A/N: Hello world. I've been so swarmed with stuff in the reality realm I live in. I had finals, my birthday, graduation rehearsals, and college orientation/registrations. I graduated high school! Squeee!! And now I'm on vacation in Florida for this week. The good news is that I'm out of school till August and hopefully will have a lot of free time now, so I'll be able to work on this and the other stories that really need me as well. As for THIS chapter… I don't really know what I can say to defend myself. NUDITY!! (Still rated T) This was pretty difficult to write, too. So, um, please read and review, and rock on!

------------

The house Magneto was located in was probably a few miles away, and Wanda figured that it would take some hours to get there. It was still fairly early in the morning, about 10:30 am, and she would have the entire rest of the day to get this done. Today was the day, and she knew it. Today was the day she would be rid of Magneto. She felt a mixture of excited and apprehensive, but there was a small part of her that feared that this was too good to be true. Nevertheless she knew that this was just natural doubt.

Wanda glanced down at John, who was still very passed out on her carpet, his chest rising and falling as peacefully as if he had willingly decided to take a quiet nap there. She bent and laid her hand on his unresponsive cheek, just to be sure that she had properly knocked him out.

She had.

Well then… it would probably be safe for her to go downstairs and eat something. Then she could come back up here, feed John, and then they could be off to Walnut Street. Today would be simple and straightforward.

Hopefully.

Wanda quietly made her way down the stairs, hoping that the other boys would not notice her, or at least, not greet her. She didn't feel like talking, especially since what she had just done to John was fresh in her mind. She had never done anything so… extreme before. Those sorts of thoughts had just never really crossed her mind. Hmm. Perhaps it was the fact that she was about to reach her goal—getting Magneto—and it had majorly clouded her judgment. Surely that was why.

She heard the boys being loud and making commotion in the living room area.

"Two fours."

"Bullshit."

"Aw, man…"

"One five."

"Three sixes."

"Bullshit!"

"Read 'em and weep. Yeah, take that."

"Aw, man! I never win."

Wanda frowned, peering around the corner to figure out what on earth the boys were doing. Pietro, Lance, Toad, and Freddy were all sitting around the small square table in the living room area, and being that they could not watch TV, they were playing some sort of card game that Wanda didn't recognize. The only card games she knew were Go Fish and 52 Card Pick-Up.

She decided that she was curious enough to venture out there. Folding her arms across her chest, she entered the room and stood behind Pietro.

"Wanda, sweetums!" Toad exclaimed from his place across the table, pretty much invisible behind the almost full deck of cards in his hands. "Wanna play cards?"

Pietro looked up at her. "Hey, Wanda…" he said hesitantly, remembering how she behaved toward him just earlier that morning. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Wanda glared at him. "What are you guys playing?"

"It's called Bullshit," Pietro explained. "You can figure it out pretty easily by watching for a while."

"Uhh," Fred said, and he put down two cards. "Two sevens."

"An eight," said Toad, putting down one of his countless cards.

"A nine," Lance said boredly.

"Two tens," Pietro pronounced, putting down his final two cards, a two and a king. "I win."

There was a pause while the others rolled their eyes, sighed, and dropped their cards; like this was a common occurrence and Pietro always won all the games.

"I don't get it," Wanda said skeptically. "That's a two and a king."

"Uhh… bullshit!" Toad said hastily to Pietro.

"Wanda!" Pietro huffed in exasperation. "The point of the game is to lie! You're supposed to get rid of all your cards by tricking everyone and catching people when they're lying."

"Oh." She rolled her eyes. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Pietro said, though he clearly was upset that he was probably going to lose the game now. "Do you want to play?"

"No," she shook her head. "I have things to do. By the way, Lance, I'm gonna borrow your car again."

Lance scowled over the top of his cards, but relented when he saw the threatening look on Wanda's face. "Well, okay. But don't make it all dusty again."

