~ now you know why...
Fifty Things;
birth to happiness
01. motion
The first few years, all St John can remember is driving. They stopped for a few days and he stayed in cheap motels with crappy television and soda and candy to live on. He can't remember a single night when his father was actually there, sober or awake. And then they were driving again, moving to another state, another county, another casino. He's used to the merging of landscape, all the scenes just blurring into one. He stopped watching the scenery pretty early on.
02. cool
Alaska had been chilly. His dad hit a streak of good luck, so they stayed there for three weeks. It had been odd, the number of daylight hours, St John liked the darkness of night. But it had been cool to watch the sun set, and rise again a few hours later.
03. young
He'd started school a year later than the other kids, but he still looked the same age as all the others, so he lied. He got away with it too. He'd always looked far younger than he was.
04. last
Baton Rouge was near stifling. His fever broke at 109 Fahrenheit. It was the last day he ever felt the cold, but it didn't happen in Baton Rouge. Baton Rouge was all heat and steam and unyielding fever. It was the last days of being normal.
05. wrong
"There's no way you can do that." She was telling him time and time again, he didn't really want to believe her, but in the end, he probably should've just listened. Twelve hours later, she broke him out of jail. "Okay, so maybe I was wrong."
06. gentle
"Ouch, that hurts." She sighed and shook her head. "Quit being such a baby, I'm being as gentle as possible." The shard wasn't deep, and she wasn't even touching the inflamed skin yet. "Just pull it the hell out." So she did, and really, he didn't mind the pain as much when she petted his hair softly as he groaned from the pain.
07. one
Before her, after the beating, after the loan sharks, he was on his own for three months. Just himself. It wasn't like he wasn't used to it. In all honestly, he was constantly on his own before anyway. He'd learned only to count on himself.
08. thousand
His second romance novel was a bit of a strange one. Fantasy and gothic romance was sort of a tight mesh to work around. But, the dark, beautifully disformed bat-woman princess waited a thousand days for her estranged prince, and in some weird way, it worked. For him, it was therapy while starving. For the readers; with was Romeo and Juliet with bat wings.
09. king
He'd find it ironic now, but the day he ran into Sebastian Shaw, the Black King, he'd never have figured he was closer to her than he'd ever been before. Then again, the way Shaw looked down at him, sneer and told him to watch where was going, Pyro didn't really figure anything about her would tie to him. It was why he'd set fire to the dark haired woman's cloak as she sneered in amusement at Shaw. Their panicked attempts to put out the fire while he walked away was enough to make him smirk.
10. learn
He didn't really learn anything new at Xavier's. A little bit of physics maybe, but then, he'd never needed it before, why would he need it after? Instead, he just waited, figuring that she'd find him, or he'd find her. The year at Xavier's only let him figure out how to make some money while waiting.
11. blur
Right before the arson charge, before he was shipped to Africa, the two years are practically one whole blur. The same places, the same faces, but never hers. He stuck to the places they knew, hoping, just hoping that one day she'd be there. Until everything just blurred into the next thing and his bat scorched through Manhattan. In a way, it worked.
12. wait
Patience wasn't a virtue he had. In truth, he had no true virtues, and he doubted he'd ever had them. But he was willing to wait. For a while. He could if he had to, even if it was agonising and never seemed to end.
13. change
Everything changed after that riot. Everything. He didn't know if would ever change back, or if it could. He'd replay the last moments over in his mind, the lean over, the playfulness that turned serious. The uncontrollable urge to just kiss her. It would've changed if the riot had never happened any way.
14. command
It's not that he can't follow commands. It's not that he doesn't listen. And even as Victor practically mutilates the shooter, and the blood is everywhere and the fires rage away in the distance, it's not like he made the conscious decision to disobey Stryker's order. "What? He was looking at me funny!"
15. hold
He can remember the rain that dripped down in the Spring time. The way the snow and ice melted from the tops of the buildings and fell towards them. He remembers how her wings would stretch out to catch as much as they could, and the way the soft, black leather looked like ink afterwards. He remembers the way he'd hold her at night, keeping her warm with his own body temperature, while she kept him dry with her wings. He can't remember a better Spring than that.
16. need
Needing her to sleep wasn't right. It wasn't how it went either. He didn't need her to sleep, he could sleep without her. For short, two or three hours bursts, he could lie there and sleep without her body against his, or her wings spread over them. He didn't need her, he just wanted her. It was different.
17. vision
Sometimes, his imagination ran a little wild. He had this vision of her, what she would've been like if her parents hadn't turned against her, if they'd never broken her wings. She was always perfect in his eyes, but with her long dark hair, and her dark, dark eyes, and those wings, the unbroken, perfectly spanned wings that stretched out wider than her arm span. She was a vision of sheer beauty and perfection, and sometimes, he wished he could give her that.
