Disclaimer: The story is mine but Marvel got the rights to everything else before I got my patent.

Author's Note: I started working on this piece a long time ago after reading a story where the author mentioned something about John and a basement. It was actually very brief and had very little to do with the story but it gave me the idea to write this. I apologize because I don't actually recall the name of the author or the fanfic I was reading at the time. If I were to dedicate this to anyone of course, it would be to them. (Which they might see as a mixed blessing because I'm not sure they'd be overly impressed with this. But it's done and so I am posting it! )

I saw this as kind of a personal challenge because I've never written anything that wasn't strictly Rogue-centric. So please review as any and all feedbackwould be appreciated.

IN THE BASEMENT

Walking into the house, I feel like I was just thrown into an episode of the Brady Bunch. The walls are a light blue with white trim; in some places there's even flowered wallpaper. PINK flowered wallpaper. There are a bunch of those craft things that women always seem to pick up at garage sales hanging all over the place. They don't serve any purpose but they keep on buying them. The one by the door says "home sweet home" on it. How...cute. ((Click Click))

I see Bobby talking to Rogue and watch as she nods in silent approval. He immediately turns around and tells me not to burn anything. Funny, didn't know telepathy was one of his mutations. I think I'll keep my lighter out all the same. I manage to catch Rogue finish sauntering up the stairs as Bobby follows up after her like a lost little puppy dog. I roll my eyes and make a sound that's reminiscent of a laugh. Wolverine gives me a look but I just shrug it off and head into the living room. ((Click Click))

If possible, this room is even more nauseating. The walls and shelves are covered with pictures of family photos, the dork's school pictures and even a few of the cat. Yep, 'hey hey, the gangs all here.' God forbid you'd have pictures of both your sons in gold framing and not one of the cat. There's a card in front of one of the pictures. Curiosity always getting the best of me I open it up. It's a mother's day card from Bobby. Well, I assume it's from him even though it's signed 'Robert' inside. ((Click Click))

Looking around I'm suddenly assaulted by memories and images; they're of another house and another living room. Only, there's no sky blue paint or wallpaper with pink flowers. No little knick knacks that mommy picked up to make the house appear more "homey". There are however a few miscellaneous stains on the wall. It's anyone's guess really as to of what they may be but the owners seem to think them decoration enough. ((Click Click))

-Someone's yelling at me and as the image gets clearer, I recognize him as my father. Although I'd argue that the title should have been stripped from him long ago. He's angry. He looks angrier than I've ever seen him before. Funny thing is, I don't even remember why he's yelling at me but I start to yell back. He seems stunned at first; I've never done that before. I quickly realize my mistake as my father moves towards me. He grabs me by the arm so hard I think it's broken at first. Now he's dragging me and I don't know what he's going to do next. My imagination runs wild as I kick and scream trying to get away. He continues to drag me through the hallway when I hear what sounds like a doorknob turning. The next thing I know I'm looking my father straight in the face and the next I'm falling backwards. …..It's a long way down.-

((Click Click)) That was the first time I got locked in the basement. Soon after that though it became a daily occurrence. I'd get thrown down there for anything and nothing. It happened so often that my dad started leaving me down there for extended periods of time. I remember thinking that my mom would let me out or at the very least come down and visit me. Truth was, I don't think she was ever even sober enough to remember she had a son, let alone that he was missing. Days started going by, and I wouldn't see anyone or get anything to eat. They had forgotten about me, or even worse, they just didn't care. No matter how hungry, dehydrated or lonely I got, the two things I remember the most were how dark and cold it could get. Most of the time, I just sat there, huddled in a corner wrapping my arms around my legs or curled into a little ball. I didn't want to move. I could hear a scuttling noise from time to time. I assume now that it had been rats. That or…maybe I just lost it down there.