Wanda nodded agreeably, tried to smile at them all, and then she exited from the area, back to the kitchen, with not so much as a "goodbye." She was on a mission, a mission to destroy Magneto and start a new beginning. The only way she could ever begin to live normally was to get rid of the monster who had ruined her life. It would get rid of all that inner hurt that Magneto had caused her. She could start having healthy relationships with others, like Pietro and the rest of the boys in the Brotherhood, who obviously feared her to some extent. Maybe she could even somehow have a healthy relationship with John after all this, but that prospect seemed bleak, especially after all the things she had done to him. She wondered if he would never want anything to do with her ever again. She wouldn't blame him if that was the case. But... wouldn't that be sort of... sad? John was there for her, in this very odd way; wouldn't she miss him, even just a little?

...Of course not! Wanda shook her head to rid herself of that silly thought. She would certainly enjoy her freedom.

Once in her room, she bent down beside John on the floor, looking him up and down. Sighing, almost sadly, she carefully patted the side of his face. He was not going to be very happy with her when he woke up, and she knew it. But she had to wake him up; it was now or never. And he was still tied up, so it wasn't like he could try to get away with any success.

After setting the cereal box and the milk on the floor, making sure to be careful not to spill, she pulled him up by his shoulders, leaning him against the wall in a sitting position as she sat across from him. She made sure that he seemed relatively comfortable, and she put her hand to his forehead to wake him with a light pulse of energy.

"John," she said firmly, and his blue eyes popped open, as if he was startled, reflecting surprise and frustration at her.

"What?"

"I'm going to feed you really quickly," she told him, sticking her hand into the cereal box. "And then we'll go to that house you told me about. Open your mouth."

John frowned, rebelliously keeping his lips tightly pressed together. Having anticipated problems, especially after what she had done to him—or rather, not done—she gave him a little pinch on his upper arm.

"Hey—!"

Wanda silenced him by shoving a few little cheerios at his lips, and while he resentfully chewed, she took the opportunity eat some herself. Wanda watched him quietly for a moment. "I know you're mad at me," she said carefully.

"Huh."

"Well, you're just gonna have to deal with it," Wanda said, swallowing her portion. "Anyway, today you'll get to go home, after I get rid of Magneto. After here, we're going to start driving right over to that house."

"Fantastic," he said sarcastically. "I'm real excited."

Wanda stuck her hand back in the cereal box, glaring at him for his attitude. She snapped, "Don't be mad at me, just because you can't resist your own… physical desires!"

"Now, just wait a minute!" John exclaimed indignantly. "What you did was completely uncalled for! What'm I s'posed to—I couldn't help—what could I—" His mouth worked silently for a moment, as if he didn't know what he could say about this. "What's a bloke supposed to do when there's a sexy shiela on top of him, trying to touch him places?! You just took advantage of—you just—I can't believe…"

There was an awkward pause, and Wanda felt her face grow hot. She looked down at the cereal box to distract herself while she tried to make her face less pink. "You… you think I'm… I'm sexy?"

He shrugged, appearing slightly embarrassed. "That's not the point here," he mumbled.

Wanda pursed her lips, and quietly pressed some more cereal into his mouth. He silently accepted it, and she thoughtfully chewed on more cheerios as well, observing him and noticing his lack of eye contact.

"So…" John said slowly, visibly swallowing, half on the food, half in apprehension. "What would you do if Magneto wasn't there, at that house?"

Wanda gave him a look that would have made any of the other brotherhood boys instantly wet their pants. "Why do you ask that?" she asked menacingly. "Is there something I should know that you haven't told me?"

"No," John shook his head quickly. "I told you all that I know. And I'll probably hurt something fierce, once ole Magneto finds out. I meant, I wanted to know what you would do with me? "

Wanda sat back, inspecting his face curiously. "The bottom line is that I'm keeping you until I get him. That's all."

"Now, I ain't doubting you or anything, but what if you never get him?" he pressed. "What then? You'll just keep me here forever, no matter what?"

Wanda frowned at him. "Yes," she said flatly. "You're mine until I destroy Magneto."