18. attention
He paid attention to the little things. Her birthday, how she didn't like talking about it, how music would calm her, how she'd stare at peoples mouths and smile sometimes. He knew that she could see when he lied, and he'd paid enough attention by then to be able to tell when she lied. His voice gave him away, her wings gave her away. It was all about paying attention to the details.
19. soul
The whole 'soul' thing was still an open debate for him. There were too many if's, and's or but's for him to fully come to decision on it. If he had a soul, how tarnished was it? Was it black or just charred? One thing he did know for sure, soul-mates were real. So, it stood to reason, if he could have a soul-mate, he must have a soul. And maybe her soul would balance out his.
20. picture
Photos annoyed him. Pictures taken of him, or even just the one stupid one his father had kept. His parents on their wedding day. It was stupid to cling to them. What was the point anyway? But he had one photograph. One picture that Esme had managed to sneakily get of the pair of them together. She'd surprised him with it, and really, he didn't mind as much as he made out. Least of all when she kept it in her pocket all the time.
21. fool
He hadn't rightly been 'friends' with anyone at Xavier's. Noriko would come close, possibly, but that was about it. She wasn't that obnoxious 'come be part of things' type of girl. And she figured out quickly not to do anything stupid after that first April Fool's day where she shocked him with a surge. He fried her favourite pair of sneakers in retaliation. No one pranked Pyro after that.
22. mad
It was weird, listening to Ophelia talk away. She hardly made any sense, but at the same time knew so much more than anyone else. "It's easy to see, it's like one two three. Just stop the thinking, and get with the swinging. Don't let it worry you, you'll know when it's all through. All about the money, or maybe just for honey." It took a while to figure out if she was actually trying to make sense before St John just nodded slowly, frowning marginally at the mad girl.
23. child
One day, he'd just sat in central park. He'd found a bench and sat there, watching everything. There was a small family having a picnic around about noon that day, and St John watched the little boy laugh with his mother and then play catch with his dad before getting sandwiches and cake and juice. He wondered if the boy realised that he had a lie. That his parents wouldn't be around forever and everything was going to change. But then he figured, some children just had to live in the dark. He hadn't been one of them.
24. now
Finally back in his right body; not nine years old, not short, not some scrawny little brat, St John almost felt like he could relax again. He wondered what would be worse for her, losing her wings, or getting back her sonokinesis. He'd heard how Emma unlocked her full potential, and in a sense, Des had offered to give that to him. He'd talk to her first, listen to what she said and prepare. For now, he was just glad to feel the heat back in his veins.
25. shadow
For the longest time, bags rimmed under St John's eyes. Shadows. Hauntings of his past, or possibly a look to the future. They got worse when he didn't eat, his gaunt frame with dark shadowed eyes. He was the picture of an underfed, homeless teenager. But then, he stayed up at night, staring at the sky, and imagining the shadow of wings around him.
26. goodbye
There hadn't been a goodbye to his father when he ran away. There hadn't been one to her when they were separated. He hadn't said goodbye either time he left Xavier's. He didn't say it when she went on a mission, or when he had. He never got to say it to Evan before the bullet and flame speared him. He'd never uttered the word once in his life. He didn't know if he'd ever want to.
27. hide
He'd been pretty good at keeping secrets after he turned twelve. He hardly had to, but the mutant thing was a big secret. He'd managed to keep it from age thirteen through to just after he turned fourteen. He'd done well in his mind. But then he hadn't had to hide it. Leaving his father behind meant finally being free of the stupid asshole. Of using his power. So he did; and hiding felt stupid after that.
28. fortune
Sometimes, they'd sneak into the kitchens of some of the restaurants and get food that way. They'd just grab whatever and leave, but they usually got a kick out of the fortune cookies and their stupid messages. "You will find great companionship." She read aloud one day, they'd both just laughed at it. "Great companionship awaits you." Read his and that was the trigger for a fit of laughter. It took another year to figure it out.
29. safe
The thumping on their heartbeats probably rang like drums in her ears, and the beats of their feet hitting the concrete as they ran would sound just as loud to her. All he was thinking was what way to turn, if the alley was a dead end, which street led to safety. It was all about keeping her safe. The few people still chasing were loud, and St John's hand gripped hers tighter, and they kept running. St John wouldn't stop running until she was safe and they were gone.
30. ghost
He didn't believe in ghosts. He didn't believe in karma or fate either. Things just happened and that was it. But sometimes he was completely sure he saw her standing there, smiling at him, and really, it couldn't be possible. She was the exact same as the day they were separated, she shouldn't have been. But she followed him places, haunting him, and he was fine with that, because it meant he wasn't forgetting her. He started to believe that maybe ghosts were real.
