Post by Pyro on Oct 21, 2006 3:20:33 GMT -5
It was late.
Most people had gone to bed, but Pyro was still awake, still in his office and still working. This in itself was nothing unusual: he'd often stay up until the wee small hours, but not in recent weeks. Not since he'd been sick. Since Emma had helped reconstruct his shattered mind, he had taken to going to bed at a sensible hour and getting a good seven or eight hours a night.
But he was simply too excited.
It hadn't really been until he'd been about twelve years old that John Allerdyce had discovered the thrill of Christmas Eve, of lying awake in the bedroom at his foster parents' house and wondering what the morning would bring.
They had been two very good years. Pat and Mike Powell would forever remain in John's head as the closest to real parents he had ever known. They had loved him, he knew that, and if he admitted it to himself, he had loved them.
He wasn't good with emotions. What life in the children's home hadn't knocked out of him, the street had taken care of. For a time, back at Xavier's, he had started to overcome the fact that his emotional growth had been so stunted, particularly when he and Kitty had become an 'item'.
And then there was Mystique.
John was, if he would but admit it to himself, confused by the depth of feeling he had for the beautiful blue mutant. He was aware that what had initially been simple desire and lust had evolved into something far deeper. She understood him like nobody had ever understood him. She brought out the best - and the worst - in him and when she wasn't with him, he felt like something was missing.
Did he love her?
He rather suspected that he did - and it was a good feeling.
Magneto had said to him once, of Mystique, you wouldn't want her as your enemy, son.
He didn't dispute that one little bit. She was canny, shrewd and quite possibly the single most lethal person he had ever met. But his confusion rose from the fact that she seemed to be genuinely fond of him.
His thoughts turned to Angie.
SHE seemed genuinely fond of him, although he rather suspected he'd done a fair amount of damage by his rather startled reaction to her kiss. He hadn't wanted to be cruel to her, but he simply had no idea how to handle such a declaration.
Pyro clicked through a few websites randomly, pausing briefly to laugh at a few crazy videos on You Tube. Maybe they should create their own mutant profiles for You Tube.
The thought was enough to distract him for a while. All this heavy emotional stuff was tough to deal with for a young man like Pyro. Bobby had been the one who knew everything there was to know about relationships. He'd been the one to whom John had turned when things with Kitty actually seemed to be taking off. Now he had Dharma, but much as John liked and respected the man, he didn't really know him. Cain he had alienated beyond belief and Python was still mad at him.
Dom was coming now, though. He would be someone to confide in.
Click, click, click.
Pyro's thoughts returned to Mystique. He was concerned for her safety during their upcoming expedition, but also suspected that his concerns were totally and utterly unfounded. If ever there was a woman who could take care of herself - it was her.
He held that thought and gently prodded at it to see why it hurt.
Because how can someone that strong, that independent really need someone like you, John?
He prodded at it a little more, like you'd prod at a mouth ulcer with your tongue to see if it still smarted.
Kitty, Angie - the two girls were very similar now he came to think about it. He felt the need to - well, not protect them, but they were different altogether to Mystique, who would probably put him through a cheese grater if he tried to protect her. Her sheer force of will was staggeringly attractive and her strength was what drew John to her.
That and the fact she was one hell of a sexy woman.
He wondered if she'd figured that he was incapable of expressing how he felt, or if she merely thought that the relationship was pure business, nothing else.
He'd have to work on it.
The CD in the player clicked onto the next track and John smiled wryly at the universe's uncanny ability to select exactly the right song.
I love you whether or not you love me
I love you even if you think that I don't
Sometimes I find you doubt my love for you, but I don't mind
Why should I mind, why should I mind
What is love anyway, does anybody love anybody anyway?
What is love anyway, does anybody love anybody anyway?
"Thank you Mister Howard Jones," he murmured and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes to listen to the rest of the song.
Can anybody love anyone so much that they will never fear
Never worry, never be sad
The answer is they cannot love this much nobody can
This is why I don't mind you doubting
And maybe love is letting people be just what they want to be
The door always must be left unlocked
To love when circumstance may lead someone away from you
And not to spend the time just doubting..
The young man was asleep before the song had ended, just like that, his feet up on the desk, in his office chair, a look of sublime contentment on his face.
