A/N: This note is just here for alignment purposes.

What the Hell?

Chapter 17

It Goes Without Saying

Sitting side by side, Rogue nudged her boyfriend awake as the jet was about to touchdown.

"What were you dreaming of?" Rogue asked when he opened his eyes.

John stretched his arms, and said, "I . . . don't remember" between a yawn.

"You were smiling so it must've been a good one."

He flashed her a white grin. "You were probably in it."

"Shut up," Dom groaned, dragging out the two words dramatically. "You're going to make me sick."

They ignored him.

She rolled her eyes and pushed John playfully. "I bet it involved fire to some degree."

He snorted. "Was that pun intentional?"

She smiled. "Maybe."

"Shut. Up!"

Again Rogue's elbow made contact with her boyfriend's side. "He's just a grumpy snowcap," she told him with amusement lighting up her eyes.

To no one in particular, Dom pleaded, "Just kill me now!"

"Indeed he is. I don't blame him, though," John told her. To Dom, he said, "It won't get much better from here, Avalanche. However, you will be rid of the two of us for a while, anyway."

The jet descended vertically. Once the wheels touched down, the platform proceeded to descend the Blackbird underground while another panel filled the gap above. The jet's ramp opened and most of the inhabitants exited. John remained onboard as did Rogue. They rose from their seats when Jean made her way to the back end of the aircraft. John told Jean, "Let me know if you need anything from me. Seriously. Anything."

She touched his shoulder reassuringly. "There's a lot involved so you're going to have to continue to be patient. You'll be briefed as soon as information is gathered."

He exhaled deeply, nodded, and left the jet, hand in hand with Rogue in tow. His confident stature didn't waiver, head held high, posture straight as an arrow. Hope was now within reach rather than a distant wishful-thinking pipedream.

Rogue clung to his arm as they walked. "You're quiet. While that's not alarming in itself, I need to know where your head is at."

"Lots of stuff is swirling around in there but it's just noise and useless. I'm all right."

She stopped, guiding John to face her, searching his gray eyes. "Okay," she said after a full minute, confirming satisfaction that his words were purely authentic. Eyes don't lie. They can't.

"I'm good." The smile he gave her was genuine and not forced. "How about some food? Are you hungry? I am."

"Ravenous!" Rogue quickly grabbed his hand and they sprinted together toward the kitchen.

Rogue glided over the kitchen's threshold first. Acting as a finish line, her palms slapped the island counter in the middle of the room. Logan's watchful eyes witnessed everything but he said nothing as he minded his own business and beer. She turned and propped her back against the table as she planted her palms on either side, gripping the tabletop.

John, the loser in the race, gave his girlfriend the winner, something unexpected. A devilish grin spread from his lips before he tickled her in all of the places that would make her squirm and laugh the most.

Since they were acting like children, Rogue thought it fitting to announce 'Uncle!' After the third announcement of the word, John granted her request to stop. While Rogue caught her breath and wrangled her hair back into place, John scanned the cupboards and fridge. When he turned, he held a box of microwavable popcorn and frozen pizza in each hand.

Rogue tried her best to hide the smirk when she told him both. Her reasoning: one would be consumable within minutes while the other would take longer.

Without further delay, the cooking settings were set and launched. Then he pivoted so that his back faced the wall and appliances. John's eyes traveled to the third occupant in the room who of which was still minding his own business. "Letting Jean do all of the heavy lifting, huh?"

Logan pointed his index finger at John using the same hand that held his beer bottle. "For your information, Bub, I asked." He took a quick swig and swallowed. "She's more than capable of handling Avalanche and Ultimatum on her own but I'm sure Scott will help her anyway. The poor guy needs to feel needed. You know?"

John mocked-winced in agreement at the dig. Rogue looked somewhere between amused and on the verge of defending Scott but she held her tongue. She thought it beneficial that her two favorite guys have a harmless but mutual bond even at someone else's expense.