31. book
He spent four months writing his first book. He started it two months before he left Xavier's, he finished it in some dingy alley behind a library. It wasn't anything great, and he didn't even imagine that he'd get it going anywhere. But he broke into the library that night, got copies of his three hundred and forty nine page manuscript and mailed them to four publishers. He got one offer back. It was enough for him.
32. eye
"Oh, hold still, you're only making it worse." She never did have a good bed side manner. "Your damn finger is in my eye, and you want me to hold still." Then again, he was never the best patient. "Do you want me to leave the fucking dirt in it? You can just go blind?" He heaved a sigh, shoulders slumping. "Already Annie Wilkes." She just snorts at him, and tries to finish cleaning out his eye.
33. never
"I never," she pauses, partly for effect and partly to think, "committed a crime." St John stares at her, shaking his head before taking a sip of the caffeine free soda. "Seriously? Not once?" She shakes her head, her hair falling about her eyes. "I'm only fourteen, John. It's not like I'm a career criminal." St John makes a note to change that at least. She needs to know the thrill of stealing and getting away with it. And if she's going to make it -which he hopes she will- out here, she'll need to learn fast.
34. sing
The first time he heard her sing was a night they'd spent in a motel. She'd gotten good at distracting people with her voice while he dipped their pockets. Five hundred in one day was good enough for them to splash out on a bed and shower for the night. She'd been in the shower for ten minutes when she started singing, and St John smiled as he sat on the bed, muting the television and listening to her. He didn't know if her powers made her good at it, or if she was just a good singer; either way, he was in awe of her voice.
35. sudden
He kept expecting it to hit him like a brick. And when it didn't, he thought maybe it was just his imagination -he'd always had an over active imagination. It wasn't sudden. Not really. Not the feelings, not the knowledge, not the understanding. But the urge to do something, that was sudden. And he wished it came sooner.
36. stop
His heartbeat probably pounded loud in her ears, their feet thumping against the ground echoing around her. But they didn't have time to stop, they didn't have the chance to let her shut it out. The noise behind them made sure of that. His chest hurt from lack of breath, his feet ached, but his hand gripped hers tighter and they pressed on. They wouldn't stop running, they wouldn't stop until she was safe. He couldn't stop until she was safe.
37. time
No one bothered to teach St John how to tell the time. He had to figure it out on his own, and for the most part he did fairly well. He was nine when he stole a watch, just so that he could really teach himself. He felt remotely proud that he did. After all, he'd taught himself to tie his laces, and cook, and read. So why not tell time? It was easier without the Roman Numerals though.
38. wash
"Next time, I'm thinking you should avoid the swing." She said, smug and content in her bathtub. St John glared at her from his position by the sink, hands under the hot water. It was hard to get dried blood out from under his nails. "Next time, I'm thinking you shouldn't antagonise the local gang." He snarked back. She didn't see his face, she was too busy enjoying the bath, eyes closed and soaking her wings in the water. St John's glare didn't last long. "Hey, they're never gonna mess with us again." She'd made five of them puke until their throats were raw, and while St John would be sporting one hell of shiner under his eye and the slash along his arm, the burn marks on the faces and arms of the idiots who tried to attack her, yeah. He was pretty sure she was right there.
39. torn
It was the wire fence that did it. St John's shirt torn along the side, her jacket ripped where the wings poked through. "We'll need to get you another one." She hated them, he knew, but she could hardly walk around with them on show. Not with the mobs still hunting her. "Is it safe around here?" She asked, she'd been on the street with him for three weeks now. He was still showing her around. With a nod towards the end of the alley, a small green skinned boy sitting in the corner, smiling at them. She grinned, taking off her ripped jacket and handing it too him. "I don't need this one." As her wings stretched out behind her, the green skinned boy watched them, and then grinned back at her.
40. history
"While the American forces only declared war in the September of 1941, the war had been ravaging between the Nazi forces and the Allies for years before hand," St John wasn't even paying attention to the teacher, watching the gardens and thinking. "Like I've got to worry about that shit. Any Nazi that sees me is gonna die from shock before he can even do his stupid little Nazi death threat." Her voice was in his head like she was sitting right next to him. "Mr Allerdyce, please try to pay attention?" He looked over at her, his patent 'whatever' look on his face. Everyone in the class just stared and John scoffed, looking away. After class, Ashida slid a piece of paper into his arms, a copy of her notes.
41. power
At first, he was a little tentative about using the fire. He didn't really know how it worked. But for those nights he couldn't sleep, he spent the night lighting the candles he'd taken from the last place his father and he and stopped. He got pretty damn good at it too, understanding that he could just make it do what he wanted with thought. He nearly burnt down two buildings, but it was never linked to him and his father just moved them anyway. By the time he ran away, he was near prefect with his power.
