-A/N-: BLAH. This chapter was re-written like, twice before I was even satisfied with it.

---

"Still can't believe it," Rogue mumbled, hugging the pillow in her arms tight, her legs dangling listlessly over the side of the single bed. Her voice was tinted with just the smallest hint of her southern lilt.

John, who was sitting up against the wooden headboard on Pietro's empty bed and clicking his lighter open and shut thoughtlessly, looked up at the girl who was lying on his own bed and hugging his pillow as though it were her own. He didn't think Pietro would mind so much that he was using his bed. Well, he wasn't even there and John reasoned that—technically—as long as the kid was clueless, he was safe. The speedster seemed a tad unsound at the moment anyway and the both of them had no idea where he'd been since running out on all of them after the talk with Magneto.

"Still can't believe…?" he prompted, finally lighting the zippo with skilful ease and idly making the flames coil up into the air. Doing this was pointless, he knew. Reason being he already had his igniter strapped to his wrist. But this particular lighter was special, and he didn't expect anyone except Rogue to understand that.

"Everything," Rogue replied after awhile, "There's a mass mutant murdering group on the loose who wants to kill us all, Warren's father is dead, Magneto's here and he's staying in the mansion even though Mystique has reappeared two days ago." Rogue turned on her side to face John. "And what else? Oh yes, Pietro's dad happens to be Magneto, whom he hates… Along with you, apparently."

"I suppose the world has gone to the dogs," John conceded, his tower of flame dancing in mid-air like ever-changing fireworks. "But it's not like we can do anything about it." Of course, he knew that wasn't true. There's always something we can do. But if John were to tell the truth, he just didn't want to get involved with it all. Not like how he got involved the last time. Not anymore. For all he cared, the world could crash and burn and go to hell and he wouldn't give a damn. As long as Rogue was safe and with him, he had everything he needed.

He looked back at the girl on his bed, allowing the pillar of fire to curl back into the lighter. She seemed… silent. Forlorn. And just a tad vulnerable at the moment.

"So," he said lightly, voice neutral. "How's Warren. Is he… gonna' be okay?" And he didn't really know why he asked her about Warren of all people. He didn't even know the guy. And his dad definitely had a huge price on his head during Alcatraz… He had it coming, that guy, he told himself inwardly.

Rogue took a deep breath and exhaled before opening her mouth to answer. "He's gone," she said simply. "Flew off to organise the funeral."

"Oh."

They lapsed into unornamented silence once more, both sunken in thoughts of their own.

John wondered what it was like to have a father. One that cared for him. His parents did him the favour of leaving him to fend for himself at a young age. They more or less abandoned him. And maybe Pietro was right. Magneto was something like a father to him—a paternal presence in his life. Sort of… Well, he was the closest thing to a father figure he'd ever had, anyway.

And then something struck him as odd.

"Hey, Rogue?" he said abruptly, "Shouldn't you have known that Pietro was Magneto's kid? You have his memories, don't you?"

It was a logical question.

Rogue was frowning. "Well, it never really occurred to me…" She paused. "I knew he had a son, just… I suppose, like he said, he thought his children were dead and he just, well… he didn't forget about them I suppose—just maybe blocked the memories out or something." She looked somberly up at John. "He had a dark past, Magneto. I don't even understand half of it so I just try not to think about it half the time."

John looked hard at her, as though trying to read her. "Must be shit," he said finally, "to have people in your head like that."

"It is," she agreed with a smile that didn't quite mask her wry and emotionless voice. "I think Logan's the worse in there," she continued. "Like a caged beast, y'know? I have nightmares sometimes. His nightmares. Can't help but feel sorry for him." She hesitated thinking. "And now that he's lost Ms. Grey…" she gave a helpless shrug.

John nodded, not knowing how to reply to that. He thought of the said man with the knife-like claws. He didn't much about the Wolverine's past—hell, he knew nothing about him. But with the few conversations he had with the man who worshipped his cigars, John couldn't help but hold a less-than-grudging respect for him.

"He's a good guy, Logan."

"He is," Rogue agreed.

They were quiet once more. John realised that it wasn't often that Rogue spoke about the people in her head. It really must be shit, he surmised, taking back his earlier conviction of Rogue's yearning decision to take the Cure.

"Have you talked to them yet?" Rogue's gentle voice quite suddenly interrupted his thoughts with quiet reserve.

Them?

