Chapter Text
Pyro hates.
Back when he was weak, when he was John Allerdyce, he was scared. Every breath he took had an undercurrent of fear. Fear of being left behind, fear of not being accepted, fear of his friends hating him. Fear that dressed up and paraded around like anger but it wasn't yet. No, that came around when he met Magneto.
Magneto was the first person who actually got Pyro. Who didn't force him to be scared little St. John, begging for scraps of attention from the people who said they cared about him. Magneto taught him how to never be ignored again, to stand on the rooftops and scream LOOK AT ME and make them actually see.
The Brotherhood is the first time he actually feels like he belongs anywhere. Xavier’s is full of peace-loving whiners and the outside world is full of underdeveloped humans. You couldn't have one of them without the other.
Magneto is a beacon of hope in this pathetic world. Proof that there is something better to strive towards.
But now Magneto is gone. And Pyro is left seething in the cold concrete basement of the X-Mansion with only his hate to keep him going.
He remembers speculating with other students, a lifetime ago now. Wondering whether the school had a dungeon. It was old like that, John was always partial to the idea of old-timey jail cells with thick iron bars and chains. Thinking on it now, he sneers at his naivety. These losers think their biggest threat is Magneto; no way they'd have all that metal.
Instead he's stuck in a square concrete room like in the movies. The only colour is the ugly brown of a wooden door which is too thick to break down. He figured that out the hard way, leaving his whole right side aching. Pyro figures he should be hurting a lot worse considering the beating Bobby gave him on the island, but all that remains is the faintest of scars around his wrist from the frostbite.
Undoubtedly they'd kept him under while he was healing, because the first thing he remembers following Alcatraz Island is waking up in this room. The only person he's even seen is Storm. She was the one to tell him that Magneto had been neutralized, and she hadn't flinched as he screamed. Accusing her of lying to get him to defect. There was no way Magneto could have been taken out, he'd rather die fighting than be 'cured.'
The only contact he has with her is when she's dropping off his meals while he spits threats, and she always closes the door too quickly for him to rush at her. He likes to think he’s got a pretty good internal clock, but even still he's not really sure of much. All he can tell is that it's been fifteen meals since he woke up the first time.
He can tell there's supposed to be a window up high on the wall, but it's been covered over by some kind of sheet that blocks out the sun. As if he could do something with the sun anyways. It's kind of funny, at least, in a frustrating way. He's now got pretty solid proof that no one here gives a shit about him enough to even understand his powers. The only ones who might've known anything were Bobby- who likely doesn’t care whether he lives or dies (back atcha, Drake)- and the Professor, who is dead.
He is a lot less certain how he feels about that second one. When he first got the news that Jean had killed the Professor he'd almost laughed out loud, only holding back because he was supposed to be Magneto’s all-important number two. It was just so perfect. One of the old man's star pupils reducing him and his delusional idealism to dust, where it belonged.
He remembers saying as much to Magneto, telling him that he would have killed the old man himself if Magneto had asked. Because he would do anything for Magneto. For their cause. The man had turned and snapped at him like a guard dog would a nippy puppy. It left Pyro feeling small in a way he’d thought he’d left behind at Xavier's. Even though it stung, it was different coming from Magneto. He just wanted Pyro to be the best soldier, his best self. His lessons actually meant something.
He knows he hated the Professor, just like he hates everything and everyone that isn't the Brotherhood. But he thinks he might hate him even more now that he had gotten himself killed.
If Magneto was telling the truth- and Pyro can't imagine a world where he wouldn't - then Xavier had done a whole hell of a lot for Mutantkind. It was a nice enough thought, but in the end the bastard still got himself killed right when Mutantkind needed him most. It makes Pyro want to kill the Professor. Burn him until he begs for forgiveness for abandoning him, abandoning them all. But you can't kill a dead man.
What he can do, he decides on what might be day 3, is burn Xavier’s little dream to the ground. Make the mansion go up in smoke and have all the little mutant kiddies running to Magneto, someone who can actually protect them in a way the X-Men can't.
The thought of it alone is almost enough to make him feel better. He can imagine the flames crackling, the smell of wood burning, the swell of pride in his chest.
His first attempt at this arson slash prison break is trying to find something in the room he can use to make a spark. His 'bed' is just a thin matress with sheets and a blanket on it, all of which is useless.