42. bother
They'd been in Brooklyn when they stumbled over the drug bust. Right in the middle of it, they were both just standing there, looking between the cops and the dealers. St John never thought that she could do deer in the headlights so well, but they'd both made wonderful statues. "In the infamous words of Winnie the Pooh," she'd tried for a tight smile, it came out more like a wince, "oh bother." They'd given false details, apologised for any hassle and split out of there as quick as they could. St John had a record, she was still listed as 'missing'. They couldn't afford to be put in any database.
43. god
He'd never really assessed his beliefs, he didn't know what they were or if it was worth it. Even sleeping in the Church's around the city didn't make him think about them. He didn't care if God hated him, or if there even was a God. When he died, he didn't care where he went, or what happened. He was dead, why would he care? But the little girl in the corner of the Church, head bowed and hands clasped, praying quietly, she caught his attention. He wondered if her God hated him.
44. wall
"So then, right, they Scottish man says to the Irish man," Pyro rolled his eyes, only half paying attention while he sat there. It was almost dawn, and he could move on again, but he'd at least wait until the sun started to crawl above the horizon before he left the alley way. Until then, he was stuck there, staring at a blank wall and listening to the junkie who couldn't take the hint ramble on about some stupid joke, "and the cat just laughs!" The punchline made no sense to him at all. But then, nor had the rest of the joke. With a brief laugh, John smirked at the guy. Until he launched into another one, "So, Paddy and Mick are walking down the street," Pyro thumped his head back against he wall and wished for dawn, or a concussion.
45. naked
He was staring at the ceiling, still figuring things out, when she shifted against him. Her head pillowed on his chest, she grinned slightly as she woke up, hand snaking over his torso while she groaned a happy, sleepy groan. "Yesterday was totally real, right?" She murmured, and St John nodded slightly. "If by that you mean Emma surprising us with a fucking mansion, yeah. Yeah that was real. Or if you were meaning the little bomb you dropped, yup. Real too." She just laughed, leaning up to smile. "Not mad?" He just scoffed at her, "Why the hell would I be mad?" His hands ran into her messy hair, pulling her down to kiss her. "Over the fucking moon." His hands moved down, skirting around her wings, along her spine before resting on her naked stomach. "Couldn't be happier."
46. drive
It'd been one hell of a trip from Boston to New York. And since she hated planes, they drove. It hadn't been terrible. Taking turns to drive, both of them loving Emma's car and plotting an incident that would let them keep it, they'd managed to fit all of her things in the back and trunk, shipping the bigger things. It was just them, driving and laughing and her iPod hooked into the car, allowing St John to embarrass her constantly with her own music. Without a doubt, it beat any other kind of vacation Emma had offered.
47. harm
It had been a strange experiment, and in hindsight, kind of stupid. Even as Hope sighed and bandaged his head again, and Jamie stood in the corner, sheepish and glaring at the same time, Pyro was wondering just what she was gonna do to him. "Well, the concussion shouldn't be too bad, no more stupid stunts, okay?" He just nodded slowly, getting down from the bed and walking back to his room with Jamie. "You know, I think you got what you deserved." Jamie muttered, and John just rolled his eyes, "Whatever." He's pretty sure Jamie's close to smacking the back of his head before remembering the already injured state of it. "Come on, we need to figure out what story we'll tell." St John didn't bother telling his room mate that she'd call them on the lie instantly.
48. precious
The first time he held his daughter in his arms, St John was in utter awe of it. They'd made this, this gorgeous little girl with her big eyes and mess of black hair. It was going to be like her mothers, he could tell right then. Sitting on the bed, John handed the precious little bundle back into waiting arms and pressed a kiss to her head, stroking her hair while they both watched their daughter, curling into her mothers arms and dozing.
49. hunger
"I'm hungry! I'm hungry! I'm hungry!" The constant chant was repeated, even as John took the food out of the grill and onto a plate. "There," he said, putting the plate in front of Regan's seat on the table and patting her head slightly. "Eat up before Mommy thinks I'm starving you." Regan twisted in her chair, ignoring the food, "When's Mommy coming home?" She'd gone out to the store fifteen minutes ago. For the little girl, it felt like days. "She'll be home in a little while." Of course, Regan couldn't just accept that. "It's been ages since she was gone. I want Mommy home!" St John smiled slightly and took a seat next to Regan. "Okay, eat your lunch and we'll go find her." Regan stared at her plate, "I'm not hungry any more, Daddy."
50. believe
"Did you ever believe we'd make it here?" She asked, head on his shoulder, arm around his waist. "I didn't even believe we'd make it past twenty." He laughed, his own arm looped of her shoulders. The house was strangely quiet, Regan had started school, there was this strange calm now. After so long without quiet, it was eerie having some. "Then again, it's a good place to be." Her face light up with a smile, and John pressed a kiss to her cheek. It was his way of saying, I love you, Esme. But she already knew.
birth to happiness
01. motion
The first few years, all St John can remember is driving. They stopped for a few days and he stayed in cheap motels with crappy television and soda and candy to live on. He can't remember a single night when his father was actually there, sober or awake. And then they were driving again, moving to another state, another county, another casino. He's used to the merging of landscape, all the scenes just blurring into one. He stopped watching the scenery pretty early on.
