Title: Freak on a Leash
Author: Askani'daughter / Eruntalince (newloverboys@yahoo.com)
//thoughts//
~foreign language translated into English~
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Freak on a Leash 4 - Songs of Sorrow
By Askani'daughter
Warren Worthington III flew towards the rocky precipice as fast as his wings would take him.
It wasn't really a hill or a mountain, just a very high collection of rocks. About ten stories up, just below the summit, there was a small cave that Warren had made his private hide-out. It was with the greatest of reverence that he had brought Scott Summers there a few hours ago.
He had left almost immediately, knowing Scott would want some private time. Warren got some food from the mansion, and checked in on what was happening. Dominic was dead, St. John was in a cryogenic coma, Bobby couldn't release his powers, Fred was in shock, Logan was silent and jumpy, and generally everything was falling apart. Warren left with the food. He couldn't stand the stifling cloud of sorrow that hung over the mansion.
Warren hoped that Scott was alright now. He landed gracefully on the out-cropping and then walked inside, bending over slightly and folding his wings so he could fit better. The cave was made for sitting, not standing.
Scott was leaning back against the rock wall, his visor off, with his eyes closed. His left hand was bandaged to cover the holes from Wolverine's claws. Scott was still breathing heavily from crying, but the tears were starting to dry. It was a great improvement.
Warren didn't want to disturb the solemn brunette, so he placed the food next to Scott and turned to leave. Scott's good hand whipped out and grabbed Warren's delicate wrist with a sudden motion that brought Warren to face him.
"Don't leave me alone," Scott said in a voice hoarse from sobbing, his eyes still closed.
"Alright..." Warren said quietly, and remained where he was, sitting on his calves, staring at Scott's tear-stained face. The brunette put on his glasses, and turned his chiseled face to look into Warren's. They were both silent for a long time.
"Dominic..." Scott said after a while, his voice choking.
Warren hung his head.
"The others...?" Scott croaked.
Warren bit his bottom lip, feeling like a child reluctant to tell his father he had broken something.
"Tell me," Scott ordered, his voice flat.
Warren stared at the rock wall. "Bobby was able to save St. John from internally combusting, that's the good news, I guess. Bobby put him in a cryogenic sleep, but the bad news is that Bobby's so traumatized he can't use any of his powers, much less something as delicate as waking St. John from his coma. Fred's in shock, but he was starting to come out of it when I left. Logan sits in a corner, and growls at anyone who comes within twenty feet of him, even Jean. Professor Xavier is calling someone named McCoy to help with Bobby and St. John."
"Hank. Hank is good. He never wanted to join the X-Men, but he went to school with me and Jean. He'll find a way..." Scott swallowed, his voice sounding weak to Warren. He still hadn't let go of Warren's wrist, his vise-like grip starting to hurt Warren.
"You should eat," Warren said gently, turning back to look into Scott's face. It was Scott who looked away that time.
"I should have been able to save Dominic."
"It's not your fault. We were in the middle of a fight, Scott. And the cat-woman was fast. Faster than even you. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine. They were after me," Warren whispered, his own eyes glittering with tears he refused to shed.
The grip on Warren's wrist tightened and Warren felt himself being pulled into Scott's arms. "It's not your fault either, Warren. Those were bad people. They're what we have to fight against. They just wanted to hurt and kill you. You didn't ask them to come," Scott whispered into golden hair.
"Since we're on the subject of blame, you didn't drop Alex on purpose, either. It was an accident, Scott. The wind was stronger than you were, and you were only a kid. And I know you well enough to know you are now equating what happened today with what happened to you almost fifteen years ago," Warren said, looking up at the handsome face above him.
Scott's generous lips tightened. He said nothing. Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. Warren wriggled free and grabbed the food he brought, bringing it closer to Scott.
Scott remained immobile, his one hand still gripping Warren's wrist tightly. "I'll be okay. I worked through all of this with the Professor years ago. I don't have to go to therapy with him anymore. I even was able to go off the medication. I worked through all my pain. But... the telepathic timebomb... it made me relive it all. Once the shock wears off, I'll be back to normal..." he said shakily.
