Log: Pyro and Rogue Who: John and Marie Allerdyce When: backdated to March 17, 2008 Where: their room; the Lair What: Post-battle talk about what they’re going to do now and John’s fight with Johnny Storm.
Judging from the atmosphere in the Lair, it was difficult to believe that, a few days ago, the Brotherhood had had a stronghold on the entire country. Rogue was tired, achy, but, altogether, not as badly off as a lot of other people, mostly because she'd managed to stick with Bobby through most of the fight, which had prevented anyone else from specifically targeting her. Considering how badly some other people had fared and what had ultimately happened ---- she still couldn't get the image of Magneto's dead body out of her head ---- she actually felt somewhat bad about that.
But she was less concerned about any traces of guilt she might have and more concerned about John especially who, when she'd finally found him, had been burnt of all things. And now with Magneto dead... she didn't know what to do for him. Or even if she should broach the topic of doing anything for him. So she'd let him be, retreating to the other end of their room and curling up on the couch, only getting up occasionally to get food and water from the kitchen to leave on the nightstand just in case he felt like eating something.
When he'd stormed out, she, uncharacteristically, didn't ask where he was going. She'd assumed he needed to blow off some steam. And when the door opened again, it took her a second to look up, frowning a little and struggling to come up with something to say that wasn't stupid. And, still, all she could come up with was a very cliched: "Are you okay?"
John had just come back from fighting with Dominic, and... it wasn't like it was something he wanted to talk about. He was injured, he was in recovery, but more importantly than that he was in mourning. He hadn't had a chance to actually enjoy their few months of power on top of the fact that there, they'd lost it. Dreams were crushed and John had lost a man he considered a father figure. Someone who had inspired him, who had given him a sense of purpose... who had tested him time and again to make sure he grew up. John had grown up a lot over the last few years, that was for sure.
He stood in the doorway, stopping when she spoke, and he finally got to look at her. The stubble on his face was heavy, the shadows under his eyes dark. He tilted his head slightly, thought about it for a second, and then he was closing the door and moving to the bed. "No," he said as he sank down, lying lengthwise across the bed and burying his face in tangled blankets. Every time he moved, clothes and bandages rubbed against raw, burnt skin, and he was in agony with his own element. And he was so upset that he was numb. He hadn't cried, but he'd spent a good deal of time shaking and being on the verge of tears.
"No, I'm not okay," he mumbled, reaching out his arm and holding his hand out to her. He was past the point of using anger to cover vulnerability and now he was just... vulnerable.
Rogue blinked at him, genuinely startled when he reached a hand out to her. To perfectly honest, she’d been a little afraid to ask him if she could do anything for him or to inquire into his well-being or how he felt or any of that. Because she knew the way he usually reacted to stress and things that upset him --- and it wasn’t a pretty reaction. So the fact that he just flopped down and reached out to her, instead of ignoring her or snapping at her made Rogue blink and slowly push herself up off the couch, crossing the room to carefully climb up next to him on the bed.
Lacing her fingers through the ones on his offered hand, she squeezed lightly, almost tentatively, like she was afraid being too supportive would be the thing to set him off. Then rubbed his back gently, mindful of the burns. “I’m sorry, John.” And then, after a brief pause, added, “I am. No matter what happened in the past, I really am sorry.” Okay, sure, Magneto had once tried to kill her and it wasn’t any secret between her and John that she’d never fully forgiven Eric for it. But she was honestly sorry about what had happened. “If you --- whatever you want to do next… that’s what we’ll do, okay?”
John must have been really out of it, because he didn't even get defensive. He didn't accuse her of not really being sorry. She sounded genuine and he just nodded, squeezing her hand tightly in return and giving her a little tug to curl up with him.
"I don't know what I want to do," he said once they were settled, after his shaking seemed to subside a little. "I'm not leaving. I can't leave. But I don't know what we're going to do. We have to see where things go and then we'll work with Mystique and we... we'll keep going. Eric had so many failures, we can't just..." He was trying to sound inspirational and optimistic, but he gave up and just nodded. "We'll... eventually... yeah."
