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Chapter 35

Molly-Grace watched as the fire crackled in front of her. She still couldn't believe that she was in the Brotherhood camp, unwillingly might she add. She glared the boy across the fire from her. He glared right back at her. She couldn't believe that he could have changed so much in only a matter of weeks. She couldn't even recognize him any more. It was like he wasn't John anymore. He was Pyro. He wasn't her crab anymore. She didn't think that he ever would be again. "You've got us wrong, you know." A voice spoke to her from her left, breaking her from her thoughts. She looked up to her left, finding out that the voice belonged to a man. He didn't seem that much older than her, maybe a year or two older, three at the most. His hair was shoulder length and scruffy looking.

Molly-Grace gave the man a questioning look, wanting to know how she was 'getting them wrong' as he had put it. The guy sighed, knowing that this girl wasn't going to believe him until he proved to her that he was right."You mean you don't want to hurt innocent people because you guys are pissed off cause of the stupid cure? Could have fooled me." She snapped at him, glancing over at Pyro again. He was staring right back at her. He was interested in what the hell anyone at the brotherhood could possibly want to talk to her about. She knew that he thought that she might belong here after awhile, she could see it in his eyes every time they locked eyes.

He was testing her, seeing if she fit in better with these people than she did with the X-men. She wasn't going to play his stupid games this time around though. She was done. "Look, I don't know what your professors told you, but we all ain't that bad." The boy said to her, trying to get her to see everything in a new point of view. Word had gone around camp saying that one of Xavier's students was here at the camp. His guess was that it's this girl. She seemed the most unwilling and hostile toward everyone.

Molly-Grace gave him a look, telling him to either hurry the hell up and spit it up or just leave her be. The boy ran his hand through his hair nervously. He wasn't one to usually come up and try to get someone to see how he saw things, but he didn't like knowing that someone hated what he was standing up for because they were mistold. "No, you look, bub. I don't know about you, but blowing up a building and killing hundreds of people because they don't want their mutation anymore? That's bad. You look like a decent guy . . ." She trailed off, not knowing this guy's name.

"Lance. Lance Alvers."

"Right." She said, not knowing if she actually cared that she knew his name now or not. "Like I was saying, Lance. You look like a decent guy and all, but what you and the rest of the brotherhood are doing? It isn't right." Molly-Grace said, trying to stay calm while she talked to this boy.

The very idea of Rogue being in the building that John had blown up? That scared the hell out of her. If she had lost her best friend, her sister, because of that man? She'd never forgive him. Never. "Isn't right? Fighting for our rights isn't right? I'll tell you what isn't right." He paused. He now had her attention though, and he knew that. "What isn't right is people thinking that they're better than us just because we're different. So a few people get hurt in the process, it gets us where we're going. That's how life is, girly. You don't like it? Just deal with it." Lance told her, telling her how it is in his eyes.

Molly-Grace thought of everyone that she knew personally that she had lost because of their cause. The professor. Scott. Jean. That's one too many people. She got up from her seat, ready to just go back to John's tent already. "Haven't enough people been hurt because of our 'cause'?" She asked him before she turned and started back toward John's tent.

She knew that he would be walking in step with her at any minute, but right now? At this very moment? She savored her few seconds of peace, only her said few seconds were cut short. "You think I don't know that? You're not the only one who's lost someone because of this fight. We've all lost someone, something we loved, at some point." She stayed put as he paused again. "But wouldn't you want their death not to be for nothing? Have them know that they died for something important? Our freedom?" She heard Lance shout out to her. She stood frozen in her tracks still. She hadn't thought of it like that before. So maybe she did see the Brotherhood in a new light tonight, but it didn't change where she stood. Killing people to get where they want to get isn't right. She felt John's presence behind her and knew that it was a sign for her to get walking. So that's what she did.

Sierra laid on Pietro's cot, holding her hand under her baby belly. She had tear stained cheeks from all of her crying. She was still handcuffed to the cot. He only let her walk around the tent when she had to pee, which was a lot lately. He wasn't around much during the day, maybe because he had to keep up appearance to show that nothing was going on. He had made it clear that if she were to scream nothing but trouble would come in the tent to see what all the yelling was about. If only she knew that he meant trouble for him and not her.