02. cool
Alaska had been chilly. His dad hit a streak of good luck, so they stayed there for three weeks. It had been odd, the number of daylight hours, St John liked the darkness of night. But it had been cool to watch the sun set, and rise again a few hours later.
03. young
He'd started school a year later than the other kids, but he still looked the same age as all the others, so he lied. He got away with it too. He'd always looked far younger than he was.
04. last
Baton Rouge was near stifling. His fever broke at 109 Fahrenheit. It was the last day he ever felt the cold, but it didn't happen in Baton Rouge. Baton Rouge was all heat and steam and unyielding fever. It was the last days of being normal.
05. wrong
"There's no way you can do that." She was telling him time and time again, he didn't really want to believe her, but in the end, he probably should've just listened. Twelve hours later, she broke him out of jail. "Okay, so maybe I was wrong."
06. gentle
"Ouch, that hurts." She sighed and shook her head. "Quit being such a baby, I'm being as gentle as possible." The shard wasn't deep, and she wasn't even touching the inflamed skin yet. "Just pull it the hell out." So she did, and really, he didn't mind the pain as much when she petted his hair softly as he groaned from the pain.
07. one
Before her, after the beating, after the loan sharks, he was on his own for three months. Just himself. It wasn't like he wasn't used to it. In all honestly, he was constantly on his own before anyway. He'd learned only to count on himself.
08. thousand
His second romance novel was a bit of a strange one. Fantasy and gothic romance was sort of a tight mesh to work around. But, the dark, beautifully disformed bat-woman princess waited a thousand days for her estranged prince, and in some weird way, it worked. For him, it was therapy while starving. For the readers; with was Romeo and Juliet with bat wings.
09. king
He'd find it ironic now, but the day he ran into Sebastian Shaw, the Black King, he'd never have figured he was closer to her than he'd ever been before. Then again, the way Shaw looked down at him, sneer and told him to watch where was going, Pyro didn't really figure anything about her would tie to him. It was why he'd set fire to the dark haired woman's cloak as she sneered in amusement at Shaw. Their panicked attempts to put out the fire while he walked away was enough to make him smirk.
10. learn
He didn't really learn anything new at Xavier's. A little bit of physics maybe, but then, he'd never needed it before, why would he need it after? Instead, he just waited, figuring that she'd find him, or he'd find her. The year at Xavier's only let him figure out how to make some money while waiting.
11. blur
Right before the arson charge, before he was shipped to Africa, the two years are practically one whole blur. The same places, the same faces, but never hers. He stuck to the places they knew, hoping, just hoping that one day she'd be there. Until everything just blurred into the next thing and his bat scorched through Manhattan. In a way, it worked.
12. wait
Patience wasn't a virtue he had. In truth, he had no true virtues, and he doubted he'd ever had them. But he was willing to wait. For a while. He could if he had to, even if it was agonising and never seemed to end.
13. change
Everything changed after that riot. Everything. He didn't know if would ever change back, or if it could. He'd replay the last moments over in his mind, the lean over, the playfulness that turned serious. The uncontrollable urge to just kiss her. It would've changed if the riot had never happened any way.
14. command
It's not that he can't follow commands. It's not that he doesn't listen. And even as Victor practically mutilates the shooter, and the blood is everywhere and the fires rage away in the distance, it's not like he made the conscious decision to disobey Stryker's order. "What? He was looking at me funny!"
15. hold
He can remember the rain that dripped down in the Spring time. The way the snow and ice melted from the tops of the buildings and fell towards them. He remembers how her wings would stretch out to catch as much as they could, and the way the soft, black leather looked like ink afterwards. He remembers the way he'd hold her at night, keeping her warm with his own body temperature, while she kept him dry with her wings. He can't remember a better Spring than that.
16. need
Needing her to sleep wasn't right. It wasn't how it went either. He didn't need her to sleep, he could sleep without her. For short, two or three hours bursts, he could lie there and sleep without her body against his, or her wings spread over them. He didn't need her, he just wanted her. It was different.
17. vision
Sometimes, his imagination ran a little wild. He had this vision of her, what she would've been like if her parents hadn't turned against her, if they'd never broken her wings. She was always perfect in his eyes, but with her long dark hair, and her dark, dark eyes, and those wings, the unbroken, perfectly spanned wings that stretched out wider than her arm span. She was a vision of sheer beauty and perfection, and sometimes, he wished he could give her that.
