A/N: Thanks for all the kind encouragement. Some mild swearing below - beware. John doesn't strike me as the type to censor himself.
"He doesn't belong here!" Logan's voice even muffled, had an intensity to it that few others had. Magneto did in lower tones. Xavier had in his own way. None of the men were any that John Allerdyce cared to have discussing him in such tones. Not that he had much choice in the matter anyway.
'To the winner go the spoils,' Magneto might have quoted from some obscure text and no doubt what the loser got. Jack shit, apparently. Worse than that, if he had to actually spend any time here. Well, John was quickly learning what it was like to have been part of a losing side of a war. While Magneto had somehow slipped off into the dark and was no doubt at large, granted without his "powers of magnetism" to protect him, John had not been afforded that luxury, being knocked out by his former "best friend."
John unconsciously rubbed the part of his forehead where the bruise was just now beginning to subside. Fortunately, he was not yet 18, although barely under that limit, and the various courts were not eager to have a media circus about brainwashed mutant children being tried as adults. Apparently Magneto's powers also included mind control – or so the newsmedia would have you believe. Better to have one mind-controlling evil mutant vanquished that admit the possibility that government policies were creating large scale unrest they must figure. He logically knew that he had gotten off lightly, but inside the humiliation of having his freedom completely stripped was beginning to wear on him. He realized he was fortunate that he hadn't been vaporized like so many of his comrades nor "cured" like his former leader. But standing against the grand staircase at the entrance of the mansion that had once been home it was hard to remember all that.
To be taken, here of all places. Back to where it all began.
"Well, then, where does he belong, Logan? What is our purpose if not to help mutants who have lost their way? He's just a child!" Ororo's words caused John to cringe.
That had always been the problem here. At Xavier's, he was just a child. Gifted, to be sure, but one of many and to be protected and coddled. They didn't realize that John had ceased to be a child a long time ago. Right about the time his family threw him out when he played with the candles on his birthday cake in a new way. Living on the streets, even for the few short weeks before Xavier had turned up, had had a way of making you grow up fast. Despite his own powers, the professor never seemed to understand that, to wrapped up in his "dream."
"Yeah and we're not juvy hall, 'Ro. Do you forget what he's done?"
John hadn't forgotten; couldn't forget. He had rained fire from the sky with all the sound and fury of the Apocalypse come to life. For one glimmering second he had been as close to a god as possible, all that Magneto had promised him. And here he was – without his igniters, without his old lighter, without even frickin' matches.
A voice drifted from the stairs nearby, female and familiar. John couldn't quite place it, but knew it belonged to one of his former classmates. He wasn't exactly eager for a reunion all things considered and shrank back further into the shadow of the staircase. He doubted there would be a favorable reaction to the prodigal son returning home.
The voice that responded to the girl however, was beyond familiar to John. It was the voice of the golden boy of the Institute. The boy who got anything he ever wanted on a silver platter: grades, girls, well-timed secondary mutations . . . Bobby Drake.
Although, his voice was a bit more strained than normal, John realized with a bit of glee. The past week having his future decided behind closed doors in hushed tones had taught the impetuous teen more about listening than any lesson in any classroom and he detected a bit of something in his former roommate's voice. Was it possible that the golden child had found something he couldn't have? Of course, there was only one way to find out.
"Well, well, well . . . you always did have a way with the ladies," John remarked as Bobby strode by purposefully, noting with pleasure how the temperature dipped in response to his words or, perhaps, his mere presence.
"What are you doing here?" One victory in battle and Bobby was suddenly that much better than him, or so was implied by his tone. Bobby's body language however, was telling a different story. He was so on edge that the slightest movement might make him explode into tiny shards of ice – if only John could be so lucky. What exactly was it that had him so tense?
"Well, it just so happens that no one seems to know what to do with me," John heard himself admitting. "Can't force cure me now that you've got the kid. Can't put me in a maximum security 'mutant jail' as I'm not yet 18 – think of the press! Can't keep me in any other facility." John tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice. He had made his choice and there was no turning back, even if he had wanted to – which he didn't. What further proof that humans and mutants could not co-exist peacefully – asking a school to police one of their own. Remembering the night covert ops had targeted this very hallway, John realized the alternatives could be worse. A lot worse.
"So you're here?" John was not sure what Bobby was more upset about – that he was still alive or that he had the audacity to breathe the same air that he did.
"Bobby?" The familiar voice now was attached to a familiar face as a cute, brown-haired girl came up beside Bobby. She seemed about to reach for his arm, but pulled her arm back at the last minute as if unsure of Bobby's reaction. Interesting. John filed it away for later use. "John?" She gasped, taking a step back as if by instinct. John couldn't suppress his smile. That was respect that not even the perfect Mr. Drake could command.
