Disclaimer: "Promise I will be forever yours Promise not to say another word Never mind, what's done is done Always was a lucky one"

(An: So here is the last chapter... I'm not sure if you would call it a happy ending, but, oh well. Oh, btw, I know Pietro never actually grabbed John's ass, but a lot of people took it that way. -wink- I don't think either of them swing that way, so it would make excellent blackmail.)

(John)

Wanda didn't slam the door. I wish she had. It would have been more final. In a fog, I made my way into the kitchen and tried to figure out how exactly I had ruined it all.

(Rogue)

When I found John slumped over the table with the phone in his hand, I wasn't sure what to think. All I knew was that he looked more depressed than humanly possible, and was staring at the phone as though he couldn't believe it was real. He looked up when I came into the room, and then back at the phone. "They put me on hold," he mumbled, propping his chin on his fist.

I sat down across from him, morbidly curious. "Who?"

"The suicide hotline," John said, setting the phone back on the hook. "I mean, is that some kind of sign? What Wanda said basically meant that I don't do anyone any good and now it seems like the whole world is agreeing with her."

I cocked my head. "Just what did she say?"

John shook his head. "I... I can't..." He buried his face in his hands. "She was right, Rogue, dammit, she was right! I'm a bastard. I've been doing my best to deny it, but all I do is fuck up other people's lives."

I reached over and slapped him.

He stared at me, his blue eyes wet and innocent.

"Shut up."

He blinked.

"You're not a bastard," I said. "You're an idiot. A screaming, blatant idiot. Your heart's in the right place, you just never listen to it."

He stared at me as if he'd never seen me before.

(John)

"Very simply, you know I'm right," she went on. "And whatever Wanda said, she didn't mean it. But whatever you did to her..." She slapped me again. "You deserve to be shot for it. Killed somehow painful. She was so scared to love you, John! You idiot!"

I slumped over the table again. "Both of you are right," I realized aloud after a moment. "But that doesn't answer what the hell I'm supposed to do."

"That one you're gonna havta figure out on your own, John. You can either sit here and feel sorry for yourself, push it all behind you and move on, or you can go find Wanda, because odds are she's ten times as miserable as you are." Then she slapped me again.

I looked up at her.

"I promised Wanda that if you ever did something to her, I'd kick your ass," Rogue said, getting up. "I'd do a better job, but you seem to be managing pretty well on your own."

"That I am," I said with a bitter little smile.

"If you want to do something right for once," Rogue said, pausing in the door, "you could start now."

When she left, I sighed. I knew what she meant. It just wasn't the world's loveliest prospect.

(Wanda)

I made myself keep walking, resisting the urge to just sit down on a curb and cry and let a bus hit me.

As soon as I stepped foot in the Brotherhood house, Pietro zipped up to me. "What's wrong?"

I just stared at him. When he just stared back, I said, "Since when have we been touchy-feely? Last I remembered," my hands glowed blue, "I hated you and you were scared shitless of me."

"Well, maybe it's time for that to change," Pietro replied, crossing his arms and staring me down.

That tore it. I couldn't control myself anymore. The glow faded and I collapsed onto my knees, right there on the doormat.

Pietro pulled me inside and dragged me over to the couch. I don't think I was ever gladder I had a brother.

(Pietro)

When I saw John on the doorstep, I couldn't decide if he had really good or really bad timing. On the one hand, he had just broken my sister's heart less than an hour ago, and on the other, my sister spilling her guts to me meant I was good and wound up to kick his ass.

John seemed to sense this, because he backed up. "Er..." he said. He rubbed his neck and looked away for a second, then made himself meet my eyes. "I'm here to see Wanda."

"I know that," I replied. "The question is, how should I kill you for that hubris?"

He stared at me for a second (I think it was because of my use of "hubris") before sighing. "I figured this would happen," he said, mostly to himself. "This was stupid. Totally pointless." He turned around and looked up at the sky. "What is the point?" he demanded of it. "What is the fucking point?" He turned around. "Kill me. Spare me the trouble, please."

