Author's Note: My first X-Men piece - I've finally decided to post it now that it's been sitting in My Documents for a year or so. It's Pyro-centric, based on the Brotherhood before Alcatraz. The female charater is an OC but this piece isn't really intended as a romance - it's the very beginnings of what I might develop into a chapter fic, depending on what you all think. It turned out more like a trailer than I intended, but I hope you like it!
...This is Pyro, trying to kill the John inside of him...
Savin' Me
"Show me what it's like
to be the last one standing,
And teach me wrong from right
and I'll show you what I can be…"
Nickelback
He looks down at her narrow figure smugly; angry eyes surrounded by too much make-up stare back, dark and dangerous in the half-light of the bunker.
She's daring him to say something.
He stays silent – he's not accustomed to doing that.
She shoves past and Pyro smiles a little: angry, headstrong and just a little bit naïve – perfect Brotherhood material.
xxx
A final kick to the head and her competitor crumples to the ground, unconscious and bleeding. No one cheers this time – they're sick of seeing her win.
Stepping over the limp body, she moves to leave; he grabs her arm before she can do so.
'How d'you do it?'
She pulls her arm free before he can tighten his grasp and smiles bitterly.
'Why would I tell you?'
He can't answer that, and she knows it.
xxx
She's all dark hair and pale skin; it makes the bruising stand out even more.
'What happened?'
She doesn't answer, just looks away and ignores the question.
She doesn't ignore him when he slams her up against the wall, holding so tight he's no doubt creating more bruises. He bites through his words in a dangerously low tone.
'What happened?'
She still doesn't answer, but she looks away first.
That makes him smile.
xxx
He throws flames around the room with such ferocity it makes him sweat. The scorch marks left on the walls remind him of bruises and nights locked in the dark.
That only makes him angrier.
He doesn't see her enter; doesn't notice her until he's forced to stop his onslaught from sheer exhaustion. He's bent over double, gasping for breath and when he looks up she's standing there, watching him.
She never watches him.
'I'm not afraid of you.'
And for some reason, that makes him feel better.
xxx
She touches him and her skin is cold; it makes him shiver.
There's no thought of tenderness in the contact; no silent comfort between them. It's nothing but a meaningless brushing of shoulders as they pass one another by.
She doesn't turn to look at him.
But he can feel it – that desperate longing for closeness; a soundless need for reassurance eating away at her insides.
It's the closest he's ever come to understanding her.
xxx
'What?'
The rucksack she came with is slung across her shoulder; she's half a mile away from camp already. She hadn't expected anyone to follow her.
'I'm leaving.'
She's not looking him in the eye – that pisses him off more than anything.
'Why?'
He's always the one asking the questions. She doesn't answer and he thinks to grab her; she's out of his reach before he's even moved.
'He's just a kid – one of us.'
Coward; he wants to say it, wants to make her hurt for what she's doing.
She's turning to leave again.
There are flames in his hands before he can stop himself.
"And say it for me, say it to me
and I'll leave this life behind me.
Say it if it's worth savin' me"