DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything, not even the shirt on my back…. (It belongs to my brother . )

Summery: AU Origins of the Acolytes, and the darkness that they hold within.

Ships – Mainly romy later on in the story.

St. Jude – Patron Saint of Lost Causes

Ratings: Mature

The Sons of St Jude

Chapter 2: Memories of Ice

Piotr watched solemnly as his friend, St. John Allerdyce twisted and turned in his sleep. He knew what type of dreams troubles his little fire obsessed friend, they were the similar to his own. They were the memories of their own sins, the good they never did, and the evil that they did in consequence of such inability.

He stifled a sigh, as he watched John fall back into a restless sleep, not wanting to disturb him. Not that any of them ever got a good night sleep anymore.

He watched as his friend succumbed to the spell of the sandman, his hand unconsciously he reached for the small stone tied on a chain around his neck, the stone just like the one Remy's and John's depicting St. Jude. With the medallion clutched in his hand, he brooded over his thoughts of his comrades. Sometimes he envied his Australian comrade, the way he could be so carefree in front of others, unaware, indifferent to others opinions of him. The fact that his sins never bother him, well at least during the day, only in hiss sleep do they ever creep up on him, like tonight. Luckily for his little friend that rarely ever happened.

His own sins on the other hand haunt him during his waking moments, during the lulls between whatever task they had to do. Oh, how he hated those quiet times, when his own sins would come to haunt him, and how he is ever grateful for his over hyperactive comrade, bless his soul.

The blizzard of snow and ice raged though the desolate plains of rural Siberia. The sub zero temperatures, the harsh environment, made a desolate living for any humans unlucky enough to exist in this harsh terrain.

For months now rumours have floated through taverns and inns and any form of rent a living place. Rumours of a giant that haunts the wastes of the freezing cold, mourning for that which he will never find. Whatever that he seeks, no living human knows, stories have spread that any who are unlucky enough to meet him end up severed limb from limb, others tales speak of a cowardly giant, that runs from all he meets. Whatever the truth is none truly know, except on one fact, the time he appeared resulted in the destruction of an entire settlement, a place that never made it to the annual county fair to trade wit its fellow towns, thus were people sent to investigate. Any who have ventured to the destroyed town speak of its complete annihilation, not one building, not one stone, door or panel remains. All have been shattered, what remain are ruins. The devastation of the town made its fellow neighbouring towns nervous, but what truly frightened them was the fact that no one was found alive, not even any bodies were found. Just snow, ice and ruins.

Several miles away, from the devastated town, there was a mountain range. A mountain range, riddled with trails, caves, blizzards and avalanches, a perfect place for the monster to flee and hide.

Within a forgotten cave, he sat watching the dying embers of his campfire, a fire he didn't even need. It was obsolete, irrelevant to his survival anymore; his body no longer needed the warmth to endure. The changes that came upon him were frightening the first time they occurred.

He remembered saving the life of his sister Illyana, he remembered the rampaging wild bull, the red eyes that spoke his doom. He remembered scooping up his sister, the flash of her blonde hair catching the sunlight, her blue eyes wide with terror and then he felt the desperate desire within in to save all that remained of his family. With his frenzied desire to save his sister, his family, he felt his skin and body shift, ripple and reform. Changing his very own physical being all to save his sweet innocent little sister. He remembered the charge of thunder of the bulls' hooves, then the impact of against his back, for a moment there was complete silence. He then heard some erratic thumps of hooves against the snowy ground. Then a large thud that seemed to awaken him allowing him to move again. First he looked down at his little Illyana, to check to make sure no damage was done to her, she was looking back at him her he beautiful eyes wide with wonder and amazement. He remembered hearing irregular wheezing, turning around, but keeping Illyana behind him, in case the bull charged again. His sight landed on the wild bull, no longer wild but distressed trying its hardest to stay alive, its eyes now dazed, no longer full of rage but fear, pain and another emotion he was unfamiliar with back then, a emotion that was now the centre of his pitiful life; despair.

The past is a terrible thing to remember, for it wasn't the death of the bull that unnerved him. From his point of view, it deserved everything that happened to it, how the dumb brute dare try to attack his beloved sister. No, it was the events that occurred after the wretched bull's death, events that seemed to overwhelm him and sweep away all that he held dear in his life, like an avalanche.

With hindsight, the knowledge that now belonged to him was devastating, for it was all due to him that the following actions occurred. The trade he made with the town to never harm hi sister and he would accept their judgement, regardless of the fact if they believed him to be cursed or not, it didn't matter to him what they did to him, all that mattered was Illyana.