"I know. I already talked to the Professor. He told me you just needed some time to be able to reset your mental equilibrium. He must have taught you a lot, to be able to recover so quickly from a telepathic attack," Warren said quietly, purposefully opening the bag, pulling out a sandwich, and peeling back the wrapping.
"He did. Professor Xavier helped me with all my problems... and he'll help you, too, Warren. You just have to trust him," Scott said plainly, ignoring the sandwich.
"I trust you. I trust him because I trust you."
Scott turned his face to Warren. He took the sandwich and took a bite out of it with his bandaged hand, refusing to let Warren's wrist go from the other. Warren leaned against him quietly, watching him eat.
"I'm surprised you don't hate me," Warren said after Scott was done eating. He was crumpling the plastic wrapper in his hand and wincing in pain.
"Hate you?" Scott asked, sounding confused.
"Because I'm gay, and your father..."
Scott turned and looked him in the eye. Warren swallowed, finding that looking into glowing red eyes behind a pair of ruby quartz glasses to be more than a little intimidating.
"My father wasn't gay, Warren. He was a pedophile. Pedophiles really have no true sexual attraction to the children they desire. It's all about control. Christopher Summers was a control freak. He controlled my mother, and when he had me and Alex, he controlled us. Sexually molesting us was no different from beating us to him, or even locking us in the closet when he got pissed off. It was nothing but control. It was the same for Callisto. She didn't rape you because she was sexually attracted to you. She wanted to control you, dominate you. Probably made her feel better to control someone as beautiful as you, when she was so obviously ugly. I don't know why my father felt the need to control me and Alex, I can only speculate, just as you can only speculate on Callisto. So, no, Warren, I don't hate you because you're gay, and I never would compare you to my father, because you're nothing like him."
Warren was very quiet for the next few minutes. "Logan. Logan reminds you of-"
"It's silly and childish, but I can't help it. Yes, he does, even though I know he really isn't, and wouldn't even think about doing anything like what my father did to me and my brother. It's just his mannerisms. It's pointless, but I can't help but see a bit of my father in him. I wish I didn't..."
Warren leaned his head against Scott's shoulder, his cheek brushing against the blue jacket Scott wore. "I guess we're both damaged goods, then," he said softly.
"No. I refuse to be damaged. I refuse to let the bastard win. I'm going to be okay. I can deal with this. I'm stronger than my father," Scott said with a firm set to his jaw.
"I wish I was as strong as you. You're almost back to normal after having to relive your worst experiences. I think I'd just kill myself if I had to relive what happened in the sewers..."
"No, you wouldn't. You're stronger than that, too, Warren."
"Only because I have you."
Scott stared down at Warren sharply, who was staring back at the rock wall. It was already almost dark outside. "Do I... mean that much... to you...?" Scott asked in wonderment.
Warren pulled away from him, tugging on his wrist. Scott finally let him go, staring at Warren in something akin to shock. Warren turned and started a fire at the mouth of the cave with a box of matches in his pocket. He kept firewood in the cave for whenever he felt like staying there when it was cold or dark.
Warren sat at the other end of the cave, staring back at Scott. Strangely, even after seeing Scott's worst memories, his feelings were only solidified for the handsome brunette.
"I had someone I called a best friend before. His name was Cameron Hodge. He was gawky, goofy-looking, and wore glasses. I used to delight in emotionally tormenting him about not being what I was. You see, Scott, I used to be just like your father, only maybe not as cruel. I used to like control everyone. My father, my supposed friends, everyone. I was the most beautiful, the smartest, the richest, the most popular. None of them liked me for who I really was. How could they? I was an asshole. Cameron only tolerated me for my money. Eventually, he got plastic surgery, and even dyed his hair to try and look like me. How I picked on him, made snide comments, undermined his ego. Do you know, I even loved to play my 'friends' against each other? Control, you said? I used to crave it. But Callisto changed all that. I wasn't in control anymore. Everything was taken from me. My money, my humanity, my family and friends... everything. What's really funny, Scott, and why it bugs me so much, is because I think maybe I deserved what Callisto did to me. I deserved to know what it was like to be a victim. I never raped anyone, or physically abused them, but I said such cruel things, things meant to hurt, as sure as any blow. I used to enjoy that. That's where we differ, Scott. You never deserved what happened to you. But I did. And I... I actually killed Callisto. I probably should have thanked her, for showing me what a truly horrible prick I really was," Warren said dispassionately.
