You've Got To Go There To Come Back

by lovethiscity

Set after X3. Pyro's first person account of being found and brought back to Xavier's mansion. For his criminal actions he has been given house arrest at Xavier's School and he must learn to adjust and struggles with the challenges of living there.

7. Chapter 7

Title: You've Got To Go There To Come Back
Author: Iris, "sleepall-day" at Livejournal
Rating: Fairly tame, around PG-13.
Timeline: Directly after Alcatraz events of X3.
Summary: After the fight at Alcatraz, Pyro is found and brought back to Xavier's mansion. For his criminal actions he has been given house arrest at Xavier's School and he must learn to adjust.
Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men or any Marvel characters used in this fanfiction. This story is just for fun, and any resemblances you find to actual people, living or dead, shows that you have strange friends.

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Chapter 7: "Pyro, you stay put."

Hank McCoy was busy bandaging the new boy in the school's infirmary while Storm called up a local doctor who had done some work at the school before. Naturally, any of the students who had been around when the boy was brought in flocked to the infirmary to see what the commotion was about, me and Kitty included. It was an absolute zoo – the kids were peering into the room and chattering amongst themselves while Wolverine was desperately trying to shoo them out. The boy was still crying and kept saying, "I didn't mean to!" Storm was watching the boy while talking on the phone and feeling around for the speakerphone button.

"- you can't do that," the voice on the other end of the phone said. "He'll bleed to death before you can even –" It was all I heard before I was kicked out, too.

"The Friends of Humanity?" Kitty said, looking up at me.

"Yeah. A hate group," I replied, my eyes still on the infirmary. Man, it sucked that a kid got hurt, but this was the most excitement I'd gotten in days. I wanted to know what was going on!

"I know who they are," she said. I could barely hear her over the rest of the kids that were talking. We stood there for a few more seconds.

Then, Wolverine burst through the infirmary's double doors. "All right!" he barked. "Everyone – everyone – out! Pyro!" he pointed at me. He'd been calling me John not long ago.

Startled, I just said, "What?" but it couldn't be heard above the noise.

"Pyro, you stay put. Everyone else go! Now! We're gonna need some quiet. Out!"

"What do you mean?" I said. Apprehensive would be an understatement as to how I was feeling. Confused, I shot Kitty a glance and followed Wolverine. She met my look and left with the rest of the students.

Once back inside the infirmary, Storm looked at me and didn't waste any time saying, "John, please help this boy."

I saw the kid lying there, still muttering to himself, and couldn't help feeling sorry for him. I completely did. It doesn't matter that I'd hurt people in the past – I'd never let myself believe that I was that emotionless. The boy needed help. "Me?" I asked. "What? What do I do?"

"We can't stitch him up in time. We don't have a doctor here," Storm said.

"What about –" I started to say, looking at Hank.

"I'm an organic chemist, not a surgeon, and look at these hands," he said, with his massive palms up, since he was done bandaging the boy's head and leg.

"His side," Storm said. "We don't think anything's broken, so Dr. Ferguson said we should close it right away. Use your power, John, and cauterize it."

"What? I mean – I've never done that before."

"Please, John. You can do it. He may die if you don't," she pleaded, struggling to hold the boy's wound shut and she looked at me.

All right, this wasn't the sort of excitement that I was hoping for. Sure, I'd burned plenty of people before, but this? This was going to have to be so controlled that I was actually nervous about using my abilities.

I'd already gotten my lighter out and flicked it open, though. I asked, "How do I do it?"

Hank answered, "We've already administered a small dose of painkillers. Don't put the lighter near him. Just control your flame so that it covers the least amount of surface area possible, and direct it only onto the wound. Only where the wound is."

I took a deep breath. At least, the boy had calmed down a little bit. I nodded at Storm, and then looked at the boy's right side.