She couldn't find it in her to sleep last night, not even for a second. She was scared. Not for herself, but for her child. She wanted her baby to see the light of day, even if she couldn't see it with them. The only thing that was keeping her from doing something stupid was the fact that she wanted her baby to live life, a better life than what she got. She closed her eyes together tightly, trying not to remember what she had gone through, but she would never be able to forget. She had scars, and she knew that they would never heal.

' A middle age man dragged a young Sierra down the hall way toward an open bedroom door. "Nooo! Please stop it!" She screamed out as her father tossed her across the room, swinging her by her hair. She screamed out in pain as she hit the floor. Her father just laughed though, watching as her little body tried to crawl away from him.

He moved closer to her, smirking down at her sobbing frame. It was one of the rare nights that John had been out grocery shopping and their father came home, drunk, and would came after her with all he had. "Ya should have thought twice 'bout what ya said to me then, little girl." He dad growled at her, a slur in his speech. She whimpered out, trying to hide her seven year old body away from her father. He just laughed at her attempts to 'hide' from him.

Her eyes widened when she saw him start to reach for her. She let out a scream, praying to god that John would just come home already and save her. He had always been her hero. She looked up to her him. He could do no wrong in her eyes."Get the hell away from her!" John yelled as he paused at the door. He had heard his sister's scream from the moment he stepped foot on the front porch. He was only 13, but he didn't care. He wouldn't let his father hurt his baby sister.

Their father just laughed in his face, taunting him to do something. He could hear Sierra sobbing somewhere in the room. "What the fuck are ya goin' ta do 'bout it, kid?" Their father laughed at him. John's fists tightened upon seeing the man in front of him pull her up from her hiding place, his hand holding a chunk of her hair in it. She cried out in pain, she cried out to him. "Well?" His father asked him.

John turned white upon watching their father throw Sierra's little body across the room, throwing her into the book shelf. He snapped when he saw the shelf fall on her, the sound of her screams of pain hitting his ears. "You fucker!" He yelled out as he rammed into his father, tackling him to the ground. He sent punch after punch, his fist colliding with his father's face repeatingly. He didn't notice his surrounding at all. All he saw was red. His anger was now controlling him. He missed to notice the candle that he had bought Sierra week ago for her birthday, the one he had told her that if she had the flame going that it would help her think of him when he's not around. The flame was growing every second his fist met skin. He also missed to notice that Sierra was knocked out cold when the shelf had fallen on her.'

A whimper left her lips, the fuzzy memory still haunting her to this day. "Sierra?" She felt a hand shaking her roughly. She bolted up into a sitting position, hitting at the hands that were trying to get a hold on her. She cried as the hands grabbed at her. She kicked, trying to get away from them. "Sierra! Sierra, calm the hell down!" A voice yelled at her.

It sounded familiar, but she couldn't help but feel like she was seven years old again and her father was trying to beat her. The hands had gotten a grip on her arms, holding onto her tightly as she struggled to get away. "Don't hit me! I didn't mean it! Please, just get away from me, daddy!" She cried out as her struggling started to weakened. She was getting tired. She hadn't even noticed that she had been un cuffed. She refused to open her eyes, not wanting to see her father's smug face staring back at her. "Please!" She let out one final plead before she was pulled closer to the man's body.

She heard the voice trying to calm her down, telling her comforting words to try and calm her down. She wished that it was John holding her. She just wanted her brother back. "It's alright, Sierra. I've got you. I won't let anyone hurt you." The voice whispered to her, holding her in his arms. She just broke down and started crying her eyes out.

He pulled her closer to him, so close that she was practically sitting on his lap. She held onto the man's shirt as he held her in his embrace, rocking her back and forth. "I need John." She cried into the man's shirt. She kept mumbling those three words over and over again. The man sighed as he smoothed her hair back. She felt a pair of lips kiss the top of her head. She let a gasp leave her lips from the touch. How many times had John comforted her like this when they were younger? She opened her eyes slowly as she lifted her head up to see who was holding her. She couldn't help but let another gasp leave her lips.

Pietro.