*Author's note: This story is based on the Pyro of the X-Men movies, notthe comics. As some of you know, those are two completely different characters. Another fact to note is that I will be writing X3 from his point of view and also after that movie. But that would be an INCREDIBLY long story, so those are gunna be different stories. Enjoy!

Part 1

Chapter 1

Professor Charles Xavier sat at his large oak desk, attention turned to the five o'clock news, which played on the mounted television on the wall. Nerves competed with each other on whichever could make him more uncomfortable; fear or a sinking sense of excitement. The presence of the two women standing behind him, eyes turned to the screen, went almost unnoticed. The electronic sound of a female anchor filled the room, and it continued to be the only noise disturbing the silence for quite some time.

A cool breeze blew in from the window at their backs, carrying with it the scent of post-rain pine. The downpour had plagued the temperature by about ten degrees, but not enough for the Professor to close the window. He loved fresh air; it was calming and peaceful. This was especially important given the current state of negativity and worry. The large rectangular room seemed oddly empty, with the minimal company and low disruption by students.

"And on to our top story tonight, the home of a family of four in Sarasota, Florida was completely destroyed by an unusual fire. For that story, we'll go to Tim Murdoch, who is reporting from the scene of the blaze, Tim?" the anchor passed the details to a new man as screen changed to another view.

A brunette, middle-aged man stood holding a mic that read Channel 11 News 5 in front of what looked like a smoldering birthday cake. The mass behind him retained absolutely no color; it was pure black ash, and hoses from many scarlet fire trucks were continually spraying it down as billowing clouds of black smoke rose into the sky.

"Thanks, Katherine," the man said, squinting into the camera. "The cause of this fire is still unknown, but local law enforcement have stated that they are looking into an alleged arson, but no suspects have been apprehended. The fire is said to have begun in the early hours of the morning, around 2 or 3am. Now, it was raining heavily at that time, but firefighters have said that with the intensity of the blaze, the rain was of little help. The owners of the home," he paused to look at a sheet of paper he was holding, "Peter and Jaselene Allerdyce were killed in the inferno, but their thirteen-year-old son and two-month-old daughter remain unaccounted for. Police have asked that if you have any information on the missing children, you are urged to contact your local law enforcement. No names are being released as of yet, but photos are being hunted down to be released to the general public."

"Have you heard word if the children were in the house at the time of the fire, Tim?" the anchor, Katherine Heiledge, asked from her minimized screen in the corner of the television.

"Well, neighbors claim they saw the boy return from school yesterday afternoon, but no other information is known," he finished, waiting for more questions.

"And Tim, what was so unusual about this fire?" Katherine posed.

"I had the chance to speak with a member of the fire rescue team that responded to this particular call, here's what he had to say," Tim said, and the screen switched to another man, this one was in customary firefighter attire, his face a little blackened.

"Well, this particular fire, as far as we know, had no initial burn point. It's as if the entire house caught fire at once, which is strange, because in a natural progression of a fire, the place of origin will be more charred and burned than where it spread to," the screen then switched back to Tim Murdoch.

"Well, it seems like we've got ourselves a mystery, Katherine," he said. "Like I said, photos of the children will be released soon, and if anyone has any information on them, please call your local police department. Tim Murdoch, reporting for Channel Eleven News, at Five."

"Alright, thanks Tim," Katherine said, as her image reappeared on the screen. "And on to sports, where we had a very exciting day in hockey…"

Her voice was then cut off by the Professor retrieving the remote from his desktop and muting the news.

"Well, I think we might have a situation on our hands," he said, rubbing his temples.

"How so?" Ororo Monroe asked from behind him.

He clutched the steering mechanism of his wheelchair and turned it to face the two women.

Ororo's long, pure white hair was lightly highlighted by the sunlight creeping in through the window, which made her look almost angelic. She was in simple black pants and a white dress shirt, and her dark skin accented her very professional look. The other woman, Jean Grey, stood almost a head taller than Ororo, but her sweet nature offset her towering height. Her ruby red hair cascaded over one shoulder, as it was pulled into a loose side ponytail. She stood leaning her weight on one leg, innocently awaiting the Professor's reply.

"Well, if the boy has the little girl with him, that makes the situation quite delicate. He's going to be very traumatized by what happened, and he's probably going to try to take care of the girl by himself, and this could very well cloud his judgment. And that could be a danger for himself and others," he said, sounding reserved and professional.

"What should we do?" Jean asked, furrowing her brow.

"I'm going to try to track him using Cerebro. Finding him quickly could be of the utmost importance. Pending his location, you two prepare the X-Jet and pack tropical. You're going to Florida," he said with a smile, and guided his wheelchair around them.

