Author's Note - I just had a random epiphany! Bobby Drake and Steve Jinks are played by the same actor! Took me forever to see that. I love Shawn Ashmore, amazing actor and he gets some of the best roles.

Now to the story. As you can guess this is gonna get sad and toturous. My question to you readers is this: would you like this to be very sad and heart-wrenching or just mildly so? Since last chapter was only slightly sad, this one will be extremly so and you can tell me. Kay? Also before I get to the story, would like there to be some bits about life at the mansion with them trying to find Rogue?

Italics can either be flashbacks or thoughts. I'll leave it up to you to sort out which is which. Shouldn't be that hard.

Hushed panting echoed through the trees as Pyro leaned against a pine. His head was bowed between his knees and his chest heaving. His hands were littered with cuts, some fresh and some old, and layers of grime. His hair was no different. The once well-coiffed mane of bright orange-blonde hair stuck up at odd angles with debris from the forest floor stuck to it. As Pyro raised his head and looked to the sky, a cloud shifted from in front of the moon and struck the once-hero's face. The pale moonlight illuminated the gaunt features on Pyro's face, accentuating the sunken angles of his cheeks and jaw, adding to the unearthly pale tint of his once golden skin. The boy's brown red eyes scanned the woods before him with frightened speed. He tried to listen, to hear the sounds of anyone coming.

For so many months now he'd been running. Running from the people he hated, running from the people he'd called brothers and sisters and running from the people he had called family. He never felt safe anymore, always waiting to run. Pyro had tried not running once early on, a few months after Magneto had been stopped. He'd tried not running because he thought that he had found a safe place with people he could trust. He didn't know how wrong he'd been till it was almost too late. He didn't truly understand what Magneto had said about humans never accepting mutants until he had his heart ripped out by one, one who had said she'd loved. No, she loved John. Not Pyro. No one could ever love Pyro. He growled to himself, self-loathing that had festered in solitude rising up as he flew back to those years ago when he had managed to let go of Pyro and begun to sink back into John.

John walked down the beach, a slim hand held in his. He turned his warm red-brown eyes to the girl walking next to him. Her dark brown hair floated in the wind as they walked. He'd been in town for three months, the longest he'd stayed anywhere in a long time. Part of why he didn't leave was because he didn't know where to go and another was because he didn't really want to leave. The girl that walked beside him was one of the few people who was able to make him feel safe, one of the few people he had ever met who made the fire that boiled in his veins simmer down and made the pyrokinetic feel at peace and whole. He watched her as they walked, the way that she skipped, the way that her hair shone brilliantly in the nearly setting sun and how she would close her eyes and trust John to lead her safely along the sometimes rocky beach. The girl let her hand slip from his as she dashed ahead, a light tinkling laughter trailing behind her as she rejoiced in the beaches freedom.

John wished he could be like that; free to succumb to his most childish whims and to just be free. But he'd has those emotions and whims drilled out of him since he was young enough to have them. For John there had been no safe time, except at the mansion in the beginning and then here with Amelia. The young man lifted his maroon eyes to watch the girl he thought he loved dance jejunely in the frothing waves. Here he felt at peace and safe, safe enough to want to tell her that he was a mutant; maybe he even felt safe enough to tell her that he was Pyro, Magneto's right hand man. But when Amelia would look at him with her round doe eyes that reflected all the innocence that John had lost, John knew that he could never tell her about Pyro or his past.

John was pulled out of his thoughts when Amelia was at his side again, tugging him along. She looked at him with worried curiosity flooding her warm brown eyes.

"What're you thinking 'bout that's got you all solemn faced?" The near juvenile girl questioned.
"Just some stuff in the past. Some stuff that I've been needing to think about for a while now." John said honestly, knowing that any lie would just get him in trouble.
"At least it's not a lie. But, why think about it now? We've only got till tomorrow evening and then I'll be on a plane to Georgia for college." John sighed when he heard the pleading note in her voice, wanting him to either tell her or forget until he was alone.
"It's some stuff that I don't want to talk about," was his slow answer.

The two continued to walk on the beach, a bizarrely strained silence falling between the two. In a silent decision they turned back and began to several hour walk home. The silence eased as they walked, their hands slipping back together. The sun set in a blazing show across the sky and the moon rose, casting it's silver rays upon the dark night. The pair turned up the path from the beach. A walk home in the moonlit night was nothing new to them or to Amelia's parents. John and Amelia walked silently through the streets of the medium sized port town, not running into anyone. As they turned down a normally well-lit street John froze. The street lamps were all shattered, leaving the stretch almost black. Amelia walked onward, fearing nothing in her little hometown. John was skeptical and cautious. He had set traps like this to attack and lure mutants into the Brotherhood's clutches, as well as for pranks on unsuspecting mansion members. A brief chuckle escaped him before a sharp shriek pierced the air.

"Amy?!" He shouted as he ran forward, his eyes searching in the blackness.

