When Rogue walked into the library, she'd been certain it would be empty. It was three in the afternoon, and most everybody was either outside or just plain out. After the morning's training session (which, of course, she'd missed), they'd been a mix of exhausted and talkative. She'd gathered that something had happened between Kitty and Pyro, but no one was quite sure exactly what. And then they'd all left. Bobby had offered to take her into the city with him, but she'd refused. Something was happening to her, and Rogue wasn't sure she wanted to be close to Bobby at the moment.

Something.

What bullshit. She knew exactly what was happening to her.

It was coming back.

She could feel it, a creeping tingle in her bones. In her blood. Memories, just dreams now, but they were getting stronger every minute. Hints of a seductive pull when she touched people lately. Something was going terribly wrong with the supposed 'cure'. What she'd sacrificed, what she'd debated and cried and worried about, was coming back.

Her power. Her curse. The thing that set her apart as a freak among freaks. Untouchable Marie, who wore her misery like a shield. Rogue shook her head sharply. She wasn't that girl anymore. Even if her powers did fully return, she would never be that girl again. Bobby loved her, and he'd loved her before she got the cure. She didn't need to be alone.

Only sometimes, she preferred it. That was why she wanted to be the only one in the library now, why she'd refused Bobby's offer. She didn't know what to do, or who to tell. No. She wouldn't tell. Not until she was... until she was sure.

But anyway, she wasn't the only one there at all. Pyro lay stretched out on the couch, one white-socked foot up on the back, the other leg bent at the knee. He was reading. As she paused, wondering if she should go in, he stretched his arms up. She caught the title of the book in his hand: 'Beyond Good and Evil'. Rogue's brow raised. She would never have expected John Allerdyce to pick Nietzsche as afternoon reading material.

"Having fun with old Friedrich?" He jolted at the sound of her voice, and sat up, his left leg falling off the top of the couch.

"Rogue," Pyro said, regaining his cool. He glanced down at the book cover. "Got a problem with Nietzsche?" She walked further into the room, not taking her eyes from his face.

"Just didn't think he was exactly your speed, Pyro."

"Have you ever read him?" He didn't wait for her answer. "He saw beyond the bullshit we surround ourselves with. He told it like it was, like it is. Like this, here." He held up the book. "'To concede the fictional nature of the conditions of life means, of course, taking a dangerous stand against the customary feelings about value.' He's exactly right, if only people would pay attention!" Rogue blinked.

"What?" John sighed.

"He's saying that we rely on false judgments, like the one that mutants are inherently evil, and that the only way we can truly live is to throw away those false beliefs and rewrite our code of values with truth instead of lies and stupid ignorance."

"Isn't that the opposite of what Magneto said? Didn't he think that all humans were evil?"

"No, actually. He just thinks they're weak and ineffectual."

"But- wait a minute. I didn't come here to argue about Nietzsche with you." He grinned.

"Why did you come here, Marie?" Drawing out the name. She lifted her chin.

"I've got some things to say to you, John," Rogue said evenly. Why not? She'd wanted to talk to him for a while. Now was as good a time as any. He lifted his brows and shrugged.

"So talk." She came around the couch and sat down in an armchair across from him.

"I'm very close to hating you, Pyro," she said bluntly. Something in her tone kept him silent, and she continued. "But I don't. I can't. We were friends, once." He opened his mouth and she held up a hand. "Not like you were with Bobby. It was always kind of a like/hate thing with you two. But we always liked each other, from the beginning. And once you left... Well, I've been left behind before. Plenty of times. But I didn't think you'd do that to me. I know we weren't best buds, or whatever, but you were one of the only real friends I had and you knew it, no matter how much of a jerk you acted like sometimes. So when you went off with Buckethead, I wanted to kill you for breaking my trust. And now that you're back, I want to kill you for coming back. We were starting over. All of us. Me without my powers, Bobby over that thing with Kitty, Logan getting over Jean. But now you're here, and it's all come back with you."

"Look, Rogue, it's not my fault you've... gotten over whatever it was you had to get over, and now seeing me is ruining it for you. I can't help that."