***

"Oh, God I hate long flights," Jean said, stretching her arms out and basking in the hot Florida sunlight.

"Actually my name's Ororo, but you can call me that if you like," Ororo joked, checking the exterior of the airplane.

"Oh, hardy harr. Real funny," Jean said, smiling at the dark skinned woman.

The Professor had sent them the coordinates of the boy's location, and luckily they were able to land several minutes away.

Ororo smiled, and pressed a button on a small remote in her hand, and the ramp into the aircraft began ascending. The forest in which they had set down was not as far from civilization as they had hoped, but there really weren't many other options in the Sarasota area. So, Ororo immediately programmed it to go into stealth mode. For containing such a large aircraft, the small opening appeared very empty.

"Jean?" came Professor Xavier's voice from the communicator on her hip.

She pulled it off of her belt and brought it to her lips.

"Yes, Professor?" she said, as the two of them began walking away from the jet.

"I've found the boy about five miles from the house, I'll send you the exact coordinates. But I'd still watch out for the authorities. They can be sneaky little buggers if they want to be," he said, and the smile in his voice could almost be pictured.

"Alright. I hope he cooperates. Do you think he's even aware of his ability? He could just think their house burned down out of circumstance," Jean said, intrigued by the task in front of them.

"Well I heard his thoughts when I located him, and I think he's somewhat aware. He's confused, scared, and mentally delicate. Make sure he knows we're friends. I'm not sure of the extent of his ability, but it could prove dangerous, so be careful. You too Ororo," the professor said.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about me, Professor," she said, smirking.

"You'd be surprised," was his response, and it was cut off by the click that always came at the end of a transmission.

Their walk didn't take long before they found a rural, two-lane road to follow.

"I like New York better," Jean began, struggling with her GPS. "It's… smaller."

Ororo laughed at her as she peered into the clear blue sky

"Now, the professor said the boy hadn't gone far from the home, so I'll try to lock in on his thoughts. That could help us find him easier," Jean said, scrolling through pages on the GPS device.
They walked in silence for the next twenty minutes, both aware that the other was thinking about the task ahead of them. Usually, when they found new kids, they were confused, scared, and cautious. But rarely were they dangerous. So, when they came across one that could potentially be a threat to themselves or others, they worried a little. Plus, there was always pressure with powers as monumentally dangerous as his. If they didn't get him somewhere he would learn to control it, countless people could be injured or killed. But of course, they were both very aware of this, hence the silence.

The silence only continued for a few moments, until Jean put a hand gently onto Ororo's arm.

"You hear him?" Ororo said as she pulled onto the shoulder.

"Maybe," Jean replied, stepping toward the shoulder of the road. Storm followed suit.

The warm, dense Florida air made it somewhat harder to breathe, and the lack of breeze wasn't helping. The rainstorm the previous night had left its scent dwelling in the air, and water ran in gulches parallel to the street. The two of them descended the hill on the side of the road, until Jean tapped Storm's shoulder, and pointed down the slight slope. Storm nodded, and both of them kept quietly descending the hill. Once at the bottom, Storm didn't need to ask Jean where he was; she could hear him.

The echoing of faint sobs could be heard coming from the culvert that led under the road above. Jean motioned to Ororo that she would approach him first, and Ororo nodded in reply.

Jean leaned over to peek into the waist-high culvert, and sure enough, there sat the boy, wet, and shivering. But he wasn't sobbing; it was more like struggling for air and convulsing in fear. He was clutching a blanketed bundle in his right arm, holding it close to his body. His clothes were tattered and burned, as was the bundle. He couldn't have been older than fourteen, and the sight made Jean want to cry.

The minute he saw Jean, he composed himself, and moved as if he were going to back into the culvert, away from her. But, the instant he put weight on his other arm, it collapsed, and he yelped in pain.

"It's alright, I'm not going to hurt you," Jean said, not making any movements so as not to frighten him more. "My name is Jean Grey, this is Ororo Munroe. We're friends. We're here to help you."

He didn't reply, only stared at her, clutching the bundle closer to his chest.

"What's your name?" Ororo asked, kneeling next to Jean. Her deep, calm voice seemed to help a little, because the boy didn't keep backing away.

"John," was his meek, shaky reply.

"Ok. John, why don't you come out of there and let us help you," Jean said, and held out her hand to him.

He jumped back from her hand and barked, "Why should I?"

Somewhat surprised by his sudden outburst, she kept her hand outstretched and took on a softer expression.

"Because," she began, "We're just like you."

"You have no idea what I'm like," he snapped, crawling farther into the culvert, favoring his left arm, still cradling the bundle.

She smiled. She had known this might be difficult.

