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FIC: A Real Life Dream (1/3)(PG-13)(X2)(John/Marie)

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    Title: A Real Life Dream By: X X0832001@yahoo.com PG-13 Disclaimer: I own nothing, I am getting no money Summary: Fourth in the Love Letters Series. John
    Message 1 of 1 , Sep 17, 2003
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      Title: A Real Life Dream

      By: X

      X0832001@...

      PG-13



      Disclaimer: I own nothing, I am getting no money



      Summary: Fourth in the Love Letters Series. John and
      Marie, in the same place, both conscious.



      A/N: �Friendship�s Sacrifice� begot �One of Those
      Dreams� begot �Some Friends Aren�t Friends� begot �A
      Real Life Dream� will beget �Shiny, Happy Morning� who
      shall be the end of the Love Letters lineage.



      John sat up in his bed writing furiously
      in a simple spiral bound notebook that Mystique had
      brought him. The thoughts poured from his head onto
      the paper through the pen. He had always liked
      writing in pen, feeling the tool leave its mark as it
      was pushed across the paper. Keyboards of computers
      were fine for reports and a quick e-mail, but for what
      he was up to now he was glad Mystique had gotten the
      cheap little green book.



      He�d woken up in his nice, warm, soft twin
      bed at the Brotherhood�s latest �compound� and found
      the book lying next to his bed. He�d never expected
      heaven to be a 3 story stone house in Canada, and he
      never expected to get into heaven, but all the signs
      pointed to paradise. Then Magneto had appeared glass
      in hand. �Glad to see you�re awake Mr. Pyro.� The
      older man gave the glass to the boy. The substance
      inside was a mixture like milk and oatmeal. He was
      actually familiar with the beige nutrient drink. He
      could remember Dr. Gray insisting that he finish the
      whole glass as he sat on an exam bed getting his
      initial physical when he arrived at Xavier�s School.
      He�d been a runaway for a long time before that and
      couldn�t remember the last time he�d had a real meal.
      As soon as that admission had been made the red headed
      doctor had thrust the glass at him.



      �I�m alive?� John had asked the newly
      arrived supervillian weakly.

      �Yes my dear boy, you�re alive.� Pyro had
      smiled and sunk back into the bed. For a couple of
      days that was really all he could manage. But, by the
      third day he was feeling better and had begun filling
      the notebook. It was the beginning of a novel, a tale
      of secrets and love, and probably blood and death.
      �Write what you know� he�d mused as the idea for what
      to do with the notebook came to him.



      It was kind of nice Mystique had made
      enough observations and spent enough time on him to
      know a notebook and pen could take his mind off the
      pain and boredom of recovery for hours, days even. It
      made him wonder if someone would have done the same
      back at Xavier�s. Did anyone even know he liked
      writing there? He paused, thinking. Marie did,
      they�d talked about it in one of their friendly chats
      in the rec room. There had been so many, all late at
      night when neither could sleep and no one else seemed
      to be around. They would both just find each other in
      the rec room, not planned, but whenever either of them
      needed a friend to talk to, the other was already
      downstairs waiting.



      John�s thoughts were interrupted by a
      knock on the door.

      �Come in� It was Magneto. The older man
      was holding another glass of oatmeal milk and a folded
      up piece of paper. His expression was as vague and
      unreadable as always. Magneto didn�t show an overt
      amount of compassion, but it was clear he cared about
      the plight of his teammates. He distanced himself
      because he was the leader, but John could tell he
      cared about all the members of the Brotherhood.

      �I have some things for you Pyro.�

      �What?�

      �Drink this first.� He extended the drink.
      John rolled his eyes.

      �More of this? When can I eat real food
      again man?�

      �Tonight, if there are no complications.
      You should be able to handle something more
      substantial.� John tilted his head back and finished
      off the glass� contents. He�d been feeling much
      stronger and wanted to get on with this convalescence.
      He surmised it couldn�t be too much longer before he
      was back to his old self. He�d been up writing for
      most of the day, and the pain wasn�t too bad. It
      wasn�t too bad as long as he didn�t move much.
      Redirecting his attention he handed the glass back to
      Magneto and fixed an expectant gaze on the folded up
      piece of paper.



