Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men.

A/N: First off, this isn't a fic about the good guys. It's about the bad guys. And the line between good and bad. And maybe it's a little bit about growing up, finding out who you are and who you can become – Pyro's coming of age. Why the character of Pyro, you may be wondering? Well, I really enjoyed X2, in particular the students and their part in the saga. I found Pyro's character very conflicted, so I thought maybe he deserved a story. Here it is.

Chapter 1 - Homecoming

In which Magneto and Mystique return home...

Shade leaned against the steps, feeling the sun-warmed stone against her back. It wasn't fair. It really, entirely wasn't fair.

She was tempted to take her boots off, wriggle her toes in the pleasant evening air, but every moment that Mystique was gone represented a moment in which the humans could attack. It was vital that she stay alert. After all, if Mystique succeeded and brought Magneto back home again, it wouldn't do for him to catch his own followers off guard. Plus, Shade knew Mystique thought she was too young to be of any real use. Magneto was the one who'd seen her potential, taken her in, but even he hadn't let her in on any of the big stuff.

That was the unfairness of it all. She could've helped.

"Shade?" said Mrs Althrop. Mrs Althrop was the housekeeper. After the unpleasant business with those X-Men, when Magneto had been captured and taken away, Mystique had moved operations to a safe house, deep in the country. It was big, and old, and grand. Shade liked it. Plenty of trees, plenty of shadows. And Mrs Althrop. She was a mutant, almost as old as Magneto, and in Shade's opinion, far scarier.

"I'm here," Shade replied, turning. Mrs Althrop's face cracked into a smile. It was an unnaturally large smile, and revealed rows of gleaming teeth. Shade tried to smile back. It was important to stay on Mrs Althrop's good side.

"There you are, dearie. I've just got word back from Miss Mystique. They're coming home!" she said delightedly, clapping her hands together. "Mr Magneto is safe and well."

"Excellent," Shade said under her breath, feeling better. Finally, Magneto was back. Finally, she could show him how she'd improved. Finally, she'd get the recognition that she deserved around this place.

"And they've found someone else to join us here in our happy, happy home," continued Ms Althrop, really getting into her stride, her teeth gnashing alarmingly.

Someone else? Shade sat up straight.

"Who?" she asked dumbly.

"A mutant who can control fire, Miss Mystique said. Apparently Mr Magneto was most impressed with the young man, most impressed. A very valuable asset, he said."

Control fire? Shade felt her heart sink. She'd seen it on the news, about the fire in Boston, the mutant flame-thrower who'd destroyed squad cars and caused mayhem. She'd seen it all, and she'd been blown away. She'd die for one tenth of that power – and now he was coming here? He was a bad guy? The others had said he was one of Professor X's kids - more importantly, he was coming here? No. No. This couldn't be happening.

She'd really worked to impress Magneto, and now this new kid was going to show up and ruin everything. She couldn't let it happen – she wouldn't let it happen. Shade was the number one prodigy around this place, not some pyromaniac X-Man prototype.

"Shade?" Mrs Althrop asked again, her tone a little sharper. Shade stood up, and Mrs Althrop blinked, then frowned. "It's very rude to do that when someone is speaking to you, young lady. I thought you'd learnt that by now."

"Yes, Mrs Althrop," Shade said meekly, her mind racing. She had to get rid of this threat. That's what he was, a threat to her existence. He had to be removed. So he had all the brawn at his disposal, so what? She had the brains. And she'd already spotted a potential weak link – the connection to Xavier. This wouldn't be so hard.

"Are you coming in for your dinner, ducky?"

"Yes, Mrs Althrop," Shade replied, allowing herself to be shepherded into the house.

****

Outside, high above the tree-tops, on the very edge of the horizon, a helicopter at the very end of its fuel capacity struggled through the balmy air. It gave a sudden lurch, and Pyro's stomach jumped.

Not that he was scared. Not at all. He flicked his lighter on and off, on and off, until he was aware of Magneto staring at him. He pocketed the lighter, feeling its slight warmth and reassuring heaviness against his leg. That was all he had left, that and the clothes he was wearing. Not that he missed anything else.

