"I'm sick of this kid's table shit," John said agitatedly. "I'm going out there."

"You can't!" Bobby snapped. "They told us to stay here."

"Do you always do as you're told?" John demanded.

When neither of his friends answered, John turned away with a look of vague disgust.

"John," Rogue said loudly. "Stop. You can't go out there. You won't be able to help them, you can only complicate things."

John turned around to face her. "Maybe. But I can't stay here and do nothing. They might need help, Rogue--they could be dying and we're sitting here like we're in study hall. If you want to stay here, fine. Be my guest, but I can't do it."

"John," Bobby said. "Rogue is right. You can't do this."

John turned to glare at his best friend. "How are you going to stop me?" he demanded.

Hardening her heart, Rogue ripped off a glove and stepped up to him. "I'll stop you," she said.

She reached out and held her hand to the back of his neck, with a startled gasp, John fell to his knees. Rogue didn't let go until all the tiny veins running through him became visible. Bobby was staring at her with an expression between fear and admiration, but she didn't see him--she was looking at her hand in startled disgust.

She hated what she could do with a mere touch.

Bobby knelt beside them both and lowered John to the ground. John had one hand clamped to his forehead, and his other hand was clenching into a fist, then relaxing before twisting into a fist again. "Jesus," he gasped.

That had been worse than last time, much worse. He was guessing his resistance levels hadn't quite gone up all the way before Rogue decided to start up a second round.

"I'm sorry," Rogue whispered, horrified at what she had done. "God, I'm sorry, but I had to stop you."

John turned his eyes to meet hers, and there was a sadness in them so deep Rogue couldn't hold his gaze. "What makes you think you've stopped me?" he whispered before slipping into unconsciousness.

Rogue pushed herself back on her heels. She didn't like the sound of that. Bobby looked over at her, and she found she couldn't meet his gaze, either. She had a horrible feeling all she had done was make things worse.

Fire surrounded her. Everywhere she turned, each exit she found, went up in flames before she could reach it. But she was strangely unafraid. Something in the fire made her feel safe--a feeling that no matter how close it got it couldn't touch her.

The smoke was hovering above her now, growing into a giant cloud suspended over her head. She could hear someone screaming in the distance, and the voice brought a piercing fear into her heart. A name. They were calling her. No, not calling her . . . the voice belonged to a woman, and she was screaming John's name.

Rogue shot up in bed, the sound of a terrified voice desperately screaming her friend's name still echoing through her mind.

She'd been dreaming again. Dreaming John's dreams.

It had happened every night since they had returned, every night since she had grabbed his ankle and stolen a piece of him. And then she had gone and touched him again, that very same day, and pulled more of his haunted past into her mind.

She knew she had no choice, but she would give almost anything to not keep feeling his pain. She would give even more if it would make John able to meet her eyes again--make him look at her with anything other than the hate that had come to rest there.

John wouldn't go near any of them now. He barely spoke, and when he did, it was never civil. She wasn't exactly sure what they had done to trigger such a reaction in him, but every time she looked at him, all she could feel from him was the deep hurt of betrayal. She didn't understand it. All she had been doing was protecting him, if he'd gone out into that snow alone he could have been killed. She never would have been able to live with herself if that had happened.

But John couldn't seem to live with her now.

Over the last two weeks, all the work she'd put into being John's friend had been undone. In two short weeks, John and Bobby, once inseparable best friends, had not spoken one word to each other.

Rouge pulled the covers off of her and grabbed her robe. She wasn't going to let this happen. She wouldn't lose John over this--not when all she had been doing was trying to help. He could nurse his wounded pride and hurt feelings if he wanted, but she wasn't going to let him shut himself away. She'd seen in his memories what that would do to him, and she wasn't about to let it happen now.

She padded carefully down the hall to John's room, and when she reached the door she didn't bother to knock. If she did he wouldn't let her in. She stepped inside, and expected John to immediately grab for his lighter and light up the room, but nothing in the darkness moved. Frowning, she reached for the light switch.

The room flooded with artificial light, and Rogue gasped when she saw John wasn't there. It was 2.00 AM, and he wasn't there. Pulling the robe tighter around her, she walked over to his bed and sat down. That was fine. He wasn't here? She would wait for him. He had to show up sometime.

With a sigh, Rogue flopped down on his bed. She was determined to set things between them right. As soon as he returned from wherever it was that he had gone, she would.

