I Remember You
"You fucking traitor! Pyro! Bastard! I'm gonna kill you, son of a bitch!" A half-dozen policemen were trying, and failing, to restrain the wild-eyed mutant who had been apprehended after levitating several cars and a truck then sending the vehicles crashing down on civilians. He had killed thirteen people and injured five before the X-Men had arrived and stopped him. Colossus walked over to him now and, without a word, punched him. He fell unconscious immediately. Casting the steel man nervous yet grateful looks, the local cops bundled their captive into an armored van.
Wolverine frowned at Pyro. "Friend of yours?" he inquired.
The young man nodded, his expression grim. "He's Brotherhood," he confirmed. "I recruited him. Didn't know he had escaped Alcatraz."
"He didn't seem too happy that you got out, too," observed his field leader.
Pyro didn't respond. He just looked sullen. It was the first time he had ever fought with the X-Men outside of the Danger Room, and he wasn't relishing the experience. Stupid idiots. They actually thought that they were making a difference, doing the right thing by saving the helpless humans. What was especially galling was the fact that he was doing the same thing, being all hero of the fucking day. He had half a mind to torch the van bearing his former Brotherhood comrade so that the guy could get free then make good on his threat to kill him and put him out of this humiliating misery. Shit. He was saving the world with the goddamn X-Men. He would much rather be dead.
He observed idly that Colossus, still in his metal form, was standing with Shadowcat and picking out something, maybe a piece of debris, from her hair. She first looked surprised then embarrassed at this little gesture. Iceman and Angel were nearby, and the two of them exchanged knowing glances when they witnessed the same incident. He smirked. It looked like the tinhead was taking his advice about making the moves on the kitten.
They had a bit of a celebration that night. None of them ever went right out and said it, but he knew that they were doing it to make him feel more a part of the team. Even Bobby gave him the faintest trace of an approving smile. It was enough to make him want to set fire to everyone. But he refrained from violence, drank their weak-ass punch and nibbled at the pizza Kitty had handed to him on a paper plate.
"Doesn't your face ever hurt from scowling all the time?" Peter asked him. He sat beside Pyro on the couch.
"No. Not after lots and lots of practice," he replied. He noted that the other guy couldn't keep his eyes off Kitty as she talked with Warren in one corner of the room. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "Shouldn't you be working your charm over there?"
"I have no idea what to talk about when I'm with her," confessed Peter.
"The weather's always an option," he retorted and stood up.
"Wait. Are you leaving?"
"Yeah. I've stayed the maximum of ten minutes that I can stand being with you losers in a social setting. I'm going to bed." All the camaraderie in the room was making him feel nauseated.
If he thought that saving human lives with the X-Men was bad enough, Pyro revised his opinion about it the next day when he found himself being an unwilling partner in Peter Rasputin's pursuit of Kitty Pryde.
Her birthday was coming up soon and Peter wanted to gift her with something truly special, something that would let her know that he deeply cared for her. So, Peter asked Pyro to accompany him to town and help pick out an appropriate present. His roommate, of course, flat out refused to do such a thing. It took some arguing, a little begging, and, finally, outright bribing to make him change his mind.
"What do you think she'll like?" Peter wondered as he stared at the window display of a jewelry store.
"I'm pretending that I don't know you, man, so I'm the wrong person to ask," Pyro responded, looking decidedly uncomfortable at being part of this little shopping expedition.
"How about that bracelet?" He pointed to a delicately pretty thing that was studded with pink stones.
Pyro was about to snap at Peter when his attention was caught by something else. While looking around casually, he was surprised to see Rogue walking across the street. He hadn't seen her around the mansion for the last couple of weeks. He thought she looked worse than he remembered. She was so pale and thin that he fancied a single strong gust of wind could blow her away. She went into a café and sat at a table near its large window. From the way she was acting, she looked like she was waiting for someone. Curious now, he continued to watch her.
Presently, someone arrived at her table and sat on the chair across from her. A waiter came but they waved him off. Rogue and the newcomer then started talking like they were old friends.
His eyes widened when he finally recognized the person she was with. "Son of a bitch." It was Mystique. He would know that haughty expression no matter what form she wore. "I'll be right back," he told Peter a bit absently and headed for the café.