18. attention
He paid attention to the little things. Her birthday, how she didn't like talking about it, how music would calm her, how she'd stare at peoples mouths and smile sometimes. He knew that she could see when he lied, and he'd paid enough attention by then to be able to tell when she lied. His voice gave him away, her wings gave her away. It was all about paying attention to the details.
19. soul
The whole 'soul' thing was still an open debate for him. There were too many if's, and's or but's for him to fully come to decision on it. If he had a soul, how tarnished was it? Was it black or just charred? One thing he did know for sure, soul-mates were real. So, it stood to reason, if he could have a soul-mate, he must have a soul. And maybe her soul would balance out his.
20. picture
Photos annoyed him. Pictures taken of him, or even just the one stupid one his father had kept. His parents on their wedding day. It was stupid to cling to them. What was the point anyway? But he had one photograph. One picture that Esme had managed to sneakily get of the pair of them together. She'd surprised him with it, and really, he didn't mind as much as he made out. Least of all when she kept it in her pocket all the time.
21. fool
He hadn't rightly been 'friends' with anyone at Xavier's. Noriko would come close, possibly, but that was about it. She wasn't that obnoxious 'come be part of things' type of girl. And she figured out quickly not to do anything stupid after that first April Fool's day where she shocked him with a surge. He fried her favourite pair of sneakers in retaliation. No one pranked Pyro after that.
22. mad
It was weird, listening to Ophelia talk away. She hardly made any sense, but at the same time knew so much more than anyone else. "It's easy to see, it's like one two three. Just stop the thinking, and get with the swinging. Don't let it worry you, you'll know when it's all through. All about the money, or maybe just for honey." It took a while to figure out if she was actually trying to make sense before St John just nodded slowly, frowning marginally at the mad girl.
23. child
One day, he'd just sat in central park. He'd found a bench and sat there, watching everything. There was a small family having a picnic around about noon that day, and St John watched the little boy laugh with his mother and then play catch with his dad before getting sandwiches and cake and juice. He wondered if the boy realised that he had a lie. That his parents wouldn't be around forever and everything was going to change. But then he figured, some children just had to live in the dark. He hadn't been one of them.
24. now
Finally back in his right body; not nine years old, not short, not some scrawny little brat, St John almost felt like he could relax again. He wondered what would be worse for her, losing her wings, or getting back her sonokinesis. He'd heard how Emma unlocked her full potential, and in a sense, Des had offered to give that to him. He'd talk to her first, listen to what she said and prepare. For now, he was just glad to feel the heat back in his veins.
25. shadow
For the longest time, bags rimmed under St John's eyes. Shadows. Hauntings of his past, or possibly a look to the future. They got worse when he didn't eat, his gaunt frame with dark shadowed eyes. He was the picture of an underfed, homeless teenager. But then, he stayed up at night, staring at the sky, and imagining the shadow of wings around him.
26. goodbye
There hadn't been a goodbye to his father when he ran away. There hadn't been one to her when they were separated. He hadn't said goodbye either time he left Xavier's. He didn't say it when she went on a mission, or when he had. He never got to say it to Evan before the bullet and flame speared him. He'd never uttered the word once in his life. He didn't know if he'd ever want to.
27. hide
He'd been pretty good at keeping secrets after he turned twelve. He hardly had to, but the mutant thing was a big secret. He'd managed to keep it from age thirteen through to just after he turned fourteen. He'd done well in his mind. But then he hadn't had to hide it. Leaving his father behind meant finally being free of the stupid asshole. Of using his power. So he did; and hiding felt stupid after that.
28. fortune
Sometimes, they'd sneak into the kitchens of some of the restaurants and get food that way. They'd just grab whatever and leave, but they usually got a kick out of the fortune cookies and their stupid messages. "You will find great companionship." She read aloud one day, they'd both just laughed at it. "Great companionship awaits you." Read his and that was the trigger for a fit of laughter. It took another year to figure it out.
29. safe
The thumping on their heartbeats probably rang like drums in her ears, and the beats of their feet hitting the concrete as they ran would sound just as loud to her. All he was thinking was what way to turn, if the alley was a dead end, which street led to safety. It was all about keeping her safe. The few people still chasing were loud, and St John's hand gripped hers tighter, and they kept running. St John wouldn't stop running until she was safe and they were gone.
30. ghost
He didn't believe in ghosts. He didn't believe in karma or fate either. Things just happened and that was it. But sometimes he was completely sure he saw her standing there, smiling at him, and really, it couldn't be possible. She was the exact same as the day they were separated, she shouldn't have been. But she followed him places, haunting him, and he was fine with that, because it meant he wasn't forgetting her. He started to believe that maybe ghosts were real.