John smiled to himself. "You must like me a lot, to want to keep me for so long."

Wanda felt her face get bright red. "No," she said sullenly. "You're my bait, and that's all. And it isn't going to be that much longer, anyway. You don't know what I can do."

John bit his lips to stifle the smile. "You kissed me," he pointed out. "Remember? I know you remember because you liked it."

"No, I didn't," Wanda gritted her teeth, extremely annoyed that he would even bring that up.

"Then, why've you been doing it so much?" he countered.

"You be quiet," she glared at him, feeling somewhat self-conscious. "I don't have to explain myself to you." She sighed moodily. "And anyway, I'm not the only one here that liked it! You know you liked it just as much as me. So, just shut up already."

John smirked, obediently remaining silent.

Wanda huffed angrily. She glanced at the full cup of milk that was sitting beside her on the floor. "Are you thirsty?" she demanded, still trying to sound fairly professional as she held up the cup to scrutinize it with distaste.

He shook his head. "Nope."

She scowled, feeling her aggravation increase. "But I don't like milk. You have to drink this."

John pressed his lips together again, shaking his head. "Well, I don't like it either."

"I don't care," Wanda growled dangerously. "You're drinking this whether you like it or not."

"You can't make me," he said defiantly.

Wanda felt her irritation increase again, this time perhaps a millimeter shy of going over the edge. "Oh, yes I can. Wanna bet?"

"Do it, then," he challenged.

"You know I'm not afraid to hurt you," Wanda warned, wishing he would just cooperate. If he just obeyed without question or protest, then things would be so much easier. They might be extra boring, but they would be easy. "So why are you being like this?"

"Because," he pouted and looked away from her. "It ain't nice to tease."

"Well, then maybe it ain't nice to withhold information," Wanda retorted, slightly mocking his accent. She was able to mimic him almost perfectly because of the amount of time she had spent with him.

John glowered at her. He stuck his tongue out and blew a loud, rude-sounding raspberry.

Wanda's anger flared up again, and she impulsively thrust the cup upwards, splashing the majority of the milk into his face. He gasped from the shock, as the cold liquid poured down his chin, flowing into his shirt and all over his lap.

"Wanda!" he exclaimed weakly, while she pressed the cup to his wet lips, tipping it and forcing him to drink the small remaining portion. He coughed, but she continued to tip it, and the final drops spilled onto his lap and eventually found the carpet. "What's your problem?" John demanded hoarsely as she impassively regarded the slow dripping of the milk off his chin. She had known that she was being very childish, and he was just fighting fire with fire. What else could she expect from him in his position?

"You spit at me," she said, leaning back and folding her arms across her chest.

"You made fun of me!" he protested.

Wanda scowled at him, thinking that perhaps she should apologize. She had never really experienced a person being angry with her, and she knew that if he said the wrong thing to her, she was definitely going to lash out at him, and if it was her fault that he was mad, then it would be like extra her fault, if she hurt him in anger. She sighed heavily, lifting her hand and attempting to dry his face a little bit. He continued to pout, and Wanda could practically feel the waves of resentment emanating from him, which were probably multiplied by the fact that she had just showered him with cold, potentially spoiling milk. In any case, it wasn't as if she had ceased what she had been doing to him for no reason. She hadn't wanted to hurt him; it was a seemingly odd reason considering that what she had been doing had little to do with pain. But Wanda knew herself quite well. "Look, I'm sorry that I started that at all, but by not finishing, I was trying to protect you," Wanda said, grabbing him by his shoulders for emphasis. "Can't you understand that?"

John looked down sulkily. "Protect me from what?"

Wanda blinked slowly, and hesitated. "From me." He thoughtfully gazed at her. "What if I got mad?" she continued. "If I hurt you like that… I don't know… I'd feel… pretty bad-- I mean, it wouldn't be fair to do that to you."

"I'd feel pretty bad too," he joked feebly. He tentatively met her gaze. "Truthfully, I never really wanted children, but… uh, well, I'm glad that you care, sort of."