"Why did you have to come back here, John? I don't want you dead after all, and hell, I even want you to be happy, but why'd you have to come back here?" He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Pyro didn't know what to say. He wanted to throw out a quick, light remark or a biting, rude comment. He could do neither. The way she was looking at him brought back memories of the two of them before the war, when he'd been able to... talk to her. Just talk. And she'd listened. Rogue always had been a good listener. Not that he'd bared his soul or anything dumb like that, but they'd always been able to talk about the day without getting awkward. Now, her voice was so serious, so filled with truth and emotion, that he couldn't make himself take her lightly. Finally, he sighed.

"I didn't have anywhere else to go."

"What?" She looked a bit thrown.

"When... right, you saw me get brought in. When Frost got me, I was... Fuck. I was alone, okay? Not like that's anything new. Anyway, I didn't know what to do. I knew I had to warn Kitty, and I knew she'd be here. Honestly, I didn't even think about what the rest of the X-Men would say."

"Why did you want to warn Kitty? I thought you turned your back on all of us."

"I did," he said harshly. "I left all of this behind me and I never looked back."

"Never?" She paused. "John, did we ever mean anything to you? You were always so... God, I don't know. So aloof. You never let anyone really know you. Even Bobby or me. Did you actually walk away without a second thought that day?" He looked down at his hands. His hair, no longer sticking up like it had that morning, fell across his forehead and framed his honey-dark eyes as he studied the long, strong fingers, gaze playing across various burns and, almost faded, the age-whitened scars of a fire he'd long tried to forget.

"You meant something," he said quietly. When he looked up, his eyes were sad. "It just wasn't enough."

They were silent in the wide, empty room, and Rogue wanted to weep for something she couldn't even name. Loss of innocence? Broken lives? Sunset fading to gray. Finally, she broke the stillness, softly.

"Do you think what they say is true? That you can never go back?"

"Back to what?" He was tracing the title of his book, his face expressionless. She met his eyes. There was no forgiveness in hers, but there was acceptance. Understanding. Pleading for him to tell her it wasn't too late, that even he wasn't too far gone.

"Before. Before any of it. When everything was okay." He gave a little laugh, but there was no humor in it.

"Rogue, everything was never okay for me." He held up his right hand, and under the bright lamplight, she could see an old network of scars she'd never noticed before. "My whole life has been one big inferno." He reached out to touch the back of her hand, as if to compare their skins, and Rogue flinched away. He drew back, searching her, and then breathed out. "It's happening, isn't it. The cure. I knew it was all bullshit." She shook her head.

"No, that's- that's not true. It's fine."

"Sure it is. Face it, Rogue, the cure isn't permanent. Nothing is."

"Oh, yeah? That means Magneto's getting his powers back, too," she said challengingly. "You gonna rejoin? After all, your whole life's an inferno. What better way to feed the blaze?"

"I already said I wasn't going back to him." She got up, walking towards the door. As she went, she looked over her shoulder. Her face was solemn.

"Yeah, but you're the one who said nothing's permanent. What happens when you get sick of peace?" With that, she left the library and Pyro was left staring at the cover of a paperback book, a slight frown on his face.

"Good question," he murmured.

'Do you think what they say is true? That you can never go back?'

'Before. Before any of it. When everything was okay.'

'Everything has never been okay for me.' He stroked the faded scars on his palms, closing his eyes.

'When everything was okay.'

"John! John, what's happening?! Make it stop! John, make it stop!"

"Call the fire department! Julie, get the kids out of here! John, come on, we've gotta get out of here!"

"Oh God, it's everywhere! It's spreading too- John, what are you doing? Why are you doing this?!"

"I- I don't know! I'm not doing anyth- I can't make it stop, Mum! IT WON'T STOP!"

Pyro cried out, opening eyes that stung with tears. He looked down at his wrist. His nails were digging into the flesh, and when he raked them out, blood welled up and dribbled down his skin. He stared at it, fascinated. He still had blood. He still breathed and ran and hated and killed.

Killed.

Furious at this sudden weakness, Pyro dashed away the blood, smearing it across his arm. He got up and strode out of the library.

On the couch, Nietzsche's calm, dark eyes stared up from the cover of the abandoned book.

8888888888

"Kitty!" She paused on her way to her room, turning around. Pyro was jogging towards her. "Kitty, wait up." He came up alongside her, running a hand through his hair. She began to say something, and then froze. There were long, red scratches on the inside of his left arm.

