Title: Friendship's Sacrifice

By: X

x0832001@yahoo.com

Rated: PG

Disclaimer: I own nothing; I am getting no money, see-no reason to sue

Summary:  Marie cleans John's belongings out of his room, and finds something she didn't expect.

Marie was cleaning out John's side of the bedroom he'd formerly shared with Bobby.  It had been nearly a month and Bobby hadn't moved one single object.  The bed was still unmade; a Metallica CD still perched on the little table beside his bed, and the most amazing of all, on the floor by the foot of the bed, a Physics book lay open with a pencil and a sheet of loose leaf containing equations, figures, and other elements of a partially completed homework assignment.  It was a shrine to the departed pyrokinetic. 

That morning at breakfast, after all but Marie and Bobby had cleared out; the professor had decreed that the room should be cleared so another student could take the bed.  Marie had assumed the nudge would make Bobby suck up the feelings of betrayal, sadness, and loss and he would clear out the stuff.  But instead as soon as the professor left the kitchen Bobby had turned to her and begged her to do it for him.

"He was my best friend Rogue, I can't just clear out all his stuff like he's dead." 

            "Bobby, he left us.  It's OK to throw out his old magazines and match books."  Bobby sighed.

            "I know it's stupid" Bobby explained, rolling his eyes at himself.

            Rogue smiled.  "It's Ok, you guys were friends.  He was my friend too.  I'll take care of it."

"Thanks so much Marie."  He paused, mulling over an idea he'd had.  "One thing, can we can give the T-shirts and stuff to that thrift store in town?  It kinda seems right since he brought them there."

"Now who's acting like he's dead?" she giggled.  "Sure, I'll pack them up and someone can drop them off."

"You're the best Marie"

So that's why Marie was alone in the boys' room, cardboard box at her feet, folding up a wardrobe that was 90% T-shirts and jeans dropping them in the box.  She picked up the last one, folded it and dropped it in the box.  Smiling to herself she stood up and surveyed the now empty closet.  It was a job well done.  Marie was about to head over to the drawers and empty them when she noticed something in the back on the top shelf. It was little and white and pushed so far back she had to stand on tip toes and streach to recover it.  Examining the article in her she found it was a written on folded up piece of paper. 

The hand writing was clearly John's.  Rogue would recognize it anywhere.  Bobby had chicken scratch that resembled Chinese characters but John had neat straight penmanship. What the writing said made her sink to her knees.  John had let Bobby have her.  The creased piece of paper in her hands was a love letter, dated just a few days after the Liberty Island incident.  She'd always thought John was hot, a terrible pun considering who Pyro was.  Bobby was attractive, there was no denying that, handsome in that adorable, clean cut kind of way.  But John was rougher, had a bad boy rebellious way about him and was striking with his scruffiness.  Marie couldn't help but notice; she had been notoriously attracted to the dangerous.  Just consider the little crush she'd had on Logan, the ultimate bad boy.

But, aside from the fire ball that first day, and the usual flirting John hadn't shown signs that he wanted her.  He never asked her out.  She'd wanted him to, flirted back to the best of her ability, but he hadn't taken her up on her proposals.  Of course she hadn't blamed him; she was the untouchable after all.  It wasn't too long after Liberty Island that Bobby had asked her out.  Figuring he was cute and interested she'd agreed, put out the torch she'd been carrying for his best friend and they went to a movie.  After she took up with Bobby John was a flirty third wheel, he made jokes, but it was never serious. They were just having fun.   Now she held a letter that said otherwise. 

She said John let Bobby have her because if he had given her this note when he wrote it she would have been putty in his hands.  Heck, if he was here right now she'd be putty.  It was beautiful.  The way he described things, the feelings he was able to bring up in Marie with only his words, it was amazing. 

Dear Marie,

            I am cursing my own weakness because my hand refuses to stop it's trembling as I write this.  When it comes to feelings, particularly the rainbow of those evoked by you, my spoken words always fail me.  That is why I must write this down.  My fear of your rejection is why I must cower behind this paper and pen.  But, I will use this slim blue Paper mate as my weapon, my saber to slice through the insecurities that surround and press against me as I try to express how you make me feel. 

I haven't much experience with happiness and love. They're luxuries I haven't been granted often.   But you supply happiness in excess.  What I feel right now when I look at you may be love, I wonder if it is.   It seems far to cliché to say I have loved you from first sight.  It seems to cheapen the wonder and uniqueness of what I feel. 

You are an utterly amazing individual Marie, completely beautiful.  The grace with which you move enthralls me.  Your velvety brown eyes hold a fire that I know I will never be able to control.  There is the flawless perfection of that creamy white skin that so frustrates you and fills you with fear and pain.  To see that ache in you causes one within me.

I remain awed by your strength Marie, it is your most amazing characteristic and it draws me to you more than your magnetic smile, your beautiful face or any of your other enchanting features.  Your mutation acts as a heavy burden but you shoulder it.  You were able to make your way on your own, a trial I know myself.  All the obstacles you face, you refuse to let beat you.  Your soft kindness reveals you have not been defeated by the hardships, that you are strong enough to make them a part of you. 

Marie, I want you; just as you are.  You make me feel special; I really didn't think it was possible for that to happen.  But, as my trembling hand finishes this letter I am forced to ask for a response.  I am forced to ask if you could ever feel for me what I feel for you.  While I know your rejection will rip my heart from my chest, I've known pain before.  I don't want your piety; I want you to be true to yourself because your true self is what I revere.

                                                                                    John

Rogue just sat in the empty closet, looking at the paper in his hands.  She knew why he hadn't given her the letter.  He hadn't wanted to hurt Bobby. They'd been friends since Bobby had arrived at the school.  Rogue took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  It must have been horrible for him to see her with Bobby.  She got to her feet, head spinning with the new information.  It colored all she thought she knew about John Allerdyce. 

She thought about all the time they'd spent together as she emptied out his drawers.  She barely looked at what she was pulling out of the drawer and dropping in the box.  When she was done the box and the clothes box contained all evidence that John Allerdyce ever had been at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.  "Well," she thought as she carried the boxes out to the garage. "Not all evidence."  In her pocket was the letter written by a gifted youngster who'd made one serious sacrifice for friendship. 

The End