Oh, God. How was this boy still conscious! It was a wide, horizontal gash outlined with bruises, and even as Storm was struggling to hold it shut, blood was pouring out of it. I hoped I wouldn't get too nauseated, and opened the flame on my lighter.

As soon as I had grabbed the flame in the air, I tossed the lighter on one of the steel tables to help me concentrate. I had to turn the flame into the thinnest ribbon possible. I led it towards one end of the wound, and as soon as it touched his flesh he screamed, and I flinched.

Keep going, I thought. I tried to remember every single lesson I'd had in control. Control, control, control. It was such a repeated theme in our lessons, so much that I was annoyed whenever the topic was brought up again. But now I knew that it was with good reason – without it, my fire would be ablaze everywhere. It could have even eaten me alive, as I'd learned on Alcatraz.

His right arm was fairly uninjured, and he used his forearm to cover his face, and managed to stay pretty strong. I don't know if he did that to help me or not, but it did, to have his arm out of the way. After the initial scream he didn't make too much noise, and I continued to trace the wound. Man, this kid was really in pain, and I didn't want to make it any worse. I didn't think I'd ever been up close to someone who was bleeding so profusely, and I had to admit it was pretty gruesome. I kept going, and Storm looked up at Hank, and said, "Call her again, please."

Hank picked the phone and dialed a number. Wolverine was just standing back, looking a little frustrated that he couldn't help and could only watch. It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be once I got started, and soon I had cauterized the whole gash. When I finished, I felt the boy relax even though I hadn't physically been touching him. He had been so tensed up the entire time, but when I let go of the flame and let it out in my palm, he let out a long breath and said so quietly I could barely hear him, "Didn't mean to…"

"What's he talking about?" I asked Storm, who was also looking a little more relaxed.

"I'm not so sure," she said. "I was in the Blackbird with Hank, and we got a tip through local authorities that there was a small riot – anti-mutant related. He was already beaten pretty badly when we found him, but we don't think he did anything – after all, it was members of the Friends of Humanity who were hurting him."

"Why?" I asked.

"Do they need a reason?" she retorted. "They just hate."

She held her lips in a thin line as she stared straight ahead, and her gaze was only broken when Hank said, "She's on her way."

"Hank, help me move this under his arm, here," Storm replied. Then she looked at me and said, "You don't have to stay in here if you don't want to, but will you please stay outside? I think we may need you to cauterize the wound on his leg if we can't close it up first – the bleeding's less severe there but I don't know yet."

"Yeah, sure. I'll wait outside," I said, and started to walk out the doors.

"John," she added. "We can't thank you enough." Wolverine and Beast actually both nodded and murmured in agreement. Beast wiped his brow and took off his glasses to wipe them off.

I just stood there, a little stunned. They were thanking me. I mean, it's not that I couldn't understand why, but I guess I just wasn't used to it. "It was – no big –" I stammered, using the phrase Kitty had when I'd thanked her just some minutes ago.

Storm, who had been looking incredibly stressed out, finally let out a smile and said, "You may have just saved this boy's life. John, go be proud of yourself."

I was even more stunned. Proud of myself? Well! When was the last time that had happened? Even weirder, when was the last time someone had told me that I could be proud of myself?

Hell. I'd just stopped a kid from bleeding to death by careful control of my powers. Damn right I could be proud of myself. I'd helped, and now that kid may have a chance to live. Those son of a bitch mutant haters better get a load of this. We'd stopped them.

I left that infirmary with an immense feeling of satisfaction. Just this morning I'd been feeling like I couldn't do anything about mutant discrimination while imprisoned in the school, but I had. If that kid had bled to death that would've been a point for them. I realized my hands were shaking a little bit as I walked out, and I was staring at them, so I didn't notice that Kitty had run up to me.

"John, what happened?" I jerked my head up. "What did they want you for?" she said.

"They… oh, God. That kid was bleeding from his right side. They couldn't get a doctor here in time to stitch it up so they had me cauterize it before he could lose too much blood." The words just tumbled out once I started talking, and I had to let out another deep breath.