31. book
He spent four months writing his first book. He started it two months before he left Xavier's, he finished it in some dingy alley behind a library. It wasn't anything great, and he didn't even imagine that he'd get it going anywhere. But he broke into the library that night, got copies of his three hundred and forty nine page manuscript and mailed them to four publishers. He got one offer back. It was enough for him.
32. eye
"Oh, hold still, you're only making it worse." She never did have a good bed side manner. "Your damn finger is in my eye, and you want me to hold still." Then again, he was never the best patient. "Do you want me to leave the fucking dirt in it? You can just go blind?" He heaved a sigh, shoulders slumping. "Already Annie Wilkes." She just snorts at him, and tries to finish cleaning out his eye.
33. never
"I never," she pauses, partly for effect and partly to think, "committed a crime." St John stares at her, shaking his head before taking a sip of the caffeine free soda. "Seriously? Not once?" She shakes her head, her hair falling about her eyes. "I'm only fourteen, John. It's not like I'm a career criminal." St John makes a note to change that at least. She needs to know the thrill of stealing and getting away with it. And if she's going to make it -which he hopes she will- out here, she'll need to learn fast.
34. sing
The first time he heard her sing was a night they'd spent in a motel. She'd gotten good at distracting people with her voice while he dipped their pockets. Five hundred in one day was good enough for them to splash out on a bed and shower for the night. She'd been in the shower for ten minutes when she started singing, and St John smiled as he sat on the bed, muting the television and listening to her. He didn't know if her powers made her good at it, or if she was just a good singer; either way, he was in awe of her voice.
35. sudden
He kept expecting it to hit him like a brick. And when it didn't, he thought maybe it was just his imagination -he'd always had an over active imagination. It wasn't sudden. Not really. Not the feelings, not the knowledge, not the understanding. But the urge to do something, that was sudden. And he wished it came sooner.
36. stop
His heartbeat probably pounded loud in her ears, their feet thumping against the ground echoing around her. But they didn't have time to stop, they didn't have the chance to let her shut it out. The noise behind them made sure of that. His chest hurt from lack of breath, his feet ached, but his hand gripped hers tighter and they pressed on. They wouldn't stop running, they wouldn't stop until she was safe. He couldn't stop until she was safe.
37. time
No one bothered to teach St John how to tell the time. He had to figure it out on his own, and for the most part he did fairly well. He was nine when he stole a watch, just so that he could really teach himself. He felt remotely proud that he did. After all, he'd taught himself to tie his laces, and cook, and read. So why not tell time? It was easier without the Roman Numerals though.
38. wash
"Next time, I'm thinking you should avoid the swing." She said, smug and content in her bathtub. St John glared at her from his position by the sink, hands under the hot water. It was hard to get dried blood out from under his nails. "Next time, I'm thinking you shouldn't antagonise the local gang." He snarked back. She didn't see his face, she was too busy enjoying the bath, eyes closed and soaking her wings in the water. St John's glare didn't last long. "Hey, they're never gonna mess with us again." She'd made five of them puke until their throats were raw, and while St John would be sporting one hell of shiner under his eye and the slash along his arm, the burn marks on the faces and arms of the idiots who tried to attack her, yeah. He was pretty sure she was right there.
39. torn
It was the wire fence that did it. St John's shirt torn along the side, her jacket ripped where the wings poked through. "We'll need to get you another one." She hated them, he knew, but she could hardly walk around with them on show. Not with the mobs still hunting her. "Is it safe around here?" She asked, she'd been on the street with him for three weeks now. He was still showing her around. With a nod towards the end of the alley, a small green skinned boy sitting in the corner, smiling at them. She grinned, taking off her ripped jacket and handing it too him. "I don't need this one." As her wings stretched out behind her, the green skinned boy watched them, and then grinned back at her.
40. history
"While the American forces only declared war in the September of 1941, the war had been ravaging between the Nazi forces and the Allies for years before hand," St John wasn't even paying attention to the teacher, watching the gardens and thinking. "Like I've got to worry about that shit. Any Nazi that sees me is gonna die from shock before he can even do his stupid little Nazi death threat." Her voice was in his head like she was sitting right next to him. "Mr Allerdyce, please try to pay attention?" He looked over at her, his patent 'whatever' look on his face. Everyone in the class just stared and John scoffed, looking away. After class, Ashida slid a piece of paper into his arms, a copy of her notes.
41. power
At first, he was a little tentative about using the fire. He didn't really know how it worked. But for those nights he couldn't sleep, he spent the night lighting the candles he'd taken from the last place his father and he and stopped. He got pretty damn good at it too, understanding that he could just make it do what he wanted with thought. He nearly burnt down two buildings, but it was never linked to him and his father just moved them anyway. By the time he ran away, he was near prefect with his power.
