There was truly only one thing John regretted about his decision as the helicopter began to lift off into the chilly Canadian air. It was leaving her.
He didn't care about leaving his best friend and girlfriend on the Blackbird to tell the others about his betrayal. He didn't mind the slight knowledge that some of them could get hurt trying to escape Stryker's hands. He didn't even try to consider how his life would never be the same after he had now turned into a terrorist.
John did care, however, that he might have just doomed the only person on Earth he'd felt something stronger than tolerance for. In fact, he might even say he loved her. Yeah, that was right. He was in love with Dr. Jean Grey.
Sure, the rest of them might have been doomed as well, but she's the only one he truly cared about. He wished he would have thought to stay, save her, and then convince her to leave with him, but the only flaw with that plan was she didn't even know he existed. Well, other than as a student, of course.
And as her student? Hers was the only class that he turned work in on time, each answer triple checked, and checked once more by another student. She thought he was exceptional and was always surprised when the other teachers, Mr. Summers and Ms. Munroe, were complaining about his nearly failing grades. His grade in her class : A+.
As he sliced through the clouds with two international terrorists on the most wanted list of nearly every alphabetical organization in existence, he felt his stomach sink into his shoes. He wouldn't know what happened to them until it made the news. He knew something was happening, but good or bad was a distinct unknown.
"Pyro?" Mystique practically barked at him.
"What?" he snarled back.
She glared, "Some news about your...friends."
"They're not my friends," he growled, each word coated thickly in an acidic venom.
"Then I guess you won't care to know who was killed."
John's head snapped up from where it was resting against the cool frame of the aircraft, "Died?"
"Yes, died. Serves her right, too, for even trying to fight back against the prejudiced system," she laughed.
"She?"
"Yeah, she. Dr. Jean Grey."
"H-how do you know?"
She chuckled again, "I thought you didn't care."
He lit a flame in his hand and pointed at her, "How. Do. You. Know?"
"A radio broadcast. The Blackbird is alerting whoever might already be back at the mansion as to what happened. Jean Grey is dead."
That was the moment his sun became a distant memory of space, and no one but him cared that it had happened.
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