      The older man actually smiled and chuckled
      warmly. �All right, I suppose you�re well enough for
      me to fulfill my promise.� Pyro just looked confused.
      Magneto had made a promise about him? �When we
      liberated you from those small minded humans� Magneto
      could see the young man tense a little. He was no
      doubt being assaulted by a slideshow of horrors in his
      head. Images of what had been done to him accosting
      him as Magneto spoke �we worked with the X-men. One
      of them asked me to give this to you.� He handed the
      paper to Pyro, nodded and left him alone with the
      note.



      Oh God, the X-men. Wait, Marie! Crap, he
      was in a mess. What the hell had he written on that
      menu? When he wrote that letter he�d been expecting
      to die. It had been an almost delirious state he�d
      written in. He�d been delirious enough to think Marie
      wouldn�t sneer at even the mention of the traitor
      Pyro�s name. He�d though she would care what he
      thought as he lay dying. Here in the cold clear state
      of reality the foolishness of the idea hit him hard.
      It was like a punch in the gut, and he still had those
      broken ribs.



      He couldn�t remember much of what he�d
      said. It was probably stupid and incoherent. He
      groaned to himself. What were the chances that Marie
      would have been anywhere near Canada? At the FOH
      house? What were the chances she�d get that crumpled
      up menu? Chances were slim, could have made you a
      fortune in Vegas, because she�d gotten it. She�d
      gotten it and written a response.



      It was probably a note saying she only saw
      his as a friend; that she was madly in love with
      Bobby. Heck, that would be the best case scenario.
      Something big had happened to him in Boston, then he�d
      left them. Rogue had watched him walk off that jet
      into the snow; walk out of their lives and into the
      arms of their enemy. He�s walked willingly because
      that�s where his beliefs lay. She probably hated him.
      Furious that he would even try to communicate with
      her like nothing had happened! This note could very
      well be filled with a hurricane of anger, betrayal,
      and hatred.



      To read she hated him would be worse than
      all the FOH had put him through. He�d connected with
      Rogue in a good, healthy way he couldn�t have
      expected. Before her he really didn�t think he was
      even capable of what Rogue brought out in him. Before
      her he�d just been another messed up person no one
      gave the time of day to. He hid the changes, tried to
      keep up his act, but they were still there. Inside, he
      was different because of Marie.



      But he had to know what she�d written,
      whatever it said. For all the good she had done for
      him she deserved to have her message read, even
      knowing chances favored the words ripping out his
      heart. He unfolded the paper slowly, read the short
      message and let his jaw drop.



      But, you should know that I feel the same way for you
      as you do for me.

      I love you John Allerdyce.



      He was suddenly numb with shock. �I love
      you� No one had ever said they loved him. In his
      whole life he could never remember hearing that simple
      phrase. He�d had a real crappy family, a series of
      foster parents that kept returning him to social
      services like he was an ugly Christmas sweater, then
      he�d been on his own. It had been quite a while
      before Xavier�s troops marched in to pick the firebug
      off the streets. No one said they loved you in those
      places.



      The whole idea was overwhelming to him.
      He hadn�t really allowed for the idea Marie might care
      for him as more than a friend since the week after the
      Liberty Island thing. It was more than he could have
      hoped for. He was so excited! It was amazing! He
      felt like jumping out of bed and dancing. Of course
      he defiantly didn�t have the strength for that.
      Instead he picked up his notebook and began writing
      like a mad man. Out of him flowed the most beautiful
      love scene he�d ever written. All the things he felt
      flowed out through the pen onto the blank white pages.
      Everything, all the happiness and wonder that he felt
      jumped into his story.



      He wrote steadily until Mystique appeared
      in the doorway carrying a tray. A bowl of soup sat
      steaming in its center. �I hear you want to eat some
      real food.� John looked up from where he was writing
      on the back cover of the notebook. Glancing around, a
      little confused, he realized hours had passed while he
      wrote. He smiled at Mystique and her food.

      �Yeah, I am so sick of that goop�. She
      looked at him with raised eyebrow. Pyro was not a
      big smiler. He was a kid that had some tough breaks
      and developed a thick skin because of it. She�d seen
      that look in people more than enough to recognize it
      in Pyro. He didn�t look at you with giddy smiles.
      She spotted the folded up note and sat down on the bed
      in front of it. Holding the tray in one hand she
      adjusted the blankets and moved the notebook and pens
      before setting the tray down. John didn�t notice
      she�d pick up his note; he was too focused on the
      first real, solid food he�d gotten in days. It only
      took a moment to read Marie�s short note. Aww, little
      Mr. Pyro was in love. In love with an X-man, talk
      about shooting yourself in the foot. They were the
      enemy; the most they could possibly get from each
      other was a battle where both made it out Okay.



