Categories > Movies > X-Men: The Movie > I'm Not Like Everybody Else
The rain had stopped sometime before dawn, but the air still felt heavy, like the storm hadn’t really gone anywhere, just sunk into the walls. Rogue woke with a start. Her room was dark, but not empty.
There was something, a presence brushing faintly at the edge of her mind. Not a voice, not quite, but a feeling. Heat. Faint, restless, flickering in and out like a heartbeat.
She sat up slowly, her breath catching. For a moment she thought it was just another dream. She’d had plenty of those lately, memories mixed with fire, with faces that blurred in the smoke.
This was different. This moved when she moved, shifted when she tried to focus on it. It wasn’t a dream.
“John…” she whispered, the name barely a breath. The feeling flared, sharp and sudden before fading again. That was enough to make her throw on a sweater and slip out into the hallway, bare feet silent on the carpet.
The mansion was quiet. Too quiet.
Even the usual noise of the generators felt distant. By the time she reached the lower level, she could already hear voices in the Cerebro chamber. She wasn’t surprised.
“-not interference,” Xavier was saying, his voice calm but edged. “It’s emotional residue. Intense, focused. Like a flare.”
Storm’s voice followed. “From him?”
“I believe so.”
Rogue hesitated at the doorway. The blue glow of Cerebro lit Xavier’s face in pale light, the helmet still resting on the console beside him. He looked older in that light, tired, but alert. Storm stood beside him, arms crossed, eyes storm-dark. When Rogue finally stepped forward, both turned toward her.
“I felt it too,” she quietly spoke.
Xavier’s brow lifted slightly.
“Describe it.”
“Like…fire,” she revealed. “But not burning me, just close. Close enough to feel the heat.”
Storm exchanged a glance with the Professor.
“He’s reaching out?”
“Not consciously,” Xavier answered. “More like an echo. His emotions are volatile, unshielded. Rage, confusion, guilt.” His gaze softened as he looked at Rogue. “But there’s something else.”
Rogue’s stomach tightened. “What?”
“Connection,” Xavier said simply. “A thread that hasn’t been severed.”
“You mean me," Rogue looked down at her feet.
“Yes.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. She just looked away, staring at the faint glow from the Cerebro console.
“I thought he was gone, Professor. Really gone. Now it’s like he’s…calling out.”
Storm stepped closer.
“Or warning you.”
Rogue looked up sharply. “You think he’s in trouble?”
Storm didn’t answer right away.
“When someone’s at war with themselves, Rogue, trouble is never far behind.”
Xavier nodded slightly.
“His mind is turbulent. If this echo reached you, it means the bond you share is deeper than I suspected. Perhaps forged by shared experience, or emotion.”
Rogue gave a humorless laugh.
“Or trauma.”
“Those are often the same thing,” he said gently.
For a moment, the room was quiet again except for the soft whir of Cerebro’s systems. Then Xavier’s tone shifted, more formal, more cautious. “I intend to trace this connection, but only if you agree to it, Rogue. It could allow me to locate him, to see what state he’s in. But it will also mean opening your mind to mine, and through me…to him.”
Rogue hesitated.
“You mean, I’d feel what he’s feeling?”
“Yes.” Storm’s gaze sharpened. “Charles, are you certain that’s wise? She’s still young, and John—”
“Pyro,” Rogue corrected softly. “That’s what he calls himself now.”
“John,” Xavier said firmly, “is still part of this family. And if there’s even a chance we can bring him back, we must try.” He looked at Rogue. “The choice is yours.”
Looking down at her gloved hands, the thought of opening her mind, of letting that fire in terrified her. The memory of his voice in the mall, the way he’d said,
"You don’t have any idea what I’m capable of." burned hotter than fear. She lifted her eyes.
“Do it.”
"Rogue-" Storm frowned.
“It’s okay,” she assured. “If there’s any part of him left that remembers who he was, maybe he’ll hear me too.”
Xavier nodded once. “Very well.” He guided her to the center of the chamber, his tone gentle. “Just focus on what you remember of him. His voice, his face. The connection will find its way.”
Rogue closed her eyes and the world fell away. At first, there was only darkness. Then, warmth. Flickering. Growing brighter. She saw flashes; steel, rain, the shimmer of a flame held in a trembling hand. She felt anger, sharp and electric, not at her, but at himself. Then came Magneto’s voice, calm and commanding, like thunder behind glass. Restraint is power.
The emotion that followed hit her like a wave; defiance, pain, and something dangerously close to doubt. Beneath it all…a whisper. Not words. Just her name. Her eyes snapped open. The room around her came back in fragments, Cerebro’s glow, Storm’s worried face, Xavier’s hand raised as if steadying her from a distance.
“Rogue,” he said softly. “It’s all right. You’re back.”
She blinked hard, breath shaky.
“He’s alive.”
Xavier nodded. “Yes.”
“He’s fighting it. I don’t think he even knows how bad it’s gotten.” She paused. “But there’s something coming. Something big.”
Storm exchanged a look with the Professor.
“What did you see?”
Rogue swallowed.
“Metal. Machines. And fire. A lot of fire.”
Xavier’s expression darkened.
“Then it seems Magneto’s plans are accelerating.”
Rogue pressed a hand to her chest, still feeling the faint echo of that heat inside her.
