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 5 - Wrong Impressions
By Askani'daughter
Havok held the green-haired girl in his arms, letting her sleep.
Polaris was only sixteen, a mere slip of a girl. Like the rest of them, when Domino found her, she felt she had no place else to turn. Havok hadn't meant to get involved with her. Relationships were dangerous, especially when you worked for Domino. But despite himself, Havok felt himself falling for Lorna's warmth and innocence. An innocence not yet completely destroyed.
She had never been in a pitched battle before. She was hysterical, and Havok rocked her to sleep, calming her fears. She had told him nothing of her past, and he had kept silent about his own.
The handsome blond man ran his hands through Lorna's now shoulder-length green hair. The rest had crisped and burned and had to be cut off. Lorna was mortified. She thought Alex wouldn't love her anymore. But it wasn't Lorna's beauty he loved.
Love.
Love is so dangerous.
On the other bed in the cheap motel room that Domino had rented for them sat Lila Cheney. She was five years old. She never spoke.
Of course, Havok was personally of the opinion that if Domino was his blood mother, he'd never speak either.
Lila watched him quietly, almost eerily. Her overly large blue eyes watched him very carefully. Even at her tender age, Lila's teleportation powers were phenomenal. And she was very smart. Havok vaguely remembered Domino referring to the small child as "autistic". Whatever that meant.
On the same bed, broken and bleeding, lay Feral's crippled form. Havok had tried to make the furry cat-like woman as comfortable as possible, but it wasn't hard to see that her back was broken. She had managed to live two days thus far, since Domino dropped them off, and he considered that a miracle.
Random's dead body had been left behind. Caliban and Psylocke had gone with Domino to report to Hodge. That left Havok to tend to the sick and the weak, but he didn't mind. The less time he spent in Domino's company, the better off he felt he was.
Oh, he owed her his life. Domino had rescued him from a foster family that didn't give a flying rat's ass about him. And considering what little he could remember of his childhood, Domino was far better than anything he ever had.
Except for his long-dead older brother.
Havok couldn't even remember his brother's name. He felt bad about that, especially since his older brother was the only source of comfort he'd ever had. Until Lorna. Havok leaned back and lit a cigarette with one free hand, his other arm wrapped around his lover. He turned on the cartoons on the television, trying to ignore Lila's eerie gaze.
How familiar that auburn-haired man named Cyclops was. Havok was almost positive that he knew him from somewhere. The face, the hair. Havok shuddered when an image of his father came to his mind unbidden. Maybe that was it. The man reminded him of his father.
But not in bearing. No, when it came to bearing, Domino reminded him of his father. But at least she didn't beat him. Or fuck him. And she paid him for his services, and let him do pretty much whatever the fuck he wanted, as long as he did as she said without question. But still.
No, Cyclops reminded him of someone else. But he couldn't remember who.
The doorknob of the motel room opened. Havok tensed, but Domino, Caliban and Psylocke entered the room. The pale woman in charge put her hands on her hips. She was not happy. Havok tensed more.
"Hodge is unhappy."
Havok didn't give a flying fuck if some rich flatscan with a death wish for his "best friend" was unhappy. It was Domino he was worried about. Havok watched her steadily, betraying no emotion on his chiseled face.
"I'm unhappy."
Havok swallowed, paling. Lila continued to stare at him, and Lorna stirred, looking fearfully at their boss. Their master. Their owner. Feral's eyes swiveled to look at Domino, since she couldn't move much of her body anymore.
"Two of my people are dead. The mark escaped. Our payment is frozen until we deliver Worthington's head to Hodge. Literally. Which means no selling him on the black market for extra profit."
"One is dead. The other is paralyzed, Domino," Havok said, trying to remain calm.
Domino whipped out her gun and shot Feral in the blink of an eye. Havok closed his eyes and then reopened them. Blood was starting to pour from the gaping hole in Maria Calasantos' head, turning the pillows and blankets red. Lila, who was sitting on the same bed, didn't even jump.
Havok doubted they would get their security deposit back now.
"Two are dead, Havok. Never argue with me," Domino said coldly. Havok blanched. He caught a glance at Psylocke's face, noting the Oriental woman with the British accent had turned her face, and was even paler than normal.
"We're going to have to be more careful. We didn't expect those kids to all be alphas. And I sure as hell didn't expect to have to fight Wolverine. And Cyclops is a lot fucking stronger than my sources said. And fuck, *why* didn't we know the mark himself could fight?" Domino growled, turning to look at Psylocke.
The violet-haired mutant held up admirably under that dangerous gaze. "That Professor is one of the strongest telepaths I've ever seen. And Dr. Grey might be undeveloped, but her raw power is unbelievable, Domino. And we found out first-hand how strong Cyclops' mental resistance is. Sneaking around their mansion was work enough. Prying through their minds would have got us all caught," Psylocke said firmly. Havok always admired the ninja's backbone.
Domino just scowled and turned her attention back to the rest of the team. "We're going to take this slow and easy. We took almost two months to make this attack, we can take another two, even more. Assassination should never be rushed, and with only two months surveillance... well, we rushed things. We'll wait for the perfect opportunity this time. Then we'll have the little angel's head on a silver platter for Hodge..."
"Why do I sense an 'and' coming on...?" Havok asked nervously.
Domino smiled cruelly, reminding Havok of a shark.