"So… did it work? Did you close the wound?" she asked anxiously.

I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. It worked."

Kitty's face broke out into a wide smile. "Oh, John, you didn't. I can't believe it. That's amazing," she said, and gave me some relieved laughter.

"I did," I shot right back at her. "I kind of can't believe it myself," I chuckled. She started to say something, but was interrupted by a woman in a lab coat – had to be Dr. Ferguson – rushing past. She was quickly followed by two men with a stretcher. The doctor hurried into the infirmary and I could hear them talking.

"Oh, Jenna – thank God! We didn't even hear you coming."

"No sirens, of course! We couldn't tip anyone off where we were going, there are probably still some pretty angry people out there." The doctor told them that the boy could be taken to a local hospital from here, and as I peered into the room, I saw her place a hand on the boy's forehead. He immediately relaxed, and grew a sleepy look on his face. She was a mutant. And she was using some form of power to sedate him, or ease the pain somehow. They took this chance to move him gently onto the stretcher, and the phone rang. Storm grabbed the receiver and from what I could make out, she was talking to the boy's mother.

"Ororo, are you coming with us?" Dr. Ferguson asked.

Storm glanced at her, and said, "Let me just grab some things," and turned on the speakerphone so she could pick up everything that had fallen out of her purse when she dropped it on the floor of the infirmary earlier. "Mrs. Shields. We're now taking him to a hospital. You can meet us there," she called into the phone.

The woman on the other line was sobbing. "Please take care of my little boy!" I wondered if she knew that her son was a mutant. Actually, she probably did. I know I heard Storm mention the Friends of Humanity on the phone just minutes earlier. So the mother must have known. My parents – well, the short version was that they wanted me to get out. And yet this woman didn't care. She just wanted her son to be okay. That kind of love… it made me feel strange.

I walked away, and I could faintly hear Wolverine saying, "Should I stay with the kids?"

Dr. Ferguson replied, "I'd like to see if you can give him some blood." Apparently she knew about his mutation. So, he hopped into the ambulance as well, and soon they were all gone. I guess they hadn't needed me again after all. I almost wished I could join them to the hospital, since now I was curious about what would happen to the boy, but even if I could leave the mansion they probably wouldn't have let me.

Well. They weren't going to be back for awhile, so I just resigned myself to my room and let myself fall onto the covers, and just laid there for a few minutes. I drew my knees up and rubbed my ankle where the metal anklet was. Prisoner or not, I'd made a difference today. If only I could get my flames on the ignorant haters who had done this.

Then I noticed that all the boxes Kitty and I'd brought from the basement were still scattered on my floor. I'd almost forgotten. I jumped down to the floor and started going through them. I hadn't been making much of an effort at all to think of the school as a home instead of a prison, to be honest, but I would be lying if I said I didn't want it that way. Who wouldn't? All these things that belonged to me when I was at home, in my parent's home in a little suburb outside of Sydney, or when I lived at the school as a student – they suddenly made me feel more like I belonged here. There were notebooks filled with notes and doodles I'd done during classes. The scientific calculator I'd used on a chemistry final that I'd actually put a lot of effort into studying for. The red sweater I looked forward to wearing whenever the weather got colder.

I got to the bottom of one of the boxes and gingerly picked up something I hadn't thought about in years. It was a sign I hung on my door my first year here. It read, "This room belongs to John Allerdyce. Do not disturb! Anything you want to say can be written on a square piece of paper and slid under the door, which will then be made into various origami figures for your viewing pleasure and then promptly incinerated." I'd drawn some flames above the word "incinerated," too.

I laughed at myself. Man, I'd been such an angry kid. I'd had reason to be at the time, I guess, what with leaving my own parents and bringing horrible feeling of being unwanted with me. But I remember taking down that sign after I started making a few friends at Xavier's School, and putting it away carefully instead of throwing it out, just in case I needed it again. Yeah, I had been a part of this place. I just didn't know it at the time.

