Chapter 13

Rogue was not having a good day.

That morning, she'd woken up late, and it was her turn to make breakfast. She'd tried to shower quickly, but everyone must have been up before her because the tank ran out of hot water when she still had shampoo in her hair. She'd still been shivering when she finally made it down to the kitchen.

Rogue was still not a very good cook, so for breakfast she generally made toast and put out cereal. Once, she'd been inspired and made cheese bagels, which everyone had looked at rather doubtfully because the only cheese they'd had was pepper jack and it was six-thirty a.m.

Mystique had eaten two. "I like pepper jack," she said, shrugging. Everyone else had opted for cereal.

Today, she noticed they were out of cereal, which she should have made note of before now so she could have planned for something else.

She found some bacon in the fridge and tried to fix that, but ended up nearly burning herself and frying the bacon to something resembling cinders. Wrinkling her nose, she disposed of the bacon and went to wash the pan.

"Dude, you are like, the absolute most incompetent cook I've ever seen in my life," Pyro drawled, sauntering into the kitchen right as she finished cleaning out the pan.

"Yeah, well, I have other talents," she muttered, maniacally searching through the pantry to find something edible.

"Oh? We gonna see them anytime soon?"

Rogue whirled around to glare at him. "You have a reason to be in here, Pyro?"

"Breakfast?"

"It ain't ready yet," Rogue snapped, grateful the smoke from the bacon debacle had cleared. With relief, she found a pack of bagels in the pantry.

"Wow, that looks good. Can we have some toast with the bagels?"

"You know, it's not like you're Emeril freakin' Lagasse," she muttered, arranging the bagels on the plate.

"Must suck to be you. Can't cook, can't touch anyone...Drake must be so sorry you're gone."

Rogue felt like he'd just slapped her. "Probably sorrier than he was when you left." Her voice was shaking with rage.

Just then, the door opened, and Magneto entered. "I was hoping you hadn't tried to actually cook this morning, Rogue, and then I thought I smelled smoke—is something the matter?" He looked from her furious face to Pyro, who was watching her with a little smile and narrowed eyes.
"She went after me."

"What!" Rogue slammed the butter dish down on the counter. "I did no such thing. What would I have done, rubbed my face on you?"

"Just kidding," he said. "She's a perfect little angel, our Rogue." He turned and left the kitchen, and she heard him loudly address the rest as he entered the dining room. "Guys better forget about breakfast. We're out of cereal and Rogue tried to cook."

"Is there a problem, Rogue?" Magneto asked her, drawing her attention back to him.

"Oh, sure, it's my fault," she said, irrational, separating the bagels with brutal efficiency.

"I didn't say anything was your fault," Magneto said slowly, then moved behind her. His hand closed over her wrist. "Stop destroying the bagels, and go sit down."

Humiliated, she shot him a look before snatching her arm out of his grasp and leaving the kitchen. She sat in her chair, scowling.

"What'd you try and cook?" Gambit asked her. He sniffed cautiously.

"Bacon."

Pyro looked like he was going to say something, but just then Magneto reappeared with a plate of bagels. "A light breakfast this morning, it appears."

She'd been so furious, she'd barely managed to choke down a cup of coffee (the one thing she could make) and half a bagel, and only then because she knew she'd need something to eat before training to keep her strength up.

Maybe she'd get rid of her anger after some good, physical exercise. She refused to speak during breakfast, and easily discerning her mood, no one tried to talk to her.

Unfortunately, training was just as horrid as the rest of her morning.

She was partners with Pyro, which sort of made her want to cry, but she tried to put her feelings aside and concentrate on their training.

However, she was still too agitated from her morning and fell prey to Mesmero, who hypnotized her far too easily, and then Gambit knocked her feet from underneath her with his staff without having to even charge it.

Pyro had been furious.

"So you're just as bad at fighting as you are with cooking, is that it?" he shouted, hands on his hips, glaring at her as she struggled to regain her breath.

"God, Rogue, if we're ever out on a mission and that happens--"

"I don't think Mesmero will try and hypnotize me," she snapped, stretching, trying to get rid of the cramp in her side.

"Enough," Magneto said, voice tight with warning, and she and Pyro glared at each other but fell silent.

It might have been all right, she might have been able to forget it, if he hadn't done that stupid little trick of his with the flames right after Magneto called for them to stop.

Usually she was able to get out of the way. Today, she was a fraction of a second too slow and the flames hit her still uncovered hand, burning her very badly.

"I am going to kill you," she shrieked, the pain horrible and immediate, and then without thinking she launched herself at him, bare hands out, wanting to wrap them around his throat and squeeze.

"Stop it!"

Magneto used his power to stop her, throwing her backwards and halting her murderous charge. She glared down at the metal cuffs on her wrists.

Pyro laughed, which was stupid, because Magneto was staring at him unpleasantly when he spoke. "The two of you will come with me now."

