The Boy Who Destroyed the World

an original X-Men Movieverse fan fiction

written by: jennifer s. a.k.a. assassinelektra

Disclaimer:

I do not own the X-Men movies or comics, or their characters. This is a fan fiction story meant only for the enjoyment of myself and other X-Men fans.

Title: The Boy Who Destroyed the World

Genre: Action/Adventure, Romance, Angst

Setting: Right after X-Men 3: The Last Stand

Pairing: John/Kitty

Rating: Teen

Author's Note: There are definitely X3 spoilers. And yeah, I ship Kitty/Peter, but this idea occurred to me after seeing the movie. Plus I don't want Pyro dead…I imagine this will be a short fic though.

"Once there was boy who had vibrant glow, but as it goes, someone took it from him."

AFI "The Boy Who Destroyed the World"

"A lot of smoke, a lot of fire, fire raining down on the balcony."

Jerry Levy

Chapter 10

"Wait a second, what are you—"

"Nothing." Kitty said quickly, turning her back to him so that he couldn't see her cheeks getting red. How had she let the teenage girl inside of her get out for a few minutes? She was supposed to be taking care of him, helping him, not making him think…

John stood up and took a step toward her, and then he reached out his hand, as if to touch her back. But he hesitated, like he always did, and that moment gave him enough nerve to refuse the impulse and let his arm fall back to his side.

She glanced to her right, almost over her shoulder but not quite, as if she knew what he was thinking about doing. And then she whispered so softly that he only heard the tears in her voice. "Peter's dying."

"Who?" John had to think for a moment. It wasn't until she turned around and he saw the look on her face that he realized who she was talking about. "Tinman." He said quietly, a frown forming on his face. "I'm sorry."

She smiled through her tears, which had fallen down her cheeks now, but he didn't believe it for a moment. She was putting on her 'brave face' for him. For some reason, that bothered him.

"How long?" He asked.

She looked to the side and thought for a moment. Kitty had seen first hand how quickly, and slowly, the virus could kill—both a curse in their own right. And Peter had admitted to not telling her for two weeks since he had found out. Symptoms didn't start until a few days after you contracted the virus, so that gave him around…

"A week."

He could hear her heart breaking in those two words. She really loved him. The bulky Russian who'd always been so quiet everyone else thought he was either mute or not into girls…Kitty Pryde had fallen in love with him.

"I'm sorry." He said again. He couldn't think of anything else to say. He'd never comforted anyone before, and even when he'd tried to cheer himself up it had always ended in either bitter self-hatred or the need for vengeance on whoever had made him feel weak to begin with. John just didn't know how to help her.

Kitty nodded her head, sniffling as she wiped the tears away. What had she expected? A hug? No, she wasn't disappointed with his reaction. She honestly didn't know why she'd even told him. Except that when she was hurt or sad, she cared that he cared.

She sat down on her bed, and he sat down next to her, and for a moment they just stared forward. Then she glanced at him, and John looked up at her. "Will you sit by me at…" Her voice caught in her throat. "At the funeral?"

What a fucking thing to ask. John didn't want to be anywhere near the people who lived in this school and that funeral would be full of them. Not to mention Bobby would be there, and the urge to burn the hell out of him (more than he had already) would be stronger if everyone was just sitting around crying.

This was the second favor she had asked him, and both had been in the case of the Legacy Virus's worst case scenario. Only this time it wasn't herself she was worried about. Or maybe it was. But either way, she was asking him to do a favor for her directly, while she was around to witness it. He would rather have had her ask him to leave. Forever.

Kitty noticed he didn't answer, she saw the thoughtful look on his face half stricken with irritation and the other half with confusion as his inner mind tried to work out the reasons why she would ask this of him. But she needed an answer.

"John?" He glanced down at her hand, now resting on top of his, just to get his attention he supposed. Then he turned his head and glanced down at his lighter in his other hand.

He could lie to her, tell her that her boyfriend would be okay. But they would both know it was a lie. Or he could just stand up and walk away, throw fire at whoever tried to stop him. But that would leave him alone again, and as used to it as he had become in the years of his childhood, he didn't want that. Admit it to himself or not, he would miss the hell out of her.

"Yes." His voice was calm, reserved. He was giving nothing away—something John wasn't so good at around her, he had noticed. "Yes, I'll sit by you."

"Thank you." She replied quietly, not looking at him. She was afraid she would see a look of amusement on his face, or just plain disinterest.

"Kitty…" Her name made her look up without realizing it. "You're uh…" He glanced down at her hand still resting on his, and she pulled it away as if he'd bitten her.

"Oh, sorry." Kitty said, looking away again.

"How are you feeling, anyway?" He asked, motioning to her stomach. She didn't need to see him to know he was looking at her.

"I'm fine." Kitty lied. Her side hurt terribly. Running after him, and then after Logan, she'd made the injury worse.

"Put some ice on it." He said, giving her a slight smirk as he placed his hand on her side. It was still cold from Bobby's ice, and she almost phased his hand through her shirt and stomach again, but stopped herself. The coolness felt good, despite the immediate shock from unexpected contact.

She wanted to numb herself completely, to just close her eyes and fade away, which she literally could do. But there was something that kept her from 'running' and that was the feeling of John's eyes on her, his constant—and terribly hidden—concern.

