Categories > Movies > X-Men: The Movie
Hot-Blooded
1 reviewSet Post-X2, John returns. But he's changed in his time away and Bobby has his work cut out getting closer to him than before...
1Insightful
Hot-Blooded
Bobby Drake had been shaken awake in the middle of the night - his clock proudly glaring 3:00am at him - by Wolverine, of all people. The teen had tried to pull his blanket up over his face, but it had been dragged away roughly.
"Come on kid, Professor wants you out of bed and downstairs."
Bobby squinted up at Logan, who was silhouetted by the bright hallway light.
"Isn't it a little early for a Danger Room run?"
The man chuckled briefly, pulling a cigar out of his pocket.
"It's never too early, but that's not what's going on. Come on kid, the Professor's asked for me, you and Storm down at the front door. I'm thinking we might have an unwanted visitor, so if you could haul your ass out of bed before the Professor's kicked out of his wheelchair, that'd be great."
Bobby kicked out of the blankets and reached down into his drawer for a pair of socks. Logan grunted.
"Got a light? I know you shouldn't, but I won't tell on ya."
Bobby didn't hesitate as he reached to the back of his sock drawer and handed a lighter up to the man. He glanced up while pulling his socks on and saw Wolverine frowning.
"What? You asked."
"Yeah, but I didn't expect one."
"It was John's. He left it here."
Bobby could feel Logan's heavy gaze on him while he searched for a pair of jeans.
"I thought the Professor put all the kid's junk up in storage?"
"He must have missed it."
It was the first thing Bobby had done when he returned to his room after John's desertion, grabbed as many of his lighters as he could and hid them. He'd wanted something...
"Meet you downstairs, kid."
"Sure, I won't be a minute."
Sure enough, forty-five seconds later, Bobby was suited up and ready to go. Okay, it wasn't his X-Man suit, but he couldn't be expected to sleep in the thing, could he? Hurrying downstairs silently, he wondered what could require his presence. Hopefully it wouldn't be major, since none of the other students had been summoned.
He reached the foyer, where Logan was standing with the Professor and Storm by the front door, looking grave. They looked up when he jumped the bottom steps.
"Bobby, I'm sorry to wake you up at this hour, but your powers may be required."
"I hope not," Storm muttered.
"Well yes, obviously we're hoping that John is here for the right reasons, but..."
"Whoa, John's here?!?" Bobby interrupted, shocked to the core.
"You know what they say, 'speak of the devil'," Logan said, smirking with no sense of humour behind it. Bobby ignored him.
"Why has he come back?"
"I expect we will shortly find out, Bobby."
"Couldn't you find out while he's on his way?"
Xavier fixed him with a disapproving stare. "I don't take liberties with people's minds, you know that."
"But he could be dangerous."
"That is why I have you three here," Xavier finished with a smile. "Open the doors, Logan. You turned off the garden security, Ororo?"
Bobby looked out over the front lawn as the doors were opened, hoping to god that John wasn't here for a fight or to show off or anything else that would involve Bobby having to overexert himself in order to win. John's power was formidable. Since he'd left the Institute, John seemed to live for little more than the flame.
Then there was a glow in the darkness beyond the gates. It got larger and brighter as it moved closer. John warily approached the gates, small flame in the palm of his hand, looking as though he would turn tail and run any moment. Bobby wondered where all the macho bravado had gone. Storm pressed a button on the wall and the iron gates swung open wide. They were inviting him in, but he hesitated.
It felt like Pyro's eyes were on him only and it burned as if it was Scott without the ruby glasses. Then John looked at the floor as he made his way towards them, like a naughty runaway child, and Bobby wanted them to be staring at each other again. He'd forgotten how John made him feel.
But however dejected and lost John appeared, he had courage enough to ascend the steps and stop just beyond the threshold of the doorway. Was he limping?
"To what do we owe the pleasure?" Wolverine drawled sarcastically.
"I'm an idiot. I'm sorry."
He'd stopped meeting their eyes and was staring at the floor as though he thought he'd be turned away. But Iceman saw Xavier's expression soften, as expected, and the psychic wheeled backwards to allow room for Pyro to walk back into their sanctuary.
"Bobby, could you take John's bag upstairs to your room? He'll be joining you shortly."