"What happened?!" He looked down at them.

"Nothing. Um, I wanted to talk to you." She remembered the last time they'd 'talked', and gulped.

"Uh, like, about what?"

"Just stuff. Can we talk in your room?"

"My room?" It came out a squeak.

"Or mine. Whatever. Just somewhere private."

"Okay," she said slowly. Her old defense of just being able to phase out of any bad situation did not seem so reliable at this point, but he looked so serious that she couldn't refuse.

888888888

"So what did you want to talk to me about?" They were sitting on her bed, her at the top, him at the bottom. John looked oddly uncomfortable.

"Did you hear about the whole cure thing?"

"What?" This was not what she had expected. Then again, she hadn't really expected anything.

"The cure. Turns out, it isn't a cure at all. Just... a suppressor, I guess. It wears off."

"Oh, no! Rogue!" He nodded absently, running a finger down one of the scratches on his arm. "And-" She stopped, remembering who she was talking to. He nodded again.

"And Magneto. Mystique. All of them."

"So..."

"Yeah."

"What are you going to do?" He looked at her sharply.

"Not gonna run off and be his right-hand man again; I told you before."

"Then why did you want to talk to me about it?" He sighed.

"I dunno. Just... I dunno." There was a sudden burst of music from her radio, and they both jerked. Sheepishly, Kitty gestured towards the clock/radio on her bedside table.

"Ah, sorry about that. It kinda... randomly turns on. I stuck a hand in it one morning trying to turn it off, and I think it messed up the wiring." He chuckled.

"'S okay." Kitty hummed a phrase from the song playing, and then stopped, blushing.

"Sorry about that, too. It's my favorite song."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh. 'Forgive me my weakness, but I don't know why... without you it's hard to survive...'" She sang softly along with the radio, her voice high, but sweet. John felt his earlier unease seep away. This moment, sitting with Kitty and watching her sing along to her favorite song, was the kind of perfect thing he'd thought he could only dream about. Kitty glanced at him, saw the look of contentment on his face, and gave him a little smile. She bit her lip, then went with her instinct and stood up. Kitty grabbed his hands and tugged him off the bed. "Dance with me?" He gave a startled laugh, trying to free his hands.

"Dance? Me?"

"Come on," she said, smiling at him, "it's my favorite. Please?" She kept her left hand in his right and moved her own right hand to his shoulder. Slowly, John slid his free hand to the small of her back. There were a good two inches between them, but as they gently swayed to the music, the inches grew smaller. Kitty's bright smile gradually melted away as they danced, and both of them felt the stronger pull in the air that seemed to make everything else stand still. It was as if they were both holding their breath, waiting for a perfect sunrise.

"Uh..." His voice was a whisper. In the Danger Room, he'd been riding a rush. Now that she was in his arms, this fragile dance scared him more than any cure-bullet. "What are we doing?"

"We're dancing," she replied, equally soft. He swallowed. Slowly, they revolved around the room as Cascada played in the background.

"'Your arms are my castle, your heart is my sky. They wipe away tears that I cry. Oh, the good and the bad times, we've been through them all. You raise me up when I fall, 'cause every time we touch, I get this feeling... every time we kiss, I swear I could fly. Can't you feel my heart beat fast? I want this to last! Need you by my side...'"

"But what are we doing, Kitten?"

"Shh." She laid her head against his shoulder and he felt a sickness in his gut, knowing this perfect moment was the only one they could ever have. Kitty closed her eyes. She knew this couldn't be real, but it was the best dream she'd ever had.

When the song ended, they stopped moving, the stillness of the room overpowering. Kitty stared up at John. His face was bent slightly towards hers, his lips parted. Her hand had moved from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, and she could feel strands of hair brushing across her fingers. His eyes were heavy-lidded, the honey color darkened to a thick, melting molasses that made her breath catch.

"John," she whispered. He blinked, eyes clearing. Pyro stepped back, his arms falling away from her. She reached for him, frowning. "What's wrong?"

"I, uh, I have to go."

"Wait! What happened? Did I- did I do something wrong?"

"We can't do this, Kitty." She phased through him, ignoring the way he shuddered and shifted on his feet. Kitty blocked the door, refusing to let him pass.

"Why not? What exactly can't we do?" He heaved a frustrated sigh, raking a hand through his hair.