      �Enjoy� she smiled as she left. Having
      Pyro around had been making her do unusually maternal
      things. She found herself walking down the stairs,
      changing into a random middle aged Asian man. She
      walked out the door and down the street, towards the
      corner drug store. She was going to buy Pyro another
      $0.75 notebook. It surprised her, the interest she�d
      taken in the young man.



      The drugstore was close; they�d started
      building them every 20 feet so that wasn�t surprising.
      She smiled a little at the teenage clerk and headed
      down the appropriate aisle. She�d seen Pyro writing
      before he�d gotten hurt. Every so often she�d pass by
      and he�d be typing away with barely a pause between
      the clicks of his keyboard. She picked up a handful
      of notebooks; green, red, purple, yellow, blue, black,
      one of each color. That should be enough to keep him
      occupied.



      She blamed this nurturing junk on being a
      woman. She was a blue, scaly mutant, but still a
      woman. When they�d found Toad he�d been in much worse
      shape than Pyro. Badly burned, nearly drowned he�d
      managed to get himself back to the hideout. When
      Mystique had arrived after her hospital breakout she�d
      barely recognized him. She�d babied him like she was
      doing now for the fire manipulator. She�d brought
      Mortimer soup until he could get out of bed, made sure
      her duties as Senator Kelly didn�t keep her away from
      him too long, it was a womanly curse.



      Placing her items on the counter the teen
      looked up from her book and stopped twirling her hair
      long enough to push a couple of buttons on the cash
      register. �Total is $4.77� Mystique smiled and handed
      over a $5.

      Oblivious to the friendly gesture the girl hit a
      couple more buttons and the drawer sprung open. �23
      cents is your change, have a nice day� the clerk
      deadpanned as she handed over the dimes and pennies.
      As soon as the change left her hand she was reading
      again. The cover of the drivel featured a muscular
      man clutching a petite raven haired individual to bare
      his chest as they stood on the deck of a ship, the
      wind blowing back the long hair they both had in a
      most sexy way. It was a typical trashy romance novel.
      Mystique had never gone for the genre, but, to each
      their own. Mystique gathered up her books and headed
      for the door.



      It didn�t take long to get back to the base. When she
      arrived at Pyro�s room he was just finishing the soup.
      She pulled out the purple notebook and handed it to
      the boy. �Looks like you needed another one� she
      commented, gesturing to the full book on the bed.

      �I kinda got inspired� he laid the original book by
      the foot of the bed and started to work filling the
      new book. He wasn�t paying attention when Mystique
      scooped up the book on her way out the door. She
      couldn�t say why she did it, mainly she was just
      curious. Taking the notebook back to her room she
      lounged on her bed and opened it.



      Mystique had never read anything Pyro had
      written. Despite being the main patron to his art she
      hadn�t read any to know if he was good or not. It
      really didn�t matter what he wrote, just the act
      seemed to be a kind of therapy for him. So she wasn�t
      expecting much when she picked up that first yellow
      notebook. Two pages in she was utterly floored. It
      was great! Eloquent and captivating the characters
      were vivid, complex beings. She hadn�t expected
      writing like that from the angry young Pyro.



      She read on, entranced by the budding
      romance, tangled up in duty and honor. Duty and honor
      were main themes in a story created by Pyro? She just
      couldn�t put it down, it was certainly more
      interesting than the last piece of fiction she�d found
      time to read. Without an intentional thought it
      became a pattern over the next few days, he�d fill up
      a book, she�d sneak it away, read it, and sneak it
      back.



      It was clear he was in love. It was even
      hard to believe he could be that passionate for
      someone he�d probably never even touched. The woman
      that so inspired him was his enemy. She was mainly
      seen across a battlefield when he saw her at all.
      He�d left the X-men mansion months ago, but fire still
      burned. She laughed at the incredibly lame pun her
      mind had just made. She read his story and just
      couldn�t bear to deny him a chance to actually be with
      the woman he loved. In his novel the man was a gypsy,
      separated from his love when his band is driven out of
      town. He can�t change who he is, and is honor bound
      to stay with his family, to forever be kept form his
      beloved. They love each other so much, but are forced
      to rely on quick visits, hidden under the cover of
      darkness. It was tragic.



      Mystique had an idea. She pulled out a
      piece of paper and started writing.


      TBC

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