John carefully entered the mansion and closed the door behind him. He listened for a moment to see if anyone had heard, but then started up the steps towards his room. He was pretty sure only one person knew about his late night excursions, and for whatever reason, Xavier had yet to question him about them.

John sighed as he continued up the steps. He probably knew that questioning him right now was the quickest way to send him packing. He was so sick of this school, and everyone it held. John knew as well as any of them he was searching for a reason to leave.

He frowned when he saw that his door was open and the light was on. Maybe Xavier was going to finally confront him. Hell, maybe Baldy was going to kick him out himself. John wouldn't be surprised.

John paused in the doorway, and leaned against the doorjamb with a slow grin. Rogue was sprawled on his bed. Funny, just a couple of weeks ago the sight would have been a dream come true. His smile faded as he realized now it didn't matter. Too much had been changed.

He closed the door with a sigh. The last thing he needed was someone to see Rogue in his room. He had enough trouble without getting stuck with rumors that he was cheating with his best friend's girl. "Rogue," he snapped as he walked over to her. "Rogue!"

Rogue's eyes snapped open, and John drew back when he saw the terror reflected in them. "John," she gasped.

John kneeled beside her, forgetting about the past weeks for a moment. He grabbed her robe covered arm and forced her to look at him. "Are you alright?" he demanded.

"Yes, just a dream," she said breathlessly. "I'm fine. It was just a dream."

John nodded and his expression closed, all traces of concern disappearing as he got to his feet. "Good. Then leave. I still have a chance to get a few hours sleep."

Rogue looked up at him in surprise. "John," she said. "I came here to talk to you."

"I don't want to talk," he said evenly. "I want to sleep. So if you don't mind--"

"Where were you?" Rogue interrupted. "John, where did you go?"

"Somewhere I could breathe," he snapped. "Now go."

Rogue wasn't about to be intimidated. She'd dealt with John in this kind of mood before, though admittedly, in the past the anger had never been directed at her. "I think we have to clear some things up."

"I think that things between us have been cleared up pretty damn good, Rogue," John said. "You made sure of it."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Rogue demanded.

John glared at her. "I could forgive you for stopping me at Bobby's house, Rogue. I was out of hand, even I'll admit it. I could forgive that, even though it pissed me off that you turned against me when I was only trying to get us out of there. But what you did later?" John sneered at her. "That was unforgivable. You don't get to decide what's best for me, Rogue."

Rogue stared at him disbelievingly. "I stopped you on the porch, John, because you were going to kill someone if I didn't--and what happened on the Jet, I was only trying to protect you! You were going to go out there and get yourself killed!"

"Maybe," John said. "But that was my choice, wasn't it? Not yours."

"We're friends, John," Rogue hissed. "If you put your life in danger it affects me too. You can't expect me to not try and stop you from self destructing."

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" John asked with a laugh. "Well, babe, you ain't seen nothin' yet."

Rogue looked un-amused. "You have to stop this, John. We care about you. We're worried."

"You think that changes anything?" John asked. "It doesn't. I don't care if you care, Rogue. So just leave me the hell alone."

"I'm trying to help you!"

"I don't want your help! Haven't you been listening?" John tore off his coat and slumped into his desk chair. Agitatedly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his lighter. Without looking at Rogue, he began to open and close it.

"John," Rogue whispered. "Whatever happened between us, we can fix it. That's what friends do."

John shook his head in disbelief. "God, you really have no idea what you've done? Do you?" John asked her intensely. "You were the last person in my life, Rogue, the last one, that I trusted implicitly. And now that's gone. I have no one left."

Rogue was near tears, but she stubbornly held them back. She wouldn't let him get to her over this. She'd only been doing what she had to do to help him, and she would do it all again. "You can trust me, John. But if you don't believe that, then believe you can trust Bobby. He'd do anything for you--he's your best friend."

"Bobby?" John laughed. "Bobby would betray me in an instant if he thought it was 'for my own good.' Or if I strayed even a little off that straight and narrow path he seems to love so much. I've always known that. I just thought you were different."

"I care about you, John!" Rogue cried. "Don't punish me for that."

"Just leave, Rogue," John told her tiredly. "There's no point to this."

Rogue glared at him. "You selfish son of a bitch!" she cried.

John looked up, startled at the uncharacteristic outburst.