John didn't need to be a telepath to tell that she was referring to the other Brotherhood associates in the mansion. Magneto and Mystique. "I've been thinking about it," John muttered, going back to snapping the zippo open and shut once again. "But no, ever since they've reappeared in my life, I haven't had a single personal conversation with either of them."

And he wasn't sure he wanted one either.

"Maybe you should," Rogue suggested. "I'm sure they must be pretty lonely in a place like this. And since they're not exactly on friendly terms with each other, they must need someone to talk to, y'know, without starting a shouting match."

John contemplated the idea, and it wasn't the first time he did it that day. It was true that the both of them, Raven and Erik, had no one who would be particularly sociable towards them if approached. Especially not Logan. Definitely not Logan. John was the only one who could probably actually start a proper conversation with either of them. But he didn't know if they even wanted to be approached. Maybe they were comfortable enough on their own.

"Well?" Rogue encouraged. "I think you should, John."

Clink. Snap.

John gave a small smirk. "I wonder. When exactly did you stop calling me Pyro and start calling me John?"

Rogue gave him a quizzical look before smiling a small smile. "Since you came back, I suppose. You got so worked up when I called you Pyro, remember? At the bus stop?" She looked away, up at the ceiling.

He did remember. And John silently recalled the day and the place in which they had met again after so long. The awkward reunion.It seemed so long ago now. And at first he had been quite sure that it was by pure luck that they had been brought together—some mere accident. But when he had seen her from afar, sitting there in the fading light of sunset like some lost, misplaced, beautiful angel… he wondered if maybe it was more than just 'some mere accident'.

"I remember," John said slowly.

Rogue rolled onto her side and finally sat up, surveying the boy before her with interest. "So, which one are you?" she asked. "John or Pyro?"

He looked at her, almost amused, before giving her a reply. "A name's just a name. I'll go with anything you wanna' call me, Marie."

She jerked at John's use of her name.

"You don't mind if I called you that, right? Marie?"

She shook her head. "'Course not. In fact…" she toyed with the corner of John's pillow with a small twinkle in her eyes, "I'd like it if you did."

"Okay then. I'll be John, you'll be Marie."

"I thought you said I could call you whatever I wanted!"

John stared for a few seconds, and then smirked. "Right. You'll be Marie, I'll be whatever. As long as it's not Brotherhood Boy or anything stupid like that. Jubilee's gonna' pay for that one."

"Deal."

And they both looked at each other, eyes filled with suppressed mirth. Once upon a time, the both of them had exchanged such pointless and meaningless banter. That was before John disappeared, before Rogue and Bobby became an item and turned their trio of friendship into a two-sided triangle…

"Speaking of the Brotherhood," Rogue said, "You didn't answer my question."

John tilted his head to the side. "You really want me to go talk to them?"

She nodded. "I mean, it's not like I like them or anything. But I know how close you were to them both. And I know that Mystique still holds you in high esteem."

For a second, John blinked, wondering how she would know such a thing. And then he remembered that she had touched Mystique a few days ago, quite by accident—his stupid fault actually—thus revealing Risty's true form.

"How's it like?" he asked her quietly, "Having Mystique's memories in there? Must've messed up your head pretty bad."

Rogue shrugged. "Only flashes of her more recent memories, nothing more. I didn't hang on to her long enough to really steal much."

John nodded, satisfied. "Well, as long as you're okay." He paused, thinking. "I suppose I could go talk to them… for old time's sake."

"It's nice to see that you don't think of Magneto as your almighty leader anymore."

"Nah. He's more of a friend now I guess. Well, no, friend doesn't quite cut it. I don't really see myself going up to him and saying 'yo, Mags! How's it hangin', dude?' Nope. I think he's more of an acquaintance." He nodded to himself almost animatedly, "Yep. Acquaintance sounds about right."

Rogue grinned and threw the pillow across the room at the unsuspecting John.

"Hey!" John dropped his lighter and deftly caught the pillow, nearly falling off Pietro's bed in doing so.

"Oops. Accident," Rogue said innocently, or as innocently as she could because seconds later, John's pillow came hurtling past her, nearly missing her head. She spared no time for gloating about his bad aiming and made a move to scramble off the bed to grab the pillow off the ground.

But John saw this coming and flew off Pietro's bed and at Rogue. She gave a muffled shriek of surprise that came somewhere between a giggle and a squeal as she felt John's arms encircle her in a bear hug and flip her around on her back to look up at him.

"My pillow won't stand to be treated that way, you hear?" John said firmly with a smirk, pinning both her flailing arms down onto the mattress by her wrists, careful not to touch her skin but the smooth fabric of her gloves.

