behind him, and Bobby heard a bunch of books clattering to the floor. The bookshelf.

Bobby figured it wasn't time to talk—even if John's small movement of his lips against his neck consoled him slightly, that he was attempting to talk, at least—because of that, and it hit his head even more as suddenly the heat in the place flared.

Oh, screw it.

Bobby made a corridor of ice, having pulled a hand away from his hold on John to keep the flames away from them. The ice quickly melted, because of the abnormal power of this…this inferno, was what it was.

But it held enough power, took enough time to get them out safely, Bobby only looking slightly twitched.

As the two burst outside, another, louder crash was inside the house, and God knows what that was…Bobby found that he didn't want to find out as he started to run over to Kitty. "Let's go." He said quickly, passing her and going to the X-Jet, because, screw it, he didn't need to answer questions or anything, he needed to get out of here and get John to safety, where a proper doctor could check him out, because right here, he didn't look so good.

Kitty ran to the controls and closed the doorway, ramp going up as she quickly started the engines and they took off. She didn't even talk to Bobby, because he'd probably snap at her right now, or completely ignore her.

Bobby headed right over to the small table in the room, laying John on that carefully, aware that his legs were over the edge—he'd gotten more taller than Bobby had, in fact, noticed—and that realization made him smile slightly.

"John?" He whispered as Kitty started the Jet, and they headed off towards their course, the Institute.

A groan was all that answered him, and Bobby quickly ran his cool fingers—and they were so cool to John, so refreshing, all that heat…all that heat got to him after a while—over John's face, which John quickly leaned into…and then his eyes fluttered as he opened them, a hint of a smile on his face. And here—yes.

Bobby started blabbing, stumbling over his words as he tried to get out an apology, for all those years, all those years of being away from John and not being able to apologize.

John gave the tiniest of shakes of his head. He opened his mouth, and then closed it, pausing for a few moments before opening it again. "Shh…Bobby. It's okay…"

And then, a frown flittered across his face for a few moments as he reached out to grab the back of Bobby's head, before pulling him closer, their lips very almost touching. And then John kissed him. Just like that. Out of the blue, a kiss.

Now, Bobby had always wondered what John tasted like, and was figuring that he didn't have much to go off of, because most of what he could taste from John right now was charcoal and smoke and, well, fire, if you could taste that, and it wasn't the most pleasant taste, that was true. It was because of the fire and…

And then John pulled away, smiling a bit. "Just wanted you to…to know that. Loved you since we were kids, Popsicle." A slight laugh, and then John started to cough.

Bobby, of course, watched with wide eyes, before pulling John to him, hugging him close. "John—John, what're you talking about? Are you…what?"

John pushed away from Bobby a bit. "You know the cliché thing, when someone's all like, 'I know I'm going to die so I wanted to tell you that I love you?'" Another laugh, though it was smaller this time, resulting in no coughs.

He didn't let Bobby talk, of course, not just yet, and continued. "Well I'm afraid that it's going to be fitting me…in a bit."

Now Bobby's brows sank quickly at that. "No, John, we're almost at the Institute, and I'm sure someone'll be able to fix you up goo---" John cut Bobby off, shaking his head again.

"No, Bobby. It's…" A few coughs here. "I just…wanted to say that I forgive you, 'cause I'm not going to…last much longer. The fire took more out of me than I wanted to…"

Bobby felt icy tears running down his face, and his heart sank, and he felt like he made the worst mistake of his life, even though he hadn't really had anything to do with it.

A swallow and John frowned. "Come…come on, Bobby. Don't cry now. Be strong for me…okay?" A hand was raised to wipe away those tears which quickly melted.

"Bu-but John, you're going to leave me, and I just found you and…" He swallowed hard, trying not to cry for John, just like he wanted him not to.

A bit of a sigh. "I didn't expect you to come after me…" And then he shook his head again. "Let's…let's…" He was going to say something like, well, 'let's talk about cheerier topics' but that wouldn't exactly work, because well, he wasn't sure he had much time to talk at all.

"I'll… be waiting for you, I guess? Oh and Bobby?" A pause. "I always took you for playing fireman." A bit of a laugh, and he shifted, letting go of everything.

Everything fell down on Bobby at that moment.

He felt John…

Felt John just…

Everything…

Bobby watched as the fire ebbed away from his eyes, flashing once, twice, and then suddenly dieing down, burning as if it'd run out of coals, or something. If it'd been put out. He watched that. Watched it—though that was probably what killed him most, seeing the fire without John, or John without the fire, because there was no John without his fire—and felt the fire leaving him. The fire left him, and all Bobby held was the slightly warm, only normal temperature body, which was as cold as…John was, most definitely, dead. He wasn't cold yet, but he was…well. Normal. That was as good as dead, even if his body wasn't cold yet…

That's when Bobby cracked, and the tears started to flow down his face. It was his entire fault. If he had left just a few seconds earlier, if he hadn't argued with anybody, he'd be here with John right now, and John would be alive.

Another swallow as he attempted to hold in the tears, but he couldn't, because thought after thought came to his head and didn't make him any the happier. Light sobs wracked his form as he clung to the dead body.

After only a few more minutes of crying, Bobby suddenly wiped his eyes, because he didn't need this…he…had to be strong, remember?

And besides that, he'd gotten over most of the worst thoughts that made him crack.

He straightened, running his icy finger over John's cheek as he laid him down on the table once more—his hands had turned icy, sometime in between all this—and smiled slightly. Yeah. He'd meet John soon enough…

Bobby wiped his tears again, moving over to Kitty, a sad smile on his face. "Let's go home."

John had left him.

The fire was gone.