"Sure thing," Bobby said briskly, trying to suppress the annoyance at being sent to his room as though an adult programme had just started on tv. He lifted the duffel bag up in his hand and took the stairs two at a time. When he reached his room he put the bag carefully on the bare bed and resisted the urge to look inside. Anything John had owned before he left was in the attic, so that bag must be full of things Magneto had bought for him. As usual, thoughts of Magneto treating John made Bobby feel uneasy, so he went through the cupboards for some sheets and blankets instead.
It was an hour or so after he'd made the bed up that John was standing in the doorway with Logan. Bobby hid his surprise as Logan squeezed John's shoulder in a supportive fashion before taking his leave. John walked into their room slowly, as if he was in shock that he was actually there.
He sat on his bed and got out a lighter. But before he'd started the familiar habit of flicking it and toying with the fire, he sighed and put it away.
"So how you been?"
Bobby looked at him in disbelief.
"How have I been? That's the first thing you say?"
"I said I was an idiot and that I was sorry."
"You said that to the Professor."
"It was addressed to everyone. I'll put a banner up in the dining room if you want."
Bobby nearly rose to the bickering as though nothing had changed, but he noticed something had.
"What happened to your head?"
John reached up and gingerly prodded at the new stitches.
"I started a fight. Should have known better, I guess."
Bobby watched as John visibly gave up and reached for a lighter. They were his security blankets, he'd realised a long time ago after the first few months of watching the teen enthralled by the flame.
"You're really stuffing yourself with humble pie, aren't you?"
John's sculpting of the flame faltered and it looked ordinary again.
"I've not had a very good day. I'm feeling...."
Bobby bit his tongue in his haste to stop the word 'vulnerable' completing that sentence.
"Why'd you leave?"
John didn't look up.
"Here or there?"
"Either."
"I left here because....no. Um, I left the Brotherhood because they're a bunch of psychos."
"You're a psycho."
John snapped the lid back on his lighter and dropped it on the floor, then threw himself back onto the bed, turning away from Bobby.
"Night then," Bobby muttered, feeling annoyed that after all John's changes, they still couldn't get along.
He flicked out the lamp and the room went dark.
"Night Bobby."
That, along with the small flickering firelight on the opposite wall, led Bobby into the soundest sleep he'd had for months.
Bobby Drake had been shaken awake in the middle of the night - his clock proudly glaring 3:00am at him - by Wolverine, of all people. The teen had tried to pull his blanket up over his face, but it had been dragged away roughly.
"Come on kid, Professor wants you out of bed and downstairs."
Bobby squinted up at Logan, who was silhouetted by the bright hallway light.
"Isn't it a little early for a Danger Room run?"
The man chuckled briefly, pulling a cigar out of his pocket.
"It's never too early, but that's not what's going on. Come on kid, the Professor's asked for me, you and Storm down at the front door. I'm thinking we might have an unwanted visitor, so if you could haul your ass out of bed before the Professor's kicked out of his wheelchair, that'd be great."
Bobby kicked out of the blankets and reached down into his drawer for a pair of socks. Logan grunted.
"Got a light? I know you shouldn't, but I won't tell on ya."
Bobby didn't hesitate as he reached to the back of his sock drawer and handed a lighter up to the man. He glanced up while pulling his socks on and saw Wolverine frowning.
"What? You asked."
"Yeah, but I didn't expect one."
"It was John's. He left it here."
Bobby could feel Logan's heavy gaze on him while he searched for a pair of jeans.
"I thought the Professor put all the kid's junk up in storage?"
"He must have missed it."
It was the first thing Bobby had done when he returned to his room after John's desertion, grabbed as many of his lighters as he could and hid them. He'd wanted something...
"Meet you downstairs, kid."
"Sure, I won't be a minute."
Sure enough, forty-five seconds later, Bobby was suited up and ready to go. Okay, it wasn't his X-Man suit, but he couldn't be expected to sleep in the thing, could he? Hurrying downstairs silently, he wondered what could require his presence. Hopefully it wouldn't be major, since none of the other students had been summoned.
He reached the foyer, where Logan was standing with the Professor and Storm by the front door, looking grave. They looked up when he jumped the bottom steps.
"Bobby, I'm sorry to wake you up at this hour, but your powers may be required."
"I hope not," Storm muttered.