Scott just stared at the beautiful blond, stunned into silence.
"But you changed everything, Scott. I never... never cared about anyone in my entire life until you showed up almost two months ago, talking about your dreams, and your X-Men, and how great life is in the mansion. Until you acted like you gave a damn about me, not my money, not who I was, or what I looked like. You treated me like a person. I've never had a real friend. You take care of me, protect me, care for me. Thank you. Without you... I'd still be... what I was..." Warren sighed and closed his eyes. "I understand if you don't want to be my friend anymore."
Wordlessly, Scott leaned over and dragged Warren into his arms, holding the winged mutant to him tightly, breathing into his hair.
"Who you were doesn't matter, Warren. And no one deserved what happened to you. It was inhumane. But now you know what you used to do wrong. And you don't do it anymore. That makes you a better man than most. For admitting your mistakes and learning from them," Scott whispered, stroking the small of Warren's back as he held him.
Warren began to sob. "Why do you have to be so damn understanding? Why do you have to be so fucking perfect, Scott? Why can't you hate me, like I deserve to be hated?" he cried.
Scott squeezed him tighter. "I'm not perfect, Warren. Far from it. And I can't hate you. I like you too much to hate you. You make me feel alive. No one has made me feel alive since Alex died. You make me feel like me, not Cyclops of the X-Men, or Mr. Summers the Teacher, but just plain Scott. I can be... a person around you. Not an ideal. I can be wacky and stupid, and do whatever I want around you. Because you don't expect anything from me. You just smile, and show me how to feel like a part of the human race again. How could I ever hate someone who makes me feel like that? Someone who can make me laugh, make me cry, and make me want to hold him and forget about everything else?"
Warren smiled weakly, burying his face in Scott's neck. He wrapped his arms around the taller man, feeling like a huge weight had been taken off his chest. "I'm glad you're my friend, Scott."
"And I'm glad you're mine, Warren."***
Scott woke before Warren, still holding the slender blond in his arms. He felt better. Not great, but better. He felt almost back to normal.
It's hard to explain the feeling of a telepathic bomb exploding in your head. Even as well-protected as Scott's mind was, it burrowed straight for what hurt him the most, and made him relive it again. Only Scott's strength of will and the ability to recover from telepathic attacks quickly allowed him to restore himself almost to normal.
But the vivid memories of Scott's painful childhood rested on his soul like a reopened wound. Never as bad the second time, but it still hurt. Even now that it had healed, there was still a deep scar. And yet, the man leaning on him in his sleep comforted him. Scott tightened his embrace around Warren, causing the angel to stir gently for a moment before drifting back off.
What was it about Warren Worthington III that made Scott feel so safe? Was it the fact that they had both been horribly abused? Was it the fact that Warren was so close to his age? That they had so much common, and yet so little? Was it how their personalities seemed to offset the other? Was it the fact that Scott knew Warren needed him, and Scott needed to be needed?
Warren's revelation on his past persona didn't put Scott off at all. In fact, it only strengthened the bond Scott knew he shared with Warren. Neither man had any secrets left. And somehow, it made Scott trust him, like him, even more. Warren had done what Scott always wished his father could have done. Put aside his pain and his need to control and hurt others. And strive to never act like that again. To become a better man. Had Christopher Summers ever repented for his sins, his eldest son would have forgiven him without hesitation. Isn't that what love's about?
Love.
Love?
Scott startled himself with his line of thinking. Did he... love Warren? Warren was a friend, a dear friend. Warren was his brother in every way that counted now. Warren was his soul mate.
Soul mate?
Scott began to ponder why he was coming up with these absurd nouns in relation to Warren. He liked Warren, cared for him deeply. Love, okay he could buy that. Love could mean anything. You love your parents, you love your brother, you love your dog. You can love your friends, especially ones that mean more than anything to you.
Warren meant that much to him?
Whoa.
Scott was never a man for introspection, despite his solid, often recalcitrant nature. Introspection lead to self-understanding, and self-knowledge. Scott Summers didn't know himself very well. He was definitely not in touch with his inner feelings. And now that he was thinking, pondering Warren and his relationship with Warren, Scott realized that he had already unconsciously drawn conclusions about Warren and himself.