"You think all you have to do is decide you don't want to care about any of us any more and that's it?" she demanded. "You think it's that easy? Well here's a news flash, Pyro, you don't get to do that. I'm your friend, and maybe we had a disagreement, but you deal with it and you move on."

John wouldn't meet her eyes, he kept his gaze on the flame dancing up from his lighter. Rogue came over and knelt in front of him, and the tears in her eyes held tiny reflections of the fire. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? Maybe I screwed up. I hurt you, I know, but that was only because you scared me. You get this look in your eyes sometimes, John, and it terrifies me because it's the look of someone who thinks he's capable of anything."

"I'm not," John whispered.

"No, you aren't. And that's why I had to stop you before you got yourself killed," Rogue told him softly.

John finally met her eyes, and Rogue was shocked when she saw they were glassy with unshed tears. "It wasn't your place, Rogue."

"No," she said. "I guess it wasn't. But I would do it again--you mean too much to me for me to let you walk away without a fight."

Rogue hated to see John looking this uncertain, the only time she had seen it before was in the memories she had pulled from his past, he was always so collected now. Except she knew he thought all the foundations he had built here were crumbling beneath his feet, and she couldn't imagine how lost he must feel.

"I'll always be your friend, John," she told him. "And friends are there for one another, whether you want them to be or not."

"You nearly killed me when you touched me, Rogue," he told her quietly.

"I'm sorry," she said brokenly. "I never would have held on long enough to--"

"I'm not talking about physically," he interrupted. "I don't understand it myself, but you took something from me when you stopped me from leaving, Rogue, and I don't know how to get it back."

"I'm so sorry," she whispered again.

He turned away from her. "I know, I just don't think it's enough." John got up from the chair and went over to collapse on his bed. He turned his face away from her. "Turn off the light when you leave."

Rogue watched him for a moment, trying to decide if she should say more. John was so still though, and she knew he was praying she would just leave. She turned the light off and walked out of the room.

Only when the door was closed behind her did she let the tears fall.

"You look awful."

Rogue looked up with bleary eyes. She'd come into the den to watch morning cartoons and promptly collapsed on the couch. Bobby had seen her when he was passing by, and was now looking at her concerned.

"Rogue, are you okay?"

"I didn't sleep well," she told him.

"You haven't been sleeping well for awhile," he told her gently. "Maybe you should tell the Professor--"

"I'm fine, Bobby," she told him firmly. "I can handle this on my own."

Bobby nodded and gave her a small, uncertain smile. "You sound like John."

Rogue attempted to smile back. "God forbid," she said teasingly. "Speaking of John, have you seen him?"

"Seen him?" Bobby asked tiredly. He ran a hand through his hair. "Not for the last two weeks, no. Anytime I try to get close he takes off. I'm worried about him, ever since Boston--I mean, I was angry at him, but I never wanted our friendship to get like this."

"I know," Rogue whispered. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"We should find him and talk this through," Bobby said. "This whole thing has gone on long enough."

Rogue looked over at Bobby sadly. She had already decided not to tell Bobby about her conversation with John, because she knew he had said things to her he wouldn't want Bobby to know. For some reason, even though she was the one that had hurt him and not Bobby, she had a feeling if he would talk to anyone it had to be her. "I don't think that's a good idea," she told him softly. "Maybe we should give him some space."

Bobby frowned. "Two weeks, Rogue--"

She nodded. "I know. But he's going through a hard time right now, and I think us backing him into a corner is the last thing he needs."

Reluctantly, Bobby nodded. "Okay. We'll give it a few more days, but if nothing changes, I think I'm going to see the Professor and ask--"

"Bobby, no," Rogue whispered, horrified. "That's the worst thing you could do. If John even heard you were thinking about it he would take off, and we'd probably never see him again."

"I didn't mean, I mean--I'm not going to betray him, Rogue. But he needs someone to help him."

"I know," Rogue nodded. "But he has to help himself first."

Bobby sighed. "Okay. Okay, you're right. Look, I�m going to get breakfast, why don't you join me?" Bobby asked her gently. "We can try and talk about something else for awhile."

Rogue shook her head. "I'm not hungry," she told him. "We'll talk later, okay?"

Bobby nodded. "Alright," he said disappointedly.

