Help
"Hey," Logan said, handing Marie a cup of coffee. She took it from him, and placed it on the kitchen counter softly. Her hands were still wrapped around the thing, and he could see that she was grasping it tightly. Tighter and tighter by the moment. "Let go, Marie," he said. Her hands shook slightly as she did. "What's wrong?" he asked.
She bit her upper lip slightly. "I hurt him."
He almost laughed. "What? No, you didn't. I know you're a paranoid girl, but this is too much." It was a joke.
Instead, she looked up at him seriously. Very seriously.
"Okay, okay," he said, sitting down across her. "Tell me what happened."
"I…touched him…and I saw his memories," she said, slowly, hesitantly. Her voice seemed to rise to a shrill panic. "I saw everything that happened last night. But I didn't know. It didn't feel like I was doing anything to him. Then he collapses just like they all did. I'm scared," she said, her voice now hushed. "I'm scared, Logan. What if…what if they're coming back? I can't take it. I don't want them back." She shook her head in dismay. "I can't hurt anyone anymore. One more and I'll lose it."
"All right, all right," Logan said. He got up, and put his hands on her shoulders, trying to calm her. "Look, we'll do some tests. Check what's going on with you, okay?" He stopped as she breathed heavily, trying to regain composure. "How did the two of you come in contact?" She didn't reply. He asked once more. "How did the two of you come in contact?" Pause. "You have to tell me, kid."
She folded her arms, leaning on the counter. One moment, and she replied.
"We kissed."
~-.-~-.-~-.-~
Again. It was like some cheap replay of events. First the bright, agonizing lights. Then the deafening, hushed up, cloudly sounds. The unbearably blurry vision. But now there was an echoing sound in his ears. Like a ding. A ding sound from a bell. It repeatedly in an ever slow pace. Yet each ding was a shriek that sent his ear drums bursting. Then, once more, in a quick rush, everything soothed out to normal. His hearing, his sight. And, as he turned his head to his right, he saw a machine. His heart rate was phenomenal. The pace it went at was incredibly fast.
"Hey, calm down," came a voice, as footsteps rushed to his side immediately. Storm hung over him. She looked panicked by his heart rate. "Oh, damn." She backed out of his view, and he slowly craned his neck to see where she was. He heard her call out for help. Call out for Doctor McCoy. And soon enough, another set of rushed footsteps came in.
"Grab that sedative," the doctor ordered to Storm.
Pyro found his voice. "What? What sedative?!"
His mind was thrashed within as his heart rate echoed mercilessly in his mind, louder than ever, and the speed on the machine sped up too.
"John, you need to calm down." Storm hovered above him again. "Please."
He didn't understand. But he felt the prick of the needle and the numbing pain as the meds entered his blood. In a moment, he blacked out. The noise had become silence.
~-.-~-.-~-.-~
Again. Why again? He asked himself. After the repeated actions of sight and hearing played their course, he stared once more at the ceiling, and this time, to his gratitude, there was no loud ding sound from any machine whatsoever. He took a slightly breath, inhaling, exhaling.
"Sorry about earlier," Storm said. He turned his head to his left, and saw her at the doorway. "You're heart rate was rising quick. We had to do something."
"Do you drug all your patients?" he asked coldly, attempting to get up. He sat up weakly, and stared her down for an answer.
"Nah," she replied. "You're special."
"What happened to me?" he asked, letting the anger flush away.
"We don't know. It could one of two possibilities. It could also be both." She walked away from under the doorway, and the doors slid behind her. "Either your little act before had an aftershock, rendering you as you were. Or. Well, you got the life sucked out of you, which in turn, triggered an aftershock of some sort."
"How the heck would I have had the life sucked outta me?" he replied, finding the second suggestion stupid. Instead of an answer, Storm looked at him, indicating that he, himself, knew the answer. "No way," he hushed out. "Marie couldn't have. She's human."
"She saw your memories…" Storm let out softly. "They are now permanent records in her mind."
"I didn't feel any pull whatsoever. Not like before at Boston."
"Neither did she feel a push of whatsoever. As you can see, there are a few glitches that need to be sorted out."