When the popping intensity decreased, John pushed the stop button on the microwave. He pealed the bag open by the corners and offered it to Rogue first. She accepted, waited for the steam to cease, and munched on a handful before giving it back to her boyfriend to take. He too shoveled a handful into his mouth and as he chewed he flicked a piece of popcorn at her and then another.

Rogue snatched the bag from him, frowning. "Stop wasting food," she chastised. "I actually want to eat it."

"Five-second rule," John countered as he bent to pick them up.

She snorted. "That doesn't exist."

Logan interjected, "Too much foot traffic."

Rogue's eyes widened and then narrowed. "If you eat them, I will never kiss you again."

He looked at her and then at the two pieces of popcorn in his hand. After a swift moment in thought, he said, "Definitely not worth that." John proceeded to discard them into the trash bin that didn't stick out like a sore thumb. It was hidden as a cabinet but it slid out on rolling hinges. He positioned himself shoulder-to-shoulder with Rogue.

"Here," she said, putting some popcorn in his mouth.

Around a mouthful and smirk, he asked, "Why does it taste even better this way?"

She chuckled and fed him more.

Logan cleared his throat.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Rogue asked over her shoulder.

He got up and once the pair were in his wake, but within earshot, he said, "I was never here."

Simultaneously, the couple shared a look at one another. It was impossible for them not to crack a smile at each other and do their best to stifle laughter.

Shadowcat lead Storm to the room she labeled as disturbing. Prior to phasing, she told Storm what she saw to somewhat prepare her. Phasing was the only option to save time as she didn't know the normal way to get to this room. Storm surveyed their surroundings as she caught her breath. Her jaw dropped and her hand lifted toward her mouth. Quietly, she uttered words that Kitty didn't understand.

Kitty forced herself to move away from the corner and find answers.

Storm strode to the youngest victim and placed two fingers on his neck, looking for a pulse. Finding it, albeit faint, she then put her hand on his shoulder. Storm pivoted, facing Kitty who was holding a folder and reading the contents.

"We fought Ultimatum but that's not her real codename . . .," Kitty explained, "Lifeguard, real name Heather Cameron, has the gift of adapting to any scenario. If she's in the water she'll grow gills, she'll grow wings if airborne, etcetera. Her gift is amazing and precisely why she was the perfect candidate for Magneto to use. When Ultimatum took us on, she used earth powers and tiny explosives, which belong to them." She jerked her head in the direction of two lifeless-looking young females that appeared to be of similar age to her.

"What about his?"

"I haven't found that yet."

Storm checked the girls' pulses in both areas (neck and wrist) but felt nothing besides cold skin. She looked for something to cover them with but was unsuccessful. Storm made a fist. Not a single morsel of dignity from Erik. She knew Magneto generally was a cold-hearted bastard but he inflicted pain and killed vulnerable mutants who he always claimed to be advocating for.

They couldn't be saved but this boy had a chance. Even though his road to recovery clearly was a long one, he had various tubes keeping him alive, but just barely, from what she could see, unlike the girls. She unclenched her hand and pivoted in his direction, compartmentalizing the anger for later. "Magneto has gone too far. I wasn't expecting this."

"It's definitely disconcerting," Kitty said as her eyes scanned a report. She flipped the page over and then another one, her eyes widening with each. "John's power wasn't taken." Her words came out close to a whisper.

"I beg your pardon—I didn't catch that."

Louder, Kitty repeated, "John's power wasn't taken." Her eyes traveled from Storm to the boy then back to Storm. "Get in touch with Jean. It's imperative we save Jimmy." Shadowcat handed Storm the files and scientific data. "Scott wanted us to check the rest of the building for anyone in distress but I'll do it efficiently on my own so you can keep an eye on Jimmy."

"Go. I'll gather any paperwork I can find."

Rogue and John finished the pizza they shared and went their separate ways to their respective wings within the mansion. While his bed was immensely inviting, John reluctantly chose to wash up first after a quick armpit sniff confirmed that that hygienic task took priority.