"Maybe we should go now," Wanda said hastily, feeling her face blush a little bit as a result of her admissions. She didn't want him to know that she would feel bad! That was like telling him a deep, dark secret, her number one weakness: her own emotions.

"No, wait…" he complained. "Can't I… can't you let me alone for awhile? So I can shower or something?" Wanda gave him an ominous look. "Please?" he asked. "I feel rather disgusting, now that I've got this nasty milk seeping through my clothes and all."

She pressed her lips into a firm line. Noticing her reluctance, he added, "I don't know if I'm of much appeal to Magneto in this condition. He might see me and flee in terror."

Wanda gave a derisive snort. "Well, it'd be easier to get him if he was weakened like that." He groaned miserably, seeming downhearted. She got to her feet and planted her hands on her hips, looking down on him pensively, noticing the occasional weak drip of milk off of one of the pointed strands of his hair.

She sighed, remembering bathing at the institute. It was when two doctors came in once a month and injected her with a tranquilizer so she could not protest, sprayed her with a garden hose, and then gave her a relatively cleaner strait jacket. All the other prisoners got into a locker room together every other night to shower, supervised of course, by the doctors, but since she was in solitary confinement, things were different. Things were very different. And unfair.

And it wasn't as though she could just spray John with a hose. Well, she could, but it would be freezing at this time of year. And there was no room to do it around here anyway. But he was really quite dirty, still sprayed with mud and dirt from that little adventure to Elysian Fields, smudges of her blood on his neck from when she had tried to strangle him, and he was probably sort of sweaty and had the natural daily living dirt on him, as well.

And dammit, this was her responsibility. It had been her decision to kidnap him, so it was her job to take care of all the things he needed. She had brought this all on herself.

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

"You stay here," Wanda commanded, putting on her best menacing expression, so he wouldn't even think to disobey her instruction.

Not waiting for a response from him, she left her bedroom and proceeded to the bathroom. It was unoccupied, as the boys were still downstairs, playing their card games or whatever Pietro had made them do, now that he had probably failed to win that game. They would probably be down there all day, so it was clear to be up here with John. And it wasn't as if she would be doing anything wrong, anyway. She was actually doing something nice, it she went through with this. And all she had to do really was supervise him. It wouldn't be so bad to just watch a make sure that he didn't try any funny stuff. She could even close her eyes if she didn't want to see something. There was nothing to worry about at all, and it wouldn't take more than ten minutes.

-------------

The currently only working bathroom in the Brotherhood had beige-colored walls, and was not the cleanest place in the world. It especially was not the sort of place a person would want to sit in and wait for someone else to finish bathing.

But Wanda was just going to have to deal with that.

She led John into the bathroom, violently slammed the door shut to intimidate him a little, and dropped her hands on his wrists, taking his two hands into her own.

"Are you listening to me?" she asked, leaning over his shoulder, by his ear. He nodded agreeably, probably conscious to the fact that if he did anything to upset her right now, he wouldn't get this privilege at all. "Good," she said firmly, her hand putting a painful pressure on his wrist. "Now here's the deal: you will get to bathe yourself, all on your own. But I will be sitting on the toilet lid to keep an eye on you. And you will be sitting in the tub; you will not get to use the standing shower. It's because I can see through the shower curtain. And as much as I like y—I mean, I just don't want to see anything. Got it?"

John smirked, aware of what she had been about to say. "I got it," he said calmly.

"Just say one word," she threatened, "Just one little, tiny annoying word, and I will get over there and finish everything for you. And you won't like it if I have to do that. Do you get it?"

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed. Wanda glared at him, wondering if he was trying to be insolent or annoying to her somehow, but she finally untied him. He sighed with relief, and she turned on the faucet, knowing that he could probably figure this out on his own.

"There," she said flatly. "Now do this as fast as you can. We have other things to do."

"Alright."

