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Author's note: at this point in my fanfic continuity, Pyro lives with Mystique in a purely platonic relationship. Hey, it sure beats the way she currently ignores him in the comics!
"Frank?" she asked, striding over towards him. "Have you seen Pyro?"
"No," came the terse, yet oddly hollow, reply. Mystique had never truly liked Commando, though she always found him perfectly tolerable. But his current cyborg incarnation was fairly unsettling, and the fact that she could no longer see his face made it all the more so. She was often left wondering what, if anything, he was looking at, or what his expression was like. As a shapeshifter she always found herself closely studying the people around her, in case she ever wanted to adopt their forms, and she felt it unnerving to be unable to 'read' another person.
"Can I get you anything...food, drink?" she asked again.
"I'm fine. I prefer to eat when I am alone," he answered.
"Care to tell me why?"
"You would too if you were missing half your face."
Raven shuddered involuntarily. She knew about the horrific injuries he had sustained in Kuwait, but had never actually seen him without his mask since.
With uncharacteristic kindness, she bent over him and said quietly, "You're among friends, Frank. You don't have to worry about shocking us or protecting our delicate sensibilities." She patted him gingerly on one massive shoulder, then turned to leave.
"Mystique!" he burst out in a sudden outpouring of emotion, though he quickly subdued himself to characteristic calmness. "Thank you. I'll take that into consideration."
She smiled at him and continued on.
Raven thought she heard unusual sounds coming from the very back end of her yard. It was heavily forested, the trees so thick and dark together that one could not see into them...that is, until a sudden burst of flame briefly illuminated the middle of the thicket. One of the branches caught fire, resulting in an irritated expletive from a distinctly hoarse voice somewhere amongst the trees.
"St. John, what do you think you're doing in there?!" Mystique demanded with false impatience, hands on hips.
"Um...just a moment, luv..." came the reply. By the light of the burning tree, she could see that Pyro was trying to beat the small fire out. When successful, he emerged sheepishly from the thicket.
"You've got twigs in your hair," she told him, picking them out while he obediently stood still. "Have you been hiding in there all this time?"
"Yes." He erupted into sudden, violent coughing that wracked his entire body with spasms. Accustomed to this, Mystique routinely stepped back to avoid contact with the small flames that spewed forth from his mouth. St. John, weakened by the effort this all took from him, staggered a bit and leaned on her arm.
"I'm fine---really," he protested. "Just the usual." After several moments he was able to compose himself and stand up straight.
"Then why are you hiding?"
He raised his head to look her in the eye. "Look at me! I look like hell and sound as though I'm about to die any minute! Christ, the others don't want to see that---I don't want them to see that, either."
Her eyes narrowed as she took in his appearance. He had always been thin, but in recent months he had lost quite a bit of weight and was now fairly gaunt, which was particularly noticeable on his pallid face. His once-attractive blue eyes were sunken and the colour of the iris changed depending on the progression of the disease. He was correct, he didn't look either very healthy or very handsome. But Mystique didn't particularly care.
"Either you march out there or you're going back to bed!" she ordered.
"Raven, you know I don't wanna be in bed--" he started to protest, but stopped when he saw her expression. Pyro had found that now that he lived with Mystique, she could be very demanding and not terribly receptive to excuses. Or whining. So he did what she told him, most of the time.
"You're worse than my own mother," he grumbled, shuffling over towards Blob and Avalanche.
"Watch it," she called after him affectionately, following him back towards the house.
"Firebug!" Blob greeted Pyro as he came up to join them.
"Hey, Blobber," St. John said weakly, grinning. "Haven't seen you in a while, man. You either, Dom. Suddenly we not worth your while?"
"I been busy, Johnny," Avalanche replied, smiling broadly as he shook his friend's hand. "But I had to show up for the party."
"You going to make some more burgers, Firebug?" Blob asked, in a tone that strongly suggested 'hint, hint'.
"Nah, that's all mate. No more!"
Blob looked stricken. "But I was just barely getting started! Whaddya mean, no more?!"
"He's pulling your leg, Fred," laughed Raven. "There are plenty more inside."
