He collapsed too his knees, his fingers clawing the cold white tiles of the empty bathroom floor, hot tears splashing around his trembling hands in tiny colourless fountains. Why couldn't he remember? Who were these people? Who was that beautiful woman he dreamed of every night? The little girl…
His thoughts were interrupted by a hand on his shoulder, a warm, gentle hand, yet he still jumped. He looked away quickly, shamefully hiding his weakened state from whoever had caught him.
"John?"
It was just an ordinary voice. Nothing special, a soft breath of female melody. But that accent. That strong, Cajun accent. He had heard it before.
"Not now, please, go away" he sniffed, hastily wiping his face on his sleeve, his red blotchy cheeks stinging under the salted tears. She sat down next to him, tucking a long piece of white hair behind her ear.
"You don't have to suffer in silence, John," she said softly. He opened his mouth to speak, but paused, his eyebrows furrowing.
"Rogue?" he said uncertainly.
"yes?"
"Just seeing if that was your name."
Rogue sat in silence for a moment, before shrugging her shoulders, a curious expression on her face. He sighed, and leant back against the tiles, his marine stare resting on the floor.
"John, we all knew you before Alcatraz, I'm sure that… bit by bit, we can help piece you back together," she assured, resting her hand on his knee. He slid his watery gaze up to meet hers.
"Thing is Rogue… I don't think I want too know. I don't think I want too know about the person I used to be," he croaked, resting his aching head in his hands.
"You weren't a bad person Pyro. You were never a bad person," Rogue smiled, shaking his knee gently to regain his wondering attention. He stared into her eyes, a confused and lost glow in his eyes.
"Sure, you did some terrible things, but you were lost, confused… mislead. Your whole life was fuelled by anger and deceit," she explained, feeling his heart sink further into his chest.
"I killed people. Mothers and children," he said, pulling the pictures of the woman and the baby he was given out of his trouser pocket. He handed them too Rogue.
"I dream about them, every night. But I have no clue who they are," he sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. Rogue studied the pictures, her chestnut eyes widening slightly. She looked at John with a soft expression.
"You have no idea who these girls are?" she asked shakily, looking back at the picture. He shook his head.
"Should I?" he asked, opening his eyes again and looking down into Rogues hands.
"Her name is Aero," Rogue said suddenly, handing the photo of the beautiful woman with the long black hair too him. He held the picture preciously and studied with inquisitive detail.
"She was the same age as you. Beautiful, smart, passionate… Loyal," Rogue said gently, putting her hand on his arm. He strained for a memory, even a slight one, but could not conjure up even the illusion of knowing her.
"And the girl," he whispered, as he was passed the second photo.
"Ember. Her name was Ember. Aero's daughter," Rogue said, holding back a tear that fought to escape the fortress of her eyes.
"What happened to them?" John croaked, assuming the worst. Assuming that it was he who had mercilessly made them past tense.
"They disappeared. Just before we found you," rogue choked, standing up and turning away from him, hiding her face. John stood, ignoring the still burning pain he got from his stitches and put his hand on her shoulder. Fresh tears graced his pale face as he begged;
"please rogue. You knew them didn't you? Please tell me if it was me that made them disappear!"
Rogue turned too look him in the eyes.
"I'm not the person too talk too about this John, please," she cried, cupping his face gently and stroking his cheek with her thumb.
"please…" she whispered again, before running from the bathroom, leaving John to collapse back down to his knees, staring at the photographs with a mixture of resentment and desperation.
"Aero…Aero…Aero…" he chanted the name over and over in his head, untill it merged into one, long gasp of grief.
"Who are you?" he whispered too the photo, gently running his fingertip along the warming smile.
He pulled himself back up and tucked the photos back in his pocket, leaving the bathroom.
Two years earlier - Camden Market, London, England.
Heads stopped, turning to stare at the beauty who weaved gracefully in between the crowed, her curvaceous hips swaying between carrier bags and the heads of children. Camden market was an easy place too fit in if you were different. Punks, gypsies, Goths and teddy boys still roamed the dusty streets, purchasing relics from the past from old stables and shabby carts. Her cat like amber eyes peered at the Goths, that sat smoking in a circle, safely tucked from the suns beaming light under a tree. She ran a hand through her long black hair and sauntered over to them, her red heels clicking along the cobbled street. The Goths stared aggressively at her, through thick rings of black makeup. She wasn't one of them. What business would she have in their territory.
"Fuck off," said the tallest Goth, in true British etiquette. A half smirk spread across her scarlet painted lips, as she rested a hand on her hip.
"Charming," she said, her accent just as British and firm as the Goths that blinked in front of her.
"I aint 'ere to impress no one. So… fuck. Off!" the Goth said again, this again straightening himself up. He was about 6ft 4, and towered over her tiny 5ft 3 inch frame. But she never flinched as she just placed a cigarette in-between her lips and lit it, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke up in the face of the Goth. The other Goths whispered, turning their attention to their leader and the intruder.
"You better sling your fucking hook, or I'm gonna punch you right in your Chevy fucking chase!" the Goth snarled, leaning down so his face was level with hers.
"I'm looking for Remy LeBeau," she said, pushing his face away with her finger. "Your breathe is vile," she added. The Goths whispered behind their hands to each other, casting shadowy glances.
"And what would a slag like you want with the great, Remy LeBeau," the Goth laughed, raising his arms and encouraging his following to laugh along.
"Im his daughter."
The Goths fell silent. The leader froze, mid laugh. He slowly let his arms fall to his side and looked at the small woman.
"Come with me," he said shakily.
She followed him past the old stables and over a small bridge that creaked with each step that was placed. A small camp, alive with fire and festivity loomed ahead of them. He lead her past the lively gypsies and into a large tent. The tent was occupied by four people. They were seated around a large poker table, with cash piling sky high in the middle. She smiled when her eyes met the scarlet gaze of Remy Lebeau. The Goth lingered for a moment, before evacuating hastily.
"Give him the ol' daughter story did you?" Remy said amused, his eyes not leaving his cards.
"Yeah, hadn't used that one for a while."
"Aero, Meet my guests wont ya," Remy said, using his cowboy booted foot to push out a seat next to a steely haired older man.
"This is Magneto," he said, motioning to the older gentleman. Aero stared at the strange headwear the elderly gentleman had chosen to attire.
"That's a dorky looking helmet," she said, as a smile graced the elder mans face. His eyes connected with a blonde young man across the table, who exchanged a brief grin before the silvery eyes locked back onto Aero.
"Yes, young lady. I've heard that before."
"I believe you and Mystique have already met," Remy said as Aero rolled her eyes to the blue beauty who was seated close to Magneto. They exchanged a small smile and brief nod.
"And Pyro," The gambit said, motioning to the brooding blonde to his right. The blonde's icy gaze lingered on her for a moment, before returning to his cards, no emotion or change of stature evident in his handsome young face, although a seemingly permanent smirk flirted with the corners of his lips.
"Why are all these people here, Gambit?" Aero asked, taking out a wad of cash and throwing it into the pile. Gambit dealt the cards first, showing off his un natural card skills.
"We're playing for information," he said, as he picked up his cards. Aero smirked. She turned to Magneto.
"Aint being funny mate, but you aint gonna get no information playing against Remy," she smirked, her amber eyes flashing at her cards before folding them neatly down in front of her.
"Oh we have our ways," Magneto said softly, casting another glance over at the blonde. Aero followed his gaze to the nonchalant blonde and then gazed back at her cards.
"Then let the games begin."