"Well yes, obviously we're hoping that John is here for the right reasons, but..."
"Whoa, John's here?!?" Bobby interrupted, shocked to the core.
"You know what they say, 'speak of the devil'," Logan said, smirking with no sense of humour behind it. Bobby ignored him.
"Why has he come back?"
"I expect we will shortly find out, Bobby."
"Couldn't you find out while he's on his way?"
Xavier fixed him with a disapproving stare. "I don't take liberties with people's minds, you know that."
"But he could be dangerous."
"That is why I have you three here," Xavier finished with a smile. "Open the doors, Logan. You turned off the garden security, Ororo?"
Bobby looked out over the front lawn as the doors were opened, hoping to god that John wasn't here for a fight or to show off or anything else that would involve Bobby having to overexert himself in order to win. John's power was formidable. Since he'd left the Institute, John seemed to live for little more than the flame.
Then there was a glow in the darkness beyond the gates. It got larger and brighter as it moved closer. John warily approached the gates, small flame in the palm of his hand, looking as though he would turn tail and run any moment. Bobby wondered where all the macho bravado had gone. Storm pressed a button on the wall and the iron gates swung open wide. They were inviting him in, but he hesitated.
It felt like Pyro's eyes were on him only and it burned as if it was Scott without the ruby glasses. Then John looked at the floor as he made his way towards them, like a naughty runaway child, and Bobby wanted them to be staring at each other again. He'd forgotten how John made him feel.
But however dejected and lost John appeared, he had courage enough to ascend the steps and stop just beyond the threshold of the doorway. Was he limping?
"To what do we owe the pleasure?" Wolverine drawled sarcastically.
"I'm an idiot. I'm sorry."
He'd stopped meeting their eyes and was staring at the floor as though he thought he'd be turned away. But Iceman saw Xavier's expression soften, as expected, and the psychic wheeled backwards to allow room for Pyro to walk back into their sanctuary.
"Bobby, could you take John's bag upstairs to your room? He'll be joining you shortly."
"Sure thing," Bobby said briskly, trying to suppress the annoyance at being sent to his room as though an adult programme had just started on tv. He lifted the duffel bag up in his hand and took the stairs two at a time. When he reached his room he put the bag carefully on the bare bed and resisted the urge to look inside. Anything John had owned before he left was in the attic, so that bag must be full of things Magneto had bought for him. As usual, thoughts of Magneto treating John made Bobby feel uneasy, so he went through the cupboards for some sheets and blankets instead.
It was an hour or so after he'd made the bed up that John was standing in the doorway with Logan. Bobby hid his surprise as Logan squeezed John's shoulder in a supportive fashion before taking his leave. John walked into their room slowly, as if he was in shock that he was actually there.
He sat on his bed and got out a lighter. But before he'd started the familiar habit of flicking it and toying with the fire, he sighed and put it away.
"So how you been?"
Bobby looked at him in disbelief.
"How have I been? That's the first thing you say?"
"I said I was an idiot and that I was sorry."
"You said that to the Professor."
"It was addressed to everyone. I'll put a banner up in the dining room if you want."
Bobby nearly rose to the bickering as though nothing had changed, but he noticed something had.
"What happened to your head?"
John reached up and gingerly prodded at the new stitches.
"I started a fight. Should have known better, I guess."
Bobby watched as John visibly gave up and reached for a lighter. They were his security blankets, he'd realised a long time ago after the first few months of watching the teen enthralled by the flame.
"You're really stuffing yourself with humble pie, aren't you?"
John's sculpting of the flame faltered and it looked ordinary again.
"I've not had a very good day. I'm feeling...."
Bobby bit his tongue in his haste to stop the word 'vulnerable' completing that sentence.
"Why'd you leave?"
John didn't look up.
"Here or there?"
"Either."
"I left here because....no. Um, I left the Brotherhood because they're a bunch of psychos."
"You're a psycho."
John snapped the lid back on his lighter and dropped it on the floor, then threw himself back onto the bed, turning away from Bobby.
"Night then," Bobby muttered, feeling annoyed that after all John's changes, they still couldn't get along.
He flicked out the lamp and the room went dark.
"Night Bobby."
That, along with the small flickering firelight on the opposite wall, led Bobby into the soundest sleep he'd had for months.
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