1Disclaimer: The X-Men, in any form, do not belong to me. The song is Man of the House by Check Wicks. It does not belong to me. Copyright infringement is not intended.

A/N: Not that good, but it came to me and it's a fic that I actually managed to finish.

Summary: St. John Allerdyce's wife and kids miss him when he's off being Pyro.

Soldier

***

Courtney had spent another late night on the couch, worrying. She understood the need, of course, and would never ask John to stop, but she worried about him none-the-less – and what this would do to the kids. She knew that Bobby was hurting, trying to be so responsible all the time, and Cathy, her little Daisy, just wanted her Papa back, but there was little she could do. She missed John too, but his work was important. The main point was that he come back home to them, and that was all she could wish for.

6 AM and Bobby's wakin' up
Rolls outta bed with sleepy eyes
Goes to his sister's room across the hall
"Hey Daisy rise and shine"
He pours two bowls full of Captain Crunch
Puts a fresh pot of coffee on
He wakes his Mama up off the couch
"The bus is here, we love you mom"

She smiled somewhat sadly at Bobby's thoughtfulness. There was a pot of coffee on, the dishes were done and there was toast and a bowl of Captain Crunch for her too. It was a wonderful thing to do, and she was grateful, but at times like this she really hated John. Bobby shouldn't have to be so responsible. She hated herself, too, for not being a better mother. She sighed as the phone rang, smiling slightly as "Aunt Mysti" gave her a quick update on what she could. She knew that Courtney had to leave for work soon, but was glad to inform her that they were at least okay.

He made the breakfast
He did the dishes
So she wouldn't have to

Bobby doing his math homework. It was hard, being in seventh grade when he would normally be in fifth, but at least he wasn't bored to death all the time. He was glad he'd gotten the house pretty much clean yesterday, because he was too busy to help out Ma now. Math was boring. He missed his dad, though. Normally he would be distracting Bobby with a game of catch or something about now, and would help him out with his homework later. Dad was good at math; Ma was self-admittedly sucky at it. She was fine to help him with English or history or health, or even science, but just sucked at math. He sat there and held back the tears, just wishing for his dad.

Oh he's only ten
Just comin' of age

He oughta be out playin' ball
And video games
Climbin' trees or on a bike
Just ridin' around
But it's hard to be a kid
When you're the man of the house

Courtney sighed after an exhausting day of teaching teenagers history, detentions, taking Cathy to dance (tap, ballet and gymnastics), grading papers and worrying over her son. She let him stay at home alone because Margaret from next-door was there to watch out for him, but that didn't make her worry any less. He should be out doing normal kids things, but every time John took off…. She understood it, of course – would never have married him if she didn't – but that didn't make it hurt any less to see that mature look in her son's eyes. She blinked back tears as she made supper.

She missed all of them sitting at the table for dinner, Court thought as she tossed and turned on the couch. She'd never had that at her house, all of them sitting in front of the TV or the computer or off doing their own thing and just grabbing some ice cream from the fridge (not that they didn't have Friendly's sometimes when she was too tired), and she liked that John was willing to play happy families. In fact, he insisted on it just as much as she did, never having had that himself.

Bobby had run upstairs earlier – probably all that talk about the war on TV – and while she wished that she could comfort him she also knew better than to try. He was too like her husband at that age, fiercely independent; or maybe it was just all ten-year-old boys that had a thing against crying. Why he thought it would make him look weak Court wasn't sure, but maybe it was because John only cried in private. John knew that nothing about it had to do with being weak or strong – but he also liked to keep his emotions to himself. Bobby had probably never seen his father cry.

It's late at night and Larry King is on
Mama's up on the couch again
Bobby hears them all talk about
That awful war his daddy's in
So he runs off, straight up to his room
Don't want his Mama to see him right now
He climbs in bed and says a silent prayer
Then he cries his little blue eyes out
Don't wanna let her down

Courtney Allerdyce was not happy to be visited by X-Men. She almost slammed the door in their faces, before thinking better of it and grudgingly inviting them in. John had made sure that she knew all of their faces by heart, worried that they would use her or the kids against him, getting her thrown in jail and taking custody or something. She could play the shocked wife easily, though, if they tried it. No one was taking Bobby or Cathy away from her.

"– Xavier's School –" the one John called Rogue said.

"For the Gifted. Yeah, I know. Not interested."

"Miss…"

"Look, Drake, I get that you're concerned, but I'm both a mutant and a teacher. I can deal with the kids' mutations myself, and have been doing it since they were little."

A mini cyclone popped up in her open hand, then faded.

"My son? He's got better control of his telepathy than most men twice his age, and won't even use it to cheat on a math test. And my daughter? My Daisy is better with the Earth than most damn professionals. Believe me; I've never had better tomatoes. So I'm going to respectfully go with thank you, but fuck off."