42. bother
They'd been in Brooklyn when they stumbled over the drug bust. Right in the middle of it, they were both just standing there, looking between the cops and the dealers. St John never thought that she could do deer in the headlights so well, but they'd both made wonderful statues. "In the infamous words of Winnie the Pooh," she'd tried for a tight smile, it came out more like a wince, "oh bother." They'd given false details, apologised for any hassle and split out of there as quick as they could. St John had a record, she was still listed as 'missing'. They couldn't afford to be put in any database.
43. god
He'd never really assessed his beliefs, he didn't know what they were or if it was worth it. Even sleeping in the Church's around the city didn't make him think about them. He didn't care if God hated him, or if there even was a God. When he died, he didn't care where he went, or what happened. He was dead, why would he care? But the little girl in the corner of the Church, head bowed and hands clasped, praying quietly, she caught his attention. He wondered if her God hated him.
44. wall
"So then, right, they Scottish man says to the Irish man," Pyro rolled his eyes, only half paying attention while he sat there. It was almost dawn, and he could move on again, but he'd at least wait until the sun started to crawl above the horizon before he left the alley way. Until then, he was stuck there, staring at a blank wall and listening to the junkie who couldn't take the hint ramble on about some stupid joke, "and the cat just laughs!" The punchline made no sense to him at all. But then, nor had the rest of the joke. With a brief laugh, John smirked at the guy. Until he launched into another one, "So, Paddy and Mick are walking down the street," Pyro thumped his head back against he wall and wished for dawn, or a concussion.
45. naked
He was staring at the ceiling, still figuring things out, when she shifted against him. Her head pillowed on his chest, she grinned slightly as she woke up, hand snaking over his torso while she groaned a happy, sleepy groan. "Yesterday was totally real, right?" She murmured, and St John nodded slightly. "If by that you mean Emma surprising us with a fucking mansion, yeah. Yeah that was real. Or if you were meaning the little bomb you dropped, yup. Real too." She just laughed, leaning up to smile. "Not mad?" He just scoffed at her, "Why the hell would I be mad?" His hands ran into her messy hair, pulling her down to kiss her. "Over the fucking moon." His hands moved down, skirting around her wings, along her spine before resting on her naked stomach. "Couldn't be happier."
46. drive
It'd been one hell of a trip from Boston to New York. And since she hated planes, they drove. It hadn't been terrible. Taking turns to drive, both of them loving Emma's car and plotting an incident that would let them keep it, they'd managed to fit all of her things in the back and trunk, shipping the bigger things. It was just them, driving and laughing and her iPod hooked into the car, allowing St John to embarrass her constantly with her own music. Without a doubt, it beat any other kind of vacation Emma had offered.
47. harm
It had been a strange experiment, and in hindsight, kind of stupid. Even as Hope sighed and bandaged his head again, and Jamie stood in the corner, sheepish and glaring at the same time, Pyro was wondering just what she was gonna do to him. "Well, the concussion shouldn't be too bad, no more stupid stunts, okay?" He just nodded slowly, getting down from the bed and walking back to his room with Jamie. "You know, I think you got what you deserved." Jamie muttered, and John just rolled his eyes, "Whatever." He's pretty sure Jamie's close to smacking the back of his head before remembering the already injured state of it. "Come on, we need to figure out what story we'll tell." St John didn't bother telling his room mate that she'd call them on the lie instantly.
48. precious
The first time he held his daughter in his arms, St John was in utter awe of it. They'd made this, this gorgeous little girl with her big eyes and mess of black hair. It was going to be like her mothers, he could tell right then. Sitting on the bed, John handed the precious little bundle back into waiting arms and pressed a kiss to her head, stroking her hair while they both watched their daughter, curling into her mothers arms and dozing.
49. hunger
"I'm hungry! I'm hungry! I'm hungry!" The constant chant was repeated, even as John took the food out of the grill and onto a plate. "There," he said, putting the plate in front of Regan's seat on the table and patting her head slightly. "Eat up before Mommy thinks I'm starving you." Regan twisted in her chair, ignoring the food, "When's Mommy coming home?" She'd gone out to the store fifteen minutes ago. For the little girl, it felt like days. "She'll be home in a little while." Of course, Regan couldn't just accept that. "It's been ages since she was gone. I want Mommy home!" St John smiled slightly and took a seat next to Regan. "Okay, eat your lunch and we'll go find her." Regan stared at her plate, "I'm not hungry any more, Daddy."
50. believe
"Did you ever believe we'd make it here?" She asked, head on his shoulder, arm around his waist. "I didn't even believe we'd make it past twenty." He laughed, his own arm looped of her shoulders. The house was strangely quiet, Regan had started school, there was this strange calm now. After so long without quiet, it was eerie having some. "Then again, it's a good place to be." Her face light up with a smile, and John pressed a kiss to her cheek. It was his way of saying, I love you, Esme. But she already knew.