After Bobby had gone, Rogue stood and started back for her room. She'd been up almost the whole night worrying about John, and the guy had the nerve to wake up before her, looking as awake as ever and disappearing the moment she caught sight of him. She needed to see him, there was still so much unfinished business between them.

She was about to turn and start up the stairs when she saw him leaning against one of the wood paneled walls. He was looking directly at her, playing with his lighter.

"John," she started, but he shook his head.

"Not now," he told her simply. Then he walked away, and vanished down another hall.

Rogue sighed. Not now, he says. When then? He was a ghost during the days, slipping through the halls and doing his best to go unnoticed, and at nights--at nights he went god knows where and didn't come back until morning.

Rogue paused then, getting an idea. She smiled and continued back on the way to her room. That would work. Tonight, if he left the mansion, she would be waiting for him. And she was going to go with him, whether he wanted her to or not.

John exited his room with a sigh. He knew one of these nights, when he snuck out as had become routine, he was going to just keep going. And never come back.

He didn't know what it was that had stopped him so far, he couldn't figure out why he wasn't gone already. Something he couldn't put his finger on was keeping him here, and a part of him he didn't want to listen to was whispering that it was because of Rogue.

That would be stupid, though, because he knew better than to get attached to anyone. Rogue and Bobby both had gotten too close, it gave them the power to hurt him and that was unacceptable. That was why he had to leave.

But there was still something holding him back.

He slowed down as he neared Rogue's room, listening with half an ear just to make sure she wasn't having another nightmare. Not that he cared, of course.

But as he got closer he realized the door was open, and Rogue was outside in the hall, sitting on the floor with her back resting against the wall. She was wearing her favorite blue hooded jacket and a pair of black gloves.

John sighed in resignation. "What are you doing?" he demanded. He already knew.

Rogue got to her feet and smiled charmingly. "Why, I'm going with you."

"No," John said simply, moving passed her and starting down the stairs.

Rogue followed him undeterred. John rolled his eyes but didn't stop her. Together they crept out the main foyer and out the door.

"Where are we going?" Rogue asked.

John turned to face her. "Well, I'm going for a walk. You can head right back on inside. Isn't it past your bedtime?"

Rogue glared at him. "You're not getting rid of me tonight, St. John Allerdyce. So you might as well get used to it."

"Fine," he said simply. "I don't care what you do."

Rogue didn't believe that for a minute. She jogged up beside him. "So, where are we going?" she asked again.

He snorted. "You're annoying, you know--has anyone ever told you that?"

"Only you," Rogue told him.

"Well, that makes sense then," John said with a nod. "I'm always right."

"You still haven't told me where we're going," Rogue prompted.

"Maybe I'm not going anywhere," John said.

"Maybe you need to learn to give a straight answer," Rogue said wryly.

John grinned despite himself, and turned to look at her. "Have you always been like this?" he asked. "I seem to recall you being nicer."

"You bring out the worst in me," she told him with a wry grin.

"Yeah. I get that a lot."

John's voice was teasing, but there was something behind it that had Rogue thinking he thought it was true. "I'm only kidding," she said casually. "You're actually pretty good company when you're not being a complete jerk."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" John asked dubiously.

"Absolutely," Rogue nodded.

John moved off the main path and headed off through the grass. Rogue followed him curiously. There was a hole in the main gate, and John easily slipped through.

Rogue frowned at it. "That isn't good. We should tell the Professor there's a hole, someone could--"

John rolled his eyes and reached through the hole to grab a hold of her jacket and give her a tug through. "Do me a favor, will you? If you're going to follow me around all night, at least do it quietly."

Rogue made an affronted noise and pulled her arm from his grasp. "Fine. If you're going to be like this maybe I should just go back to the mansion--"

John turned away from her and started down the side walk. "See ya," he said.

Rogue growled and started after him. "That was where you were supposed to say, no, Rogue, I don't want you to leave."

"I thought you goodie-goodie's didn't approve of lying?" John asked innocently.

"You're impossible," Rogue told him.

The two fell silent then, and John led them through one of the local parks, then over a gate with a sign that read "No Trespassing." They went up the hill behind the park, Rogue following him, just barely stopping herself from asking where they were going again.

John smiled slightly when they finally reached a clearing, and he walked over to a drop off and looked down. Rogue followed him curiously, and gasped when she saw the view. "It's beautiful," she said looking down at all the city lights in the distance.

