Burning Brightly

Author's Note:

Is there life after the Brotherhood? Now that the war is over, what does the future hold for "Mr. and Mrs. Kent?" Read on and see.

There will be one more final chapter. In the mean time, please Rate and Review. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

Warnings: Violence

Chapter Eleven: Playing House.

In the morning we woke and began packing. Some of those shopping bags held new clothes for both of us. I looked at the button down shirt and slacks uneasily. Definitely not my style. I must have said it out loud, because she answered me.

“That’s the idea.” She held up a red blouse and held it against her chest. “No one would expect us to dress this way. And we need to look a little older. Did you check the birth date on your ID?”

“No.” I pulled out my new driver’s license and did the math. “Twenty one?”

“I don’t think we could pull off anything older.” She slipped on the blouse over her new slacks. I wondered how much the thing cost. It made her look a little older and more sophisticated.

I watched her do her hair, pulling it up in a twist of reddish brown. I fumbled in the mirror trying to come up with a way to comb mine back that would make me look older. It was going to take a while to get used to this new me. Finally, she took over and rubbed some gel in my hair and did something with it that made me look like some sort of metro sexual. I grumbled at her.

She grinned at me in the mirror, and then started putting on make up.

“Since when do you wear lipstick?”

“Since I became Mrs. Kent, age twenty one.”

“Mystique teach you that?” The mousy little thing I met so long ago had disappeared. The woman in front of me could have been a junior executive in some company somewhere.

“Yep. I’ll have to thank her if I ever see her again.” She actually seemed happy to be using her skills. Or maybe it was just the new clothes. The girls at school always seemed to get excited over that sort of thing.

I started shoving our old clothes into empty shopping bags. One of our first stops would be a Goodwill drop box. Hopefully, that would be safer than leaving them here. We didn’t know for sure if the cops were actually looking for us, but we weren’t taking any chances.

The last piece of her new look was a pair of trendy red-rimmed glasses with slightly tinted lenses. A lot less obvious than her usual shades.

“How do I look?” She turned to me.

“Different…Good….But, really different.”

“You look pretty good yourself. We’d better get moving or we’ll miss our bus.”

Her laptop and other stuff were now in a smart looking briefcase. More new clothes were already packed in a small suitcase. The knapsack that she’d dragged all the way from the Camp would be going to charity too.

A few hours later we were riding east on a Greyhound bus. We talked and pointed at the scenery like tourists and told anyone that asked that we were on our way home from our honeymoon. Going back east. Martha even had a few people snap photos on her digital camera.

This was so different from my last bus trip. I almost forgot to worry about being spotted. I guess clothes do make the man. People reacted to me differently in this get up. They shook my hand and smiled easily. Maybe it helped that Martha was doing a good job of playing the “blushing bride.” She would hold my hand and smile at me or lean close and whisper something silly to make me laugh.

“Where’s all the money coming from?” I finally thought to ask as our neighbors snored loudly in the next seat.

“The Brotherhood had dozens of anonymous accounts set up for our agents. I have all the passwords.” She whispered back.

“How much money is that?” Would Mystique or Magneto come after us for using it? Mutants or not, they could be dangerous.

“I don’t know…More than we need I’m sure.” I must have looked nervous. “I’m careful. This is an account Mystique pegged for me in particular. I haven’t touched anything else and I won’t unless I have to. She’s got no reason to gripe if she ever gets out.”

“You sure she won’t be gunning for us? Or me?” The thought just occurred to me that she might hold me responsible for her abandonment right along with Magneto. Using her safe house might be a mistake.

“No. But, I really think she’ll be after him, not us. Or you.” She frowned and pulled her glasses down a little to look at me over the rims. “Let’s just try to enjoy this trip and worry about that later.”

So that’s what we did. We got out and played tourist whenever the layover was long enough. Finally, we reached New York and found the little house. It was on the outer edge of town and from the outside looked perfectly ordinary. Martha punched in a code on the keypad next to the door and it opened with a hiss of air that told me the place was sealed airtight.

The ground floor held a roomy living room and a kitchen done in marble as well as a master suite and a guest room. In the master closet was a trap door that led to an underground bunker that was all concrete and plastic. Seeing that made me wonder if Mystique hadn’t always trusted Magneto. The “Master of Magnetism” always built with cold hard steel.

There was a communications station down there that looked a lot like the ones Martha had run before. It sprang to life under her touch.

“What are you doing?” The sudden flickering lights and the hum of a computer made me nervous.

“Sorry. I just wanted to make sure everything is working.” She left it running as we explored. While the kitchen cupboards upstairs were empty, there were boxes of shelf stable food stored down there. And there was also a series of small rooms set up barracks style.

“What were they planning on doing here?” I asked.

“I have no idea. Mystique never said.” She shrugged and we went back upstairs.