Not at all.

Unprovoked, an image of himself and the Iceman came to mind. They were sitting on the couch, just watching TV, drinking soda. That was it. Nothing particularly poignant, or symbolic – just that. Then another image, of himself and Rogue teasing Bobby about his lack of taste in – well, everything, but music especially. And for some reason, one of the Wolverine and Professor X, talking to each other in low voices.

All of these things made him feel a little sick, and he told himself it was just the helicopter.

"I hate to be the voice of doom, but was it always part of the plan to land on top of a forest, or is that something you've just improvised?" he asked loudly, trying to break the tense atmosphere.

Mystique made an annoyed sound, and Magneto raised an eyebrow.

"I have faith in Mystique," was his only comment, and Pyro inhaled deeply. Fine. Have faith in Mystique.

He looked out of the window, and saw something that was definitely more interesting than a load of trees. It was house, a pretty enormous house, and he realised with growing excitement that this was their destination. This was his new home.

Whether he'd actually get to step foot in his new home was, at the moment, debatable. The helicopter gave another crazy lurch, and Pyro tried to concentrate on what he could see of the house. There were some large, low metallic bunkers behind it, three in total, which reminded him of farm buildings. At the front of the house – what he assumed was the front – an empty field seemed to be getting closer, and Pyro decided that now would be a good time to assume the crash position. He braced himself, and Mystique gave another low growl.

"There may be some turbulence," she added in a dead-pan voice, and it was suddenly very, very quiet. Pyro had just enough time to work out that the propeller had stopped moving before the helicopter plummeted towards the ground, very, very quickly.

****

"HEY!"

Those assembled around the dining table looked up in alarm. Shade continued eating. She'd recognised Militant's voice, and he was far too excitable to pay any attention to.

"HEY!" he yelled again, appearing at the door to the dining room, pale face flushed. "It's Magneto and Mystique! They're here! In a helicopter!"

Sure enough, the loud thrum of a helicopter engine could be heard, starting off faint, but growing louder with every passing second. The others jumped up in a flurry of clothes and food and tails, crowding out of the door, on to the front field, all eager to show Magneto how much they'd wanted him back.

Shade waited until they'd all left the dining room, finished drinking her glass of Coca Cola, and then allowed herself to un-focus. It was so much easier to observe events when no-one was able to observe you. Moving with the shadows, Shade was at the front of the small crowd in moments. She focused in again, and looked up.

The helicopter wasn't flying anymore. The propellers were dead.

"THEY'RE GOING TO CRASH!" Militant screamed, and the expectant atmosphere changed to one of fear. There was a sudden scramble to get out of the way, and Mrs Althrop could be seen towering above everyone else, trying to control the throng. Shade simply un-focused again and allowed herself to drift backwards slightly, all the while keeping her eyes trained on the helicopter.

There was that falling sound, the one familiar from action films and cartoon shows, the one where it gets higher and louder and higher until the missile or piano or whatever slams into the ground. It was getting louder and higher and the helicopter was getting bigger until it was so loud that Shade couldn't hear anything else then silence.

Not quite silence. A low humming, and the helicopter hovering a few inches above the ground. Shade smiled inwardly. Of course. It was made of metal. Magneto would never be harmed by metal, it loved him.

Now the crowd were silenced, even Militant. All moved forward slightly, craning their necks, trying to get a glimpse of the passengers inside. Probably scared that now the boss was back, they'd get into all sorts of trouble. Shade toyed with the idea of getting closer, then decided it would be better to hang back. Assess the situation from a distance.

Then the door popped open, and Mystique climbed out, followed by a boy. He hung back himself, behind Mystique, and Shade couldn't get a good look at her rival. Mystique smiled suddenly, a rare event in itself, and Magneto's voice boomed out across the field.

"The rumours are indeed true, old friends," came the voice. Shade felt buoyant, despite herself. Magneto! He'd held her in awe since the first day she'd met him. Such power, such vision, such style – well, sort of. She had to admit, the helmet wasn't the best look ever. But when Magneto had gone, it was like the sun had been blotted out. They'd all worked feverishly on plans to get him back – none had worked. None until now of course. The thrill of the assorted mutants was tangible as Magneto stepped from the helicopter.