It was the "please" that made me realize he was serious. I frowned. "I don't believe it," I said slowly (yes, I said slowly). "You're as broken up about this as she is."

"Yes," John agreed. "It's amazing what a couple of sharp slaps to the face and the soothing sound of hold music can do for your brainpower, isn't it?"

"If you're still sane enough to be sarcastic, you're not upset enough for me to let you see her."

"I'm not being sarcastic," John replied. "Just keeping my mind off things."

"Off what?"

John whirled on me and came right up in my face, moving almost as fast as I did... when I was walking, that is, but you get the drift. "The fact, Pietro, that I just ruined my life for the," he paused, "for the third time this month."

"So then it can't matter that much to you," I answered.

"Actually," said John, "this one matters the most. I can live without Rogue or Remy," and he paused again, and his voice was the whisper of someone realizing something for the first time, "but I can't live without Wanda. Or, at least, I can't have her hate me. For Christ's sake, Pietro, at least let me talk to her!"

My frown deepened and I crossed my arms.

"I didn't get to say anything to her," he pleaded, his blue eyes, desperate, so much less guarded than my sister's.

"The last thing she wants right now, and I can assure you, because I was just talking to her myself, is to talk to you. You, Pyro, are pond scum. Saying that is an insult to pond scum, but I can't think of a better name right now."

John sighed again. "Don't make me pull my ace in the hole, Pietro," he said, looking at me through slitted eyes.

I blanched. "You wouldn't."

"Ten minutes," he said, holding up that many fingers, "ten minutes with Wanda. That's all I'm asking, Pietro. You can come up and do whatever the hell you want to me, but give me time to speak my piece."

I wrinkled my nose, unwilling to let this slide but I just couldn't have John's blackmail available to the general public. "Fine," I growled, "but if you make my sister cry like that again, ever," I leaned in real close, "I don't care, I will kill you. I'll rip your heart out and push you off a bridge before your brain even notices you're dead."

John leaned away, nodding. "All righty then, mate," he said, looking severely skeeved out.

I glared at him for an extra second for emphasis, then stepped aside. As he walked inside, I thought, Last time I ever grab somebody's ass, be they guy or girl.

(John)

When I walked up to Wanda's room, I felt more nervous than I ever had in my life. Know how in bad novels they describe your fear "growing with every step"? I had never believed that, but unfortunately it's true. Sad state of affairs, I swear.

Anyway, I didn't bother to knock on Wanda's door. I knew it was locked. I just gave the door a good hard kick to its hinges and it swung open. Works every time.

"Fuck. Off," said a figure from the bed. There was a flash of blue light that went close enough to ruffle my hair.

I didn't say anything, just quietly sat on Wanda's bed, with a realization that I still had no idea of what to say. I reached out and touched her hand, which extended out from underneath the blanket.

It was retracted with a sharp intake of breath from Wanda. "I know who you are," she said, "and I would think that even someone like you would know that you have no right to approach me. I said what I said and I meant it, goddammit!"

"I know," I replied.

"I won't kill you," Wanda said, "because I don't want to lower myself like that. But I fucking swear, if you don't leave within the next two seconds, I'll make you hurt so bad you'll wish I had."

I reached over and slid the blanket off her head, gently stroking her hair now.

"Don't you dare touch me!" she shrieked, jerking away as if burned and rolling off the bed. She flipped up and faced me like a caged animal. I just did my best to not let my expression change and met her gaze. "I don't know what you were thinking," she said after a minute of this, "but whatever you say won't be any good. What you did to me, leading me on like that... you don't do stuff like that, John. I thought you understood!" Her eyes were wet.

I stood up without making a sound and just continued staring at her.

"Stop that!" she shrieked, looking as though she wanted to look away but couldn't make herself.

"Stop what?" I said quietly.

"Stop looking at me," she whispered, closing her eyes, "stop looking at me like you know everything about me."

I didn't.

(Wanda)

For the second time that day, I squatted, covering my head with my hands and trying to avoid all-out sobbing. I wasn't going to let him see me cry, since the first time I'd let him do that was what got me into this mess. "Just please, please, please leave me alone," I mumbled.