It had been brief, but her image seemed to flicker slightly as she startled and suddenly the familiar pieces clicked. It was the ghost girl – Kathy? Katherine? Kitty! That was it!
"Hey, Pretty Kitty," he greeted her, hoping to gauge Bobby's reaction. "How have you been?"
John was not disappointed as Bobby, if possible, tensed even further. He put his arm up as if to keep Kitty away from him, which was ironic as the girl had already stepped away.
"Leave her alone!" Bobby shouted, his voice echoing through the hall, a complete contrast to the girl's quiet greetings and John's flirtatious tone.
How interesting. It hadn't been thought out, that much was sure; such a quick reflex was no doubt knee-jerk. And there was more to it than just Bobby's frustrating 'protect the innocents' impulse as well, as the girl's powers made her quite able to take care of herself. But hadn't John seen him only last week searching for Rogue at the Worthington facility he had torched? Or was it last month – each day seemed to last forever and a time before San Francisco was quite literally another lifetime for John now. Either way, he was certain that his rival was far too noble to have switched girls so quickly. Unless the decision had been made for him and the Rogue had gone Rogue. John knew there was a reason he had liked her.
Remembering his former classmate's temper, John had no doubt that was the more likely scenario and decided to try and play upon it. "Awww, isn't that cute? Sticking up for the little girl? But my, my, whatever would your girlfriend say? Or did she realize what an uptight ass you were and leave you?"
"Shut up!" Bobby looked as surprised as John was that the answer came from the teen behind him. So Rogue wasn't the only little fireball in the mansion. John wondered how he hadn't noticed her when they were classmates. "I'm not a little girl and you have no right to insult Bobby. He and Rogue have been through enough without you to -"
Bobby interrupted, denying John of the pleasure of discovering exactly what had been troubling the Iceman in turn also dening him of ammo – for that was what all information on your enemy could be. And whatever was decided behind those oak doors – Bobby was and always would be his enemy – Alcatraz had cemented that.
"Kitty, go back to your room. Logan can come get you when it's time for your meeting. You shouldn't be here," Bobby ordered.
He sounded so like Scott or the Professor echoing the same sentiments that had driven John from these very halls that for a moment John was convinced that Bobby was channeling one of his dead professors. Kitty looked no less shocked than John did although she seemed quite a bit hurt by his authoritarian tone of voice. She did however turn and leave.
Watching Bobby's face crumble, John realized with a smirk that he may not have to do anything to ruin Bobby's "perfect" life. Bobby was starting to chip away at the golden finish all on his own.
Didn't mean he wasn't going to still have some fun with it. "Smooth, Drake," he chuckled as Bobby followed the girl's retreating figure with a lost puppy dog look. He waltzed over and slung his arm around Bobby's shoulder, as if consoling him on the one that got away.
Bobby shoved him off instantly.
'That was more like it,' John thought. All this passive aggressive bullshit was for girls. He ached to get his frustrations out in a more healthy, violent way, something that had been denied him since his capture. Since he had tried to kill the boy standing across from him. Since he had been defeated for the first time.
"You want to go? Rematch, Iceman." It may have been illogical, but John couldn't help thinking if he had just bested Bobby things could have turned out differently for his side. While beating him now wouldn't do much more than restore his pride . . . well, that much at least was something more than he currently had.
Unfortunately for John, this too was not to be. Ororo's voice carried across the hall cutting through the tension between the boys. "I'd remind you that fighting is not allowed in the halls. Or anywhere else for that matter. This much at least, has not changed."
John listened with a sinking heart. He didn't want to be here, in fact moments ago he would have suggested that anywhere but here would be preferable. Now, faced with the possibility that even the mansion that accepted anyone didn't want him, John realized how much he had lost by succumbing to selfish desires. "Does that mean the whole 'safe place for mutants' has?" John muttered under his breath.
"Not yet, Mr. Allerdyce. I will not allow Charles' dream to die with him just yet," Ororo's words made him feel small in comparison to some grand vision. Insignificant. An obligation, even. John grimaced. He hated feeling unimportant, just another student towards a dream. He had been somebody once. Now he was nobody. Less than nobody if Bobby had any say in the matter.
"Come, Mr. Allerdyce. Some things have changed since your last visit and there are some restrictions that we have been instructed to relay to you," Ororo started up the stairs, gesturing that he should follow. Not like he had any choice.
He had made his choice once. Now they were taken from him. John glared at Bobby not entirely convinced this wasn't all his fault, before trudging behind his new headmistress, staying far away from Logan's reach. He may be without options, but he wasn't stupid.
He recognized Kitty standing a few steps up and smiled. They could make him stay here, they could keep him from fire, but they couldn't control his every movement. And he needed something to live for, after all.