My attention turns to Logan as I suddenly hear my name. "John, you want a drink?" I'm still a little caught up in my thoughts so I simply say 'no.' "Suit yerself" he says before disappearing into the kitchen. ((Click Click))

The irony of the moment hits me. I wouldn't have even known my name was John if the Professor hadn't told me. I'm not even sure that it is John. Maybe the old guy just felt sorry for me and made me up one. If it is John, I never heard my parents use it. They just always referred to me as "kid" and it wasn't in the kind, endearing way Logan says it when he talks to Rogue. She still hates the word just as much as I do though. My parents said it as though it were the equivalent to "hey there boy" or "you there". ((Click Click))

Suddenly, the front door opens and I hear Bobby running down the stairs. What were they doing up there for so long anyhow? I walk towards the kitchen and catch Rogue running behind Bobby looking flushed. I observe her, trying to figure out what the heck is going on when she notices my eyes on her and looks down at me. She looks annoyed. It is the look I receive from her most often only this time it's missing any hint of humor. Sometimes I think she knows how I feel about her and it's like she blames me. As though liking her is ruining the fake perfect relationship she has with Bobby. Ya right, I'm the only interesting part of it. The thought provokes me to smirk up at her and she quickly looks away but not before giving me a disapproving glare. I turn to see what appears to be Bobby's family – cat included - looking very lost. Bobby's trying to explain things to his family and doing a piss poor job of it from what I can tell. He's stuttering and making an idiot out of himself so I decide to help the little guy out. "Your son's a mutant and so are we. Oh and there are guys with guns chasing us. Any questions?" ((Click Click))

After an awkward silence Bobby's mom suggests we go sit down in the living room while she makes some tea. Funny, I didn't think it took three people to do that but we can't help but notice that the rest of Bobby's family stays behind in the kitchen as well. Bobby has this really sad look on his face as Rogue tries to lead him into the other room. Wolverine gives me yet another look before following them. Yeesh. That's the last time I help someone out. When I get to the living room Bobby and Rogue are sitting on the couch and Logan's leaning against the wall, as usual. Honestly, does that guy know how to sit? Doesn't he get tired, ever? I shrug and make my way over to the couch as well and sit myself down beside Rogue. "Guess they didn't see that one coming eh?" I ask and casually place my arm up behind Rogue's head on the couch. "What!" I ask as Rogue turns to me with a look of absolute disbelief and Bobby fixes me with a hard glare. I don't get an answer, instead I feel myself being lifted by the back of my shirt.

"You wait back here bub." I'm told as I'm deposited on the ground behind the couch. I hear Rogue giggle and make my way over to the wall. ((Click Click))

If Wolverine knew what I could do he wouldn't have put his hands on me. If he had seen my house the last time I saw it, he'd know better. They all would know. Everyone has their limits right? ((Click Click))

I had been down in that basement for days, maybe even weeks. Left alone, cold and in the dark, not knowing when I'd be let out. I could only listen to the movements upstairs and guess at what was going on. It wasn't unusual to hear my father cussing and swearing. Sometimes I'd even hear him throw some stuff around. So when I heard the same thing earlier that day, I didn't think too much of it.

I bolt up from my spot on the ground when I see a crack of light appear at the bottom of the stairs. Someone's coming! I'm gonna get let out! The door's completely open and I can see the shadow of my father looming at the bottom of the stairs. "Come on up boy. We're having Christmas dinner." My feet had already started moving forward when I just about trip and fall. Christmas. Did he just say Christmas? I'm frozen to the spot for a few brief moments and I can feel my heart sink to the bottom of my stomach. I almost missed it. "NOW!" My dad's voice booms through out the basement and I can't get out of there fast enough. I run up the stairs two steps at a time with a burst of energy I don't even have. When I reach the top I have to shield my eyes from the light radiating off of the only light bulb that hits the hallway and kitchen. I can smell the turkey cooking in the oven and run to it like it's my best friend in the whole wide world.

"Is it done?" My dad just looks at me before taking a sip of his beer.

"Don't know. Ask yer mom." Mom! It's completely irrational but my heart leaps at the prospect of seeing my mom. Compared to my dad – she's a saint. She's an angel. I immediately head for the living room and see her passed out on the floor. I sigh but continue to head her way.

