Queen of Random: Well, here's another chapter of 'Trial by Fire', the least
popular of all my X-Men: Evolution fics. Sigh. But, lucky for you, there
are enough people out there reviewing this story so that I know that there
are people out there actually reading this. I'd also just like to apologise
in advance for the. . . mushiness (that's what a friend has deemed it). . .
of this chapter. It's just that I have been reading the whole 'Night World'
series of books by L.J. Smith, and that has sort of been rubbing off on me
and my writing style. I'd also like to apologise for the fact that this
chapter is so short, but it felt right to end it where it does. And sorry
if this one takes so long to update, as this one is the most difficult to
write, as I want to make it as good as possible, so it takes me a while
before it gets up to my standards. So, sorry.
As per usual, I do not own anything. Not X-Men: Evolution, nor the 'Night World' series of books, or anything else.
Trial by Fire
Chapter Five: Feeding the Flames
Amara ran almost all the way to the Institute, and even when she passed through the gates she still did not relax. What had she been thinking? Why had she wanted to do that?
The answer seemed to scream itself at her.
You have a connection - you can't deny it.
But I don't want a connection, she almost spat back at the voice.
Try telling that to John. He won't give up, you know.
Amara had to swallow the scream that was building up inside of her. She did not want this. She did not want it at all. And yet. . . a part of her wanted it so desperately, it scared her.
But why her? Why John?
The voice had nothing to say about that.
*
John was angry.
Not with her - he could never be angry with her - but with himself.
He had been so close, and he had let her slip through his fingers.
But the thought of that face. . . those gentle eyes. . . and the fire hidden inside that innocent form seemed to burn through the anger he felt, leaving him vulnerable. He felt like he was open to an attack. Even though he knew what he wanted, he did not know why he wanted it. It was like she had woven a spell around him, bewitching his senses, and controlling his mind, so he could only think of one thing.
The thought of her, Amara, was consuming him like a blaze, destroying him by burning him from the inside out.
Starting with his heart.
Yes, he realised it now. It was more than just a feeling of having something in common, it was a link that bound the two of them together, a bond that could not be broken, now that it had been forged. No one would - or could - tear the two apart, now that they had found each other.
They just had to be reunited, and then John would explain everything to the angel made of fire.
His need for Amara was bordering on obsession now.
But he brushed that concern away, as he needed to feed the flames that burned inside him and his heart.
And he needed Amara for that.
*
Amara did not want to talk to anyone at the Institute. She just wanted to be left alone, to sort through these emotions that were churning inside of her by herself.
No one there would have understood what she was feeling, anyway.
The sight of Jean and Scott together on her way to her room caused a pang in Amara's heart.
It was then that she realised what she wanted, what she needed.
It was John.
But why? she asked herself silently. Why did it have to be him? I didn't ask for this?
She did not know - or understand - that fate often played games with people, the same way a goddess would trifle with peoples' hearts, making them fall in love with people that were completely wrong for them in every way - from different social classes, different personalities, different religions, anything.
She could even make you fall in love with your greatest enemy.
And once you were caught in her spell, and looking into the chosen person's eyes, and you were in their arms. . .
There was no escape. You were doomed.
You were in love. A love so deep and so strong that no one could overcome it. A love that could forge alliances, break bonds. . .
And even destroy lives.
For if you tried to escape from this love - even though you knew from the beginning it would be impossible - you would never feel exactly the same again. You would feel empty, incomplete, as if a part of you was missing.
For that would be true. The other person was your other half, the one who completed you.
The other half of your soul. . . if you found them.
If you were that lucky.
For the chances of actually finding that one person you were meant to be with. . . it was almost impossible, just a dream that poets and writers conjure up to add to the thrill and excitement of their words.
The concept of this cascaded over Amara like waves, and she was being pushed under by it, drowning with a realisation.
It was John.
John was the one.
And at the very moment that she realised that, her heart broke in two.
As per usual, I do not own anything. Not X-Men: Evolution, nor the 'Night World' series of books, or anything else.
Trial by Fire
Chapter Five: Feeding the Flames
Amara ran almost all the way to the Institute, and even when she passed through the gates she still did not relax. What had she been thinking? Why had she wanted to do that?
The answer seemed to scream itself at her.
You have a connection - you can't deny it.
But I don't want a connection, she almost spat back at the voice.
Try telling that to John. He won't give up, you know.
Amara had to swallow the scream that was building up inside of her. She did not want this. She did not want it at all. And yet. . . a part of her wanted it so desperately, it scared her.
But why her? Why John?
The voice had nothing to say about that.
*
John was angry.
Not with her - he could never be angry with her - but with himself.
He had been so close, and he had let her slip through his fingers.
But the thought of that face. . . those gentle eyes. . . and the fire hidden inside that innocent form seemed to burn through the anger he felt, leaving him vulnerable. He felt like he was open to an attack. Even though he knew what he wanted, he did not know why he wanted it. It was like she had woven a spell around him, bewitching his senses, and controlling his mind, so he could only think of one thing.
The thought of her, Amara, was consuming him like a blaze, destroying him by burning him from the inside out.
Starting with his heart.
Yes, he realised it now. It was more than just a feeling of having something in common, it was a link that bound the two of them together, a bond that could not be broken, now that it had been forged. No one would - or could - tear the two apart, now that they had found each other.
They just had to be reunited, and then John would explain everything to the angel made of fire.
His need for Amara was bordering on obsession now.
But he brushed that concern away, as he needed to feed the flames that burned inside him and his heart.
And he needed Amara for that.
*
Amara did not want to talk to anyone at the Institute. She just wanted to be left alone, to sort through these emotions that were churning inside of her by herself.
No one there would have understood what she was feeling, anyway.
The sight of Jean and Scott together on her way to her room caused a pang in Amara's heart.
It was then that she realised what she wanted, what she needed.
It was John.
But why? she asked herself silently. Why did it have to be him? I didn't ask for this?
She did not know - or understand - that fate often played games with people, the same way a goddess would trifle with peoples' hearts, making them fall in love with people that were completely wrong for them in every way - from different social classes, different personalities, different religions, anything.
She could even make you fall in love with your greatest enemy.
And once you were caught in her spell, and looking into the chosen person's eyes, and you were in their arms. . .
There was no escape. You were doomed.
You were in love. A love so deep and so strong that no one could overcome it. A love that could forge alliances, break bonds. . .
And even destroy lives.
For if you tried to escape from this love - even though you knew from the beginning it would be impossible - you would never feel exactly the same again. You would feel empty, incomplete, as if a part of you was missing.
For that would be true. The other person was your other half, the one who completed you.
The other half of your soul. . . if you found them.
If you were that lucky.
For the chances of actually finding that one person you were meant to be with. . . it was almost impossible, just a dream that poets and writers conjure up to add to the thrill and excitement of their words.
The concept of this cascaded over Amara like waves, and she was being pushed under by it, drowning with a realisation.
It was John.
John was the one.
And at the very moment that she realised that, her heart broke in two.