He leaned in close as he passed, until his lips nearly touched her ear. "I would never send you to your room," he quoted Bobby's earlier words. "But you're always welcome in mine," he finished noting the pleasant shade of pink her ear and indeed her entire face became.
He didn't need to turn around to see what Bobby's reaction was, but he did anyway, just for the fun of it. While it seemed chemically impossible for one known as "The Iceman," John could have sworn he saw steam coming out from his ears.
"This is your room," Ororo said pausing halfway down one of the corridors. "For obvious reasons your old room is . . ." she searched for the appropriate word. 'Occupied by a jackass?' John considered supplying but thought better of it. "Unsuitable," she finally finished.
The room he was shown was smaller than the one he and Bobby shared, but otherwise similar with some notable exceptions. The door locked from the outside, not the inside. And there were bars on the windows.
Noting his gaze, Ororo sighed. "I am sorry, John. We argued those were unnecessary, but the government was insistent upon some restrictions." John heard the conflict in her voice and knew he could reassure her with a word. He remained silent.
After a few minutes she seemed to maintain her control. "You will attend classes with the other students and dine with them. However, you are not to leave the campus, nor are you allowed to exercise your gifts."
John felt like the air had been taken out of the room. He knew it was illogical to expect that he would be allowed to train with the precious X-Men after he had tried to kill most of them via flaming vehicles of death, but the idea of living without fire was so foreign to him. It was like being blind or deaf or senseless in any other way.
"Government regulations," she explained helplessly with a shrug of her shoulders.
"The same government that stormed into this school with guns the last time I was here?" John asked, unable to conceal his bitterness at her, the government, his entire situation. "The one that gave me this, too?" He lifted his right pant leg to show the small blinking anklet that tracked his every move and his internal body temperature – making sure things didn't get too hot – literally.
She seemed however, to finally grow weary of his attitude. "It's not what anyone wanted, John, but your actions gave us little choice! You will find that Henry McCoy and others pulled every string in their power to get you even this much latitude. These restrictions are only temporary – not forever, unless you choose to make it so," she snapped. She shook her head and walked to the door leaving him alone. "Dinner is an hour. I will send someone for you." She was halfway out the door before she turned back. "Not everyone gets a second chance, John. Do with it what you will."
John heard the door close and lock behind her and flopped down on his bed frustrated. It didn't feel like much of a second chance. Magneto's had felt like a second chance – a chance to spread his flames and find what he was capable of. Now he was back within the walls and restrictions of the institute. Restrictions – he realized looking at the iron bars blocking his view of the basketball courts – that were all the more binding than when he had left.
But what choice had he really? He could stay here and earn his diploma and live in relative comfort – free in a few years to do whatever it was that ex-cons did, whether that be return to crime or to live a "normal" life. He could argue and get placed into a high security prison alongside his old friends – those that had survived and would no doubt be ill pleased with the fact that he had been given leniency. Or he could wait for some slip . . . some spark and use it to get free.
Free to go where? Magneto was a human now. Mystique was mere mortal as well. Of his cause there were few. And if John was willing to admit it to himself, it hadn't really been his cause ever. What did he care about big speeches and mutant rights? He had wanted to set things on fire and for a while he had. On his own what hope had he of staying free?
Of course . . . here he wasn't alone. There were hundreds of students at the school by now, even more now than when he had left. It was possible to think that not all of them liked being told exactly what to do and how to do it. Look at how Kitty had reacted to Bobby's "orders." Maybe he could sway a few over to his side of thinking – show them how they could be gods among men, the way Magneto had shown him. With a few friends – particularly gifted friends, he could escape and hide out as long as he wanted or needed to and live like a king doing so. Perhaps this wasn't such a bad situation to be after all.
As for his former roommate . . . John flashed back to his conversation with Bobby. Could he really stand to be in the same institute as that stuck up pretty boy? After all, he was in part responsible for this his entire world collapsing. It wouldn't be fair not to at least try to return the favor.
John remembered the expression on Bobby's face as he had flirted with Kitty on the stairs. Perhaps he could kill two birds with one stone. After all, someone of Kitty's abilities would be beyond helpful if he were to have to be on the run from the law. Glancing down at his ankle he thought of one helpful use right away, if she could slide that thing off as easily as she slid through walls. And no matter what Drake's relationship with Rogue was, there was no denying he felt something for the petite ghost girl. Taking her away from the mansion – away from Bobby – would be the ultimate coup.
A plan for surviving inside the mansion firmly in place, John set about unpacking and getting dressed for dinner. It wouldn't be easy making friends when one was known as the attempted murderer of most of the faculty and first impressions would be important. Good thing for John – he loved a challenge.