That was the tone of voice you didn't argue with. Rogue cradled her injured hand to her chest and followed him out of the training area and back towards his study. He opened the door with a jerk, which clearly indicated his displeasure.

"I do not know what the problem is with the two of you, and I do not care. I want it resolved, now. Do you both understand me?" His glare was fierce.

Rogue nodded, fearful, because he looked very scary. She was also ashamed of herself for doing exactly what Pyro had wanted, by giving in to her temper.

"And you?"

She assumed Pyro nodded, but she wouldn't look at him so she didn't know for sure.

"Good. Now this will be fixed by the time I come back, or I promise you that you will not like the consequences. I am fighting a war, not running a daycare." He strode past them and shut them in with an angry slam of the door.

They were both silent for a little while, staring off into different directions. Rogue really wanted something to stop the burning on her hand, and the pain was making her dizzy.

"Why do you hate me so much?" she demanded, turning to glare at his back. "What the hell did I ever do to you?"

He turned to face her, face closed and unfriendly, and didn't answer.

"This is about Boston, isn't it? Is it revenge? Fine. Can you just tell me what you need to do to feel like you've gotten it? Humiliate me, kill me, get me kicked out? Cause I'm sick of you." She collapsed in one of the metal chairs, blowing on her hand. She was surprised Magneto had left her without her gloves on. The pain of the burn made her stomach sick and her eyes tear up, but she would not give Pyro the satisfaction of crying over the wound he'd inflicted.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of silence, he spoke.

"Did you ever tell him?"

She looked up at that. "No."

He snorted. "Right."

"I didn't!" She searched his face. "Why would I?"

"To make him hate me." His words were flat.

"He already hated you, because of Boston," she said honestly. She was too angry at him to spare his feelings.

"That was his stupid brother's fault," Pyro snapped, arms wrapped around himself.

"Well, yeah, but all they remember is the fire and the exploding police cars." She watched him. "Pyro, I never told him. Or anyone else, either. You might not believe me, but I have no reason to lie to you."

"Yeah, you do." He was staring up at the ceiling. "If I believed you then maybe I'd stop bothering you so much."

She rolled her eyes. Did he not hear how childish he sounded? "Fine. Don't believe me."

"Why wouldn't you have? I mean, everybody must hate me there anyway," he muttered, but she noticed he was moving closer to her. He had to still have his Zippo—no way Magneto would have taken it away, if he'd not made her put her gloves on. "You could've all had a laugh."

"Believe it or not, not everything was about you when we got back. The mansion was trashed, and Dr. Grey was dead, and Bobby's parents didn't want much to do with him. We sort of had our hands full."

"Nice to know I was so easily forgotten." He sounded petulant, and it pissed her off.

"He missed you, Pyro. He didn't clean up your side of the room until he had to. He kept your comic books and your box of Dr. Pepper in the closet. If you asked him for one, he'd say it was too old and no one should drink it, but he never threw it away." She wondered why she was even trying. "I could tell he was upset. So I never said anything."

"So you were, what? Looking out for me? You never even liked me all that much." He was right next to her, looking down at her.

"I had my own reasons for not telling him," she said, looking away. "And you never acted like you liked me, either." Of course, reasons for that were a bit clearer, now.

"Yeah? Like what?" he demanded, and she saw then how much this meant to him in his expression, and some of her anger dissipated.

"I was already inadequate, as you so nicely reminded me this morning. His girlfriend couldn't sleep with him, but his best friend would have?" She shook her head, laughing bitterly. "I'm sorry, but I wanted to keep that one to myself for a while." Wincing, she blew on her hand again.

"That wouldn't have mattered. He's not even...give me your hand," he said, switching the subject.

"Pyro, remember what my bare skin does?" Strangely, as angry as she'd been at him, she didn't want to hurt him.

"Just give me your hand, okay?" He sighed. "I'm not going to hurt you or anything. If you absorb my power for a minute, the burn will stop hurting as bad. I don't know why, but it does. Guess cause sometimes I make mistakes when I practice and it's something my body does because of my mutation."

She held her hand up, cautiously, and he carefully held it in his own. After a few moments, she felt the pull, and then a rush of warmth as his power flowed into her. Sure enough, the pain in her hand seemed to fade in intensity.

"I have some stuff you can put on it when Magneto lets us out of here." He pulled over another chair and sat down across from her, his face pale from the drain.

Rogue was lost for a moment in his mind, and his thoughts seemed to be centered around her—his insecurity that she would mock him, tell everyone here what she knew. In addition to that, there was his fear that while he'd left the Institute only to save his own skin, she'd left it for more noble reasons that would win her more favor.

She laughed a little. "Oh, Pyro, I didn't leave for noble reasons. Believe me. And you don't have to worry. I don't go around telling stuff about people."

