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One Constant Flame
Disclaimer: I have a VHS tape labeled “X-men” which has content about the X-men. So YES! I do own X-men!.
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ONE CONSTANT FLAME
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John looked up into those puppy-dog eyes one more time. Her unseeing gaze made him uncomforatable, so he whipped out his lighter.
click. snap. click. snap.
The familiar pattern eased his self-created tention. He gazed up at the computer screen once more. It was Rogue’s face. Next to her picture were lists and statistics of her history, what she could do, what was her name, and why she was an official enemy of Magneto’s brotherhood. Enemy. John seriously doubted he could ever think of her that way. He looked over her information file one last time.
click. snap. click. snap.
He had accepted that Rogue was Bobby’s girl, but he could still find her easy on the eyes. It amazed him that he had underestimated her as he had for so many years. He had always pictured her has this quiet, docile girl with a former crush on the mansion’s resident cave man, and a serious thing for his best friend. With time, he watched her come out of her shell, bit by bit. But he had *never* thought she’d ever have the guts to absorb him. Much less in front of Bobby, at the Drakes house, while surounded by several police cars. It had frightened him, which made him feel ashamed. He fiddled with his lighter some more. St. John Allardyce was a stranger to shame.
click. snap. click. snap.
He typed a command into the computer and put Rogue’s file away. He remembered far more about her than those files could ever say. Only he knew how frightened she’d get when he told ghost stories in front of an open flame. Only he knew how adept she had become at fooseball while playing with Bobby against him and Piotr. Only he knew how strong she had grown in the last few years. Only he knew how much she loved Bobby Drake. On thinking of his other friend, he turned to his lighter again.
click. snap. click. snap.
He pulled up Bobby’s file to see his face.
NAME: Iceman
CIVILIAN IDENTITY: Robert Drake
AFFILIATION:....
He ignored the informative text. There was Bobby’s face. His best friend, pal, and amigo. Not anymore. He glanced carefully at the picture on the screen. This would be the last time he would ever see Bobby’s face without an _expression of condemnation and hate. Rogue might forgive him, sure, but not Bobby ‘Iceman’ Drake. He’d seen how his old friend had taken his own brother Rony’s betrayal, and knew that Bobby would feel the same way about his. No absolution and no goodbyes.
click. snap. click. snap.
He put away the file and sank back into the memories. He remembered one of the last conversations he ever had with his two closest friends. He and Bobby had been arguing over which was the worse way to die: freezing or burning.
John had argued that burning was tops. Fire slowly disintegrated the cells of nigh everything it came into contact with. What could be more painful that that? Bobby, of course, argued that freezing to death wasn’t the simple fall-asleep-wake-up-as-a-popsickle thing that Hollywood made it out to be. There was shivering to endure, and the accumulation of water in the lungs, making even breathing painful. It was then that Rogue--Marie--stepped in and commented that he conversation was painful. She wrinkled her nose as she did so, making her cute enough to make a guy forget about the various forms of death.
click. snap. click. snap.
It was the last truly enjoyable conversation the three of them were meant to have. It was simply astounding that only hours later from that moment they shared, he was staring down at them as though they were ants from his place next to Magneto.
He had been so sure of his decision at the time. John had never had the temperment that Xavier wanted, and Magneto seemed to appreciate his abilities and know exactly how to express it.
click. snap. click. snap.
But when he tried to talk to Mystique and Sabertooth about the pros and cons of freezing and burning, they looked at him with a mix of disgust and wariness. There was no substitute for what had come before, and there never would be. He had traded the simple things--foosball and wrinkled noses--for the greatness of fighting at the side of a possible savior of mutantkind, a possible raving lunatic.
click. snap. click. snap.
Assurance had faded; wounds had faded; friendship had faded; love had faded. The only thing left were the memories: his one constant flame.
click. snap. click. snap.
~FIN~
Reverse Psycology: You don’t wanna review this fic...You don’t wanna review this fic...
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