He was gone and, apparently, he was never coming back. She'd waited and waited for months on end, but he never turned up. She tried to look on the bright side; like she always did: he'd be bitter and angry now… but fact was: he had always been bitter and angry.

Sometimes, she'd fall through her floor, forgetting that he wouldn't be there to catch her. Sometimes, she forgot that he'd never caught her. He'd only laughed.

When they'd returned from the lake she went to his room, hoping for him, hoping for something that had mattered to him, hoping that she'd find his lighter. She searched for days until she realized that he had brought everything that had mattered to him with him. Kitty Pryde sobbed after that.

After that day Kitty learned that crying didn't solve anything. Of course, she knew that before but it had never really come up. As Kitty wiped her eyes she promised herself one thing: the next guy she fell in love with would not be going on any jets.

So, she contented herself with watching Bobby and Rogue. She saw how intimate they were even without touching. She envied that.

When she had gotten on the jet to Alcatraz, she had tried not to think of anything; not the fighting; not the fact that she could very well die; not even John who was constantly invading her thoughts.

When Kitty Pryde saw The Juggernaut crash through the old fortress, she knew what she had to do. She had to get the boy.

What happened inside was a bit of a blur to her; all she could remember thinking was I wish it wasn't him I was saving. But she had dutifully done her duty; she managed to get the kid out alive.

Professor Grey had tried to destroy the world and she had thought well, if all of us were destroyed…she wouldn't allow her self to finish that thought.

She saw Storm and asked frantically: Where's John?

And she had been answered: Who's John?

Pyro. Where's Pyro?

Storm looked at her like she was crazy. Maybe she was.

So, she had let the Authorities take care of Pyro, after all, she just little Kitten, what could she do?

Except, she had begged Hank McCoy to do something… anything. And in the end, she knew it was her eyes that got to him.

So John had been released into the X-men's care, and was being detained in the Danger room.

She hadn't visited him yet; she was still trying to figure out what to say to him. Bobby had, he said that Pyro didn't respond, didn't say anything, except for her name.

She cried herself to sleep that night. But in the morning she had sunk down into the danger room.

He was there. She trembled for a second… he was there. She wanted to go to him, but her legs wouldn't move; wouldn't let her think of anything but his betrayal.

"Kitty."

And her knees snapped, so she was down on the floor.

"Kitty."

She couldn't take it any longer. On her hands and knees she crawled to him.

"John." She said, reaching out to touch his face. "You're here."

She could see how much it killed him, how much he didn't want to, but he said it anyway, "I am."

And now, Kitty was crying again, crying so hard she must have sounded like a vacuum trying to get air in.

One of his hands reached for her and she noticed for the first time that his hands were black. Gingerly, she reached out and ran one finger from the tip of his thumb to his wrist.

"Frostbite," he said with a look of resigned humor.

She blinked.

"It will heal… at least that's what the blue guy told me," he said answering her question.

It will heal, he had said, and she knew he was not only talking about his hands.