Most people had gone to bed, but Pyro was still awake, still in his office and still working. This in itself was nothing unusual: he'd often stay up until the wee small hours, but not in recent weeks. Not since he'd been sick. Since Emma had helped reconstruct his shattered mind, he had taken to going to bed at a sensible hour and getting a good seven or eight hours a night.
But he was simply too excited.
It hadn't really been until he'd been about twelve years old that John Allerdyce had discovered the thrill of Christmas Eve, of lying awake in the bedroom at his foster parents' house and wondering what the morning would bring.
They had been two very good years. Pat and Mike Powell would forever remain in John's head as the closest to real parents he had ever known. They had loved him, he knew that, and if he admitted it to himself, he had loved them.
He wasn't good with emotions. What life in the children's home hadn't knocked out of him, the street had taken care of. For a time, back at Xavier's, he had started to overcome the fact that his emotional growth had been so stunted, particularly when he and Kitty had become an 'item'.
And then there was Mystique.
John was, if he would but admit it to himself, confused by the depth of feeling he had for the beautiful blue mutant. He was aware that what had initially been simple desire and lust had evolved into something far deeper. She understood him like nobody had ever understood him. She brought out the best - and the worst - in him and when she wasn't with him, he felt like something was missing.
Did he love her?
He rather suspected that he did - and it was a good feeling.
Magneto had said to him once, of Mystique, you wouldn't want her as your enemy, son.
He didn't dispute that one little bit. She was canny, shrewd and quite possibly the single most lethal person he had ever met. But his confusion rose from the fact that she seemed to be genuinely fond of him.
His thoughts turned to Angie.
SHE seemed genuinely fond of him, although he rather suspected he'd done a fair amount of damage by his rather startled reaction to her kiss. He hadn't wanted to be cruel to her, but he simply had no idea how to handle such a declaration.
Pyro clicked through a few websites randomly, pausing briefly to laugh at a few crazy videos on You Tube. Maybe they should create their own mutant profiles for You Tube.
The thought was enough to distract him for a while. All this heavy emotional stuff was tough to deal with for a young man like Pyro. Bobby had been the one who knew everything there was to know about relationships. He'd been the one to whom John had turned when things with Kitty actually seemed to be taking off. Now he had Dharma, but much as John liked and respected the man, he didn't really know him. Cain he had alienated beyond belief and Python was still mad at him.
Dom was coming now, though. He would be someone to confide in.
Click, click, click.
Pyro's thoughts returned to Mystique. He was concerned for her safety during their upcoming expedition, but also suspected that his concerns were totally and utterly unfounded. If ever there was a woman who could take care of herself - it was her.
He held that thought and gently prodded at it to see why it hurt.
Because how can someone that strong, that independent really need someone like you, John?
He prodded at it a little more, like you'd prod at a mouth ulcer with your tongue to see if it still smarted.
Kitty, Angie - the two girls were very similar now he came to think about it. He felt the need to - well, not protect them, but they were different altogether to Mystique, who would probably put him through a cheese grater if he tried to protect her. Her sheer force of will was staggeringly attractive and her strength was what drew John to her.
That and the fact she was one hell of a sexy woman.
He wondered if she'd figured that he was incapable of expressing how he felt, or if she merely thought that the relationship was pure business, nothing else.
He'd have to work on it.
The CD in the player clicked onto the next track and John smiled wryly at the universe's uncanny ability to select exactly the right song.
I love you whether or not you love me
I love you even if you think that I don't
Sometimes I find you doubt my love for you, but I don't mind
Why should I mind, why should I mind
What is love anyway, does anybody love anybody anyway?
What is love anyway, does anybody love anybody anyway?
"Thank you Mister Howard Jones," he murmured and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes to listen to the rest of the song.
Can anybody love anyone so much that they will never fear
Never worry, never be sad
The answer is they cannot love this much nobody can
This is why I don't mind you doubting
And maybe love is letting people be just what they want to be
The door always must be left unlocked
To love when circumstance may lead someone away from you
And not to spend the time just doubting..
The young man was asleep before the song had ended, just like that, his feet up on the desk, in his office chair, a look of sublime contentment on his face.