Rogue hesitated and then nodded slowly. It was becoming very clear that, even if they’d talked about getting a place of their own to live to help alleviate some of her discomfort with the Brotherhood… she was never getting out of this place. And now, most definitely, wasn’t the time to even consider bringing her own feelings into things. Rogue didn’t know if she’d ever have the heart to do that. Not after this.
“We’ll stay if you want,” she said softly, carefully holding him to her and brushing her fingers through his hair since at least she wasn’t too concerned about hurting his burnt skin that way. “We’ll… drive to Canada and hop a flight to Australia if you want. Or… hell, I’ll find my parents and ask them to help us out. But if this is where you want to be and what you want to keep doing…” It didn’t sit well with her. Not really. It was only going to lead to more death and violence, but she couldn’t point that out.
John didn't know what he wanted. "Dom's got a half-packed bag," he said, staring at the wall. "Dom's got a half-packed bag and he's going to leave. Even when we win, people leave, remember? If we're sitting around doing jack shit, that's fine... but the moment we take action, that's when people scatter. They don't like what we do ... or we lose. And Dom? Dom's been here through everything... he's been here through everything."
He ran a hand over his face, scratched at stubble. "And everything is falling apart. Everything I knew, everything I wanted..." He didn't know what to do now that Magneto was really dead. Carry on? Sure, but that wasn't so easy when they'd just been wiped out, when hundreds of them were carried off to SHIELD prisons to be chipped, when everyone was so tense they were ready to beat on each other.
Rogue couldn’t help it: she snorted when John said that Dominic had been there through everything. “Yeah, well, obviously he’s only here when things are good.” For goodness sake, people had questioned the hell out of her loyalty when she’d gotten here, and she was one of the few Brotherhood members actually sticking around through this. So, really, she had no patience for Dominic’s bitching.
She sighed, though, because that sure as hell wasn’t helping anything, and shook her head. “So let him leave, alright? The people who can’t take it will leave and the people who can… then we’ll know who we can actually trust.” Because, especially after the way a good portion of Brotherhood members had run from the fight, figuring out who was trustworthy was a good thing. Brushing her knuckles over his cheek, Rogue murmured, “If you think it’s what he’d want---” Magneto, obviously “---build this place back up. I’m sure Mystique will help you. And if you don’t… then… forget it John. We’ll find something… somewhere else.”
John glanced up at Rogue, smiling weakly and without much mirth. "I know he wouldn't want to see everyone scatter and run away," he said. "You think I want to be here..? I mean, look at it. It's like a tomb. It's home, but it's empty and... I know you hate it. I know you hate it. Maybe we'll find a home, for the two of us... that... I don't know. But I'm not giving up on the Brotherhood. The Brotherhood's not a place, it's an idea. This will remain the base of operations but I don't see why we couldn't commute..."
He shrugged vaguely. "But we wouldn't be able to afford anything nicer than a cracker box, babe." Really, he was trying to keep his mind off the real things by focusing on smaller things.
“We’ll do whatever you need,” she said softly, kissing his forehead lightly and not long enough to trigger her powers. If he’d felt some need to stay put, she would have done it. If he was open to the idea of living somewhere else… well, that she wouldn’t argue. She’d feel safer, at least, somewhere else. Although how ‘safe’ anywhere else would be remained to be seen. Who the hell knew what was going to happen next.
“And don’t be stupid. I’ll get a job. And until we can save up enough… I made Russ give me half of what you stole from the bank, so we…” Rogue shrugged, sliding off the bed to check the bottom drawer of the nightstand. All the way in the back. To make sure the money was still there. “So we’ll be fine for awhile. And we don’t have to rent anything expensive anyway.” Settling back down on the bed, she tried to sound more certain than she was. “I bet I can find a job waiting tables or something. And you can work on getting the Brotherhood back on its feet. And we’ll be fine.”