Warren meant more than anything to him. Warren was his soul mate. Scott loved Warren. But what exactly did all that mean? And in what context? And in what context did Warren care for Scott? It seemed to Scott that he and Warren had done everything that any loving couple would do. They were closer than Scott had ever been with another human being, even Alex. The only thing they had not even talked about, much less explored, was sexuality.
And then Scott wondered if this was how Jean felt about Logan. And if she was as confused about her emotions, and as torn. Jean was another person not much for introspection, something to do with her telepathy. Scott had all these feelings for Warren, but sorting them out was another question. He wanted to put them in categories and label exactly *what* he and Warren were, but that meant treading on dangerous ground. And Warren's emotions had to be taken into account. After what he'd been through, what exactly did Warren want from Scott? For that matter, what exactly did Scott want from Warren?
Perhaps, given the circumstances, it would be better for the label of their friendship to remain just that. At least for the time being.
Warren stirred, and his golden eyelashes fluttered open, revealing his sapphire blue eyes. Scott smiled down at him.
"Morning," Scott said.
Warren yawned. "Good morning... feeling better?" he asked gently.
"Yes. Now we need to go back and deal with life again," Scott said. Both men instantly sobered.
Warren nodded and withdrew from Scott's arms. He walked outside to the ledge of the cave, so he could stretch his wings out. Scott made sure the fire was put out and followed Warren. The blond angel turned and wrapped his arms around Scott, then swept them both up into the air.
Scott and Warren's body were pressed tightly together as the wind rushed past them and Warren dove for the mansion at breakneck speed. Scott no longer doubted Warren could match him in speed on his motorcycle. The sensation of being in Warren's arms while he flew was rather exhilarating. And very close.
Warren circled like a bird, out of pure instinct, and landed near their bedroom, so they could get in and shower and change. Scott especially wanted to get the blood and grime from the battle the day before off his body. Warren was done in ten minutes, a record time for him. Both men were utterly silent the entire time, even on their trek down to the labs on the lower levels.
Scott walked into the med lab first, with Warren right on his heels. Jean looked up from beside the bed they had John lying on, giving Scott a weak smile. Scott returned the smile, just as weakly.
Movement from the corner caught Scott's eye and he turned, finding himself face to face with Logan. The man known as Wolverine didn't wear the normal smirk or snarl he reserved for Scott. Instead, written on Logan's darkly handsome features, was an expression of sympathy. Scott was taken aback.
"Scott," Logan said, using the man's first name for the first time, "I... I..."
"I don't want your pity, Logan," Scott said sharply, working his jaw as Logan turned his face to the side. Not even Jean knew the full story of Scott's childhood, and the fact that Logan knew it bothered him.
"No pity. I'm just... sorry I remind you of your father. I... I would never-"
"I know, Logan. I know you wouldn't. I don't know you very well. You don't know me very well. We had nothing but surface impressions to go by. I never thought you would do any of the things he did. You just... upset me. But the fact remains that you helped save our lives in the mall. And if nothing else, Logan, you proved to me that you are not my father."
Logan met Scott's eyes, even though dark red glasses prevented full eye contact. An understanding, and the breaking of tension passed between them. Scott suddenly realized how badly his memories must have affected Logan. They had put new resolve in Warren, but Logan had dark circles under his eyes, and his veneer of machismo was shattered. Logan looked like a dog who had received a severe beating.
"I misjudged you," Scott said gently. Now was the time to let bygones be bygones. He held out his hand tentatively to Logan.
"And I guess I jumped to a few conclusions 'bout you, fearless leader. Now that I understand you a bit more. You're not as much of a dick as I thought you were," Logan said gruffly, taking the proffered hand. If Scott didn't know better, he'd think the older man seemed touched.
"Mutual, I'm sure," Scott snickered darkly, favoring the tall, dark man with an equally dark smile.
"Sorry 'bout the paw," Logan shrugged, and just like that, his spirits seemed to recover. Scott wondered if Logan had needed his absolution to recover from sharing Scott's worst memories.
Scott shrugged, absently staring at his wounded hand. "Had worse. Least you didn't break my bones or seriously damage anything. I'll be alright," he said.
