Authors note: Awwww...poor John! I felt so bad writing that chapter! Anyway...we go into John's head in this chapter – god help us – and I hope I've done that poor little head justice. Enjoy!

Chapter Thirteen: Second Chance

P.O.V: Logan / Wolverine

It was getting late. Most of the kids were safely tucked up in their beds – so therefore I presumed it safe to head for the kitchen and snare a bottle of beer from the back of the high cupboard I had stashed them in. I had contemplated asking Storm for the combination to that little fridge in the professor's office, but kept forgetting. Until I wanted beer again. Then I remembered...

"Hey Logan."

I snapped my head up to find Bobby sitting at the island in the kitchen tucking in to a large tub of ice cream. Crap – is he not cold enough?

"Hey kid," I retrieved one of my beers and handed it to the boy to be chilled. He did so with no remark, but the Iceman looked troubled. What had the pyromaniac done now? "So, how was he?"

Bobby looked at me blankly.

"Who?"

"John."

Bobby raised an eyebrow.

"I haven't seen John since he woke up," the ice mutant bowed his head slightly.

"But..." a knot tightened in my stomach as my mind ticked over. "My mistake. Catch you later kid."

I dumped the beer on the island and ran out the kitchen, heading for downstairs. Halfway down the corridor I bumped into Storm.

"Bobby didn't see John today," I explained with a pointed look, grabbing her arm and pulling her in the direction I was heading.

"But..." the shrill sound of the fire alarm cut into the otherwise silent mansion. "Mystique!"

"Pyro."

We raced down to the medical lab to see what was left of the security door blasted against the far wall.

"John!" Storm called out desperately, coughing as think smoke billowed out of the room the pyromaniac was supposed to be in. Taking a deep breath we headed in. Everything in the room was ablaze – intense, hot, red flames licking at every surface and object. In the middle of the room, John sat on the medical table, surrounded by what looked like a seat of fire. Fresh flames shot out from the metal contraption he had strapped to his wrist, his arm held up by his side, hand pointing towards the ceiling. He stared at us intensely, more fire burning in his eyes. My claws flicked out instinctively, but Storm held a hand up to hold me back. After just a short time, John closed his hand around the fresh fire, cutting off the supply. Slowly, the flames around the room died down, eventually fizzling out into smouldering clouds of smoke. My claws retracted slowly.

"I left because I was fed up of all that love thy neighbour bullshit the professor preached," John's head bowed as he broke his stare, speaking quietly but clearly. "I don't see why we should go out of our way to look out for the humans when they treat us like shit. They're narrow minded, conceited and they think they're so fucking powerful. Rulers of the earth and all that bull. But I'm not into the whole mutant superiority thing either. Mutants can be just as fucking narrow minded," John snorted angrily. "Really we're no better than them.

"I left because I was fed up of being told what to do all the time. I was fed up of getting the blame for everything. I was fed up of being controlled. Fire is natural, it cannot be controlled and neither can I. I also left for some...personal...reasons I don't want to go into," John sighed heavily and glanced up at Storm briefly before bowing his head again. "Although I'm bloody sure you've already figured it out.

"I left with Magneto because it was easier than actually just walking out. I couldn't just leave here, I had to leave for something – have somewhere to go. Magneto offered me that way out. I had somewhere to sleep and could burn whatever the fuck I wanted. Besides, you know me. Being the bad guy's so much more fun than being a good guy," he smirked, but did not look up. "I stand by everything we did. Maybe we were a little heavy handed, but that cure had to go," his voice became darker. "I would rather be dead than cured. They had no right to try and cure us. I am fed up of being told I have a fucking disease," some of the smoulders around the room reignited briefly before dying down again. "They really started it when they used it as a weapon. I stand by blowing up that clinic, although I probably should have done it when it was emptier, I was...eh..." his voice grew quieter again. "I was just pissed off at that particular moment. But I don't really regret anything I did. It was kill, or be killed," John shrugged absently. "I chose to kill. I'm not proud of it and if it helps, I frequently have nightmares of people screaming in burning buildings. I smell their flesh cooking, it's not pleasant.

"Like I say, maybe we were a bit heavy handed. I know that really most of you guys probably felt the same way as we did about the cure. You all just decided to let diplomacy take its course. I don't believe in diplomacy. Then again, brute force didn't work either, did it?" he shook his head. "There was six of you and hundreds of us! Is that not just the classic example of good beating all the odds and kicking the bad guy's ass?" again John smirked. "So violence isn't the answer. Killing indiscriminately and giving yourself nightmares isn't the answer," a short silence fell over the room. "Maybe it's time to try playing nice.

"I can't go back on the streets; I'll get myself killed," under his breath; "Not that anyone would miss me," his voice raised again. "My body can't handle it anymore. I'm too tired and I'm fed up of being alone. I have no where to go but here or the Brotherhood," another short silence before John shook his head. "I can't go back there. As much as I loved the freedom to use my powers, I wasn't really free. I was just another weapon. A walking explosive device with a nice short fuse. It was just that, instead of the professor's moral high ground I got Magneto's. I was still under someone's control – still just following orders.

"I don't know that I belong here either, but...damn it," John let out a strangled laugh. "This is the closest thing I have had to a proper home. I'm not saying I'll stay but I can't leave yet. I don't care if I have to spend the next year, locked in this fucking room with just you two and the furball for company. I need time to get back on my feet. I need to be here," he looked up at Storm with wide, honest and hopeful eyes. Pulling the metal contraption off his wrist, he threw it at me. I caught it and held it tight. "If you're still willing to give me that second, second chance?"

The smile on Storm's face said she was.

Oh crap, what were we letting ourselves in for?