He begins his next attempt by scrounging around the room, trying to find a loose stone or two to strike together. The cold floor is hell on his hands and knees, but he's too single-minded to care.
Pyro doesn't bother trying to make a break for it anymore, he just sits and waits for Storm to drop his meals and shut the door. Oftentimes she tries to speak to him; sometimes he answers. Most of the time he doesn't.
By meal 25 he's too busy shivering to make any more attempts. The room isn't any colder than it has been, but instead of acclimatizing he's been feeling worse and worse. Being without fire is tearing a gaping void into his very being. Instead of blazing warmth, he's filled with some kind of insidious black hole, swallowing up everything he has. His feet are torn from how many times he's swiped them on the rough walls, trying to create some sort of friction for a spark. The thin blanket he started off with doesn't do much to warm him up either, but he'd rather freeze than ask for help.
He ends up not having to do either, because Storm breaks the pattern and brings him a thick duvet in between meals. He tries to hate himself for being so obvious, but it's hard to focus when your teeth are rattling in your skull.
"Do you feel sick?" She asks him when he grabs the blanket, tugging it around himself tightly as a vice.
"Only of you." He says with mock sweetness, but the sarcasm of his smile is undoubtedly ruined by his shaking.
Storm doesn't take the bait, merely pursing her lips thoughtfully.
"'Come with me."
For a minute Pyro thinks he's finally lost it.
"Yeah right." He scoffs,
"John." She says again, leaving no room for refusal. She almost sounds concerned, it makes his skin crawl. Still, he does as she asks. Pulling himself to his feet and wrapping the duvet around him like some fucked up cape.
"Finally going to send me to big-boy jail?" He snarks, feeling a little woozy from standing.
He's aware of the slightest pressure of a steadying hand on his back as they head into an elevator. She's trying to keep him in place, he thinks, as if she could stop him. If he wanted to, he could take off as soon as they reached the main floor. No one would be able to catch him.
He's got to keep up the charade though. That's why he's doing this for this, he reasons, the freezing ache in his every atom is just a ploy for sympathy. Get them to let their guard down so he can eventually put his plan in motion. End it all.
The light from outside the window almost blinds him at first. He hadn't expected to see anything but pitch black through the windows, certainly Storm would be smarter than to bring him up when people are awake and milling about. Suddenly Pyro feels like he's going to hurl.
He doesn't realize he's slowed until the pressure on his back increases slightly, urging him onwards.
She doesn't lead him towards the grounds, nor the teachers wing, like he'd expected. Instead she steers him towards the manor kitchen. She sits him at a table with two chairs by the kitchen entrance. Pyro figures they probably came from the dining hall since there never used to be chairs here, but what does he know, this is the first time he's been inside the school for nearly 3 years.
He doesn't say anything as she sits down across from him, her hands steepled on the table.
"You going to nurse me back to health with some hot soup?" He sneers, wrapping his blanket tighter around himself. He considers draping it over himself entirely, but he doesn't want Storm to think he's hiding. He's not ashamed of anything.
"Just be quiet." She says, less like a command and more like an offering. He purses his lips, weighing the pros and cons of telling her to fuck off.
Before he can come to a decision he's stopped short by a hitch in his chest, like a shot of adrenaline into his lungs.
"What the hell-" He mutters, rubbing at his sternum as he breathes clearer than he has in days.
"The cooks are beginning to prepare lunch." She tells him, not elaborating. He doesn't need her to. Pinpricks of warmth tingle up his arms and legs, and he knows that inside the kitchen there is fire.
"Gas stoves." Storm adds after a moment of silence. Pyro doesn't respond, flushed and almost overwhelmed at the feeling of his element so close.
"I didn't think you were this stupid." He says with bravado, flexing his fingers and feeling strength return. "I can burn this whole place down."
She gives him a sympathetic smile. "Not without seeing the flame."
"You don't know that," he bites, wishing she was wrong. "You don't know anything!"
"If you could you would have done it already," she says matter-of-factly, he scowls.
"So you can remember that, but you still think I get my powers from the sun," he snaps, tossing off the blanket. This, at least, makes her look shameful.
"Admittedly we did not put very much thought into your captivity, nor your powerset."
He scoffs, throat tight. "Figures. None of you ever liked me as much as you liked Bobby." The name drips from his mouth like venom. The other people he could handle, he never needed to be number one. But Bobby- Bobby he couldn't stand. They were supposed to be best friends! Equals! No one cared though, least of all Bobby. The memory of the contempt on his face when John left still burns through his stomach like acid.