Oh he's only ten
Just comin' of age

He oughta be out playin' ball
And video games
Climbin' trees or on a bike
Just ridin' around
But it's hard to be a kid
When you're the man of the house

"Ma! Dad's on the phone!" he grinned.

She ran across the kitchen to take the phone from him, exclaiming, "John!"

She looked so much happier than when talking to them that it was startling. She was no less animated, but the animation was born of happiness rather than wanting to see them leave. She'd been polite, but it was obvious she hadn't wanted them there.

"Daisy's fine; she's out with Gracie and the girls. How are you? Is everything okay?" She paused and obviously received a good reply, because her smile grew. "Fine, except one of my students flipped out and threw a desk at me. A desk! Can you believe it? I swear, if this keeps up I'm going back teaching second graders. Well of course I'm fine; you think I wouldn't have called Eric if I wasn't? I'm a wind manipulator, and it didn't even come close anyway. Besides, the teacher next-door is an ex-Marine."

She listened for a while, still smiling.

"Listen, we have guests in the house so I can't really talk. Yes, those guests. Don't worry; they're just here to invite the kids to Xavier's. No, they haven't been any trouble. Call me back in a few hours if you can, okay? Love you too."

It's finally Saturday
Bobby gets a phone call
Another world away from home
He says, "I love you dad"
Daddy says it right back
"Wish I could reach through this phone
And hug you, and Daisy, and your mom
I'm so proud of you son."

"John? John, where are you?"

"What's wrong?"

"They attacked us. The FoH. They set the house on fire after Janet came to us; they tried to shoot her and the boys. I got the other two, but Bobby killed one of them. Look, I need you to pick us up."

"Where are you?" he asked simply, voice deadly calm.

"We're at the safe house, but we always knew this place would be temporary, and I think they followed us. I need you, John."

"Give me thirty minutes."

He's only ten
Just comin' of age

He oughta to be out playin' ball
And video games
Climbin' trees or on a bike
Just ridin' around
But it's hard to be a kid
When you're the man of the house

While Cathy, their Daisy, was asleep in the back with Janet (who held her own two sleeping sons), she sat with her sleeping, sobbing son curled up in her lap, one hand held in John's as he drove. He shouldn't have to deal with this; Bobby should never have had to kill a man. That's what they were trying to prevent; a world where their children would have to do what John did, what she was willing to do for them. John was chillingly silent, but she didn't blame him.

It's 6 AM and Bobby's wakin' up
Rolls outta bed with sleepy eyes

"Janet? What the –?"

Sabretooth held his sobbing wife, taking the boys from her shaking arms.

"They attacked us Victor," Courtney said with frightening, hardened calm. "The FoH is going for children now. I want in."

"Courtney –" John began.

"No Pyro. We're not safe in our own damn homes, and I'm not going to stand for it. Our son had to kill a man today. I'm going to see to it that he never has to do it again. Janet can watch the kids, but tell Eric that I want in for now."

"No need," Magneto said darkly, Mystique entering by his side. "You and the children will be as safe as we can make you, my dear. We shall not stand silent on attacks on our Sisters and Brothers like the X-Men would."

The X-Men had shown up to the torching of an FoH building. She dragged the air out of one of the men's lungs even as she fanned Pyro's flames. Not completely, though; this was John's old friend, her son's namesake, Bobby Drake. She turned away as he fell unconscious, just recognizing her as he did so. So damn what if she was on the news with the others for a while; they'd never figured out who Pyro was; well, to the X-Men it was obvious, but the general public hadn't.

After today, she'd go back to being a teacher. After today, she'd go back to being Courtney Allerdyce. But today she was Atmos, because you don't fuck with someone's kids; you just don't. You don't harden her son's eyes like that and get away scot-free, not if she could help it. John was thinking of retiring, becoming the man of the house again while helping Bobby recover from his ordeal. Eric – Magneto – was very understanding on the topic; surprisingly so. Courtney hadn't asked it of him, would never ask it of him, but was grateful. You couldn't be a terrorist forever. You either died or backed out.

"So, Mystique, are you and Magneto still coming for Thanksgiving?"

Cathy was thinking of a bed warmed by her husband beside her, and two children who had no reason to miss their father. She was thinking of family dinners and helping to hash out plans with Magneto and Mystique over tea and coffee as always. She thought of baseball and video games for a happy son, maybe hockey gear he wanted for Christmas, and Barbies and baby dolls for Daisy – Cathy – not just sent through the mail. She was thinking of a safe, normal home, without sleeping on the couch because the bed was too damn cold, and John making the coffee and breakfast. She was thinking about family, about her husband, about her children, and too sad eyes fading away. She was thinking about a day when mutants would be accepted, and there'd be no need for war.

She was thinking about her soldier coming home.

***