An expression of visible relief spread across Blob's features. "That's good," he said seriously. "Avalanche was starting to look pretty tasty...."
Pyro donned an over-exaggerated grimace at the mental image. "Bleah. Dom with barbecue sauce."
Avalanche looked at him haughtily. "I'll have you know that I have very tender flesh."
St. John thought about it, and then made an even bigger grimace. "Think I'll get to work rather than continue this scintillating conversation...."
Pyro was very well-suited to grilling. He could mentally adjust the flames to just the right intensity to cook the food carefully, without burning it. It took more concentration to do this once-easy task now that he was ill and his control more erratic, but with hard work he accomplished it.
"Yum! More grub!" Blob exclaimed gleefully, bounding over to the grill. The others knew better than to get in his way.
"Ah've got more food from the fridge, all," announced Rogue, exiting the house and bringing a small bucket of coleslaw with her. Blob ignored the "healthy stuff" and continued heaping burgers and condiments onto his plate.
"Roguie!" Pyro greeted her with a wave. "Glad you could come out." The two of them had gotten to know each other much better since he had come to live at her mother's place; on his bad days sometimes she would help care for him, and on the good days they'd chat when she came by.
Rogue patted him on the shoulder with a gloved hand. "Good to see you too, St. John."
She turned to Avalanche and Blob, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Hey, fellas."
"Hi Rogue," said Avalanche carefully, sneaking cautious glimpses at her mother. Blob, his mouth full, grunted a greeting at her.
Rogue hated Spiral, and thus completely ignored her presence at the party, and did not know Commando very well so she did not seek him out to speak to him. But although she felt uncomfortable with her former Brotherhood teammates, she was determined to be friendly to them. She and Mystique fetched all the lawn chairs they owned and set them out in a ring for everyone to sit on. Pyro and Avalanche found seats and rested with their food, St. John wheezing heavily through his damaged lungs.
"Don't strain yourself," Dominic said with concern, only to have his friend irritably wave him off with one hand.
"Hey! Ray! Where do I sit?" demanded Blob plaintively. He wanted a perch so he could better balance his plate and drinks. He also hated being left out of any gathering, a fact which was not lost on Mystique, so she asked Rogue to bring out the large easy chair that had been kept in the garage for this very purpose. Fred sat down heavily on the sturdy padded chair, content. "I got a better seat than any a' yas," he told his friends smugly.
"Spiral! Commando! Would you like to join us?" Mystique called hopefully towards the two loners. Spiral suddenly awoke from the trance she had been in for some time.
"A waste of time this place is," she intoned matter-of-factly, and popped out of their reality to places unknown.
"That's Spiral for you," Pyro shrugged as everybody looked at each other with amusement.
A noisy clanking sound indicated that Commando was moving towards them. He tentatively walked up behind Avalanche's chair and asked quietly "There a seat for me?"
"Yes, and it's pretty sturdy, too. We've anticipated your every need, Frank," Mystique said light-heartedly in what she hoped was a friendly manner. Commando slowly made his way to the chair she was pointing to and sat down, his body language indicating he felt very uncomfortable. He sat silently for a few minutes and listened while the others engaged in light banter amongst themselves. Encouraged by their implicit acceptance of his presence, he reached up and without fanfare removed his mask.
Mystique could hardly believe what she was seeing. "St. John, go get Frank something to eat," she ordered, not taking her eyes off their quiet comrade's face.
Commando looked tired. But most strikingly, he looked terrible. Half his face was horribly scarred and one eye missing, the result of injuries he'd sustained in the mine explosion. He also looked far older than he had the last time any of them had seen his face.
Pyro returned with a burger, which he gave to the man in red. "Thanks," Frank said slowly, picking it up with his one good arm and quietly beginning to eat it. None of the others remarked about his injuries, for even Blob realized that to do so would simply cause Commando to put his mask right back on. So they all went back to eating their own food, and continuing their conversations. They ended up talking outside all evening long, eating and drinking; by the end of the night everyone was good and drunk, and re-acquainted with each other after what had really been too long apart. Although Mystique and the others had terrible hangovers the following morning, they all agreed that holding such a party the next year would be a good idea.
And they did.