"I guess," John said dropping to sit on the ground. He leaned back on his elbows. "But that's not why I come here."

Rogue sat down beside him. "Why do you come here?" she asked him curiously.

"Because it's quiet," he said. Then he shot her a wry glance. "And to be alone."

Rogue gave a sheepish grin. "You already spend enough time alone."

"You've been spending a lot of time alone too," John said casually.

Rogue looked away. "How would you know?"

"Because it used to be whenever I saw you, you were with Bobby. Now anytime I see either of you, the other's no where in sight. Why?"

"It's hard to explain," Rogue said. "But I�m going through something right now, and Bobby can't help me with it."

John pulled out his lighter, and stared at it, studiously avoiding Rogue's eyes. "Maybe I can," he offered hesitantly.

Rogue turned to him in surprise, but nodded. "You're the only one who can," she said. "I just didn't want to ask."

"What are you talking about?" he asked with a frown.

"When I touched you, John," she said quietly. "I got more than temporary control of your powers."

"My memories," John said in realization. "The nightmares?"

Rogue nodded. "I've been having them every night." Rogue looked over at him. "Maybe if I understood them they would stop."

John looked uncomfortable; he started playing with his lighter. "What are you dreaming of?" he asked quietly.

"Fire."

John nodded, that much he could guess. He always dreamed of fire. "What else?" he asked.

"Someone is always screaming your name," she told him quietly. "And then I start to panic."

John got abruptly to his feet. He shoved his hands into his pockets, and walked back over to look down at the city lights. Rogue watched him from where she was. "What happened to you, John?"

"I don't go around whining about my life story, Rogue," John snapped.

Rogue was undeterred. "I'm not asking you to," she told him evenly. "I'm asking you to confide in a friend, John. We need this, both of us."

John swung around to face her. "You can't guess what happened? I set my house on fire," he told her offhandedly. "And then I put the fire out, which, believe it or not, was actually the worst thing I could have done."

"John," Rogue said soothingly. "What happened?"

John turned away from her again. "My mom had a bunch of candles out. She loved candles, and I always loved the fire. I was just sitting there, just--just watching it, and it suddenly flared up, it spread to the table cloth, the curtain, to everything.

"My mom thought I knocked the candle over, she was mad, but more worried about calling for help and getting me out of the smoke than anything else. But I knew she was upset, and I wanted to fix it. I wanted to make the fire go away--so I held out my hand and it did."

"John," Rogue whispered.

"My mother started screaming at me, asking me what I was, I didn't know what she meant then, I was just a kid."

"Did you run away?" Rogue asked him gently.

John laughed, and it was so bitter that Rogue winced. "If I had known what was going to happen--I would have."

Rogue steeled herself, and got up to walk behind him. "What happened?"

"They handed me over to anti-mutant experimental group--asking them to 'fix' me," John said bitterly. "I was nearly killed."

"But you weren't," Rogue reminded. "Did Professor Xavier get you out?"

"I got myself out," he snapped. "There was a short in one of their machines, and there were a couple sparks--I turned them into fire." He paused. "I burned the guards pretty badly. It was the first time I had ever hurt anyone . . ."

Rogue looked at him understandingly. She remembered the first time she had hurt someone with her powers all too well. "That must have been hard for you."

"You're wrong. It was easy." John met her eyes. "That was what scared me."

Rogue could understand that too. She'd desperately wanted to hurt Magneto with her powers when she'd seen him on the X-Jet. "That's understandable, John. They'd hurt you. It was very brave of you to get away."

"Don't patronize me, Rogue," John snapped.

"I'm not," she told him quickly. "I'm trying to be a friend."

John ran a hand through his hair in agitation.

"What did you do then?" Rogue asked him quietly. "Did you go to Xavier's?"

John shook his head. "It was a few years before Xavier found me. I didn't go to the school until I was fifteen."

"What did you do until then?" Rogue asked, not sure she wanted to know. She hated to think of John out on his own, she knew how horrible that feeling was.

John turned to look at her. "Anything I had to."

Rogue went quiet, and John pulled out his lighter and sat on the ground. "Look," he said. "Can we not talk anymore?"

Rogue sat down beside him. "Sure," she whispered. "We don't have to talk anymore."

They both looked out at the lights, and the only sound that penetrated the silence was John's lighter as he clicked it open and shut.

TBC

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