I started putting things away in drawers and the wardrobe, and was almost done when there was a knock on the door. "Read the sign," I said loudly.

"I don't have any paper." It was Kitty.

I sighed heavily and said, "Fine, come in," in a defeated tone. "What?" I asked when she phased through the door.

"Hey, John," she said brightly. "Heard about what happened."

"Well, yeah, because I told you!"

"You did, but not the details! John, that kid was gonna die. And you saved him, didn't you?" she said, still standing in front of the door.

"Yeah. Yeah, he was," I conceded. "Who said that?"

"Hank did. He called the line in the common room, and asked if someone could find a spare room for the new guy – Charlie, his name is. He has multiple fractures in one of his arms. He's coming here as soon as they fix him up. And yeah, John. They told me that he would've died if it weren't for you."

I just looked at her. "And?"

"And they're really proud of you. And actually, so am I."

Well, it was better than having them feel sorry for me. "All right, all right, I'm proud of me, too," I said, and leaned back in my chair. I was staring out my window, at some kids who were shooting hoops outside, and hadn't looked at Kitty since she'd come in the room.

"Mind if I sit?" she asked.

"Go ahead. But I'm not planning on entertaining you," I answered.

"What, don't have anything to do?" she teased. "What have you been up to lately?"

"Well, yesterday, I had high tea with the royal English family in the morning, and then decided to boogie-board my way back across the ocean. I shot a few wild antelope in the woods back there –" I pointed at the tree line beyond the basketball court – "smoked the meat for venison, and packed it away for the winter. Then I heard we had a bit of Indian trouble in the Danger Room so I went on the warpath and by the time that was done, it was time to cook dinner."

Kitty held a steady grin on her face without saying anything, and raised her eyebrows at me.

I gave in to her. "Now that I think about it, that must have been somebody else. I sat around and twiddled my thumbs. But I guess I did cook dinner."

She finally broke and gave me a little laugh and a crooked smile. "John, do you just stay in your room all day?"

"Mostly. Either that or the kitchen. Sometimes the common room," I said.

"Why aren't you going outside?" she asked. It was a question I'd been asking myself lately, too.

I looked out the window again, and just said, "I don't know." I wasn't going to tell her that I thought I did know, though. I wasn't sure. Maybe I was just punishing myself for what I'd done. But nothing I did really shook away that feeling of just being ashamed when I sat at the front of the court room during my trial. Maybe one of these days I'd forget it, but it would be awhile before that happened. Or maybe I was just trying to be inconspicuous.

"You should try stepping outside. Get some fresh air," she prodded.

"I would kind of like to," I admitted. "Got a lot of stuff to think about," I told her.

"So do it!" she said. "Listen, I'll leave you alone. But you should really do it – you know, for yourself. Just get out of the building a little bit."

"Yeah."

"I'll see you later, then," she said, and got up and phased back out of the door.

I gazed out of the window again. It would be nice. I glanced at the anklet that was chaining me to this campus, and figured it couldn't hurt. I was, actually, allowed outdoors on the campus grounds. Xavier had owned a lot of land, and the school campus was fairly large. The state was allowing me on the surrounding areas of the school, but I hadn't taken advantage of that privilege yet.

I decided to spend a lot of time outside today. I passed the kids who had been playing basketball, and even tossed the ball back to one of them when it had rolled away. I wasn't exactly sure where my boundaries were, but the red light on my anklet would warn me when I was within five feet. I planned to walk in a circle around the school getting as close to the boundary as I could.

I took my time, so when I got back to my starting point, twenty minutes had passed and I was standing behind the school building. I stared at the huge structure, and suddenly decided to climb up to the roof. I'd know every inch of my confinement by the time I was out of here. What else was left for me to do?