"But I'd still like to take a look at it. Don't think I forgot the time you got electrocuted by Ororo, and tried to tell me it was nothing but a shock, with your clothes burning, your hair on end, and your flesh charred," Jean said maternally.
Scott obediently went towards her, catching a glance at St. John. The boy's normally pale skin was tinged in blue, and frost outlined his features. John *looked* cold. Scott paled.
Jean ignored his reaction, and treated Scott's wounds, bandaging them expertly and putting healing salve on them. She said his hand would be fine after a few days. Scott didn't hear her. He was too busy agonizing over what happened to one of his dearest students.
"He's alive. He may not look it, but there is a pulse. He's in a cryogenic hibernation. Almost like cryogenic stasis. Bobby literally froze every cell in St. John's body. But without having been put into cryogenic hibernation, St. John would have been burned alive from the inside out by his own power. That telepath was doing a real number on him. She has great skill, and control," Jean said blandly. There was a hint of failure in her voice.
Scott turned to Jean, dazed. Seeing John - vibrant, impish, fiery St. John, John of the wicked laugh and blond hair, Johnny with the smart remarks and flashing eyes - laid out, almost dead, hurt Scott more than anything else that happened. He had never been close to Dominic. But St. John was like his little brother.
"Yesterday, you said Bobby was too traumatized to use his powers to wake John up. Why don't you or the Professor telepathically do it for him?" Warren asked from the other side of John's bed, looking down with the same expression of loss on his face.
Jean's thin lips tightened, and her pretty face darkened. "It takes a very specific telepathic power to do that. Professor Xavier cannot control other's mutant powers, even telepathically. He can manipulate their thoughts, thought processes, and actions, but not their powers. I can, but I don't have the skill or training. In fact, the only telepath who could do it, is the one who attacked you yesterday," she replied.
"Psylocke. I heard Domino scream her name. The purple-haired woman. The chances of her helping John are nonexistent," Scott said darkly.
"So there is nothing we can do to help John?" Warren asked, his face a mask of sympathy. His students had come to mean something to him as well, Scott could tell by the look in Warren's face.
"I'm trying. I'm trying so hard to help Bobby use his powers. But I can't risk burning his mind out. It's our only hope," Jean said softly.
Scott closed his eyes behind his glasses. "And Dominic...?" he asked softly.
"Dominic's body is in the morgue. The funeral will be held tomorrow afternoon."
"How are the others... taking it...?" Scott found his voice, his mind replaying the awful scene where Feral ripped Dominic's beating heart out over and over.
"Fred almost worshipped Dominic. Wanted to be him. He was in shock, but we've gotten him out of it. He's just very quiet. Bobby spent all night crying, but mostly for John. He blames himself for both Dominic and St. John. As if he could have prevented it," said Jean sadly.
"None of us could have," Warren said quickly, staring at Scott meaningfully.
Scott swallowed. "I turned my head, Jean. I could have blasted her if I was a bit quicker, if I had raised my hand a couple seconds faster..."
"Scott."
It was Logan's gruff voice that called Scott's name, causing not only Scott, but Jean and Warren as well, to turn to him in mild surprise.
"'If I had only's...' get you nowhere. Take it from a pro. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't Warren's fault. It wasn't Fred's fault. Blame it on the fucking crazy bitch who did it. The cat chick, right? Fred broke her back. And we still got a score to settle with the fucking bitch who let it happen. Domino."
Scott nodded. Somehow, being absolved by blame from a man who didn't care for him made him feel a bit better. Warren cast Logan an almost grateful look.
"Hank will be here tonight. He might be able to find an alternate way of awaking St. John. If anyone can, it'd be him," Jean said.
"Hank'll do it. He has to," Scott whispered.***
It was Professor Xavier who read the eulogy at Dominic Petros' funeral.
His words, intoned in his clipped English that managed to convey warmth and compassion, brought a tear to every last eye. Even Logan's.
Warren had found himself sitting next to Logan throughout the funeral. The chairs were arranged in pairs, and Jean and Scott sat together. Their hands were laced together by their fingers, and Warren felt guilty that he was not focusing on the funeral as much as he was Scott and Jean.
Logan was no different. He was also staring at their entwined hands, his jaw working. Warren caught the older man's eye and they exchanged bitter smiles. The Other Man. That's what they both were.