Wanda sat down on the toilet lid and put her two hands over her eyes, to give him some illusion of privacy. He stared at her for a moment, probably very much aware that she was sort of peeking through her fingers. Then he shrugged to himself, and turned his back to her, lifting his shirt and beginning to divest himself of his clothes. Wanda watched in fascination through her fingers, and felt embarrassed when he glanced back at her over his shoulder, even though they hadn't made any eye contact.

John sat down in the tub and reached out to adjust the water's temperature, and Wanda removed her hands from her eyes. She folded her arms across her chest and tried relaxing a bit. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Maybe he would just bathe and there would be no problems or temptations or injury involved; maybe something would actually go as planned for once. Maybe.

She pursed her lips and allowed her eyes to drift over his shoulders and down his back, feeling that familiar pang of guilt at the sight of the reddish bruise on his lower back, and an even worse pang when he turned, and she could see the deep purplish one at the bottom of his ribs. They looked much worse than before, when she had been trying to fix him up. Well, at least she hadn't hit him any lower, or else she (and him as well) would have been feeling really terrible. No, he definitely looked fine, especially down his lower back…

Wanda cleared her throat. "Hurry up," she commanded, looking at the tiled floor to distract herself. This was bad. Bad, bad, bad. They had to leave before her eyes wandered again. She didn't want those crazy ideas or temptations. His lack of clothes was very intriguing, and she didn't want to reach out to him and make herself think that she liked touching him. Her thinking she liked being by him and touching him was obviously an illusion because she had never touched another person the way she did him, and she just wasn't used to the feeling. "We have to get going."

"I know," he said, rubbing a lather of soap into his arms. "I'm still a bit injured from what you did to me. And so it hurts to move, kind of."

"It'll hurt a lot worse, if you don't hurry," she warned, leaning back in her seat. She might have pressed him more if it weren't for the fact that all of his injuries had come from her. She chewed on her bottom lip, knowing there wasn't much she could do to him that wouldn't make her conscience ache afterwards, anyway. She hoped he wasn't aware of these little regrets she felt.

"Wanda… I was wondering," John said slowly, thoughtfully. "Do you honestly regret being locked up for all those years?"

She gritted her teeth, shooting him a look of pure, unadulterated murder. "Why do you want to know about that?" she asked, danger dripping from every syllable.

John shrugged, noticing her menacing tone. "I just wondered."

Wanda scowled, clenching her fists to suppress the rage she felt every time that place was mentioned. "Don't be stupid," she growled, clutching her dark red towel in her angry hands. "Of course I do. I could have had a childhood. I had nothing."

"But you wouldn't be the person you are today, if all that hadn't happened," John reminded, using his two hands to rinse off the soap. "Do you like who you are?"

Wanda gave him another frightening glare, folding her arms across her chest. "What are you, my psychologist?"

He laughed out loud. "No. I'm your bloody hostage, remember?"

Not understanding what he could find potentially amusing about the situation, Wanda got to her feet, ready to give him some sort of lecture. "People are afraid of me, John. Since I was seven, people have always been afraid of me, like my father. My own brother is scared of me. All the boys here are scared of me."

"I'm not scared of you," John told her.

"Really," Wanda said sarcastically. "Good for you. The point is that even the people at the asylum were afraid, and they made sure to lock me away. Everywhere I go, people are careful around me, like I have some sort of contagious disease, like I could explode at any moment. Everywhere. I don't want to be treated like that. I'm a person, too. Sometimes, I just want to be given a chance. But people always act like they need to be extra careful around me, so that's never gonna happen. You don't know what it's like. I could like who I am, I guess, if people didn't act like I was going to kill them at every turn. And they all think that stuff because of my time in the asylum. So, yeah, I regret it all. It made people fear me"

John smirked, appearing vaguely amused. "Well, Wanda, we both know you have a terrible temper, love."

Wanda blushed furiously, more at his word choice than the actual meaning behind them. "I do not," she insisted, planting one hand on her hip. She shook her scarlet towel in one hand. "Come on, it's time for you to get out. We have to go."