"This. This whole... The dancing, and the... the... It won't work."

"What about in the Danger Room? What about that?"

"That was different. That was..." She laughed shortly in disbelief.

"Lust. That was lust, right? But this isn't. This is something else." Pyro glared at her, but she didn't flinch.

"You don't know what you're talking about. Get out of my way."

"Yes, I do know what I'm talking about! You came back, John! You saved my life, and you came back here, and everyone is willing to give you another chance! Why won't you take it?"

"I can't, okay?! You and me would never work for more than... than a one-night stand."

"Oh yeah? That's why you're running away? Because we wouldn't work?"

"Look at us! We fight, and we tease, and we hurt. I'm an evil killer, and you're a perfect little X-Princess. Where do you see the part with us working out, because I must be missing it!" She took a step towards him. He backed up.

"Why did you warn me, Pyro?" She put special emphasis on the name. Her eyes flashed.

"Because I had to!"

"Why did you have to? You could have told her where I was. You could have let her take me."

" No."

"Then why?"

"It doesn't make a difference. I never should have come up here. Move."

"What if I don't want to move? What if I've been waiting for this for years? Don't you get it, John?" He tried for a smirk.

"So I do get to you." She rolled her eyes.

"Do you honestly think I'm gonna fall for that now?"

"Worth a try. Please, Kitten, just let me pass."

"Not until you tell me why you won't at least try." His eyes narrowed. That was all the warning she got before she was up against the door, her wrists pinned to the wood on either side of her head, his face right in front of hers. His eyes flickered with that same, predatory spark. Pyro felt the fear in his bones, but he pushed it away. Had to make her see. Stupid, stupid for dancing with her, for letting himself be fooled into thinking that maybe, just maybe, he could be something more than what he'd become.

"It's not me that doesn't get it, Kitten," he said in a liquid tone. "You may have wanted dancing and flowers and all that shit from Johnny, but Pyro doesn't play that game. This is what you want? Let's see how you like it!" He kissed her, not releasing her wrists, his lean body pressed to hers against the door. She gasped, and he kissed her harder, deeper, his mouth spreading fire like his fingertips in battle. Kitty's eyes rolled shut as she kissed him back, unable to fight it. He tasted like ginger and chocolate, a hot, intense flavor that she had never come close to tasting before. He was fierce and not at all gentle, his mouth bruising hers, but the passion in his touch was more real to her than anything. Pyro let go of her wrists, his hands streaking up her arms and down her sides, sliding under her shirt, playing across the skin of her belly and back. His fingers were dry and warm, and yet sent violent shivers down her spine that made her body spasm into his. Too fast, too fast! She struggled, but he was too strong. He didn't come near her bra, but his hands still traveled over her skin like he owned it. He finally broke the kiss, gasping, and she panted against the door as he stared at her.

"Stop," she managed to breath, trying to push him away. He smiled at her, and it was a dark smile that made her think of blood and tangled sheets.

"I thought you wanted this, Kitten," he purred, not pulling away. "You didn't want me to leave."

"This isn't you," she gasped, hands flat on his chest. "John, this isn't you!"

"Isn't it? Maybe she was right," he told her softly, dangerously. "Maybe we can never go back."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Maybe we're trapped in what we become." Kitty shook her head.

"I don't know who you're talking about, but you're wrong. You don't have to be trapped. Not anymore!" John leaned his face close to hers and she fought against closing her eyes, but he didn't touch her. Instead, he blinked hard. His eyes lost a bit of that dark gleam. He took a ragged breath, moving his hands slowly from beneath her shirt and cupping her cheeks tenderly. Despite the gentleness of his hands on her face, his words were rough and short.

"You can't save me," Pyro said. And with that, he pushed lightly past her and left the room.

Alone, Kitty pressed a hand to her mouth. She slid down the door to land in a heap on the floor, tears stinging her eyes. And then, the tears stopped. She stared at her fingertips.

'You can't save me.'

He'd kissed her to prove something. He'd left her to prove something else.

She'd let him do both. Kitty's brow furrowed determinedly. Up until now, he'd won every battle the two of them had fought.

Up until now.

"Well, guess what, Johnny," Kitty said strongly into the empty room, her hand curling into a fist. "You're not the only one with something to prove."