Fred took Dominic's loss the hardest. He had come out of shock the day before, and insisted he be here. No one stopped him. Fred cried throughout most of the funeral, and oddly enough, it was Rogue who sat beside him, patting him awkwardly on the shoulder.
Bobby had seemed a ghost of his former self. He didn't talk, and he was pale and drawn as he sat by himself. A rather ape-like man with dark hair sat beside Bobby, his arm around the youth's shoulder in a fatherly fashion. He was Hank McCoy, who had come in over the night.
Jubilee and Kitty sat together, somber and withdrawn, testimony to their sorrow. Ororo sat beside Sean Cassidy, one of the instructors at the mansion who was not part of the X-Men. Warren barely knew the blonde Irishman, but he knew that of all the teachers, Sean had been closest to Dominic. And it showed on his face.
The Professor finished his beautiful eulogy and the mourners paid their respects to Dominic. Warren was saddened, but he found it hard to truly associate himself with the loss of the youth. Dominic was perhaps the only student he never connected with. But Fred, strange as it was, was the student he connected with best, and the boy's grief astounded him. Warren came up beside the large boy, and put an arm around him, murmuring comforting words to Fred. Rogue faded to the background when Warren came, letting the blond beauty take over.
Even as he talked and comforted Fred, Warren couldn't take his mind off Scott and Jean's hands. And he felt horribly guilty about that. He should be focusing on the funeral, on comforting everyone, but all he could think of was Scott's fingers entwined with Jean's. He should be grief-stricken, not jealous.
But he wasn't. No matter how hard he tried, Warren could not feel any anything more than passing sadness for a boy he barely knew. Warren wasn't that empathetic. If it had been Fred, or Scott, Warren would have been devastated. But it was more the loss of St. John, and the sudden, gripping fear that Scott was going to go back to Jean and forget all about his friendship with Warren that tore Warren up on the inside. He felt worse for Fred's suffering than he did for Dominic's death.
And he knew he shouldn't feel like that.
It was driving him nuts. Fred cried on his shoulder, but Warren anxiously peered around the milling mourners, his eyes fixating on Scott, who stood very closely beside Jean. He would pat Fred on the back, and find himself fretting over Bobby and St. John. He was sad, but it was the sort of sadness you got from finding out a distant relative you barely met died. Shouldn't he be grief-stricken?
Later in the day, after Scott, Jean, Bobby and Hank had disappeared downstairs to try and tend St. John, Warren finally calmed Fred down to the point where the boy could finally fall asleep in the rec room. Warren wandered the quiet, deserted mansion alone. He felt lonely, and desperately wished Scott was there with him. He finally decided to read something until Scott returned.
To his surprise, he found Professor Xavier sitting in the library.
"Hello, Professor. I thought... you'd be downstairs..." Warren said awkwardly. He hadn't really been expecting to see the old man.
"I'm afraid I'm useless down there. If anything can be done, Hank, Jean, and Scott will find a way. They always have. They're quite brilliant. My three best and favorite students..." the Professor smiled and placed his book down, his blue-green eyes resting warmly on Warren.
Warren shrugged and sat down. He rested his hand on his chin, wondering when Scott would come back.
"You've grown quite attached to Scott, haven't you?" the Professor asked nonchalantly. In their therapy lessons, Warren carefully avoided the topic of his feelings for Scott, and Charles carefully avoided asking Warren how he felt about his best friend, his protector. Until now.
Warren scowled. He disliked being mind-read. "I guess..." he said darkly.
"The way you feel is understandable. I barely knew Dominic myself. His death saddens you, but why should you be crushed? People react differently, of course. What's important is that you have comforted Fred enough today that I daresay he shall sleep fitfully, and without nightmares. I would not expect you to be grief-stricken. You are sad, and that is all you should feel."
The amount of candor caused Warren to gaze at the Professor sharply. He leaned back in his chair, considering the older man. "I guess... I guess I should have been more focused..." Warren sighed. He still felt guilty about not feeling more mournful about Dominic.