John's mouth twitched lightly. "Are you going to support me while I work my impassioned but financially ineffective anarchist ways?" he asked, reaching out and pulling her against him. He sighed, kissing her briefly. "We're going to figure this out. We'll figure the best way to move on. If staying here isn't the way to go, then we won't do it like that. Maybe we'll go into the City, garner up some interest there. Lay low for a while..." He rested his head on her shoulder and ran out of words, except for:
"I love you," he breathed. "I want things to just fucking calm down for a while. Maybe this will calm things down. We calm down, we deal with our own issues, we regroup, and then we work on saving the world. Yeah?" He looked up at her, taking her hand and lacing their fingers together as his thumb caressed the fabric of her glove. "I want to make him proud. There are others, too, who are going to want to fight on to carry on what he wanted to achieve. You going to stand by me...?" He knew that Rogue didn't approve of most of the things the Brotherhood did. But maybe they could meet halfway somewhere.
“You have to ask?” Rogue said, squeezing his hand. “I’m not going anywhere. Even if---” There was the fact that she’d been so unhappy with the way things were for so long. And what Magneto had done obviously hadn’t worked. But the way things were before that hadn’t worked either. So there had to be a way to achieve some of the Brotherhood’s goals --- the good ones, about mutants being equal and not having to live in here --- a different way.
“We’ll take some time then. Get ourselves back on track,” said with a small, and almost slightly forced, smile. Since they definitely hadn’t been on track, personally, for awhile now. “And then we’ll worry about everything else. This isn’t --- I can imagine how you feel --- and don’t you say I can’t, because I’ve got you in my head --- but this isn’t the end of everything. It’s just going to be a little more difficult now.”
Rogue pressed her lips together, giving his burns a once over. “Anyway. You need time to heal.”
John couldn't argue with that. "I do," he groaned, slumping back down again with a pained groan. "I'm... I'm glad you're not running out on me, babe. I'm glad you haven't run out on me. You think this says something? Think I'm fucking stuck with your ugly mug for the rest of my life?" It was said fondly as he looked up at her, taking the time to smile a little.
Rogue could have pointed out that she had run out on him before. Not permanently, and sometimes unintentionally, being crazy and all, but she had. But if he was going to overlook that for the moment, who was she to bring it up?
“Completely trapped,” she said affectionately, lying down to curl up next to him. “Unless you keep calling me ugly.” She skimmed a hand over his chest, barely touching, but frowned a little. “Are you planning on telling me how you ended up burnt?”
John blinked, looking up at her like he was surprised she asked. Like she already knew. Then again, he hadn't had a chance to actually gloat about this. "I kicked Johnny Storm's ass."
“Then why do you look extra crispy?” Rogue said, rolling her eyes and snorting. John hardly looked like he’d kicked anyone’s ass. Never mind Johnny Storm’s.
"Because something wiped my powers out for a while," John muttered. "And it wasn't my fault. Wiped out my powers, I couldn't control the fire... and his flames burned me up. But they came back and then I kicked his ass. Nobody fucking does that to me."
Rogue blinked at him, looking vaguely disturbed by his explanation, even if she knew what he was talking about with there being something that had happened that had wiped out everyone’s powers. “Johnny Storm tried to burn you?” she said with a bit disbelief in her voice.
Yeah, it was a fight. But she knew the ‘good guys’’ code. They tended to avoid killing, or even seriously maiming someone, when they could. And setting someone on fire tended to do one of those two things.
John snorted. "Of course he did," he said, picking at some burnt, peeling blisters on his knuckles. Gross. "I mean, the guy turns himself into a fireball. People get burned. Idiot couldn't figure out that I could control him that way and he wouldn't power down. Then he just..." He remembered the wall of flames, remember feeling the heat tenfold as his powers were wiped out. The worst burns had been somewhat self-inflicted when John was determined to kill himself instead of go to prison. "I..." Well, shit, he didn't want to admit that.
"I said I'd rather die than go to prison again and get chipped."
Rogue pushed herself up on one shoulder, frowning down at John. “And so, what? He said, ‘okay, then. I’ll burn you alive’?” Somehow that didn’t sound like the entire --- or right --- story.
"So... I..." John was really focusing on that blister. "I stepped back into the fire," he said after a moment. "But then my powers came back."