The whole place was done in a very simple modern style. Kind of cold. But it would do. And we didn’t have to stay here forever. Just long enough to figure out the next step.

Figuring out the next step took longer than we thought. What were we supposed to do anyway? The house and utilities were paid out of some corporate account somewhere that we never touched ourselves. And there was enough in that one account Martha had tapped to keep us in t-shirts and pizza for years.

After a while we got bored with sitting around and hiding. There’s only so much T.V. you can watch before you go nuts. We took some of the Brotherhood money and bought a cash car. Nothing too fancy, just something with four tires and an engine.

Our fake California licenses were good enough to pass inspection when we turned them in and got real ones. Of course Martha was all set and ready to “persuade” the overworked DMV worker that they were real, but it wasn’t actually necessary. The woman never even blinked.

After that I used my newly legit I.D. to get a job delivering newspapers and magazines. They paid by commission and didn’t require a background check. Right up my alley.

Martha signed up for one of those online colleges and was taking classes. The job and the school were all part of building up our new identities as “Mr. and Mrs. Kent.” We even got a dog. He was a big black Lab mix we named Clark because Martha thought it was funny.

We never meant to stay in that house for long. Just long enough to get ourselves sorted out. But the longer we stayed there, the more comfortable we got. And as time passed with no cops or revenge-crazed ex-mutants showing up, we started to relax.

Somehow, once we slipped on those rings, it never occurred to me to leave her. After a while, I got used to talking to people about my “wife.” I got used to coming home to her. I got used to sharing a bed and a house with her. I got used to her being there. I even got used to the strange way she refused to argue.

Whenever we would argue she’d either put on her shades and lock herself in the bunker, or she’d stand there and glare at me without speaking. Sometimes I’d just keep trying to push her buttons, try to get her to crack. I knew why she did that. She didn’t want to turn me into her little puppet. And some part of me kept insisting that she prove it over and over.

I knew she loved me. But she never said it. She called me “love” sometimes, but that was as close as she got. I still wasn’t sure what I felt, if it really love or if it was just obligation or loneliness. Or maybe I was just scared that the one person who’d ever really cared about me might stop caring. I know I wasn’t easy to live with. I know I pissed her off sometimes. I’m pretty sure she was hurt that I never said I loved her and that’s what she was waiting for. She wasn’t going to say it first.

We could have almost forgotten the things we did for the Brotherhood. We could have almost put that terrible battle at Alcatraz Island out of our minds and memories. Except for the nightmares.

We installed fire alarms in every room and there was no place in the house that was more than ten feet from a fire extinguisher. I wasn’t the only one having nightmares, but I was the one who started fires in my sleep. At least once a week we had to replace something I burned during a nightmare. I thought it strange that I never actually burned her or the dog.

As bad as my nightmares were, I think Martha’s were worse. I’d been unconscious for a good chunk of that last battle and parts of it that I was conscious for were fuzzy. Her nightmares left her pale and shaking and she wouldn’t talk about them afterwards claiming she couldn’t remember. I knew she was lying. I’m pretty sure they had something to do with me because she would cling to me afterwards.

At first we watched the news religiously, alert for any sign of trouble for mutants in general or us in particular. After a few months of nothing, we stopped watching. That turned out to be a mistake. A big one.

Like I said before, the Cure was a lie. It was supposed to be an “answer” to the “mutant problem.” A permanent answer. Turns out it wasn’t all that permanent after all.

We found out the hard way.

It was a sunny afternoon. The sky was a perfect blue with fluffy little clouds floating across it. I’d finished my route early and I was on my way home to Martha with my pay in my pocket. I was trying to decide where to take her for dinner when I had to swerve to avoid hitting a dog.

My dog…

“Clark!” I pulled over to the side of the road to go after him. He was trailing his leash behind him and I had to dash to catch up with him. What the fuck? Martha would never have let him roam like that. I grabbed the leash and pulled him back to the car.

Something was wrong. I resisted the urge to floor it for the last half mile or so. I didn’t want to pass her if she were along the side of the road or something. Clark was whining nervously beside me and that didn’t help my nerves any.

I didn’t see her anywhere when I pulled into the driveway. I actually had to drag Clark out of the car when usually he’d bolt as soon as the door opened.

I took him inside and let him off the leash. Not only did I not see Martha, the house felt…empty.

“Martha!” I checked bedrooms and even stuck my head down into the bunker. Nothing.

By now Clark was scratching at the back door and I moved to let him out without thinking. Instead of bounding out like usual, he stopped on the threshold and growled.

“Ah. There you are, my boy.”

There he stood, as large as life, complete with that damned bucket on his head. Callisto stood beside him smirking at me. I thought Storm had killed her, but I guess I was wrong.