"That's not true," Storm reprimands. He doesn't even bother to fight her on it, just glares as if his hatred can light the fire that burns her alive. She meets his eyes with a tough sort of kindness.
"Why did you even bring me here?" he asks finally, putting words to the question thats been sitting at the back of his mind since he woke up. "You said Jean tore apart the island. I was passed out, you could have left me to die." He can't meet her eyes, something sharp and unidentifiable swirling in his chest.
"Everyone deserves a second chance," Storm tells him. He rolls his eyes.
"So you lock me in your basement," he mocks. "Didn't even have the guts to get me locked up for real."
Pyro kind of wishes that they had. At least there he might have been able to contact one of the Brotherhood, and Magneto would know where to come looking when he was better. At least there he wasn't some kind of rat banished to solitary confinement.
"We wanted to," Storm says, "but Bobby wouldn't stand for it."
The name alone makes him feel like she'd just zapped him with a bolt of lightning. His lips curl in a snarl.
"What a sanctimonious ass." He says, stomach revolting at the image of Bobby standing over his unconscious body. Probably with some satisfied smile, or worse, sympathy. "Why even bother? Just to rub his moral superiority in my face?"
"Because he cares for you," comes a voices behind him. Storm's no longer looking at him, eyes trained over his shoulder. "Same as many others here."
For a moment it's like the entire room holds it's breath before a sharp laugh breaks the tension.
"Oh you gotta be fucking kidding me!" Pyro would know that voice anywhere, the only person on the planet worse than his ex-best friend.
"John!" Storm admonishes as he whirls around to see none other than Charles Xavier, decidedly not blown to dust.
"It's quite alright Storm," the Professor waves, "Mister Allerdyce has every right to be upset."
John sees red.
"That's not my name," he bites out, "and I'm not upset!" Upset doesn’t even begin to cover it. He's furious. This whole time Xavier's been alive and kicking, watching the world fall apart like some sick reality show.
"I know this must be confusing," Xavier says placatingly.
"I think I understand just fine," he scoffs. "You were too much of a coward to face the music so you hid away while mutants suffered."
The Professor doesn't flinch.
"I understand how you can think that," he responds, staying frustratingly calm. "But I was in fact, for all intents and purposes, dead."
Pyro blinks. "So, what? You're like mutant Jesus or something?"
That at least pulls a wry smile from the man, which he can't help but feel a little proud of.
"Not quite," the Professor says gently. "You see, I had a brother who was born brain dead. When Jean destroyed my physical body, I was able to transfer my consciousness into his. Allowing me to return virtually unchanged."
He says it so simply, like it's not the most insane thing Pyro's ever heard.
"So let me get this straight," Pyro says, "you can mind control a dead guy and carry on like normal. Dr. Grey can destroy an entire island and get a memorial. And all I do is fight for our rights, and I get thrown in a cellar indefinitely?"
"It's not that simple and you know it!" Storm interrupts. Pyro’s blood boils. Even when he was a student here their hypocrisy had always irked him, but knowing all that he knows now? It enrages him.
"It's exactly that simple!" he yells, standing from his seat with enough force to almost knock it over. "No one here has ever understood me!" He stalks towards Xavier as he speaks. "All you've done is hold me back! You've always been afraid of me!" He jabs his hand in accusation, barely refraining from throwing a punch, if only because Magneto would not be impressed by his loss of control.
He prepares for the worst, for Storm to grab him by his shoulders and drag him back to the cellar kicking and screaming because he’s still too unwell to properly fight back. He can tell she moves behind him, the fire in the kitchen screams, begging him to take control. Xavier looks at him thoughtfully.
"You're right." He nods, pushing Pyro's hand away far too gently. "I was."
He's almost too shocked to hear Storm's response.
"Professor! We agreed to wait!"
Wait for what? Pyro doesn't know, and quite frankly doesn't care. He's too busy reeling at being told he was right. That he isn't crazy. That there really has been something working against him this whole time. He wonders if this is all some feverish hallucination. Neither of them are looking at him.
"We did," the Professor says, giving a nod towards her. "But if we'd like to gain back this young man's trust I believe it is best to start on the right foot."
"I'm right here, you know." He tries for frustrated but it comes out watery. He hates himself for showing weakness instead of triumph. That gets both their attention.