"But, Wanda…" John complained, cupping his hands over his lap to keep himself relatively decent as she approached. "I only just got in here."

"You're clean enough," she snapped, shaking the towel at him. "Come on."

"You're just sore 'cause I said you have a bad temper," John accused.

"John," Wanda gritted her teeth. "Get up now, or I will pull you up myself."

"Will you cover your eyes?" he asked reasonably.

"Why should I?" she demanded.

"Well…" John shrugged, his face pinkening slightly. "I ain't got a stitch on me. And… I'm a bloke, so… I'm quite different from you."

"I'm not four years old anymore, John," Wanda rolled her eyes in exasperation, feeling mildly embarrassed herself. "I know that little boys have penises and little girls have vaginas."

"Well, I'm glad you're educated," he said, still remaining where he was, sitting on his knees with his hands shielding his lap. He did not move a muscle, and Wanda found herself leering at him. There wasn't much to be left to the imagination from where she was standing. It occurred to her that she had him at possibly one of the vulnerable states that a person could be had at. Naked in a bathtub with a relatively unstable witch watching. She had the power here. And he was just so damned aesthetically pleasing.

Wanda scoffed in exasperation and exaggerated annoyance, but finally held out her towel and obligingly shut her eyes. She heard the soft swish of water as he stood and fought the strangely strong desire to peek at him as he took the towel from her. Once she was sure that he had wrapped it around himself, she popped her eyes back open.

"See, now that wasn't so bad," John said in a mock cheerful tone, and Wanda gave him another murderous glare. Of all the phrases in the world, that one was probably the one that she hated the most. Anytime those horrible doctors and guards had managed to find a way to get her to do something she didn't want to do, she heard that atrocious saying.

Of course, John had no way of knowing that.

Enraged and reminded of a specific bad aspect of the most terrible place she knew, Wanda reached back and struck him, the heel of her hand jarring his head back, shoving him backwards into the cold tiles of the bathroom wall and making him stagger.

"Oww!!" he cried, clutching his nose with his eyes squeezed tightly shut. "Ohh… bloody hell! What did I do to deserve that?"

Wanda shrugged, not wanting to tell him what phrase had made her angry, feeling that he would repeat it, just to irritate her. She was sure that she had been mean enough to deserve that from him.

"It was 'cause I brought up that place, wasn't it?" he asked, still holding his nose with both hands. "I was just trying to make conversation 'cause my folks wanted to send me to one of those places when I was a tyke. Is that such a crime? It can't have been all that bad."

She pursed her lips, watching him lean against the cool wall, obviously in some pain. "You don't know what it's like," she said angrily. "Everywhere you go, people running away, thinking you'll blow their heads off somehow, acting like you're a rabid animal. People who fear you for no reason. So they lock you up and treat you like less than a human. You don't know what it's like to sit in a cold room where you can't move your body, hungry or having to pee, or itchy and not able to scratch yourself—you can't do anything, and you have to wait until someone else comes to drug you up or take you to wherever you're going next. You have no idea the things I went through! So don't act like you understand me—no one understands me!"

"What are you going on about?!" John exclaimed, moving his hands away from his nose, which was bleeding freely and bright red at the tip. "I understand exactly what's going on! You've made me understand! You've done all that to me!"

Wanda planted her hands on her hips, watching the slow dripping of the blood down his face with some interest, her eyes drifting down his chest unconsciously. "I haven't treated you that badly."

"Okay, well let's think about this," he put his hand to his chin, feigning deep thought. "Let's think about all the fun things you've done to me. First, you kidnapped me in the middle of the night when I was in the middle of my writing; you took away my good clothes; you tied me up real tight; you tried to drown me with bottled water; you tried to poison me with cinnamon—which I am allergic to, by the way—you drugged me so I would sleep for a whole day; you beat the living daylights out of me; you won't quit hitting me here," he gingerly touched his rosy cheek, and winced. "You… misleadingly seduced me, and now you've covered me in milk. And now, you're accusing me of not understanding. I understand perfectly, Wanda. I think you're the one who isn't understanding."