Then followed a vision that would forever haunt him of his Illyana in all her glory, her blonde hair, glistering in the morning light, her blue eyes charged with righteous fury. She stood with poise and confidence, chastening the town folks, reminding them of all that he had done for them, helping with the harvest, saving the life of a pregnant mother and her child who were going into labour. She was stunning and a terrible sight to behold, as he stood by, bound by chains and watched his twelve year old little sister bring shame upon men old enough to be her great grandfathers. He was bound buy steel chains as he watched his sister be branded as a witch for she had shamed men with too much pride, watched as death was sentenced on his beloved sister at the hands of the town folk, his own guilt of being bound, unable to go save her as she was desperately trying to save him.

Watched unable to do anything, no matter how much he struggled, hoping to save all that remained of his family as she was tied up and thrown in to the icy depths of the river. Watched as she never resurfaced again, knowing that she had died all because of him. Then came the rage mingled with the agony of loss, his mind, thoughts and emotions, became like a blizzard cold, harsh, uncaring, unseeing and unforgiving.

Afterwards he remembered nothing; his first sight as he became conscious of his action was ruins. He remembered the bodies, ripped apart as if by a crazed beast or a monster, the terrible feeling that sank within him that made him believe that he was the crazed monster that did this. He knew instinctively at that moment that nothing he did would ever absolve him of his crimes, his sins. Not that he would ever seek forgiveness for his actions but he knew guilt, guilt for not being able to save his sister. He felt no cold, no hunger, nothing but guilt even in his monstrous form. Knowledge of what his sister would tell him to do, to not get caught, drove him to collect and bury bodies in the icy plains of Siberia. Later he went to the mountains; unable to remain in such ruins that reminded him of his guilt, reminded him of his sister.

"You know mate, it's a terrible shame to let the fire to die out like that?"

The voice was unrecognisable to him, but he moved faster than he ever thought himself capable of and had the intruder that discovered him against the cave wall, his hand wrapped around his neck. He looked at the fiery red and blonde haired teenager before him, he was smiling, even though Piotr could have snapped or choked him to death before he could possibly make a move.

"Who are you!" he shouted at the boy.

"Me mate?" he asked with a puzzled face

"Well I'm the infamous St. john Allerdyce, at your service, all the way from down under, from the glorious island of the sun, Australia mate." Once again the fiery haired boy was smiling.

"How did you find me?" reinforcing his question by slamming the boy against the wall again, worry had him asking before he could think twice, for if could find him anyone could.

"Well that would be because the devils looking for you mate, and I'm here to make you a deal"

"….Who?" he queried loosing his grip on the boy.

"Here" he said ignoring his question, and he showed something glinting in his open palm offered to him. It was a necklace connected to a stone, showing a man, he looked at the boy about to asking the meaning of all this, what did he want, what is the necklace for, before he could ask he spoke.

"Its St. Jude mate, he's the patron of lost causes" he whispered reverently.

"For people like you and me mate".

"I AM NOTHING LIKE YOU!" came his instant harsh reply.

"I am a monster" he murmured, walking away from the boy and sat himself near the dying fire.

"Why because you look like that???" the boy challenged him, the medallion clutched in his hand, the chain dangling between his fingertips.

His head instantly came up to berate the boy, of course he looked like a monster, all steel and bigger than any human had any right to be. He gaze landed on the boy smiling face, a smile that spoke to him of madness.

"Well guess that make two of us, huh?" his arm stretched out to the dying flames, empty hand spread wide.

Piotr watched in amazement as the flames were brought to life before his very eyes, watched as they changed to show two people within a cave, one sat watching the fire the other had his hand stretched out towards it. Changing it; bending the naked flame to his will.

"Pretty isn't it??" John asked with a mocking smile

"How is that possible??" Piotr asked with amazement, and wonder.

John looked pensively at the giant Russian before he spoke. "There are people in the world, mate. People like me and you. We are supposed to be special, with powers beyond normal humans." Abruptly he stopped speaking his gaze not watching Piotr, but looking at something only he could see.

Piotr watched the young man barely younger than himself, his face youthful, his eyes spoke age. He recognised such eyes, eyes that had seen tragedy and loss, eyes that he saw whenever he looked upon and any reflective surface.

"I know what you did mate" The Australian said unexpectedly. Piotr would have killed the man there and then regardless of whom, or what he offered. Except his voice held no held no condemnation, merely understanding.

"They had to pay the price for what they did mate" The Australian reasoned understandingly. Piotr was amazed at the fiery boy; he was comforting him for what he had done to the town and its inhabitants.

"I understand what drove you mate, it's never revenge, if it was I would have burnt the whole world months ago" He smiled self mockingly his eyes resting on Piotr trying to send a message of understanding, of horrors witnessed, perpetrated and shared. At that point Piotr knew that the boy before him had done the same acts of violence, of madness, of guilt and self loathing. He looked into his blue eyes and he also knew, that just like himself the boy, given another chance, to stop, to not harm anyone in retaliation for whatever crimes they had committed upon his loved ones, he would have done the same thing as Piotr himself, he would still had made them pay.

