Chapter Text
As the car drove along, John stared out the window. Memories were hitting him in quick succession, recognizing places he hadn’t seen in years. For some reason, his mind got stuck on what it was like to arrive there for the first time, the air crisp on an early fall morning. He remembered the coolness of the light breeze, how it was comforting against his too-hot skin. He’d always felt so hot back then, even though his body temperature was probably the same, or even lower, than it currently was. But he hadn’t grown into his mutation then, hadn’t had any control over it either, and the fact that he’d never burned the whole place down still surprised him.
He’d been so young and vulnerable then. Nine years old and suddenly dependent on strangers for everything imaginable. He couldn’t do anything without needing some sort of assistance back then. Well, maybe not everything, but everything of importance did. He’d felt safe there, regardless of how cynical the circumstances of his arrival had made him. He trusted the Professor, and then Jean, and soon everyone else in a position of authority. He trusted them a little too easily in retrospect, but at the time, it just made him feel like he belonged there.
Like it was home.
His standoffish nature prevented him from having friends, but Jubilation Lee had somehow wormed her way into his orbit and then his heart. Before long, she was his confidant, the only person who knew everything about him, and John knew that she was the one he’d hurt the most by leaving. Kitty had shown up when they were eleven, and she quickly became his moral compass, so he knew he’d hurt her, too. Theresa came there not long after and brought out his rebellious side.
And the,n when they were thirteen, Bobby Drake became a student there, and he quickly became the center of John’s universe.
The mansion had been home, at least until he was a stupid sixteen-year-old and made the worst decision of his life, all because he was jealous of Rogue.
Fucking Rogue. She’d ruined his life.
No, he thought, that wasn’t entirely fair. She hadn’t made him get off that plane. She’d just been the catalyst for why he had. John didn’t know why, but as the car took him down that last familiar road, being fair was suddenly the most important thing in the world. Maybe it was because he was ready to stop judging everyone he met.
Or maybe it was because he didn’t know what he was walking into, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t going to be fair.
John didn’t know who was in charge at the mansion with the Professor, Scott, and Jean all dead–probably Storm, now that he thought about it–but they’d proposed his release to the government after they’d learned of John’s arrest at Alcatraz. They felt they could rehabilitate him or some bullshit, and they had requested that he be allowed to serve his sentence under house arrest at the mansion instead of some maximum security prison.
And for some reason that was inexplicable to John, the government had agreed to it. If John had been the one making decisions, he would have put his ass in solitary confinement and then thrown away the key.
Saint John Allerdyce, the highest-ranking member of the Brotherhood known to be alive after the events on Alcatraz, and the government was handing him over to the X-Men for rehabilitation.
John was sure the public was going to love that.
The car approached the gates and then stopped. The driver pressed the button for the intercom, and a voice John didn’t recognize answered it. And soon the gates were open, and they were driving up to the mansion. It came to a stop in front of the doors, and the FBI agent in the front seat got out. John waited, unable to open the door on his own thanks to the chains around his wrists and ankles. He wondered if he would be allowed to have them taken off since he was here.
John heard voices talking, one of which was the FBI agent, but again, John couldn’t place who the other was. A few minutes later, the door opened and the agent’s rough voice ordered him out of the car, so John climbed out as best he could. When he tripped over his own feet and fell onto the gravel driveway, the agent laughed and kicked some of the gravel in his face. John kept his head down and took a deep breath, trying to control the urge to jump up and rip the guy’s throat out.
And that’s when he felt a cool hand along his arm, another arm along his waist.
Fuck, he didn’t want Bobby to see him like this.
“Let me help you up,” Bobby said softly, quiet enough that the agent couldn’t hear. John wanted to rebuff the kindness because he knew he didn’t deserve it, but he didn’t think he could get up on his own, so he nodded.
Bobby hauled him up, making John’s eyes widen at how strong he was, and then he looked around. Storm was arguing with the agent, telling him to give her the key to those chains now. A blue furry man that he didn’t recognize was standing near Storm, observing but also clearly ready to make sure Storm didn’t go too far. Kitty, Rogue, and Piotr were near the steps, and when the door opened and someone poked their head out, Kitty immediately ran up them and into the house, reprimanding whoever it was the whole way. Bobby’s arm was still around John’s waist, holding him up even though John was perfectly capable of standing on his own.
Walking in the chains would likely be another matter, especially up those steps.
“Do you need help walking?” Bobby whispered as Storm continued to tear into the FBI agent, and as much as John wanted to stay and listen to it because he hated that man, he nodded.
“I don’t think I can get up the stairs without some help,” John said, his voice low. “So, thank you.”
Bobby seemed surprised at John’s words, but then gently began to guide him toward the mansion. When he got them to where Rogue and Piotr were standing, he nodded in the direction of the door. “Can one of you open that, please?”
Piotr jogged up the stairs ahead of them, and Rogue followed along behind. Bobby slowly got John up the steps, Piotr opened the door, and then John was in the mansion for the first time in nearly five years.
The crowd that usually gathered when someone was arriving was there, and he heard some of them gasp as he came into view, chains on full display and still in his prison jumpsuit. He dropped his head, and Bobby immediately picked up on it, his voice loud and clear as he spoke. “Anyone who is still standing here in two seconds is getting detention for the rest of the year.”