"I do not know how much Erik told you-" the Professor starts.
"Magneto told me everything," he responds reflexively, defensively. Magneto trusted him.
Xavier smiles to himself ever so slightly, as though there's a joke in there that Pyro isn't in on. Thankfully, he doesn't comment on it.
"Then you may know that this mess began when I sectioned off part of Jean's consciousness, to help her control her power."
Pyro does remember hearing something about that while Magneto talked to Dr Grey. About Xavier being afraid of her potential.
"What does that have to do with me?" he asks carefully, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Both the Professor and Storm look deadly serious.
"What do you remember about how you came here?" Xavier says, instead of elaborating. Pyro swallows, any previous bravado slipping away.
"Not much," he admits with a shrug. He'd been young, he thinks. Ten or so. "It's a blur really."
He's pretty sure Storm is the one who brought him to the school, he's always figured she found him on the street like some stray dog. Xavier nods as if expecting as much.
"In 1996 there was a bizarre phenomenon occurring in a small district of Sydney," he begins. "There were numerous reports of what seemed to be creatures made of flame terrorizing civilians. No one was ever hurt but many claimed to be missing wallets or jewelry following the attacks."
None of what he's saying is even remotely familiar except Australia. He knows that he grew up there, but he hasn't thought about it in years. He's pretty sure he would at least remember fire monsters.
"We arrived to find a young boy, without any family or home to speak of."
This at least he can resonate with. He knows he'd already been out on his own for at least a year by the time he ended up at the school, and even though he can't remember much about his childhood, he can never forget the way it felt. The loneliness and fear that seeped into his very bones. He remembers swearing to himself he'd never feel that way again. So much for that.
"Where are you going with this?" he asks suspiciously. Because the Professor never does anything without reason, and Pyro doesn’t want to think about why Xavier’s telling him this now.
"He was understandably scared and angry when we caught up with him," the Professor continues like Pyro hadn't even spoken. "But when we gave him the choice between attending this school or being turned over the authorities, he chose to come along."
"Some fucking choice!" Pyro chokes out, because he can't help but feel bad for the kid. Especially since the pieces are starting to come together.
In 1996 he would have been a young boy in Australia. He would have been alone. But he can't remember anything about what the man is saying. He remembers stealing of course, it was the only way to survive. But there was never an ultimatum or a group of X-Men coming to bring him in. He feels like he's about to be sick.
Both Storm and the Professor watch him carefully, as if they can see it all unfolding in his head. Hell, Xavier probably can.
Pyro stands there for God knows how long, wracking his brain, trying to dig up any memory of how he came to this place. Something that can prove this isn't what he thinks. He tries to conjure up an image of this fire monster, something he's never even considered doing. Something he'd never have thought he was even capable of.
"What did you do to me?" he asks hoarsely, unable to catch his breath. "Why can't I remember?"
The look they give him is filled with guilt and sorrow.
"When you arrived here, you already had immense control of your gifts." The confirmation makes him flinch back. "But you were also full of such fear and anger."
"I was a kid!" He wants to take the flames he feels broiling in his chest and spit them towards these liars, these thieves. Yet all the fire remains in the kitchen, out of his sight and beyond his reach.
"I saw you as a danger," Xavier admits. "Your lashing out was putting other students at risk."
"So you what- brainwashed me?" he shouts.
"I suppressed your abilities to a more manageable level."
A thousand feelings war inside his mind. How much of his life is he missing? How much had they taken from him? How much could have been different if they hadn't sabotaged him? It could have changed the entire course of everything, could have made him even more invaluable to Magneto! Pyro could have saved him!
"Did Bobby know?" He doesn't know why that’s the most important thing to him right now, but the idea of his so-called best friend knowing the entire time. Hiding the fact that Pyro wasn't even whole? He tries to reach for that familiar anger inside of him to find it’s just not there, no fire, no fury. No, the thought alone makes Pyro want to cry.
"He did not," the Professor says, and it's like a weight falls off Pyro’s chest. "He arrived until after the procedure was done."
The clinical tone makes his skin crawl. "Why are you even telling me this?” he asks, heart racing. “Just to rub it in my face?"
Storm looks like she wants to protest, but she stays silent, deferring to Xavier. Coward.
"I am telling you this because I'd like to make things right," he says, "and undo what I have done, so we may start again."