As he washed the sweat and grime away, he mused that Rogue didn't complain at all—solely to keep him close. She hid it well—the worry. Worry about his vulnerability; worry about the unknown. The future was a huge question mark for most except for the very few that could see it but rarely for themselves. The universe didn't work like that. Blessed with a gift of foresight but one that can't be used for selfishness or personal gain. Sure, he was safely at home now but in the interim during the whole mission on his behalf, the constant worry was hidden below the surface and takes a toll. Thinking back, he recalled that she didn't show an inkling of weariness—again, hiding it with expertise.

With determined paces, John wound through the mansion in a loose-fitting faded black tee, dark blue sweatpants, and old tennis shoes, towel-drying his hair as he went. At some point during his walk, he deliberately left the towel hanging on a random doorknob, deciding he wasn't going all the way back to where he'd just come from as that would be just absurd. Once the buzz and pleasant distractions dissipated, John found himself on the roof. Solitude and whispers from the wind embraced him. Stars overhead winked while Polaris (North Star) shined bright in the cloudless evening sky. With hair still partially damp, the chill ran down his spine which instinctively forced his arms to fold over his middle.

The last time he stood at this very spot he was mentally at an all-time low. The lowest he'd ever been. Thankfully he was completely sober that night or his wits might've been immensely impaired. Dark thoughts plus inebriation mix into a surefire cocktail for disaster. In addition, one drunken misstep on the slick roof would've forced an ending that was not of his volition. On top of that in hindsight, had the worse happened, John would've tainted Rogue's safe place forever. Presently, he peered over the edge echoing that night minus the rainy weather. It was a long way down he reflected like his perspective was different now and seeing . . . really seeing through new eyes. He didn't remember the distance, only that the good outweighed the bad. John moved away from the edge, angled his head toward the moon, and felt the corners of his mouth inadvertently lift up. Life was complicated, everchanging, and beautiful even with all of its evolving layers, twists, turns, speed bumps, potholes, and bridges.

When fatigue could no longer be ignored, he cut his time on the roof short, making a beeline straight (figuratively speaking) to his room. He passed Bobby's empty bed to get to his own. Once engulfed in warmth from the comforter and positional comfort, slumber took over instantaneously.

- Hours later -

Tangled in sheets, John wrestled them, absently consumed by a dream, albeit one that he lived through just a day or so ago. The whole mission kind of just blended together. He jarringly awoke when his tangled frame hit the floor, sheets doing little to soften the fall. "Oww," he groaned with annoyance.

The door swung open and Bobby entered.

Lovely timing, John mused internally. At his current vantage, he could see Bobby's head since it was attached to his tall frame. And as much as he wanted to he couldn't blame his roommate for his obvious expression of delight.

"Do you need railing?" The amusement could be found written all over his face including in his eyes—unequivocal pure joy.

"To beat you with?" John replied immediately with an arch of his brow as he freed himself from the bedsheets. Then he ran a hand through his hair, guiding it properly the way he preferred. Bedhead wasn't a good look on anyone.

Bobby ignored him as he put things down on his bed, letting a smile escape at the quick retort.

John tossed the sheets back on top of his bed and then proceeded to properly place himself there to meet his roommate at a convenient eye level. He studied his blue-eyed friend but couldn't hold back a second longer. "Impressive evolution of power. How come you never told me about it?"

The blond stopped what he was doing and met John's gaze. "Actually, I did, but vaguely. You don't remember? Plus, you were going through your own thing," he replied nonchalantly, making it sound like it was no big deal. "I didn't want to come off as bragging."

I would have. And you know it. It goes without saying. John tucked those thoughts away to tackle them later.

Thinking back to what seemed like forever ago, the chat they shared resurfaced in John's frontal lobe. "That's right, I told you to show off more often."

Bobby nodded in agreement. "I also said you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"And you were right. One hundred percent." John got to his feet to push the blinds open. "Holy shit," he said, shielding his eyes from the direct bright sunlight. "What time is it?"

A/N: Too much fluff in the beginning? I kind of agree with Avalanche but I was in a mushy mood, I guess.