"Why? Minds wander, even during funerals. Grief is not everlasting. Naturally, Fred and Sean will take it the hardest, but they knew Dominic, were even close to him. Scott, Jean and Ororo, who've known him for a long time, will also be far sadder than you. You barely knew the boy a month, Warren, and rarely interacted with him. There's nothing wrong with your emotions. They're human. I lost my grandmother when I was in my early twenties. I cried on the day she died, and the day before. But after that, I quickly recovered. It saddened me, but I was able to accept her loss. I daresay I was laughing again within two days."
Warren stared at him.
"You've never had to deal with death before. And never with someone that was intimate to you. You keep most people at an emotional arm's length. And it's only to be expected that those few that you let yourself care about are the only ones that would truly crush you, and leave you grief-stricken. And that's human. I've been having to deal with enough guilt today, thank you. Can you, at least, please stop feeling guilty about having normal human emotions?"
Warren gave Charles Xavier a small smile. "I'll try," he said.
"Thank you. And Scott's presently on his way back up. To see you. Now, please, go comfort him as well as you did Fred."
Warren blinked and nodded, standing up and stretching his wings. "Must be nice to be able to read minds," Warren said sardonically as he turned to the door.
"I didn't read your mind, Warren. Your face and your actions tell me everything I need to know," Charles smiled fatherly.
Warren shook his head in disbelief and left to find Scott."Hey."
Scott looked mildly startled to see Warren heading towards him in the hallway. "Hey... what are you doing here? I expected to find you with Fred or in bed," he said.
"Fred finally fell asleep, and in my wanderings, I came across the Professor. He told me you were coming up to see me," Warren explained.
"Oh..." was all Scott said, coming to halt before Warren. His expressions were being carefully guarded.
"Want to go flying?"
"It's not safe for you to leave the mansion. Those people might be looking for you. I don't want you outside without an X-Man, preferably me, with you," Scott said sternly, like he was speaking to a child.
Warren blinked and frowned. "So I'm being locked up...?" he growled. Warren hated being inside for long. Since his wing had healed, he'd spent a few hours every day flying, and he wanted to do that now. Enclosed spaces were worse for him than even Ororo and her claustrophobia.
"No. When you want to go outside and fly, you take me with you. Or Jean. Or Ororo. Or even Logan. I just don't want you alone outside."
Warren swallowed, relieved to know that he wasn't being trapped. And then it suddenly dawned on him that Scott was assuming his role as a protector. Warren pursed his lips. How could Scott be so close to Jean, as if they had made up, earlier that day, then turn around and be so close to Warren. If Warren was Jean, *he'd* be jealous.
"Won't Jean get upset with you spending all your time playing bodyguard with me? Maybe you should spend more time with her, since you made up and all," Warren said, trying to sound casual and nonchalant, hoping Scott didn't notice the quiver in his voice, or the hurt in his face.
"Made up with her...?" Scott blinked behind his glasses.
"Well, the two of you seemed rather tight earlier today. I wouldn't want to take up all your time-"
"Warren, we... need to talk... about Jean..." Scott trailed off awkwardly.
"Maybe we shouldn't have this conversation in the middle of the hallway," Warren suggested in the lulling silence, noting that Kitty and Jubilee were peering at them from behind a statue.
Scott half-turned and stared at the girls who were ill-concealed, his face taking on one of his more fearsome expressions. Kitty sank through the floor and Jubilee squeaked and dashed off at top speed. Warren smirked.
"You really could give Logan a run for his money with those killer glares. I'll bet if they could see the look in your eye, you'd surpass him," Warren chuckled, and then instantly felt guilty about laughing today, of all days.
Scott didn't seem to take offense, and merely started heading down the hallway, motioning for Warren to follow him. Warren obeyed, wondering what Scott was thinking.
Scott turned off into one of the studies, and closed the door when Warren sauntered in, locking it even. Warren took a seat in one of the leather armchairs, watching Scott expectantly as the handsome brunette took a seat across from him.
Warren spread his wings back, letting them flop out over the back of the chair, his long, white feathers dragging on the carpet. Scott stared at him, apparently considering what he was about to say.
"Fred doing any better?" Scott asked casually, as if they were having afternoon tea.
Okay. Safe topic. Warren understood. "I think so. He feels responsible, and I kept trying to convince him that he wasn't. Dominic was his idol, and a friend. But the Professor said he wouldn't have nightmares tonight, which is good," Warren said calmly.