"You were the one who chucked it on the floor!" Rogue argued, laughing quite nervously now, deeply aware of how close they were.

John didn't reply and tried his hardest to look menacing, but failed terribly when a glint of amusement threatened to take over.

"Okay, okay. I give up!" Rogue exclaimed, surrendering to her captor at last.

"Good."

And without warning, he swooped down to kiss her on the mouth, capturing her beautiful, pale lips with his in one swift motion.

Rogue's eyes widened in deep surprise for just that split second and John felt her body freeze under him, still and limp and almost terrified. He wished there was some way to make understand that he didn't want her to worry so much about killing him. Some way…

And just when he was so sure that she was about to pull away from him in protest, she started to kiss back, softly but surely, and then very soon with heated passion. Maybe, maybe she was reading his thoughts, absorbing his emotions, right at that very moment. He felt her heart speed up rapidly in sync with his own, and her lips tasted like fire. Sweet, sweet fire.

That was when he realised that her body temperature was climbing and that he was weakening increasingly by the millisecond. And Rogue seemed to have noticed this as well, because she broke the kiss hastily moments after, in an unsteady daze.

John was breathing heavily as he dropped in beside Rogue on the bed. The kiss didn't last as long as the previous one they'd shared, although he sure as hell wished it'd been longer.

"Are you… okay?" Rogue asked, breathlessly.

John looked at her, his heart feeling like it had accelerated a hundredfold in the mere seconds that they'd kissed. "Never been better," he replied, grinning feebly. And it was true.

Rogue looked at him dubiously, as though unsure whether or not he was lying. "What if I kill you one day?" she muttered.

"It'd be worth it," he assured her.

"Mmm…" Rogue thought to herself for a moment. And then, she dragged herself up to a sitting position. "I feel like fire," she told John openly, looking down at her gloved hands. "It's like… there's something burning inside," she said, seemingly not knowing how to explain it right.

John couldn't help but laugh. "I feel it all the time. It's like there's a fire burning right here, huh?" He reached out and placed his palm over where Rogue's heart would be for a short moment.

Rogue flushed momentarily. "I feel all Johnny-like now," she said, making a face.

"You mean like all hot and awesome?"

"I mean like all rebellious and reckless and impulsive."

John raised an eyebrow. "Damn. You can actually feel that way?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Uh-huh." John felt his strength returning. He looked around the room for his lighter for a few seconds before he finally spotted it lying on Pietro's bed. "I just remembered something." He got up and retrieved the metallic zippo and then returned and plopped down next to Rogue once more. "It's yours again," he said, grabbing one of her gloved hands and placing it in her palm. "Figured you'd want your birthday present back, now that Storm's given me my igniter back."

Rogue was startled. "Umm, you sure?"

"It's yours," he replied—a firm declaration.

Rogue looked from the lighter to John and to the lighter once more, her fingers curling around the cool metallic object. "Thanks… Again."

"Any time, Marie."

---

-A/N-: Now, wasn't this chapter just full of sweet Ryro-ness?

I went back to reread chapter 1 while doing this chapter and I got really emotional too. Gah.

Obiwanfan: OMG. Asdfkjwewjk. GAH! I can't believe I forgot about your review last chapter! I feel so uber-bad now! I'm sorry! Awww… and despite me not mentioning you, you still reviewed! Here's a bag load of home-baked cookies as an apology. Er… Pyro made them for you!

we-r-the-cure: Firefly is awesome. I only JUST became a fan. Because I only JUST found out about it. Then I got all obsessed. Hmm… everyone seems to be feeling bad for poor Pietro now. Haha.

PsYcHoThErApY17: Told you I promised some Ryro in this chapter! I TOLD YOU! HAH!

Calm Serene: I was way ahead of that, actually—about Logan being able to smell Mystique while in Risty-form because of his heightened senses. Well, yeah, I kinda' thought about it for awhile before actually putting Risty in the story. If you remember in X2, during the campsite scene, Wolvie wasn't able to tell straightaway that it was Mystique who stepped into his tent and not Jean Grey, until he felt the scars on her back that he inflicted in X1. Also, Risty and Logan never really got close enough to each other in the mansion for him to smell her. There's reason enough. :)

tHe TrUtH aBoUt RoSeS: I'm glad you don't find my characters OOC. I don't really like it when fanfic writers change the character's personalities as well. They rarely pull it off.

Thank you yaba, storytellergirl, zshp1411, Dama Jade, xLiLix, Cestari aaaand Jamie for the reviews! Till next time!