"She didn't hurt me."
"She did, John. Undeniably, she did." A pause, and she said quickly, "Not intentionally, ofcourse. Everything's a mere accident. But the tests prove that her mutation is acting up again. She's all right, by the way. Just shaken up."
"What'd she see?" he asked instantly. The endless run of his maniacs rolled before his eyes in a second. Marie could've seen anything.
"That's not exactly what shook her up," Storm said. She smiled slightly, and turned around, leaving. As the doors closed behind her, she added, "She'll be coming to see you though."
And Pyro was alone. To painfully recall.
~-.-~-.-~-.-~
" Damn it, damn it, damn it!" he cursed over and over again as he sped away from the people following him. He raced into a park. It was night, ofcourse. It was always easier at night with no one to see you. Except the guards of the place you just rigged. He ran through the gates, and looped around a few paths, ending up safe. Safer.
"It is a nice night for a walk, but I didn't think you were that kind of person." He turned around, panting for air, and groaned at the sight of the man in the wheelchair. Two months since he'd abandon them at Alkali Lake. Two months since he'd chosen a new allegiance, a new side.
"I'm not," he replied rudely. The Professor was looking at him seriously, but there was no hint of anger in his eyes. "I didn't know you liked taking walks," he added, making sure to sound even more rude.
The Professor merely chuckled. "I'm not. But I have reason to be here."
"A date, maybe?" Pyro asked, rolling his eyes as he turned around to glance if he was followed. When Pyro faced the Professor, he was looking at him with pity.
"No. I came to talk to you."
"I'm honored," he said sarcastically.
"I do not just let students slide, John." Pyro cringed at the sound of that filthy name. The Professor noticed. "John is your name. It will always be your name. You can't run from who you are."
"Well, who was I?" Pyro asked savagely. He scoffed. "A student. Incapable of his true capability."
"Murder was not suppose to be your true capability."
"It was necessary."
"It was disgusting. You are a child. A child that knows nothing. You've made a choice that I know you will regret. That I pray you will regret. Remorse is the key to salvation."
"It's not like I'm begging to be saved. I'm happy where I am."
"And you weren't happy at the Academy?" The Professor paused. "I would've thought you were happy, every English class. Every lunchtime. Every free class."
"You read my mind!" Pyro said angrily. "I thought you were beyond that! You said so!"
"It was necessary," the Professor replied bitterly. "You were beginning to be lost, John. I had to get an insight on who you were to be able to try and save you. I saw who you are, and I know what you really are capable of. Something even you did not think you could do."
"What? Enlighten me."
Now the Professor smiled. "Love."
Pyro looked at him with hatred. "I don't love anything."
"It's true. You might not love. I think you do, but if you want to rephrase, then let's. You hunger. Definitely. You hunger for power. You hunger for respect. You hunger for freedom. You hunger for her, as well. I believe that hunger is love."
"I don't love anyone," Pyro said, his harsh voice trying to prove his statement.
"Why do you always stare at her then? Why do you watch her intently, but not with lust? My boy, it's undeniable. You actually respect a human being. You shoudn't lie to yourself."
"And so what? What if I care for her?" In a lower voice, he added painfully, "she doesn't care for me."
"How do you know that?" the Professor's voice, too, had become quieter and calmer.
"Because she loves Drake," Pyro replied bitterly. "She loves Drake and she doesn't even see me. She doesn't see me at all."
"Are you blaming her for leaving?"
"No. I – I don't." He regained his exposure. "I don't care for her."
"You do. You don't want her to get hurt. Ever. You want to be the one at her side, protecting her. I can see it, boy. And I don't even have to read your mind."
Pyro scoffed once more.
"You'd be back in a moment if she called you."
"She doesn't want me."
And Pyro looked around the Infirmary. His little trip to flashback city had ended and he was sitting in the remotely cold room, trying to stop his hands from shaking in anger. She didn't want him. Not even when they kissed. It was an abrupt moment. Not to be repeated. He would not be weakened by her. Not by her.
The doors slid open so smoothly, he barely heard her. He was still staring at the marble floor, or his eyes were. He, himself, had blacked out. He only came back when he heard her small, nervous voice.
