John! This is my last warning. Jedikiah's voice seemed to become even more urgent as John pressed his hands against his head, trying to shut him out. Shut everything out.
If you don't come back now, there is nothing I can do for you. Please.
For a short moment, he hesitated. Jedikiah had used him, he had made him endure worse pains and do worse things than John had ever experienced before.
But he had saved him. And throughout it all, John knew that Jed cared for him. Roger had said that, too. And you know, John, you know he cares about that. About you.
But Roger had died because of what ULTRA had made of Jedikiah. What it had made of John.
You should have let them kill me. Of course, there was no answer. Jedikiah was trying to understand – or at least to seem understanding – but he had no idea of what was really going on in John's head. What it meant to be a mutant. And he was a man who could not love anything that was out of his control, if he could love at all.
John took a deep breath and started running again.

He knew where he was going, for now; the net of cameras was spreading wide over the city, but it wasn't reaching everywhere. There were areas, especially in the southern part of New York, where nobody could see him. He could disappear there, take a car and get out of the city. And then…
John jumped to a halt. ULTRA's agents knew that, too. They would await him in those parts, and they would notice every supernatural action. Like breaking a car's lock, he'd never been good at doing stuff like that with human skills. He didn't want to be criminal.
For a moment, both hysterical laughter and tears bubbled up in John. The good it had done to him, and worse – to the people who cared for him. It had started with Derek, his childhood neighbor, who had once stood up against John's foster father and earned a broken arm for it – causing Derek's parents to move away. The attacker, however – well, was a drinking buddy of some police officers. Case closed. Then Tony. Now Roger. Dead because of him.
I should've just shot myself and be done with it.

As John's thoughts became heavier so did his feet. Eventually he moved down to the next subway station, craving for a moment's rest - apparently his body didn't want to die yet, even though his heart wasn't so sure about that. He was well trained, but not even he could run the whole night long. Not with the weight of Roger on his shoulders. "Take care of our people."
Who were "their" people? Other mutants John had learnt to hunt and fight? But if the were so important, why didn't Roger stay to lead them? Why did he force John to do everything – including the killing shot?

As John collapsed onto a bench, the tears finally came. He buried his face in his hands, allowing grief, fear and anger to make their way through his body. What do you want me to do? Why did you make me do this? – addressing both brothers, he realized. They were so similar even if neither of them seemed to notice it. I can't do this! What were you thinking? You say you care for me, but then you go and ask things of me I can't do! I'm gonna die, either way, is that your way of caring? How dare you load all of this onto me? How dare you-
I'll throw these shoes out of the window once I'm home, and if no car comes to destroy them I will set them aflame! I swear it!
It was all John could do not to jump as another mind wound into his head. He hadn't been able to uphold his guard in the past minutes. But the girl next to him – she couldn't be much older than twelve – didn't seem dangerous, and her thoughts were so wonderfully stupid, if serious in her mind, that the weight on John's chest seem to lighten. He took a deep breath and a closer look at her. Well, the shoes were a problem, no doubt. Too high, too small.
Will I disturb him if I sit down?

It took him a second to realize the question was meant for him, indirectly. He cleared his throat. "Wanna sit down? Those shoes look…" Brutal? Deadly? There was no way he could say those words lightly ever again. John tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. He was probably scaring the girl to death. Good. She should not spend more time with him than necessary. She smiled back. "Horrible? Yes, that's how they feel. Thank you." She sat down on the other edge of the bank, smiling shyly and rubbing her toes.
"I meant… beautiful." Somehow, her smile made it easier for him to breathe, and his smile became more genuine. The girl's mind flooded with relief. Thank God, he's not a killer.
John closed his eyes. You have no idea, little one. He shook his head, glad that she couldn't hear his thoughts.
"Our car broke down, and now I have to take the subway to get home. They'll get me from 23rd Street." She bit her lips. "I've never been out here that late at night."
"You shouldn't be." John frowned as an old instinct woke up inside him: the need to protect the girl, to make sure she would be safe, just like he had tried with his foster siblings. Like he had tried, and failed, with… resolutely, John pushed the thought down. Not this time. This girl would not die.
Not that she seemed to be in any actual danger, right now.
"Well, I'm old enough." She tried to shrug it off, and though John could see through her mask even without his special powers, he nodded in approval. "You're brave."
"My parents told me to believe in the good in people."

John bit his lips not to laugh. Stupid people. Stupid, ignorant, naïve people… he knew that love existed somewhere out there, but – not for everyone. And there wasn't "good" in everyone, either. Some people were just bad, because they wanted to. And others were bad even though they didn't want to.
The girl frowned at him. "You think they're wrong?"
I think they're trying to get you killed. John bit back the thought. "I don't… know" he managed, his smile gone. "But if you want, I'll accompany you to 23rd."
She beamed. "See? You are nice. Thank you. By the way", she reached out her hand. "I'm Astrid."
He took a deep breath. Astrid – probably the last person who would see him alive. What was he doing? She certainly wasn't a mutant, or she would have reacted differently. According to Roger, he should look out for others, not for humans.
But according to Roger, everything was fine.
"John", he said as he gently took Astrid's hand. She didn't let go of it till they reached the station, then smiled at him again and rushed out to her parents, laughing. John closed his eyes in relief. She was safe. She would be okay. At least one who wouldn't pay with her life for knowing him.
Then he heard it. Triumphant, aggressive thoughts of ULTRA-agents coming down to them.

For a second, John was paralyzed by terror – something he hadn't been since he'd started training. Not Astrid, not Astrid, please not Astrid!
The agents passed the family without a second glance, heading for the train. John sank onto one of the benches. Thank God. His hands were shaking with fear and relief. He took a deep breath and straightened. The break was over, the fight was on. He couldn't let them kill him yet. No matter how angry he was with Roger for imposing the responsibility over the mutants on him, he could not simply defy the order. He had to find a way to protect them.
Kill or be killed.

Two agents died in the car, but another three of them were wrestling him down, one of them trying to manacle him with a blocking cuff. He had no other choice. John leaped away and teleported, having no idea of his arrival point except that it was somewhere outside the subway.

He landed in the doorway of what seemed to be an old, forgotten hall. Just like the ones… you found in subway stations. There was dim light coming from behind him, and he still heard the trains moving. Down under. No cameras, because nobody knew this place even existed. John had memorized the map.
Well, it was a beginning.