Defeated, Defiant and Daring

His hands were chained, roughly rubbing the skin off his wrists. He wanted to scream, but only sat there with his head in his hands and his knees pressed up against his chest. He felt like crying but every time he tried his chest would constrict and he would bite the tears back. The room was blue and cold and it made him feel weaker. If only he had a spark; a flicker of fire somewhere. Then he would have the power to escape. He would feel more himself. Instead, he sat; cold in the corner of the room. The white walls made his skin look sickly pale.

His mind kept flashing back to better times. He thought of fire and of freedom. Now, all he had were those memories and his eyes caught the dull gleam of metal chains turning his skin raw. He missed the way the fire in his hand sent warmth through his entire body.

He didn't know how long they had been keeping him in that room. Alcatraz already seemed like a distant memory. He could hardly remember his fight with Bobby. The fight he had lost. What he did remember was waking in this white room with a splitting head ache. He couldn't get his eyes to focus on anything in the room. He remembered seeing a blurry face come into his view. Even though she was out of focus, he could hear her voice. It echoed through his head as if it was coming from far away.

"Its over." Was all she had said. He closed his eyes and fell asleep. He thought he was going to die. That his pathetic life was finally coming to an end. He didn't know if he was afraid or relieved.

It had felt like weeks had passed and he was still there, in that room. He kept wondering why no one from the Brotherhood had come to get him yet. Then, he heard footsteps coming from outside the door. It didn't open but he felt someone watching him anyway. A scent filled the stale air of the room, it smelled like strawberries. He cautiously picked his head up to see what was going on. He was afraid he would look up to see the face of Storm or Bobby, or someone else who hated him, instead it was a girl. Kind brown eyes, brown hair with her hands stuffed nervously into the pockets of her jeans. He stayed silent; he didn't know what to say to her. He knew that he recognized her. He knew she was the one who could walk through walls. He remembered her from school and Alcatraz of course. Although however hard he tried, he couldn't remember her name. He absently wondered what she was doing there, standing in front of his crouched form.

"I heard Bobby say that they had you locked in the cells." She said in a meek, girly voice. That's when he recognized her voice; she was the blurry figure who told him it was 'over'.

"To tell ya the truth, when I first saw you...you didn't quite look like Brotherhood material." She said, crouching down to meet his eye level. He could tell she didn't really know what to say. It didn't matter, because he didn't know what to say either. However, her eyes were comforting him. He felt the warmth of her body radiate over to his and it gave him slight peace of mind.

"So…for the past week I've been trying to place you. Where I recognized you from, besides Alcatraz. Then, last night, just as I was about to fall asleep I remembered." She paused, looking up at John. His eyes seemed empty as they just gazed back at hers. She noticed that he was still wearing his clothes from Alcatraz. Even his heavy boots were still on his feet. Although, he was a bit dirtier, this made him look even weaker sitting chained to the wall.

"I remember occasionally seeing this boy around school when I first got here. He walked around school with this 'holier-than-thou' attitude. I remember Bobby off-handedly telling me that he could control fire. Then, one day he was gone. No one told me what happened to him." She said with sadness. "Until I saw that boy, in Alcatraz, standing with the person I was there to fight against." She said. He looked up and their eyes met. Even though he had that sick, empty feeling in his stomach; when they looked at each other it seemed more bearable.

"You're Pyro." She said quietly. She was close to him, he didn't even notice when she had moved closer.

Slowly, he reached out his chained hand. She noticed that it was dirty and red and calloused from the chains he was wearing. He knew it was a risky move to touch her, but he needed contact. His fingers gently touched hers and it sent sparks through both of their bodies. Kitty was surprised; both by his daring move and her willingness to let it happen. He was the enemy, wasn't he? He didn't look dangerous to her; he looked defeated.

"Do you remember who I am?" She asked, and his hand froze. He couldn't look at her. She lifted her eyes from their hands to his face; as he was watching the floor. His eyebrows were furrowed, as he thought long and hard to remember her name. She took his silence for a no.

"I'm Kitty." She said quietly. He looked up at her and smiled. The first time he had smiled in a long time. He held her hand a bit tighter. Suddenly his face fell as he met her brown eyes.

"Help me." He croaked. His voice cracked from not being used in over a week. Kitty saw the desperation in his voice and it made her chest tighten. John entwined their fingers together to try and keep her close to him. He winced from the movement of the metal chains on his raw wrists. Suddenly, Kitty stood up and John's hand dropped back into his lap. He watched her with desperate eyes.

"I'll do what I can for you." She said, before she turned around and walked through the cell wall. John watched the wall for a few seconds, hoping she would come back through. When it didn't happen, he buried his head in his hands again and fell back into his silent reverie.