Wanda pursed her lips, not wanting to respond to his accusations. "Dry yourself off," she instructed, refusing to acknowledge any of it.

"I know you heard me," John said, cautiously touching the tip of his nose. "Go on and ignore it. I know you'll think about it. You and I can relate to each other on this. So, we can move onto a different subject now."

"Does someone fear you?" she asked, tugging him out of the bathtub by his forearms, almost tripping him.

"But of course," he nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Little kids don't naturally want to burn things up and watch a fire blaze on and on. There was something in me that wasn't right, and people get scared of that." He smiled to himself. "I didn't exactly keep my love for fire a secret, though, so…"

"Is that why they wanted to send you to an asylum too?"

"Oh, yeah," John wiped the blood on his hand on the side of the red towel around his waist, where it would be invisible to the naked eye. "I always been a pyromaniac, ever since I was a wee little tyke. Even before I tried controlling it. People thought that was unnatural, and wanted to fix me. You know, my folks even called a priest to exorcise me once." He chuckled to himself. "Very religious people they were. Of course they didn't want their little son to be playing with the scary fire. I just don't know what their problem was." He paused thoughtfully. "They probably just didn't see the beauty."

"The beauty?" Wanda repeated skeptically.

"Of course," he nodded to himself. "The beauty of burning. There's just so much more to burning than meets the eye, and most people don't ever see it. They might think it's like, 'Hey, I'm feeling loony. I think I'll go off and burn some curtains.' It's so unlike that. It's not about just burning. I mean, you can watch the lovely little flames slowly eat up something that was solid a minute ago, and it can completely change forms and melt or something, all because of this beautiful, powerful fire. Fire can change everything, and you can feel the heat and see the shining little light while it does so! Fire will always keep you warm and dry, and it can frighten and destroy, but it can be so wonderful and hot and it's practically the key to all life on earth! Where would people be without something so precious?"

"I'm surprised you haven't gone through withdrawal yet," Wanda commented, placing her hand on his bare shoulder and picking at one of the band-aids still on his neck.

"Me too," John scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Fire was practically my whole life before you stole me away."

Wanda sat him on the closed toilet lid, and pulled a hand towel off of the little rack behind them. "Close your eyes," she told him, but before he could even consider obeying her, she had pinched his nose in the cloth, soaking up all the blood.

"OWW!!" he hollered, reaching up and placing his hand over top of hers on his face, to try and alleviate some of the pain. "Not so hard!"

"That got most of the blood," she remarked, pulling the towel away and leaning close to him to examine his face. He pouted, looking quite upset.

"Did you break my nose?" he asked.

"I don't think so," she said, gesturing for him to move closer. She lifted his chin with one hand, and then gently pressed on the bridge of his nose with her index finger. "Yeah, it's fine." She carefully pinched the tip of his nose, frowning slightly. "Has your nose always been this way? Pointed up like that?"

John's face grew pink. "Yes," he said defensively. "Why? What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing; it's ador—it's okay," Wanda shook her head, releasing his face and sitting back on her haunches. "It's not broken. Maybe it's bruised."

"Wonderful," John said sarcastically. "What am I going to wear?"

"I'll find you something," she said, pressing the bloody towel into his hand. "Use this to stop the blood flow."

He put the towel up to his nose, eyeing her warily. "How many more times do you intend on hurting me or beating me up?"

"How many more times do you intend on saying something stupid that might provoke me?" Wanda retorted, arching an eyebrow. She held out her hand, not listening for a response. "Come with me so we can get you clothes and get out of here."

John raised his eyebrows. "What, like just walk with you? You aren't gonna tie me up and drag me or throw me in your room?"

Wanda glared threateningly at him. "This offer expires in: three, tw—"

"Wait, I'm here," he said, reaching his arm out to her. She snatched his hand up and the two of them left the bathroom together, hand in hand.

------------

A/N: These chapters just get longer and longer…

Review, it helps me not suck as much!!