He shrugged, his color returning. Her burn was starting to hurt again as his powers gradually receded.

"You want me to--"

She shook her head. "Nah. I'll be okay."

"I'm...I'm sorry, Rogue," he said, and she could tell he was sincere, and that the apology was hard for him. "It's just that I was away from all of that, here. And then you showed up, and..."

"I understand," she said, because she did. "I had to do that, what I did in Boston, Pyro. I'm sorry that I violated your privacy, but I thought it was the right thing to do."

"Yeah. You still think that?" He crossed his legs, stacking one foot on top of the other, hands behind his head.

She shrugged. "Don't know. Would have depended on the collateral damage and if it would have been easier to wreck less havoc and escape, or just kill everyone and steal a car." She winced. "I never would have said that three months ago." Whether or not she believed it, she wasn't sure.

"Yeah, well, welcome to the Brotherhood." He smiled at her, and this time, it was real.

"Thanks," she said, and laughed. "Who would have ever thought we'd end up here?"

"Who would have thought that about me?" He laughed. "Probably everybody. You...that's a different story."

"It's always the quiet ones," she said ominously, and he laughed.

Something else occurred to her, and she spoke without thinking. "I've never thought that way about Gambit. I promise. And I got a good dose of him in my head, and he thought I was cute, but he's..." she saw Pyro's face and blushed. "Um, oops," she said weakly.

"Was I thinking about that?" he asked, and he was blushing, too.

"No, but...you sort of watch him," she said, things making sense now. "And you had...part of you being annoyed with me has something to do with me being with men you--"

"Right," Pyro said quickly, looking around uncomfortably. "Can we not...do I really? Watch him?" He looked at her curiously.

For some reason, that made her smile, and she nodded. "Yeah."

"Like you do with Magneto?"

"What?" Startled, she gaped at him. "Please say that was a joke."

"Uh, no." He grinned at her. "You do it a lot."

"No, I--" but she stopped, because she did. "Pyro, that's only because--" she started earnestly, but he was laughing and then the door opened.

Seeing that it was Magneto, both of them jumped to their feet immediately to face him.

"You appear to have worked out whatever your issues were, I see." He turned his gaze towards Pyro. "No more attacking Rogue with stray flames, I imagine?"

"No, sir," Pyro said, surprising her. She'd never heard Pyro so respectful of authority like that in the entire time she'd known him. Maybe this place was good for him.

Magneto turned towards her. "And you? You won't be wrapping those pretty hands of yours around Pyro's neck again?" He quirked a brow at her.

"No, sir," Rogue said, unconsciously echoing Pyro's words.

"Then I have soldiers again, instead of children?"

"Yes, sir," they both answered.

He looked pleased. "Good. Rogue, you need something for your burn."

"I have some burn cream in my room. I'll go get it," Pyro offered, and at Magneto's nod headed out of the room.

"Let me see your hand," Magneto instructed.

"Wh—why?" she looked at him curiously.

"What happened to yes, sir?" he asked, reaching for her hand. His own were gloved. "Come now. Let me see."

"It's not..." she sighed and gave up, placing her hand in his. Heat suffused her face, and she absolutely blamed Pyro. How could he even think she...

His thumb brushed lightly over the spot where the burn was, and she gasped, her eyes going up to meet his.

"Did that hurt?" he asked her, and there was a tone to his voice she'd not heard him use before. It made her nervous, but in a way she wasn't at all used to, and it wasn't entirely unpleasant.

Oh, God.

Suddenly unable to speak, she shook her head. They looked at each other for a moment, then moved away simultaneously, and neither of them said a word until Pyro returned with the ointment and a bandage, handing both items over and leaving them alone once more.

She spread the cream liberally on her burn, and then wrapped it in the plain cotton bandage. Magneto undid the metal cuffs and handed over her gloves. "There you are."

She pulled them on and held her hands out wordlessly, waiting for the cuffs.

He paused, his eyes narrowed. "You've been here three months," he said.

She nodded. "That sounds right."

"And do you like it here, Rogue?" he asked softly, the metal cuffs hovering next to her arms.

"Yes," she answered, dropping her gaze. He had to have heard the shame in her voice as she answered.

"Perhaps you'll be able to admit that without sounding as if you're to be executed in the morning because of it." The cuffs snapped around her wrists, anchoring the gloves in place, and he turned on his heel and left her there, alone.

It occurred to her as she stood there that she'd missed the perfect opportunity to escape. She could have grabbed Pyro, absorbed more of his power, and surprised Magneto when he'd come through the door.

The problem was, Rogue was becoming more and more unsure that she wanted to leave at all. She still wasn't wholly convinced that what Magneto advocated was right, but she hadn't lied to him—she did like it here.

Her fingers lightly caressed the metal cuffs on her arm, and she stared up at the skylight. The sky beyond the glass was a perfect, bright blue.