"I'm home," he finished, mouth curving into a smile.

A roar of approval went up from below, and Shade re-focused so that she could show her own appreciation. His eyes flickered over all of them in turn, and when he looked over her, Shade clapped even harder. Things would be better, now. She knew it. Her own eyes flickered to that elusive boy, and her smile hardened slightly. It was her turn to shine, now. She'd make sure of it.

****

Pyro hadn't seen anything like it. All of these mutants looked like they pretty much worshipped old Magneto – and what a bunch of worshippers they were. Most were completely inhuman looking – no wonder they hated the humans so much. They'd never be able to get by in society. They all looked harder than the mutants back home – back at Xavier's. Edgy – reminded him more of Wolverine than anyone else.

There was an enormous old woman, her grin far too wide and full of needle sharp teeth. A guy with six arms, ebony black and whippet thin, he resembled some sort of nightmarish spider-man. Three identical women, dressed in the latest fashions but with faces so deformed and twisted it was hard to tell where their mouths ended and their noses began. And then, right at the edge of the crowd, he thought he saw something move in the shadows. As he watched, something – or someone – seemed to form out of the shadows. It was like watching a photograph develop. A slender girl came into focus, shadow writhing over her body and face, like she was bleeding ink in reverse, until it was absorbed into her eyes. Her eyes were completely black, and fairly unsettling.

Pyro blinked. It was a nice trick.

Then another couple of mutants caught his eye. They seemed about his age, a girl and a boy. Both were looking back at him with interest. He was used to being one of the oldest, but here he was one of the youngest. The shadow girl and these two others were the only other people of his age about. Everyone else was older.

Mystique stepped aside suddenly, and he felt attention shift from Magneto on to him.

"This is Pyro," Magneto announced, gesturing in his direction. "I trust most of you heard about the fiery little incident in Boston?"

There was a murmur of consensus.

"Pyro's work," said Magneto, and this time the murmur was slightly louder. Then a pale, lanky mutant waved at Magneto. "Yes, Militant?" asked Magneto, his tone somewhat resigned.

"HEARD HE WAS WITH THE X-MEN," shouted the gangling mutant, Militant. Pyro stiffened. Great. This was the bit where he got mobbed. His hand moved automatically to his pocket, and closed around his lighter.

"Was with the X-Men is correct, Militant," said Magneto mildly. "He has made a choice, and we shouldn't hold that against him. You haven't forgotten my own history with Charles Xavier, have you?"

Militant shook his head, somewhat abashed.

"Well then, that's settled. Jet, Nox – give him the guided tour. As for the rest of you, I believe there is much we need to discuss."

Pyro relaxed his grip on the lighter as the other mutants followed Magneto into the house, Mystique included. He didn't know anyone, he was alone – it reminded him of his first day at Xavier's. The girl and boy – Jet and Nox, he presumed – made their way over, and he looked at them properly. The girl was pretty, with long blonde hair and brown eyes. She was wearing cut-off shorts and an old T-shirt, the boy in a pair of battered looking jeans, massive overcoat and Converse baseball shoes. His hair was cut really short, and his eyes had a hungry look to them, like he'd been starved or something. Wasn't he hot in that get-up? Pyro was reminded again of Rogue and Iceman – these two didn't look anything like them, but it was the same set up. The girl and boy taking him in, under their wing, making him part of a trio.

Except there was another one, wasn't there? He looked back to where the shadow girl should have been, but she'd gone. Maybe he'd meet her later.

"I'm Jet," said the girl quietly. "And this is Nox."

The more Pyro saw of him, the more Nox reminded him of a ferret. The other boy was twitchy, his glittering eyes constantly moving.

"Hey," Nox said abruptly, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"I'm Pyro," he said, feeling more than a little awkward. This was really lame. He felt dirty, and tired and all he really wanted to do was sleep.

"We'll show you where to put your things –" Jet started saying.

"I haven't got any things, as such," Pyro interrupted. "Just me."

