Darkness. It filled a certain young man's heart; ever present, and ever demanding, and he wasn't sure if there was a way out. John Allerdyce flipped open the lid of his lighter, almost lit it, and then closed the cover. His hands were trembling. He would normally have laughed at himself, being scared to let the fire take control, but not now.
Maybe her laughing eyes, the way she knew everything, or the look on her face as he lit the cars at Alcatraz filled his head a little bit too much.
Maybe he wanted her more then the lighter that he kept within grasp at all times. John laid his head back on the chair, ignoring the cars far below his junky apartment and the ear splitting noise of traffic.
Fire was his to control, but he couldn't help but wonder if it controlled him. A dark look came over his hazel eyes, so filled with emotion, but empty at the same time.
It had been a year since the battle at Alcatraz and he had hoped Kitty would forgive him for killing, destroying, hating. She had never gotten the chance. He had killed her, with fire, with the one thing he promised he would never let hurt her.
A solitary tear rolled down his cheek, but he brushed it away quickly, rubbing his eyes so no more would follow. The expression on her face filled his head more then any of these thoughts; the fearful look, the painful look, and that accusing look. John breathed in the cold, winter air deeply, trying to clear his mind.
Kitty Pryde hadn't been able to phase in time as he shot flames out of his flame jets at her, consuming her small body. She had died instantly, and he had been dying inside ever since. He had been ready for some crazy police to come and chain him up, but she had come, the one person he cared anything about. And he had killed her.
He pressed his palms to his eyes, shutting off the tears that threatened to fall. Was he destined to live such a horrible life, killing and murdering the ones he loved? More than anything, John wanted to hear Kitty's voice saying something, even that he was an idiot who couldn't get over himself.
If only she had been alive to say it. If only he had the power to go back in time and make everything right. If only he had told her he loved her before it had been too late. Life wasn't made up of 'if only's though. He had to live with his mistakes, no matter how many there were. John wanted to have her beside him, looking at the few stars that shown dully in the city sky. It wasn't to be.