Rachel woke up the next morning rather tired. Magneto's nightmares had only worsened as the night progressed, so she hadn't slept well. She walked to the kitchen hoping to find some coffee and something to eat. She saw John and Mystique were already there.

"Morning, Rach."

Ugh. She had told John not to call her Rach. Danielle was the only one who could call her that. Somehow that made John call her it more. Though she learned to not respond to it, it still bugged her. That said, it was nice having someone she knew in the Brotherhood. Other than that habit, the two of them generally got along quite well. Rachel had been quite good friends with Bobby and John. Well, Bobby at least. Bobby and John had sort of been a package deal. They were best friends, so if you wanted to be friends with Bobby, you had to be friends with John. The same was true for Rogue. Rachel thought that was likely the only reason Rogue had friends. Rachel and John never talked about it, but they both missed their friends at the mansion. It didn't need to be said between them.

"Morning, John."

"We don't use our slave names here," Mystique corrected.

"Rachel doesn't have a mutant name."

"Psyche. I decided last night. It's Psyche."

"See? Now you can call Psyche by her real name, Pyro," Mystique said with emphasis on their names.

"Mystique, you're such a hypocrite," John began, "You call Magneto by his real name all the time."

"Magneto is his real name."

"Then why do you call him Erik?"

"John, I mean, Pyro, let it go." Rachel sensed Mystique wouldn't like being questioned about that. Even without her telepathy, she thought it was pretty obvious Mystique and Magneto have feelings for each other. Perhaps it was the fact that it looked like there was a significant age difference that threw Pyro off. Mystique looked a lot younger than Magneto, despite only being thirteen years younger than the man. Or maybe it was just that Pyro was, frankly, not the sharpest crayon in the box.

"You really want me to call you Psyche?"

Rachel paused for a moment. This was making it official: she was accepting not only the fact that she was a mutant, but the fact that she had joined the Brotherhood and wasn't going back. But none of that was anything to be ashamed of. It's who she is and what she stands for.

"Yeah. It's my name now. You want to be called Pyro?"

Truth be told, Pyro had never really decided which name he liked better. A lot of the kids at the mansion had mutant names, so he came up with Pyro. He definitely saw the point of having a mutant name. It showed off his mutant pride and told the world he is who he is and he's not hiding. It set him apart from the Homo sapiens. He was definitely more proud of being a mutant than he was of being the son of his parents. His parents weren't exactly the kind of people one was proud of. On the other hand, however, it was a constant reminder that he couldn't go back. He figured that was probably the idea. That was probably why Mystique insisted on the use of their mutant names. She wanted to remind them turning back wasn't an option. It wasn't like the reminder was needed. He knew he couldn't go back. He didn't really want to. He mentally reprimanded himself for being pathetic. It wasn't that he hadn't decided if he supported Magneto. He had. He had never liked Xavier's philosophy of nonviolence. He just didn't want to fight against his friends. He knew that was pathetic. But, though he had never and would never say it out loud, he loved and missed his friends, especially Bobby. He had never said it out loud. He hadn't wanted Bobby to take it the wrong way or anything like that. But he loved him. Not in that way, but as his friend. He viewed Bobby as more than a friend. He was his brother. Not that he'd admit that. But now he had to show his loyalty to the Brotherhood. His new brothers and sisters. He didn't want to be on Mystique's bad side anyway.

"Yeah."

"Good. No one's going to use anyone's slave name around here anymore, right?"

Mystique had asked it as a question, but the tone in her voice suggested it was something of a dare. It was as if she said "I dare you to call each other 'Rachel' and 'Pyro' again."

"No." Pyro and Psyche said together. Mystique left the room. Rachel made herself some coffee while Pyro poured the two of them cereal. They didn't have much else there. Pyro was sick of it, and sick of the silence.

"You annoyed that all we ever have is cereal? And we never have any different kinds. I mean, I know we're not as rich as Xavier, but come on."

"I hadn't really thought about it."

"Maybe I can hint about that to Magneto."

"I wouldn't."

"Why not? Don't you want different cereal around here?"

"You do know he was in Auschwitz as a kid, right? He had to choose between starving to death or..."

Rachel caught herself. She knew Magneto wouldn't appreciate her telling the details of what had happened to him to Pyro. He wouldn't appreciate the fact that she knew either. She wasn't supposed to know all the details. He hadn't wanted her to read that part of his mind. He especially wouldn't want her to tell Pyro about it. She was just annoyed with Pyro right now. It wasn't his fault. He wasn't doing anything particularly annoying. She did feel a little ridiculous. She wasn't the one who had lived through a concentration camp. If anyone in the Brotherhood had the right to be offended or annoyed by a teenager complaining about being bored with the breakfast cereal, it wasn't her, it was Magneto. Sometimes her telepathy had that curse: she empathized with others a bit too much.

"Or? Or what?"

"Never mind."

"Come on. You brought it up."

"Why do you want to know?"

"Probably the same reason you looked through his head to find out. I'm curious."

"The guards forced him to loot the bodies of the dead prisoners. They gave him chocolate if he found anything they wanted. And there was one guard, some sadistic pervert, would give him food in return for...you know."

Pyro was disgusted. "Please tell me you don't mean what I think you mean."

"Yeah."

"Wasn't he, like, a kid then?"

The two of them had been so wrapped up in their thoughts that neither of them noticed the footsteps behind them.

"I was twelve. Good morning."