"You should probably lay down." He commented.

"Yeah." She agreed.

"So why don't you?" John asked after a few minutes of them just sitting there again.

"You're uh…" She looked at him. "You're sitting on my bed."

"Oh." He stood up, but did so slowly, hesitantly. John flicked his lighter open and then closed it again.

"No more fire, please." Kitty's voice was exhausted. She laid down on her bed, looking at him. "When I wake up, you'll be here?" She asked.

John raised an eyebrow in question. "And if I wasn't?" He asked.

Kitty thought about that for a moment. What was the true answer to that question? She closed her eyes, tried to ignore it, but there was that feeling of him looking at her again. Kitty opened her eyes.

"I'd go looking for you." She told him. That answer surprised John so much that he backed up away from her bed, staring at her. There was a look of unfamiliar gratefulness in his eyes.

No one had ever wanted him around. No one had ever wanted to keep him around, to keep him as a friend, to look at him like he was a person rather than a monster. And here she was, looking at him not only as a person, an equal, but a friend. Or not a friend. He wasn't sure what he thought about that last idea.

She patted the bed beside her softly, smiling at him. "Take a seat." Kitty told him, and John almost didn't believe what he was hearing. So, he walked back over to the bed and took a seat, looking at her expectantly.

"What happened to you?" She asked quietly, looking into his eyes as she waited for the answer. "What made you so afraid of people?" He started to stand up again, uncomfortable with the direction these questions were headed towards. "John." He paused, but didn't look at her. "You can tell me."

"Some stories shouldn't be told." John muttered bitterly. "Some stories shouldn't even be fucking written."

"Okay." She said calmly, trying to comfort him in the process. "It's okay." He glanced at her, the look on his face so sad she almost asked again what had happened. But she didn't want to press the issue.

Maybe she didn't want to know why he was so cold and harsh, why he was always trying to not show what he was feeling, if he felt anything but pain and guilt. Or the reason he flinched every time someone barely touched him. The reason he slept under beds rather than up where it was obviously more comfortable. The reason that coldness was more comforting for someone who could control fire.

She had helped him for weeks now, and she still knew nothing more about him than what she had before. Except that he did have a nice smile, and he was capable of holding an intelligent conversation with someone that didn't end in flames and ashes.

John wanted to crawl back under the bed and sleep forever. He didn't want this. He didn't want the impending doom that would come of whatever relationship he had formed with Kitty. And it was a relationship. He couldn't deny it.

"Kitty," He looked into her eyes. Thank you. He wanted to say it, but his mouth just wouldn't form the words. They ended at the bottom of his throat, right where the apologies always caught without being spoken, right where what he wanted to say met with what he did say.

She was looking at him expectantly, waiting for whatever he'd been planning on saying. Kitty was unsure of what to think right then. John had already shown her sides of his personality that she didn't even know existed. So what would he say next?

"It'll get better." He finally settled for that. For that one, fucking lame, lie of a phrase. He had no doubt that things would get worse. It was the sort of thing mutants—especially two as known as they were—could always expect. Nothing every changed for the better.

"Lay down." She told him quietly, moving over so that there was room on her bed for him to do so.

"What the hell are you…?" Was she coming on to him? Now that would certainly make things…

"You look as tired as I feel." She told him, and his thoughts dissolved as he suddenly noticed the concerned look on her face. There was no lust there, only that constant reminder that someone actually cared that he felt broken. And he was still cold. Damn Bobby.

"Hey, I'll just sleep under the bed…" He said, moving towards the floor.

"No." Kitty told him. "No, I don't want to be alone right now." The tears were back. Only glimpses of them, but they were there.

He had sympathy for her. In that moment he wanted to make the tears go away and heal that fucking Russian—if it would make her smile again—and just give her back the normal life she'd had before learning she was a mutant. He wanted to save her.

But he didn't.

John laid down beside her, staring up at the ceiling, hands linked on his stomach where they rested. He made no move to hold her in comfort, or even to look at her. Things were awkward enough. He didn't want her thinking that…

"Thank you." There they were again. Those two words he had never heard spoken sincerely when directed towards him. Not until meeting—and truly getting to know—Kitty Pryde.

So they laid there, staring at the ceiling, saying nothing, merely comforted by the fact that neither of them were alone, and probably wouldn't be for quite a while. After a while, he winced and reached up to touch the cut on his forehead. Her hand stopped him, and he was amazed be her accuracy, because her eyes were closed when he glanced over at her.

She opened her eyes to look at him, hand still holding to his wrist gently. Kitty gave him her half smile and started to say something. She never got the chance.

"We've got problems!" This time it was Logan that broke down her door uninvited. John nearly fell off of the bed trying to get up and away from it. Logan glanced at Kitty, then at John, and his claws were extended in an instant.

John had his hands raised in the air in surrender as he tried to explain. "Hey, I wasn't trying to…" That's as far as he got before Kitty spoke up.

"What is it?" Kitty asked, sitting up. She sat up too fast, held her side in pain, then tried to hide it, looking back at Logan. He kept his claws ready.

"Oh, you're not going to believe this." He said, looking back at Kitty. His face said it all. There was something going on, it was big, and it was going to affect them all. "Well," He reconsidered, "Maybe you will." She gave him a look that told him to just get on with it, and Logan looked right into her eyes when he said it. "Robots."