The kids started running away quickly, but John could still sense eyes on him, and he decided to be defiant. Lifting his head, he expected to see some young punk standing there, ready with a smart remark about how he was a murderer. Instead, he locked eyes with Jubilation Lee, and he instantly knew that the young punk would have been preferable to whatever she was about to say or do.
He swallowed hard as Jubilee approached him, seeing all of the pain and anger she was feeling reflected in her eyes, and when the first thing she did was slap him hard, all he could think was that he deserved that. “Ow,” came out of his mouth, and then Jubilee was hugging him fiercely.
“I hate you, I love you, but most of all, I’m just glad you’re home,” Jubilee said in a rush, squeezing John tightly despite how the chains were pressing into her. “I’m so, so glad you’re here.”
John just stood there as she hugged him, and when she realized he wasn’t hugging her back, she pulled away and got a good look at him. “Fuck, what did they think you were, a serial killer?” she asked, poking at the chains.
“I was treated like a terrorist because I am one,” John said calmly. He’d long ago come to terms with it.
“You are not a terrorist,” Jubilee said firmly. “An arsonist, maybe, but you were doing the bidding of a madman, and you better believe that I made sure every single one of those agents was aware of who the actual terrorist was.”
John blinked rapidly. “You spoke to the agents?”
“We all did,” Bobby said, drawing John’s attention to him. “We convinced them to let you come home instead of letting them torture you.”
John suddenly felt weak and even more vulnerable, and he hit his knees before anyone could stop his fall. Bobby and Jubilee both reached for him, but he shook his head, needing to stay down for a few moments. “How did you know they tortured me?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“Because I told them,” came another voice, and John’s head shot up to see a beautiful woman with long black hair standing next to Piotr, Rogue, and Kitty.
“Mystique,” John barely got out, and she shook her head.
“I prefer Raven now,” she said, walking forward and holding out a hand to John. “Now let us help you up.”
“Bobby, can you…” John trailed off as Bobby’s arms wrapped around his waist and hauled him up off the ground, making sure he was steady on his feet before letting go. “Thank you.”
John caught the way Jubilee was looking at him out of the corner of his eye, and he made a mental note to deal with that the first time the two of them were alone. John’s childhood crush on his roommate had been destroyed, and nothing was going to bring it back.
The door opened behind them, and Storm and the blue furry guy walked in with the FBI agent. “Unchain him now,” Storm said, her voice harder than John had ever heard it before, and he’d been yelled at a lot by Storm as a kid.
The agent begrudgingly walked around and unlocked the chains and cuffs from John’s wrists and ankles, giving everyone a terse nod as he walked toward the door. “When he becomes a problem, call the number on this card,” he said, tossing it onto the floor behind him. “I’ll happily come to collect him and lock him away forever.”
As soon as the door was shut behind the agent, Rogue walked over and picked up the card, holding it out in Storm’s direction. “Here, Storm.”
“Would one of you please dispose of that in the fireplace please?” Storm said, walking over to John and smiling softly. “We’re not going to need it.”
“You’re crazy,” John finally expressed, giving his thoughts a voice. “I cannot believe you’re doing this.”
“We weren’t about to abandon a former student of this school to torture, torment, and eventual death,” Storm said seriously. “Not when there was something we could do about it.”
Jubilee wrapped an arm around John’s waist and pulled him close. “Welcome home, Johnny boy.”
John didn’t know what to make of what was being said, so he said the first thing that came to mind. “Any chance I could take a shower and get some actual clothes on?”
Storm nodded, reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Of course. Anything you need. Bobby, can you show him to his room, please?”
“Of course,” Bobby said, putting his arm back around John’s waist. “Can someone cover my class?”
“I’ve got ya,” Rogue said, her eyes not leaving where Bobby’s arm was around John’s waist.
“There’s a stack of handouts on the desk. Just have them read through them and do the worksheet on the last page. Due at the end of the period.”
“Got it,” Rogue said as John suddenly realized Bobby was a professor.
Even in a world where he’d never made his horrible decision to get off that plane, John couldn’t imagine becoming a professor. He’d had other dreams, other goals.
He wondered if he’d have been allowed to pursue them.
“I’ll get Johnny some clothes,” Jubilee said. “And then I’ll bring them to the room.”
“Thank you, Jubes,” Bobby said, gently guiding John towards the stairs. “Stairs or elevator?”
“Elevator,” John said softly. “I think I’d fall on the stairs.”
“Elevator it is.”
Bobby got John into the elevator, took him upstairs to the level where all the professors’ rooms were, when John thought he’d be going downstairs to the basement to be put in some kind of holding cell, and then showed him where everything was so he could take a shower. Bobby excused himself, shut the bathroom door, and left John staring at himself in the mirror.
He didn’t recognize the man in the mirror. He didn’t know if he ever would be able to recognize that man again. And he definitely didn’t deserve the kind, gentle treatment he’d received from everyone so far. He should be rotting away in solitary confinement, just like his father had said he would end up someday.
At that thought, John abruptly tore himself away from the mirror and turned on the shower. He took off the prison jumpsuit and left it in a pile on the floor, checked the temperature of the water, and climbed into the stall.
It wasn’t long before he was sobbing, the tears mixing with the shower spray.