Not answering at first, Rogue sat all the way up, pressing her lips together the way she did when something particularly bothered her. And this? Particularly bothered her. Considering the conclusion John’s admission had led her to.
“So you… what? You were going to step into it? Without your powers? And what? Burn alive?”
John couldn't bring himself to look at her, and he rubbed the back of his neck. Sniffed, offered a one-shouldered shrug. "Yeah, pretty much."
“You…” Her lips twitched and she looked like she wasn’t sure whether or not she wanted to smack him. “Did you even stop to think before you decided on that?”
John didn't know what to say to that. Had he stopped to think? No, probably not. But his instinct was to die. "I'd rather kill myself on my own terms, in fire, than go to prison, get chipped, and die like Gwen," he muttered. "I'm not letting that happen. They took those Brotherhood members off to S.H.I.E.L.D. institutions. I'm not----I can't do that, Rogue. I'd rather die than do that. I wasn't gonna let him take me away, and my powers were gone... I didn't stand a fucking chance."
“You don’t even know that they would chip you,” Rogue snapped. “They’ve got to know what it does by now. They can’t possibly still be using it. You don’t even know that it would kill you if they did chip you.” She only paused for half a second before barreling on, “But you know what’d definitely kill you? Burning to death.”
"Hey, Rogue?" John finally looked at her, obviously on edge. "Back off. Right now."
“Don’t tell me to back off. Don’t you dare tell me to fucking back off,” she said through her teeth. “You tried to kill yourself. What the hell happened in prison that was so bad that you’d rather die than go back.”
'Tried to kill himself' was a little strong, wasn't it? Seriously considered it and possibly would have done it was a little more accurate... trying made it sound like he'd attempted and ultimately failed because he wasn't dead enough, instead of making a huge comeback and owning Johnny Storm's arrogant ass. John grunted and looked back down at his hands. He knew where she was coming from, but he just ended up shrugging. "Color me melodramatic, maybe," he said quietly. "But it was bad. It was bad. I don't like being powerless, Rogue. And I don't just mean the x-gene. I don't like being taken advantage of. I don't enjoy being abused."
"You knew it was going to be bad going into it---" Rogue didn't want to say she'd told him so but... she had. "You knew you were going to be powerless. You knew. And you still went. And now you think it's okay to die instead of go back? You think that's fine? Why are you so goddamn selfish."
John finally looked at her like it had suddenly occurred to him that she would be affected. His expression melted and he reached out to touch her cheek, letting her powers tug at him for just a second before he pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry," he muttered against her shoulder. "I really am."
“No you’re not,” she mumbled, turning her face away. “You’d do it exactly the same way again without a second thought.” Rogue didn’t feel the need to be particularly forgiving on this point: if things had gone just a little differently, he might be dead, and he still wouldn’t talk to her. Not really.
"Rogue! That's not true. Babe, come here. Hey. Stop it." John was selfish, and he hadn't thought about his wife before making a decision like that. He wasn't aware that he was part of a partnership now. "I'm here, I'm fine, so... come on, babe, don't..."
“You’re always end up fine. And one of these days you’re not going to be. And then what?” Rogue knew the way he was and she’d obviously, to some extent, come to terms with it, since she’d married him. But it was situations like this when she just couldn’t stand the way he did things without thinking about them first. “I’d have found a way to get you out,” she muttered. Not like she had a clue how she would have done that if he’d been in a S.H.I.E.L.D. prison.
"And you would have gotten yourself killed in the process," said John, stroking her hair. "Look. I'm not proud of making that choice, but I did, and I can't go back, so can we... god, can we stop giving me grief over it? I barely have my head together. I need to rest and I need to heal and you----" He frowned, looking her over. "You weren't hurt. At all. Did you fight?" He hadn't even thought about it.
Rogue opened her mouth to respond to everything else he was saying when he asked if she’d fought. “Yes, I fought,” she said, a bit too defensively. It wasn’t entirely a lie. She had; she’d used her powers on a few people, had a few ugly bruises and scrapes to show for it. But they were hidden under her clothes and it definitely wasn’t anything she’d had to go to the medlab for.