John heard grunting and snorted chuckling, but he focused on the muffled screams. John closed his eyes, trying to find fire, any fire that he could use. A Pyro-like smirked came to his face when he found one of the men had a cigaret. Wrong guy to smoke around dude. John said to himself as he focused on the flame within the cigaret.

An orange ball roared to life from the paper and flew to John, hovering above his waiting hand. The four men around Amy scrambled back in surprise. Their eyes were wide in fear, but not as wide as they should be if they were afraid of a mutant. Anger flared stronger in John as he looked closet at the four men, no, four boys. They were the same age as John and held the same anger beneath the fear that John had held when he was with Magneto. The pyrokinetic raised his hand to launch the flame at the mutants, but they scrambled away when before he even lifted it an inch. John wore a triumphant smile on his face as he turned his eyes to Amelia laying on the sidewalk, her mouth parted in a silent scream that wouldn't come.

The brunette raised her brown eyes to his. The soft brown eyes that were so different to John's own typically held joy and happiness in them, but when John met her gaze all he was met with was a look of fear and confusion. She remained rooted to the ground, too shocked to move as she watched the flame dancing in John's palm. He was a mutant. The boy she loved and had trusted with her secrets was a mutant. Tears of fear and confusion flooded down her porcelain face. John had lied to her, he had said he didn't have any secrets. But he had kept the biggest one of all.

"Johnny, why? " Amy asked through the tears that had begun to roll down her cheeks.

John cringed. He had wanted to tell her about Pyro, about the person he'd been when he'd fought with Magneto, but he was too scared that she'd leave him out of fear. He knew that he would have to leave now. He would be driven out of town, hunted like an animal. Tears of stinging betrayal blurred his vision as John turned his back to Amelia, flame still fluttering in his hand but dying down.

"Because you have to ask why." He said, voice teeming with hurt and pain.

John walked away, the flame dropping from his hand and landing on the ground as a

burning rose. Amelia watched the beautiful flower of fire until it turned back to a ball of flames and grew weaker and less rose-like with every step John took away. The boy's hidden face was contorted in the rage and hurt, streaked with tears. The farther he walked from the little town the more rage he felt and the more he felt like before, the more distance between himself and that place the less he was John and the more he became Pyro.

With a violent shake Pyro spurned that memory from his mind, attempting to toss it aside and the pain it still caused him. Pyro rose to his feet, his gangly body searing in protest. Bruises from a beating only some days ago hurt like fire and his newly acquired cuts and soreness from smashing into trees didn't aid his pain. Pyro berated himself for his weakness as he forced himself to walk back to his campsite. He needed the supplies there. If he didn't go back to get them he'd be just as dead out in the cold as he would be if he went back and was found by the person who had forced him to flee.

Pyro's walk back to his camp was agonizing and slow. The sun had risen into the sky before the flame-haired boy made it back to his fire pit hideout. He looked around, searching for anything the human might've left behind or missed. But as he looked over the small clearing he saw nothing. A loud groan of protest and anger flew from Pyro. He'd never had luck this bad, but then again he'd never had that close a call with being found and not being beaten within an inch of death. As Pyro threw himself into the snowy ground his eyes caught the glint of something behind a tree root. He forced himself to hobble over and check.

The boy let himself rest for a few minutes before looking under the root and rock pile. His eyes widened when he saw all his packs hidden there. He pulled them out, one-by-one and looked through them, even more surprised to find everything there. When he pulled out the smallest pack, in which he kept his phone, journals, and wallet, he found a letter.

Dear Stranger,

I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry I went through your stuff. Figured that you wouldn't want anyone coming 'round and taking it while you were gone, so I packed it and hid it for you. Hope you don't mind. Plus I added this letter to your stuff, well you probably know if you're reading this. I also added my number to your phone under Anonymous. I'm not trying to pry. I'm just a person on the run who could use a friend. Let me know if you need one too. I just saw a fire in the woods and thought someone might share it with me. I figured when you took off like you did that you didn't want to be found and that you might be one of them special people. I don't mind if you are, because then I'm like you, special. That's why I won't give you my name, but you can call me Annie to shorten Anonymous.

Tell me what you want me to call you Stranger. I'll be around for as long as you are, but then I'll go my way.
Annie.

Pyro read the letter, stunned that someone would do that. Sink so low to catch a mutant that they'd pretend to be one and try ot make friends in the middle of the woods. He barely controlled himself enough to not flick open a lighter and set the piece of paper on fire. He snorted at it when he reread it. Pyro flipped open his phone and looked for the number. He decided he would answer this "Annie", if only to tell her what he thought of the stinking, annoying humans who thought that mutants were that naive. He texted furiously fast, fingers flying over the keyboard of his phone before putting it away minutes later, a smug expression on his hollowed face. He pulled his favorite lighter from his pocket, letting his maroon eyes linger on the shark image on the silver lighter with a light smile. He remembered Rogue well and would never forget when she'd given the light to him for his birthday. John flicked it open and watched the flame, his eyes for an instant the caring cloud of maroon of before Magneto, only to flicker back to the hungry, blood brown hue that had become normality for Pyro.