"John?"
His head snapped upwards at her looming figure. Her hair shaded him from the lights. He regarded her with no expression. No room for her to get in.
"I'm…sorry," she said softly.
He didn't reply.
She continued, sensing his dislike of her presence. "I didn't want to hurt you."
"You didn't," he replied, letting his guard down for a moment. She looked so nervous around him. It didn't use to be that way. Was she scared?
"No, I did."
"No, you didn't," he argued. Standing up, he, in turn, loomed over her slightly. They were so close. Not good.
"I won't touch you again," she said, taking a few steps backwards. Her hands were gloved. Her clothes were thick and covered most of her body. Her hair was down, covering her neck. "Are you feeling all right?"
"Yeah, I'm good," he said quietly. She turned to go, but he jerked her backwards. He looked anywhere but at her, and said, "I'm. Not. Scared of you."
She didn't reply. Instead, he pushed her against the wall, and once again, his lips met hers. Hungrily, it was as though HE was trying to suck the life out of her. She, on the other hand, found herself surprised by the movement. Her knees felt like they would buckle and she would fall. She grasped him for support. Her arms around his neck, keeping her standing. Their lips still connected. His hands stood as boundaries to not let her escape. Instead of pushing back into the wall, which was useless, she pulled herself forward, pushing herself onto him as well. Soon, he was back lying on the table, her on top, lips still working at each other, temperatures getting high. He never thought she could kiss like this, and, in action, he lowered his hands to his pants, starting to unbuckle. Her hands move to her blouse, which was buttoned, and soon, she began to unbutton them. He suddenly realized were they were, and took his hands off his zipper, and placed them on her gloved ones. No pull, no problem. He backed off for a moment, and said in a panting voice, "Your room." She stopped unbuttoning her shirt, and they ran for her room.
Inside, he slammed the door shut with his back, her arms once more around his neck, pulling him harshly even closer to her mouth. Their lips worked together, even more roughly. More passionately. Now, he began to raise his shirt over his head. Her blouse was half unbuttoned, and while she pulled him down, he finished unbuttoning it. She discarded it across the room with his shirt, and he moved from her lips down to her neck. She groaned in pleasure, and he picked her up and placed her on her bed with a playful thud. She was smiling.
He moved on top this time, but she pushed him off lightly. "Wait," she gasped, running for her bathroom. He sat, shaking his head.
"What?" he asked. Then he realized what she was up to. Smart. Safe. A moment later, she opened the door, and stepped out, looking flushed.
He grinned at her. When she sat beside him, he took her, and kissed her deeply around her neck. Her hands traced down his chest, and pushed him flat on the bed, right next to her. She was giggling now.
"Marie, all this pushing is sending me the wrong message, y'know," he teased, leaning on the support of his arm as he faced her. She followed him in doing so.
"Well, all right then," she teased back, getting up and reaching for her blouse.
"I'm joking," he said quickly, in disbelief that she believed him.
"I know," she replied, smiling. He stood up and walked to her, pushing her back on the bed, towering over her. The whole heated scene repeated. Soon her pants were off, and he couldn't help but have an orgasm at the sight of her underwear. Half-see through. Black lace. Her hands were pulling his pants off.
"This is nice," he commented during those brief gaps when their lips moved apart as they gasped for air.
She groaned in agreement. Her hands were swimming down his pants, to his crotch. As she grabbed it lightly, he pulled her even harder.
Then the door swung open.
She pushed him back and rolled off the bed out of sight.
Logan was at the doorway, shaking his head at the sight of them.
"You," he said, pointing accusingly at Pyro. "Storm wants to see you." Pyro didn't move. "That means get out of Marie's room." Pyro couldn't help but grin as he headed for the door. Wolverine's arm blocked him from exit. "Put on your shirt first, will ya?" he said, annoyed and a little more than just ticked off. Pyro smiled arrogantly, and Logan wished he could smack the kid. "Get out," he said under his breath. Pyro glanced at him. Was that a threat? He left, and Wolverine turned to Marie, whose head was the only thing he could see. "Get dressed," he said shortly. Then he shut the door.