I wondered if there was a way for me to get to the roof from the outside, but couldn't see one so I went back inside and just took the stairs. By the time I reached the roof, the sunlight hit my eyes, so at first I almost didn't see the other mutant sitting on the roof.

"Hey," he said.

"Bird-boy," I replied.

"Yup," Warren said, good-naturedly.

"What are you doing up here?" I asked.

"Thinking. You?"

I laughed softly. "I guess me too." I sat down next to him.

The two of us both heaved a sigh in unison, which made us give each other a look. We spent the next few minutes just looking over the city. Xavier's school wasn't in the middle of a crowded city, of course – there wasn't the room – but it was close to one. It was a pretty sight.

I don't know why I felt I had to say it, but I broke the silence by saying, "You mad at me?"

Warren turned to look at me, a curious expression on his face, and ruffled a wing. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"Well… I am the one who… you know. Destroyed one of your father's labs." I hesitated a little before I spoke again. "With some people in it." Did he not know it was me?

"Ah, yes," he said, sounding cryptic. "No, John, I'm not mad. I forgive you."

Wow, that was quick. And I hadn't even asked for it. "Why?" I asked warily.

"Why what? Why am I not mad, or why do I forgive you?"

"Both. Definitely."

"Well… I guess it's kind of circular logic. I forgive you, so I can't really be mad anymore because of that. And I guess I forgive you because I believe you'll be sorry about it someday, if you aren't already."

"Yeah, you think?" I said, not giving anything away.

"Yeah, I do. I mean – I'm not going to lie to you, it wouldn't be this easy for me to say this had my own father, or someone else I cared about, been in there. I'd want to try, but it wouldn't be easy. But I didn't know any of those people. It's awful they died, yeah, but, here's a chance for me to try to be forgiving because it's easier since I didn't know them."

I nodded. I sort of understood. I almost wished I had that kindness in me, but I knew I wasn't that sort of person.

I guessed Warren was, until he spoke again and said, "Obviously that's something I'm trying to work on."

I heard Charlie's mother's voice in my head, "Please take care of my little boy!" and pictured his mangled body. Then that body become the body one of the people who had been in the lab I'd torched, and the worried, anxious voice was their mother's voice.

"In fact, Warren… I am sorry," I told him.

"You really are?" he said.

"I really am."

He just smiled at me.

We sat in some more silence, until Warren gave a satisfied-sounding "Hmmm!" and leaned back, the wind whipping back his feathers. He said with a wide smile, "Feels good, doesn't it?"

"The breeze?" I said, not wishing to get into a philosophical conversation with a guy I hardly knew.

"Yeah, yeah – the breeze," he said, even though it wasn't what he meant. But he continued, "And letting go. If you're really sorry about what you did, dude… one of these days it's going to leave you. Won't bother you so much. I'm glad we talked, too."

He was a really easy-going guy. It was nice being on the roof and sitting with someone who didn't feel sorry for me or was afraid of me. Or just plain hated me. "Yeah, I am too," I told him. "Actually – it feels pretty good to clear the air."

He nodded, and said "Ever have stuff just work out so well you wish you could fly? Just jump up and soar away?" Warren grinned, and after a pause he said, "And the cool thing is – I can actually do it. I can just… fly." He waved his palm in the air.

I laughed and shook my head at him, about to call him nuts, but then I remembered something. As I was circling the mansion earlier I'd seen him and Betsy, one of the other students here, looking pretty close. I knew what he was talking about.

Warren looked like he was about to jump for joy and just take off right there, but suddenly pointed at the gated entrance to the school.
"Look, they must be back with that kid!"

He was right. I peered over the roof and saw our staff members unload a wheelchair from the back of the ambulance that had taken them to the hospital, and help Charlie into it. He had a cast on his arm, and was still bandaged up but was looking a lot better.

"Want to go see what's up?" I said to Warren. He gave me a nod, and I started for the stairs but barely even got started before – "WHOA! Hey! This is – don't drop me!"