"I can't do that," John replied, and I could feel his breath on my face.

I opened one eye, and saw he was sitting right next to me, in nearly the exact same position, but his hands were on my shoulders. I wanted to push away from him but couldn't quite manage it. He was meeting my eyes and, as usual, I could see exactly what he thought reflected in them. I had to close my eyes again, because I merely saw my own emotions reflected in them and couldn't take it. There were a lot of things I couldn't make myself do when it came to John.

"Wanda," he murmured. "I don't know everything about you. We barely know each other. Right now... right now I don't know anything. Except that you were right and I'm a bastard and that everything right now is wrong." He put his hand under my chin. "Wanda, please. Just look at me."

I didn't want to, but I did anyway. I opened my eyes and stared back at him sullenly as he dropped his hand.

"It's probably never going to be ok between us ever again and this means that what I'm gonna say won't matter at all but," he took in a deep breath, "I love you. And I'm an idiot for not noticing, and an idiot for not saying anything, and I should just stay away from you because I will just end up doing the same thing again and I couldn't bear that." He hung his head then, having said his part.

"Oh, John," I sighed. "We're such fuckups."

He glanced up at me, blinking.

"Isn't love supposed to be easy?" I whispered.

"Nothing's ever been easy for me," he replied, "so why should it change now?" He put his hand on my cheek, looking at me with completely naked affection.

"Maybe," I said, "maybe we could try... try to make it change." I leaned my forehead against his.

John kissed me without pretense or hesitation, for once. I tried to resist, to make him pay a little for what he'd done, but I couldn't. I'd never been able to, and while that was what had gotten me into this situation, right then it didn't seem too bad.

(Pietro)

"You're gonna be la-ate," I singsonged at my sister as she applied her eyeliner.

"I don't ca-are," she replied in kind.

"Late late late!" I chanted, doing a little dance around her.

Wanda removed the hand that was holding down her eyelid and blasted me into the wall with it. "So the whole twin bonding thing..."

"Was a onetime job, yeah," Wanda agreed.

"Aw, I knew it couldn't last..."

"Scat," said Wanda, flicking her fingers at me.

"You're going to be late," I insisted.

Wanda paused, glanced at me, and then threw her eyeliner at me. Hit me right in the forehead, too. I picked it up and grinned. "Thanks! I can use this."

"Pietro, if you use my eyeliner, I swear to God I'll-"

But I was gone, smirking.

(Wanda)

I looked around the park and caught the sound of an Australian voice patiently explaining something. "It's like this, Piotr," it said, and I could easily picture John correcting his friend. "Now it should balance."

"I just know the quote," was Piotr's quiet reply, "not the theory."

I turned to the sound, seeing John bent over a little model. Piotr was squinting down at it, looking slightly confused.

I squatted next to John, smiling at the smile that burst over his face when the machine did balance. "It's a long story," he said, apparently to me. He looked over at Piotr. "Get it now?"

"...No, not really."

"Figures," John sighed. "Oh, well." He turned to me. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," I replied, resting my arm on his shoulder.

Piotr frowned down at the model. "I still don't get how this is supposed to help me draw it."

John facepalmed.

Behind the Russian, a girl clad in pink crept across the ground. She pressed a finger to her lips when she saw my gaze. When she got within two feet of him, Piotr smiled. "Hello, Kitty."

"Dammit!" she said. She jumped him, throwing her arms around his neck. Piotr twined his fingers with hers. "I'll never be able to sneak up on him, will I?"

"Nope," said John. "He's like a ghost himself."

"Ah, well," Kitty sighed. "I never had very high expectations anyway."

John rested his head on my arm, a thoughtful little smile on his face. His eyes flicked to me. "Kinda sums us up, huh?" he murmured, too quietly for Kitty and Piotr to hear.

"I guess," I replied. "But I think that's ok."

John nodded and I smiled.

(Yeah... if that sucks it's because I wasn't really sure what I was going to do... but I think it turned out rather well. Thank you for reading, and thank you more if you take the time to review. Oh, by the way, has anyone noticed that all the disclaimers have been Foo Fighters lyrics? Heheh.)