“Magneto.” I swallowed hard and reminded myself that he’d been hit with the Cure and that Callisto should be no match for me. I looked around and spotted Martha sitting stiffly on one of our wrought iron patio chairs. She looked scared. “What do you want?”

“Why, you of course. We have work to do, you and I.” He spoke as if nothing had happened in the past four months.

“It’s over. We’re done.” I spoke as I reached into my pocket for my lighter.

“Come, sit. Let’s talk.” Two of the patio chairs slid across the concrete to rest across from Martha’s chair. My stomach sank. I looked more closely at Martha and realize that the iron had somehow wrapped around her wrists and ankles. She wasn’t going anywhere.

“I don’t think so. Let her go.” I didn’t move.

“Don’t be silly, boy. When I asked you to get close to her, I did warn you not to become too attached.” He waved to one of the patio chairs again and smiled. “Mesmer has been a very naughty girl.”

“She’s done nothing wrong.” I looked at her and she looked even more frightened. Christ! She never knew that it was Magneto that put me up to it until now.

“Oh. I believe she has. But, I understand your confusion. After all, she has had free reign to manipulate you for several months.”

“She did not manipulate me. I’m done with you and your crazy shit. Go away.” He ignored me and sat down. Callisto moved to stand behind his shoulder. I moved closer to Martha.

“Not only did she fail to meet us at the rendezvous point, she convinced you to leave with her. Then she appropriated this house and several Brotherhood accounts. Certainly you did wonder where the money came from?”

“I know where it came from.”

“John…”

“You will be silent or I will silence you.” Magneto turned a cold glare on her. “I do not tolerate treachery.”

She grimaced as her metal bonds writhed and tightened slowly. A thin rope of iron slithered its way around her neck and lay there like a black snake.

“I am willing to overlook your temporary lapse in judgment. After all, this young lady can be quite persuasive. I have to believe it is her influence, after all. Just a few months ago you were my most loyal supporter. We shared a dream you and I.”

For a moment I considered it. Did I really change my mind on my own, or did she have something to do with it? Had she put a spell on me like she had Madrox? I didn’t remember anything about a rendezvous point. Was that a lie or did she help me forget? Or did I forget because I had a concussion?

My mind whirled. Before I met her, I thought I believed in Magneto and his Brotherhood. And the way I saw her had certainly changed. Did she do this to me? Did she make me do these things?

I didn’t know. I’m not sure she did either. That’s what she’d always been afraid of – that what I felt for her wasn’t real, just a product of her powers.

What she felt was real. She’d proven that over and over. And that was enough for me. I really didn’t care whether what I felt was because of her powers or not. It was like what she said about my fire, it was a part of her. Something that I’d miss if it was gone.

“Free yourself, Pyro. She is nothing but an anchor about your neck. Kill her and all is forgiven.” He smiled at me with that same fatherly smile he used when he asked me to seduce her.

“Get out. Get out of our lives.” I pulled the lighter from my pocket. He was the one who had been manipulating me, not her.

“Now come, boy. Don’t be foolish.” He stood slowly. “You have been under her influence too long.”

Martha made a strangled gasp as the iron around her throat tightened.

“But if you haven’t the fortitude to do it yourself, then allow me.” He waved his hand and one of the chairs began to unravel itself into long shafts of black iron.

“No!” I flicked open the lighter, but it was snatched from my fingers before I could light it.

“Tsk. Tsk. You see how she has corrupted you.” He held the lighter in his hand.

“Magneto…” Callisto hissed at him after looking around with a puzzled look on her face. He silenced her with a gesture.

“John!” Martha cried out as the black spears rose beside Magneto.

“You are a god. You are not made for this life. You were meant to rain down fire and brimstone, not to walk the dog and play house.” His tone was mocking and the spears quivered.

The familiar scream of a jet’s engine broke his concentration and the iron wavered out of formation as he and Callisto turned to look in the direction of the sound. I took advantage of his distraction.

I reached for the fire for the first time since the night I’d dreamed of Rogue’s face in the flames. It leaped to my hand like an old friend.

“You were right. I am a god…An angry one!” Callisto turned at the sound of my voice and time seemed to slow to a crawl. I willed a fountain of fire to engulf them, but she was faster, dragging Magneto out of harm’s way.

Magneto sent the iron rods flying, but his earlier distraction had let them drift out of aim. Several hit the house, most hit the ground. I threw more fire after them as Callisto continued to drag him through the hole torn in our back fence. I started to follow but I was stopped by a strange sound behind me.

I turned and froze with horror. One of the metal spears had hit its mark and had been driven completely through Martha’s body. It had struck too low to hit her heart, piercing her just beneath the ribs to one side. She was gasping for breath and it quivered with each labored rise and fall of her chest.

“Oh God! Martha.” I looked anxiously over my shoulder to be sure they were gone then rushed to her side. I had no idea what to do. I was in a panic.