"Mom is the turkey ready yet cuz I'm really….hungry." At first I think that maybe it's just my eyes trying to adjust to the lighting and that's why my mom appears to be lying on top of a dark red blur. "Mom?" I ask again, only I can't breathe and I don't move because my mom isn't doing either at the moment. Somehow my eyes take in the scene before me which would seem impossible because my brain doesn't want to function. There's pieces of dark broken glass lying shattered on the floor and a big chunk of the top of one of my dad's beer bottles lying beside my mom's body. Suddenly, I hear that noise from earlier. It kind of sounded like yelling and then something hitting the floor. At another glance I see blood on the corner of the side table my mother is laying by and think that over again. Maybe something hit that table before it hit the floor. Tears are welling up in my eyes when I hear my dad yelling from the kitchen.

"She say if it's done yet kid?" That's when I first felt it. Not that I knew exactly what 'it' was but I knew it hadn't been there until that very second. With a calm and cool collectedness I'd never show again I walked back to the kitchen to face my father for the first and last time.

"She didn't say anything." I tell him as my attention is drawn to that turkey I wanted so bad I could taste it before. It's only when that taste is no longer on my tongue that I realize I'm not looking at the turkey. I'm looking past it. "But I think it's done." As the words escape me I feel my hand extend slightly towards the oven and a burst of flames rush out flinging the crispy bird towards my father. He screams as the flames follow to engulf him. I leave before they do the same to the house.

"We have to go." Logan says exiting the room as quickly as he just entered it. I'm quick to follow. I agree, it's time to get out of this place.

"Logan," Rogue called out "what is going on!" He doesn't have to answer though as we walk out the front door and are confronted by several armed police. I'm barely able to make out what Bobby's saying when he looks back into the house with a shocked expression and whispers 'Ronny.'

Holy shit. I'm gonna kill him. He called the cops on us! Bobby's brother called the cops on us! Man that is rough. Guess his family isn't as tight knit as I thought. Everything's happening really fast and Logan's trying to explain something to one of the officers when he fires his gun. Logan's down and it doesn't look like he's getting up. The cop's right back to yelling again when I notice Iceman has turned into Ice-boy and has dropped into the fetal position before I can even blink. Can't say I'm surprised but I'm shocked when I look over at Rogue and see her making her way to the ground. No way. She looks terrified. What the fuck? There's no way. No way...the cop's yelling at me to get down now, only, he doesn't know my name, so he calls me kid. That's gonna be his last mistake. Taking one last look at Rogue who is trembling on the porch, I flick my lighter open. ((Click))

I remember that thrilling power I possess and how the Professor is always telling me to hide it. To do the right thing. Well I guess I was wrong about that eerie calm I once possessed because it's back. I let loose and know that this is right. These people are terrified, and they should be. I'm not playing nice anymore. I manipulate the fire to do my bidding and it's a rush. I'm gonna burn them. I'm gonna burn them all.

I can't quite explain it but it suddenly feels like I'd taken a hit of something earlier and its effects are just starting to wear off. Fear grips me as I realize I no longer have control. Looking to my left, I realize fear is not the only thing clinging to me. Rogue has her bare hand on my lower leg.

...One second ago those police cars were blazing and now there's nothing but smoke. Knowing Rogue's powers I guess I kind of blacked out for a second or two. She's still beside me but won't look at me. I'm too weak to do much of anything so I just keep staring at her. What the hell was she thinking? "Whoa." Is the only thing that pops out of my mouth as I witness the Wolverine get up. He shoots a look of concern towards Rogue before snarling and bearing his teeth at me.

She can't even touch and she has love. Logan's, Bobby's…mine.

I think I hate her now. Funny how it works like that. She knows. I am all too aware of her powers. Skin to skin contact allows Rogue to borrow other mutant's powers, to drain their life essence, but scariest of all, Rogue can steal their thoughts. Now she has mine. She knows about the basement and that I've killed before. She also knows that I hate Bobby and why. Because of her.

I look at her and she won't even meet my eyes. How DARE she do something like this! I was trying to help her, save her. They were the enemy and she chose their safety over my right to privacy and the chance to finally play hero.

The X-Jet arrives and everyone is eager to get going. Personally, I'd like to stay. I feel my powers starting to flow back. So what if I can't play hero. It doesn't matter what I was trying to do or what I hoped to one day become. She'll always see me as one of the bad guys now anyways.

As I make my way onto the Jet and watch the three of them distancing themselves from me I realize I should have known better. Cuz I could set the whole world on fire and still never get the cold to go away. ((Click))

End