But, then, she was also feeling a little guilty about the Bobby situation. And that guilt probably showed up on her face. “What? Do you think I found a nice safe corner to hide in until it was all over?”
Rogue opened her mouth to respond to everything else he was saying when he asked if she’d fought. “Yes, I fought,” she said, a bit too defensively. It wasn’t entirely a lie. She had; she’d used her powers on a few people, had a few ugly bruises and scrapes to show for it. But they were hidden under her clothes and definitely weren’t anything she’d had to go to the medlab for.
But, then, she was also feeling a little guilty about the Bobby situation. And that guilt probably showed up on her face. “What? Do you think I found a nice safe corner to hide in until it was all over?”
John leaned back on his elbows, his expression rather deadpan. "I didn't, until you gave me that reaction," he said, half irritated and half amused.
“Well, I didn’t,” Rogue retorted, the defensiveness not changing. “I don’t need to have come back half-burnt to have been doing something.”
"Didn't say that. So what happened?"
Rogue grimaced and looked away with a sigh. “I lost track of you. I told you: you’ve been worrying me. So I went looking for you. Got into a few scuffles. And then had a run-in with Bobby. Alright?”
John blinked sharply, sitting up again with a wince. "You had a run-in with Bobby? What kind of run-in?"
“Obviously not the kind that results in us kicking the crap out of each other,” she snapped. Considering that she wasn’t terribly injured.
"Obviously not!" John held up his hands in defense. Seriously, come on. "I didn't say you had to. I'm glad you're okay. Jesus Christ, Rogue. As long as you're fine, whatever. Don't bite my head off."
“I’m not bitin---” Okay, yes she was. Rogue looked uncomfortable and then finally mumbled, “The whole thing kept either one of us from getting killed, okay? Maybe I didn’t pull my weight. Fine. I also didn’t want to die. And he helped me try to find you.”
"He... he what?" John blinked softly. "Helped you? Try to find me?"
He paused for a moment, thinking about this, and then he snorted and flopped back on the bed. "Jesus, what a pussy."
“What? You think he’d haul off and try to attack me? After… what happened?” She still didn’t like specifically referring to their time being held captive to the FOH. Hell, she didn’t like thinking about it. It was bad enough that, when she managed to sleep, she had nightmares about it.
"Well, Bobby promised to attack me next time he saw me," said John staunchly. "So really, what can you expect. In fact, I look forward to the time I can kick his ass." It was all bravado, obviously, especially after what they'd been through together, but it was John's way of saying he still cared.
“Shut up,” Rogue said with a snort. “You don’t want to kick his ass.” She hesitated then said tentatively, “Maybe now that things are… like this… maybe you two can… and things can be a little different.” She wasn’t really sure if that was even possible, but the lines that had been so distinct before... she wasn’t sure how much they still existed.
Everything was blurred, wasn't it? John just shrugged, staring up at the ceiling. "Dunno." And that was really all he had to say about that. He was tired, he was hurting, and regaining his friendship with Bobby wasn't going to gain back the fact that Dom and Cait were leaving and that Eric was dead. It wasn't really an even tradeoff.
“Maybe it will help,” she said softly, like she knew what she was thinking. On some subconscious level, she might have had some idea. But, regardless, she already knew that John missed Bobby, no matter what he said to the contrary. And Rogue thought that, maybe, Bobby would be a decent influence on John… or that, at least, if John wouldn’t talk to her about all the crap that was making him act out, that maybe he’d talk to Bobby. Besides, without Jono and now without Dominic, she thought John needed a male confidant.
"Maybe," John said, shrugging a little and not betraying any hope that was there. "Never know. The world's fucked up enough these days and God knows my head isn't in the right place." He reached out, giving Rogue's hair a fond little tug. "Now stop playing psychotherapist and lemme rest, babe."
She leaned down to give him a light peck on the mouth. “I’ll go get you food. You need to eat.” Cupping his cheek with her gloved hand, Rogue added in a murmur, “This’ll all work out.” She didn’t really know how yet, but it had to. Eventually.