Last Chapter.

Thanks to all who've followed this story! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I have!

The doctor's office was cold, colder than Amara had expected. The walls were plain and white. The young girl wished they would do something to the decoration. To make it more inviting.

But then that wasn't the point of hospitals. They were just supposed to be there to fix you when you were sick. If black was the color of death, white must be the color of disease.

And red was the color of passion.

She thought of John and his flaming red head. If the fetus lived would it be a red-head like him? Or dark haired like Amara?

"Amara Aquilla?"

Amara stood and walked to the nurse.

"Oh, are you all alone?" The nurse asked.

Amara nodded, wishing John was there. Or at least Tabitha. Or even Kitty or Kurt or anything would be better.

But no. Her crime, her punishment.

Besides, Tabitha hadn't called her back.

XxX

Amara. Brown hair. Brown skin. Want. Need. Not here.

John paced.

The music was loud, he couldn't see anything through the people. IT wasn't like before. No electricity. Rage. Heat. He wanted Amara. How long had it been since they fucked?

Too long.

Someone bumped into John.

"Watch it!" The burly man shoved John.

John clenched his fist in rage.

The man glared at John, and John attacked him. The two struggled for a moment and brushed up against a barrel. t tipped over spilling dank liquid on the ground.

The burly man recovered and pushed John to the floor. He kicked once, connecting with John's stomach. And again, and once more. As a final measure he came down on John's face. Hard.

The man snorted and lit up a cigarette with a match and tossed it aside. He turned, but not before the fire could shoot up. He ran like most everybody in the warehouse, leaving John alone staring into the fire.

It licked his limbs, shooting pain up his spine.

He never noticed how bright fire was before. How much it hurt. Fire didn't kill people like him. Only witches and saints.

Oh wait.

St. John. St. John. St. John. St. John. Sin John. Sin John. Sin Jon. Sin Jon. Sin Jin.

XxX

The crack stung her nose. More than it should have. But who cared? Crack was crack, and crack was whack. And no crack is jack. And... well that just sucks.

Tabby felt good, even though she ignored Amara's voice mail. Because well she was jonesing, and it couldn't be that important. Right?

She was made alert by screaming. She swung though the alley and broke out into the street in front of the warehouse. She gulped watching the fire grow.

Fire trucks pulled up along with a number of police cars. Unreal. Tabby fell down on her ass, watching the building crackle and burn. She looked around. Everyone else was watching as well. From the corner of her eye she noticed Kitty supporting and unconscious Lance.

Tabby could barely breathe.

XxX

Kurt touched a bottle to his lips. Liquor kisses. Maybe the most he'd ever gotten in a long while. His eyes darted to the picture of himself and Tabby, "Hure." He muttered flipping down the picture. He looked in the mirror. "Das macht nichts." He muttered to himself.

How much had he drunk tonight? Too much. His parent would be so angry with him. But Kurt was too drunk to care. He'd never gotten smashed alone before. It was odd. Odd to be hiccupping alone. He kinda liked it though. It felt weird, but good to be alone. Good to know nobody was watching him, judging him.

No Tabby, no Kitty. No Lance, no guy who sat in front of him in algebra.

Kurt leaned back on his bed thinking about how much he hated that class. Finally he rolled over. "Das macht nichts."

XxX

"What do you say, belle? Come with me." Gambit gently kissed Rogue, "Come with me. We'll head down south, make our way to Marti gras. Whatever we want." He kissed Rogue again. "Whatever you want. Just come with O'Remy LeBeau. What do you say, Miss Marie?"

Rogue slapped him away.

"Don't. Ever. Call. Me. Marie." She grabbed the collar of his trench coat and kissed him till she could taste the cigarette's and bourbon on his tongue, "Got it, sugah?"

"Yes, Ma'am." Gambit smiled.

Smiling slightly back, Rogue walked off, "Marti Gras it is. New Orleans?"

"My old stompin' ground." Gambit smiled and watched Rogue walk away, "Folle femme."

The two loaded up in the '79 el Camino before they could smell the smoke.

XxX

They tasted bad.

Those white pills.

He flipped the ignition off in his jeep. He didn't know why, he wasn't going to be driving it anymore. Vaguely, he wondered if he should leave the jeep in case no one found him. He'd heard somewhere that a dead body could ruin the car forever, but he reasoned someone would find him.

Lance closed his eyes.

XxX

It seemingly took Kitty forever to reach the warehouse. Too long, like she was running down a hallway that stretched into eternity.

Lance's jeep was too far away. She couldn't catch it though it was standing still. Her heart beat in her throat. Soon it would leap out of her mouth.

Lance was leaning against the door. Kitty screamed his name, but it too sounded distant, and if some other girl were shrieking.

The door was unlocked. Kitty had a long moment to watch Lance's body fall, after she ripped the door open, before his weight feel into her.

She struggled and in a moment of adrenaline and horror moved the rest of Lance's body out of the jeep. He was limp, unmoving, unspeaking, barely breathing. Kitty prayed for her tear to come, but none came. So, she prayed for rain.

She didn't need to see the empty aspirin bottle to know it was there, and Tabby with her whack crack, and Rogue in a red '79 el Camino, and Kurt cursing himself alone in his room, and Amara at the abortion clinic, and John in the warehouse.

Smoke burned her nose. She looked up to see the monstrous fire eating at the warehouse. Maybe that was wrong. Maybe a holy fire was cleansing the monstrous warehouse. Or maybe there was no meaning at all. Maybe the warehouse was just on fire.

She heard the fire truck, and the police cars, and the ambulance's wail. A chorus of bad news. But she was used to that.

A crowd was beginning to form. Stunned teenagers watching the fire. Kitty held Lance. She was wrong nobody belonged there.

Having nothing left to pray for, Kitty prayed for rain.

I hoped you all enjoyed.

Translations:

Hure- Whore (German)

Das macht nichts- It doesn't matter (German)

Folle Femme- Crazy girl/woman (French) [According to my mother, who speaks some French, this is correct. If any Francophones know otherwise, please tell me! This goes for the German too!]