"You've grown close to Fred. I'm glad. His self-esteem is so low, it's hard for most of us to connect with him."
"I... guess I have a lot in common with him. Strange, but true."
"Not so strange. I know his background. He's so different from you, he's the same."
"That made sense, but it didn't. And I agree."
Silence. More pondering from Scott. Warren did his best to remain patient.
"I'm sort of glad that you didn't know Dominic very well."
"Why?"
"Warren, you've had enough recent trauma in your life. At least you were spared the full effects of this one."
"I guess. I keep feeling like I should be more upset. Like I should be sadder."
"Like you should cry all day long, like Fred? What good would that do?"
"I don't know. It's just how I think I should feel. I actually feel kinda disconnected."
"So do I. It hasn't hit me as hard as it did a lot of others. Maybe it was the telepathic timebomb, I don't know. Maybe we're both becoming too jaded."
More silence. Food for thought. Warren wondered if he was jaded, and came to the conclusion that he was.
"The blond man... the one in the black suit with the white circle on it... I felt I know him from somewhere."
"I didn't really notice him until he blasted me into the curio shop. Didn't get a good look at his face. The stars and birds circling around my head got in the way."
Warren's dry humor caused a small smile to flit across Scott's lips. "He was just... I don't know. It's silly, but I felt a connection to him somehow."
"It'll pass. It's just your obsession for befriending good-looking blond men."
Scott actually snorted, his lips curling upwards. "So that's what it was. And here I thought I just had a thing for connecting to people who like knocking me around. It's comforting to know I'm not a full masochist."
Warren blinked, confused.
"I guess you forgot when you knocked me about thirty feet into the snow with your wing."
"I did that?"
"When I found you... you attacked me. Thought I was going to..."
"...do what Callisto did to me. My memory's fuzzy. I do remember being scared of you, and then you blasting me to unconsciousness. At least now I know why."
Both Scott and Warren frowned. Somehow, the conversation twisted back into unhappiness.
"Hank's studying Bobby, trying to see if he can't mimic Bobby's powers with some sort of device. I'll probably wind up building it, and Jean's still working on Bobby's head," Scott reported.
"Makes sense that you're the resident Scotty."
"Excuse me?"
"Sorry. Star Trek joke. You know. Scotty. The engineer. 'I cinna give 'er any more power, Cap'n!'" Warren said quickly, imitating a Scottish accent.
Scott's lips curled again. "Right. I had forgotten. I guess I am the resident 'Scotty'. Because I wind up building everything. Hell, I helped put together the friggin' Blackbird."
"You must be really good with your hands. Are you that dexterous in bed?" Warren asked casually.
Scott nearly stopped breathing, and just stared at Warren. The blond's eyes widened when he realized that he had just carelessly flirted with Scott. Old habits die hard.
"Um, don't answer that. I didn't mean it like that. It was just... automatic..." Warren said quickly, hoping he hadn't just offended Scott. And then he realized Scott was blushing.
"Uh... right..." Scott nodded, and the full impact of his expression was blocked by his glasses. Warren bit his bottom lip.
"Well, I should probably go to bed," Warren said awkwardly, positive he had just offended and disgusted Scott. He stood up to leave, but Scott grabbed his hand, standing up to look him in the eye.
"We came here to talk about Jean," Scott said firmly.
"I know. I'll be fine. Here, let me handle my side of the conversation. It's okay to go back to her, Scott. You love her, she loves you. I'm very happy for both of you. You make a great couple. I'll be fine. I mean, hell, I'm a grown man. I don't need you to sleep with me in the bed. I can handle it. Go back to her. I'll be fine. She'll keep you nice and warm at night. I'll be fine. We're not joined at the hip or anything. I didn't expect you to baby-sit me forever. I'll be fine. I understand," Warren said through a very forced smile.
"You keep saying that you'll be fine. Are you trying to convince yourself?"
Warren swallowed and turned his face. He tried to tug his wrist from Scott's hand, but Scott refused to let him go. What was with Scott and his fascination for Warren's wrists?
"Warren, I... me and Jean... see, she and I decided... well, we both want... aw, fuck it."
And then Scott's lips enveloped Warren's, and the blond angel forgot about everything but their kiss.