"That's cool, that's cool," said Nox. "That's cool, man. We'll just show you around. You'll be sharing a room with me, Jet and Shade are opposite. We've got four rooms to ourselves, four rooms, man. It's unreal here."

They started walking towards the big house, but instead of entering through the front door, they went round to the side. Pyro followed, stepping into a big kitchen. Nox made a bee-line for the fridge, grabbing packets of crisps and cans of soda.

"Who's Shade?" he asked Jet.

The other girl wrinkled her nose, and looked around before replying in a whisper. "She's the only other person here our age. She's not exactly sociable – she likes to hide away, in the shadows. She gives me the creeps –"

"You don't like her, then," Pyro said absent-mindedly, trying not to grin at Nox's efforts to stuff as much food as possible into his numerous pockets.

"It's hard to like her," finished Jet, matter-of-factly. "How can you like someone who barely seems to exist?"

****

Shade noted with some satisfaction that pretty little Jet was giving the old 'creepy Shade, hides away' speech again. It suited her that she had a reputation for being anti-social – it meant she didn't have to talk to anyone she didn't want to talk to. She got left to her own devices, and no-one ever interfered with her plans.

In the shadows underneath the kitchen cabinets, she could see Pyro and Jet's legs. She could hear their conversation perfectly – she may not have super-strength, or great destructive power, but all of her senses were heightened to be almost painfully acute. The perfect spy, that was what Magneto had said when they'd first met. Feather-light, she had to wear heavy boots and clothing so that the wind didn't literally sweep her off her feet – but she could scale walls in an instant, melt into shadows and listen and smell and see everything. It was a different sort of power, the power of stealth and knowledge.

Of course, it wasn't the sort of power that people were very impressed by. Flames and fire, now that was impressive. The flame-thrower himself, however, wasn't. He wasn't even that tall, for crying out loud. Medium sort of build, scruffy hair, walked like he had an attitude problem waiting to happen – this was what she'd let herself get worked up over?

"It's hard to like her," finished Jet, matter-of-factly. "How can you like someone who barely seems to exist?"

Yeah, Jet. Spin it out.

"I suppose that'd make her hard to talk to. But ideal roommate," Pyro said, leaning on the counter. His legs were getting fairly close to Shade, and insubstantial as she was, if he knocked against her, she'd be found out. "What's up with Nox? Is he always that hungry?"

"Yes," Jet agreed, joining Pyro at the counter. Now she was dodging two sets of knees. "He can't eat with everyone else, you see, we're all too scared."

"Why?"

"Everything about Nox is poisonous," Jet explained. "His hair, his skin, his blood, his saliva –"

"So I guess he's not planning on sharing any of that, then," Pyro said. Shade heard his stomach grumble, and suddenly realised that she was hungry too. Should she crawl out into the daylight, introduce herself?

"We can go and get some more food from the dining room," Jet replied. Shade could see that she was already leading Pyro away, taking him further into the house. Nox scuttled after them, his overcoat pockets bulging.

She stayed in the shadows beneath the kitchen cabinet until the sun went down, thinking and thinking and thinking. Shade liked her own company best.

****

It was dark outside, and it smelt so completely different. That was what struck him, the smell. All wrong, all different. All new.

Pyro sat down on the steps, the cold stone jutting into his back. He liked being uncomfortable, sometimes. It reminded him that he was alive. Sighing, he pushed his hair out of his face. It wasn't fair. It really, entirely wasn't fair.

Why did he always have to make such a mess of things? At the moment it felt like he was still trapped, just in a shiny new cage. Still, he'd give it a go. Magneto had the right idea, anyway – what had humans ever done for mutants? Why did they even deserve to live? He'd always been told at Xavier's how he was a 'natural evolution of the species' – wasn't it survival of the fittest? Maybe mutants and humans were never meant to co-exist – the time of the humans was over, and the time of the mutants had just begun.

He didn't feel like going to bed, not just yet. Sitting in the darkness, Pyro started to play with his lighter again. Old habits die hard and all that. And as the single, reassuring flame flickered unsteadily, he thought he saw the shadows beside him twist and reposition themselves, almost as though they were alive.