"I know what you can do, John. I have abilities too. So does she," she motioned to Storm, "You're not alone," she finished, and this seemed to strike home.

He stared straight back at her, not really believing what he had heard.

"That's right, you heard correctly. You probably have a lot of questions, and we have the answers, ok? Now, why don't you come out of there and let's talk like civilized human beings," she said still holding out her hand.

"But I'm not, am I?" he said, voice getting shaky again. "Human?"

"Yes you are John, and don't let anyone tell you that you're not," she said.

"Humans don't do this to their baby sister," he said, bursting into tears again.

Oh god, what did he do? Jean wondered, her face getting stern.

"Well," she said, trying to remain calm and in control, "sometimes we loose control. It happens to the best of us. Now please, why don't you hand her to me," she said, assuming the bundle was his sister, "and we'll get you out of there."

He hesitated for a moment, then peered down at the bundle in his arms, and started crying harder.

"I hurt her. I didn't mean to. It was an accident…" he started to fire out explanations as he slowly pulled her away from his body.

Jean's composure finally burst as she took the child from John and got a good look at her.

The smell of charred skin met her nostrils as she looked at the baby. The girl's face was badly burned, as was the rest of her body. She was unconscious and her chest was barely rising and falling.

"Oh god," Jean said, holding her hand to her mouth. "Storm, take her."

She passed the injured child to Ororo, and turned back to a sobbing John.

"It's ok, I know you didn't mean any harm. Everything's going to be alright, okay?" she said, holding out her hand again.

He was holding his left arm, not moving.

"Okay, give me your good arm," she said, leaning in toward him.

He sniffed, and composed himself somewhat as he reached for her with his right hand.

Pulling him out was somewhat awkward, since he was favoring his left arm, but it wasn't long before he stood before her, scared, wet, and shivering.

"It's gunna be ok," she said, rubbing him on the back. "Storm," she paused, "Ororo and I are highly trained in the medical field, ok? We're going to take good care of your sister."

He nodded, still holding his left arm.

"Now, let's get you back to our jet and take a look at your arm ok?"

"Jet?" he asked as she led him up the hill so they could follow the road back.

"Yes," Jean said, supporting him and studying his burned clothing. But his skin wasn't burned… strange. She decided not to explain further about the jet since he didn't ask further.

Again, the trek back didn't take long, and John was quite cooperative, following silently.

Once on board, Ororo went off on her own to inspect the baby girl, and Jean took John aside and sat him down in the rear of the plane.

"So, how much do you know… about what happened?" Jean asked comfortingly.

"Um," he said shakily, watching Storm handling his sister. "Well, I know it wasn't a coincidence that the fire followed my hand but didn't burn me."

"Ok," she said, reaching for his injured arm. "Where does it hurt?"

"Up here," he said, pointing to his upper arm.

She began gently feeling of it as she had been taught to do, but didn't get far. He winced and pulled away from her as she got closer to his shoulder.

"Sorry," she said, releasing him.

"I'm a mutant, aren't I?" he asked, looking her straight in the eyes.

"Yes, John. That's exactly what you are," she said gently. "And it is a tremendous gift, as myself and Ororo have found out."

"Doesn't seem like it," he mumbled, looking down.

"Right now it doesn't, but it will," she said, getting up and walking over to Ororo and the baby.

"How is she?" she asked, pitying the small burned bundle.

"Not well," Storm replied. "We need to get her back to the mansion now. How's he?"

"His arm's broken, possibly in two places, and he's a little shaken, but I think he's getting a grip on the situation," she said, looking over at him.

He was sitting hunched on the bench on the other side of the jet, head bowed. His auburn hair fell over his face, and his tattered clothing revealed blackened skin.

"What's her name?" Jean asked, walking to a closet and opening it.

John wearily looked up.

"Claire," he replied.

"Pretty," she said, pulling out some clothes from the closet and handing them to him. "Here you go."

"Thank you," he said, taking them. "Um, where are we going? It's not like It matters much, cuz I don't have a home anymore anyway, but… I'm just curious."

"Well, myself and Ororo are teachers at a school for the gifted. People like us," she said.

"Oh," he said, and looked back down at the clothing in his right hand.

"There's a bathroom just there," she said, pointing to it. "Are you going to need help?" she motioned to his arm.

"I think I'll manage," he replied, trying to conjure a smile, but failing.

As he turned to enter the bathroom, she turned back to Ororo.

"How bad?"

"She's pretty bad, these are at least third degree burns, and her breathing is very irregular. She needs help. Now," Storm said in a low voice, studying the child. "And I cant give her what she needs until we're back in the sterile facilities of the mansion."

"Ok, I'll contact the professor, you get ready for takeoff," Jean said, turning to grab for her communicator.