“It’s not just that,” she whispered. “He’s scared too. He’ll never say it, but he’s scared.”
“Of what?”
She met Xavier’s eyes.
“Of himself.”
There was something, a presence brushing faintly at the edge of her mind. Not a voice, not quite, but a feeling. Heat. Faint, restless, flickering in and out like a heartbeat.
She sat up slowly, her breath catching. For a moment she thought it was just another dream. She’d had plenty of those lately, memories mixed with fire, with faces that blurred in the smoke.
This was different. This moved when she moved, shifted when she tried to focus on it. It wasn’t a dream.
“John…” she whispered, the name barely a breath. The feeling flared, sharp and sudden before fading again. That was enough to make her throw on a sweater and slip out into the hallway, bare feet silent on the carpet.
The mansion was quiet. Too quiet.
Even the usual noise of the generators felt distant. By the time she reached the lower level, she could already hear voices in the Cerebro chamber. She wasn’t surprised.
“-not interference,” Xavier was saying, his voice calm but edged. “It’s emotional residue. Intense, focused. Like a flare.”
Storm’s voice followed. “From him?”
“I believe so.”
Rogue hesitated at the doorway. The blue glow of Cerebro lit Xavier’s face in pale light, the helmet still resting on the console beside him. He looked older in that light, tired, but alert. Storm stood beside him, arms crossed, eyes storm-dark. When Rogue finally stepped forward, both turned toward her.
“I felt it too,” she quietly spoke.
Xavier’s brow lifted slightly.
“Describe it.”
“Like…fire,” she revealed. “But not burning me, just close. Close enough to feel the heat.”
Storm exchanged a glance with the Professor.
“He’s reaching out?”
“Not consciously,” Xavier answered. “More like an echo. His emotions are volatile, unshielded. Rage, confusion, guilt.” His gaze softened as he looked at Rogue. “But there’s something else.”
Rogue’s stomach tightened. “What?”
“Connection,” Xavier said simply. “A thread that hasn’t been severed.”
“You mean me," Rogue looked down at her feet.
“Yes.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. She just looked away, staring at the faint glow from the Cerebro console.
“I thought he was gone, Professor. Really gone. Now it’s like he’s…calling out.”
Storm stepped closer.
“Or warning you.”
Rogue looked up sharply. “You think he’s in trouble?”
Storm didn’t answer right away.
“When someone’s at war with themselves, Rogue, trouble is never far behind.”
Xavier nodded slightly.
“His mind is turbulent. If this echo reached you, it means the bond you share is deeper than I suspected. Perhaps forged by shared experience, or emotion.”
Rogue gave a humorless laugh.
“Or trauma.”
“Those are often the same thing,” he said gently.
For a moment, the room was quiet again except for the soft whir of Cerebro’s systems. Then Xavier’s tone shifted, more formal, more cautious. “I intend to trace this connection, but only if you agree to it, Rogue. It could allow me to locate him, to see what state he’s in. But it will also mean opening your mind to mine, and through me…to him.”
Rogue hesitated.
“You mean, I’d feel what he’s feeling?”
“Yes.” Storm’s gaze sharpened. “Charles, are you certain that’s wise? She’s still young, and John—”
“Pyro,” Rogue corrected softly. “That’s what he calls himself now.”
“John,” Xavier said firmly, “is still part of this family. And if there’s even a chance we can bring him back, we must try.” He looked at Rogue. “The choice is yours.”
Looking down at her gloved hands, the thought of opening her mind, of letting that fire in terrified her. The memory of his voice in the mall, the way he’d said,
"You don’t have any idea what I’m capable of." burned hotter than fear. She lifted her eyes.
“Do it.”
"Rogue-" Storm frowned.
“It’s okay,” she assured. “If there’s any part of him left that remembers who he was, maybe he’ll hear me too.”
Xavier nodded once. “Very well.” He guided her to the center of the chamber, his tone gentle. “Just focus on what you remember of him. His voice, his face. The connection will find its way.”
Rogue closed her eyes and the world fell away. At first, there was only darkness. Then, warmth. Flickering. Growing brighter. She saw flashes; steel, rain, the shimmer of a flame held in a trembling hand. She felt anger, sharp and electric, not at her, but at himself. Then came Magneto’s voice, calm and commanding, like thunder behind glass. Restraint is power.
The emotion that followed hit her like a wave; defiance, pain, and something dangerously close to doubt. Beneath it all…a whisper. Not words. Just her name. Her eyes snapped open. The room around her came back in fragments, Cerebro’s glow, Storm’s worried face, Xavier’s hand raised as if steadying her from a distance.
“Rogue,” he said softly. “It’s all right. You’re back.”
She blinked hard, breath shaky.
“He’s alive.”
Xavier nodded. “Yes.”
“He’s fighting it. I don’t think he even knows how bad it’s gotten.” She paused. “But there’s something coming. Something big.”
Storm exchanged a look with the Professor.
“What did you see?”
Rogue swallowed.
“Metal. Machines. And fire. A lot of fire.”
Xavier’s expression darkened.
“Then it seems Magneto’s plans are accelerating.”
Rogue pressed a hand to her chest, still feeling the faint echo of that heat inside her.
“It’s not just that,” she whispered. “He’s scared too. He’ll never say it, but he’s scared.”
“Of what?”
She met Xavier’s eyes.
“Of himself.”
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