"How?" Piotr asked, the question loaded with several meanings. What happened to you? What did you do? And who was the devil that was looking for him and what had a medallion of St. Jude had to do with anything?

Piotr watched as John turned his gaze away from him, his eyes brooding, resting on the flames. The silence stretched, for the first time since the boy had entered his cave Piotr noticed that everything that made the boy who he was seem to vanish, his smile seemed to fade away, the self-confidence ebbed, his manner changing as if the very flames that was the core of his being had died out.

When he spoke, it was less than a whisper, as if talking had become an enormous burden, painful beyond measure.

"The devil saved me, months ago. He came and gave me a reason to live." He quickly glanced up at Piotr with an intent look to make sure he was listening, to tell him that this was the only time he will ever speak of this. Within a remote cave in the mountains of Siberia, before returning his gaze back to the fire.

"I had burned a town, lost in my own grief and madness, and burnt the town so badly that even the ashes burned. For days the flames run wild, it created a massive bush fire, lost within my own grief I destroyed and took more lives than I will ever know."

He stopped for a moment as if remembering those days after his grief, the destruction he had caused.

"My family was burned to death in our home because of me. I could control fire you see, that's why I tried to help, tried to stop the flames from harming my parents. I couldn't it was too much, too soon, I had only found out about my powers two days before, when I stopped some boys from taunting and burning a little innocent baby kangaroo lost from its parents. My mom was a vet see, dad was a doctor, and they always taught me to help those that were hurt."

Again silence enveloped the fire bender, Piotr understood, he needed these silences to remember the good times.

"I couldn't stop the flames, so my parents do what any parent would do regardless of species, they saved their young. I woke up to nothing bit ash and burnt timber surrounding me. Not sure what happened after that, somehow I made it to where the bastards were who did this to me. They were having a barbecue, celebrating, as if they just hadn't killed my parents. That's when I just saw the flames the yellow and reds."

Again he fell silent, Piotr knew this was the point that he needed to face what he had done, so Piotr himself could face his own demons.

"They burned, the fires burned, and so did they all, man, women, child. It didn't matter they all had to burn, the fire demanded it and I needed it" Piotr heard the desperate denial in his voice, to unmake the past trdegies that had befallen him, but never the repayment of them.

"He came for me days later, showed me a way to live, a way that would make it so no one else had to carry sins such as ours. So that others like us never feel guilty for killing anyone." He turned and smiled sadly to the giant Russian and spoke with resignation "After all mate, were already going to hell, may as well make sure no one else has to join us" He was always smiling Piotr realised, barely ever did this boy never smile.

"Well time to meet the disciple of St. Jude mate" John got up, walked to Piotr and again offered him the medallion of St. Jude. He thought about what the boy had said, it was true what he spoke they, were already sentenced to eternal damnation. Would it not be better to make sure that no others would have to join them he questioned himself? He knew even if he were to die, he would never be absolved of his sins, never gain will he be able to see his parents, his little Illyana but should others have to fare the same fate as his, John's and this devil that he spoke of? He knew the answer to these questions before he had even finished asking himself them.

His hand clasped with John's and he took the medallion from him, John smiled in acceptance, Piotr gave a grim smile in return.

Days later within the middle of the night in Moscow he had met Remy LeBeau; the one John had called the disciple of St. Jude, the one that was the devil that had an offer for him. That night he had become a Son of St. Jude, patron of the lost.

"You should get to sleep to sleep Pete" Remy's smooth voice filtered out from the shadows.

Piotr looked to where the voice came from "There is something's comrade, whom the shadows and darkness of sleep will not let us hide from."

He heard his friends soft chuckle from the shadows, he must have had his eyes closed or facing away from him Piotr reasoned, in order to not see the burning red gaze of his demon eyes.

"Sleep we have a long day ahead of us" He replied.

Piotr reasoned it would be best to take his advice as it seemed Remy wasn't in a talkative mood tonight. Not that any of them were whenever one of their dreams became memories that haunt them.

"Good night comrade" he whispered into the darkness and laying down, knowing that he had heard him even though he never replied.

A/N: Well hope you enjoyed this chapter took me ages to type it up: P

For all you people that felt sorry for John, I have to feel sorry for Piotr more, after all John remembers the aftermath of his grief as only fire and ash, where as old Petey had to deal with burying dismembered body parts.

Hehe I 'm evil I know

Thanks for the reviews guys, hope to see some more feedback, good or bad no matter to me.

Next Chapter: will be x-men and other situations. Sorry for being vague but I don't want to give too much away. Btw this is set after apocalypse has been either stopped or released, still haven't decided yet, but you get the general timeline, but definitely set after Cajun spice, or and I may change the fact that Remy and Rogue already know each other before x-men not sure but Cajun spice will still takes place, you guys decide