"And... I want him to suffer before he dies."***
Warren pulled away from the kiss he was sharing with Scott Summers, and stared wide-eyed into ruby quartz sunglasses.
His stomach dropped, and terror raced through Warren's mind unbidden. He reflexively took a step back from the handsome brunet, swallowing hard. Tears sprang to his eyes, and he couldn't even explain them. Couldn't explain anything.
Scott's mouth was still open and he licked his lips nervously as he watched Warren. The movement of Scott's tongue terrified Warren further. He had wanted this. He wanted Scott. But now...
"Warren...?" Scott finally said.
Warren took another step back. He was trying to blink the tears away. Unexplainable, overwhelming fear erupted through his entire being. Everything in him screamed to run away.
But he had wanted this. He had needed this.
"Warren, I'm sorry... I thought that..."
"No... I'm sorry, Scott. I'm so sorry..." Warren heard himself saying.
And then he ran as fast as he could away from the man he loved.It wasn't fear of what Callisto had done to him.
Warren could never associate Scott with something like that. No, what was racing through Warren's mind and heart was a new sort of fear. A fear he had never felt before, and in its own way it was every bit as overwhelming as the fear Callisto had created in him.
He realized suddenly how dangerous a position he was in.
He loved Scott.
He was in love with Scott.
He would do anything for Scott. *Anything*. It made his stomach twist into knots. Warren suddenly realized how *vulnerable* Scott made him feel. Safe, yet vulnerable. Scott could soothe any pain, brush away any fear. But the irony of it was that Scott created a new sort of pain, a new sort of fear.
Everything Callisto had done to him would be acceptable if it was from Scott. If Scott wanted to carve Warren's flesh with a knife, Warren would let him. If Scott asked Warren to eat human flesh, he would. If Scott wanted Bobby Drake's heart on a silver platter, Warren would bring it to him. The irony of it was, that one of the reasons Warren loved Scott, was because he would never want any of those things.
Wasn't love supposed to be beautiful? Wasn't it supposed to conjure happy loving images of romantic walks on beaches and candlelit dinners? Warren couldn't even imagine any of those things.
Warren had thought love was supposed to be soothing, to make you happy. It was supposed to bring joy and a lightness of heart. But it made Warren worry, made Warren afraid. There was such potential for pain from love. A sort of pain that not even Callisto could think of. It didn't involve razor blades and chains.
Scott had the power to break Warren's heart.
Warren knew how much it would hurt if Scott tired of him. If it turned out all Scott wanted was a blow job. If Scott formed a relationship with him, and then broke it off. If Scott went back to Jean. It would crush him. Callisto couldn't crush him.
Callisto could make him scream. Callisto could humiliate him. Callisto could give him nightmares. Callisto could make him have a nervous breakdown. Callisto could make him feel worthless and inhuman. But she couldn't break him.
If Scott left him, Warren would kill himself. If he had to live without that one person that meant so much to him, Warren would have no reason to live. Callisto's torture had left him so mentally distraught, and so full of self-loathing, that she had left him vulnerable to unimaginable pain, even though she herself couldn't inflict it.
And worse yet, what if Scott loved Warren? Warren was damaged, he knew that. A torn piece of bloody cloth. Scott deserved better than some damaged man suffering from enough post-traumatic stress to rival a Vietnam veteran's. What if Warren, with all his nightmares and bad nights, hurt Scott? What if he ruined Scott? Brought him down? Scott deserved more than to spend his nights holding someone who cried like a child over his nightmares.
How could he let himself get close to Scott knowing that? How could he let there be anything more than a kiss? How could he put his heart in Scott's hands?
***The nightmares were particularly bad that night.
//Stop it!! Stop it, for the love of God!!//
Jean awoke to the sound of Warren's screaming.
It wasn't stopping. Where was Scott? Why wasn't he calming Warren down, like he did every time Warren screamed in the middle of the night?
Waves of dark emotion caused her to sit upright. The darkness in Warren's mind was the worst she'd seen since the night Scott had been gone for the night, and she had to inject Warren with Thorazine.
//I said I was sorry!! I didn't mean it!!//
Jean grabbed her robe, and slipped out of bed. With shaky hands, she opened her bedroom door and peered down the hallway, to Warren's bedroom door.
Logan was crouched out in front, his claws popped, growling like a dog that was spooked. He was sniffing the air, and he turned when Jean opened her door. His eyes glinted in the moonlight like an animal, and goose bumps prickled Jean's flesh.
//It hurts!!! IT HURTS!!!//
She stepped outside, trying not to feel Warren's emotions, trying not to pry in Logan's head. Without knowing why she would even go towards Warren's room without her medical bag, she started walking towards Warren's bedroom door. One foot in front of the other. Don't think about the fear, the pain, and the hate rolling around inside blond angel's heads. Don't feel it. Just focus...
She stopped in front of Logan, her brown eyes as wide as they would go. She was trembling. She could feel it. It was just like the day they found Warren, by a scarlet trail in the snow...
//Oh, God, please don't me make do that...//
"Scott's not comin'. Scott left the mansion. He's ridin' his bike. Been ridin' it for hours," Logan growled. Not for the first time, Jean wondered, if like an animal, Logan had a sixth sense for others' emotions.
"What... happened...?" she managed to choke out, trying not to hear what was going on inside Warren's head.
"Not sure, Jeanie. Not sure. There's somethin' goin' on between them, don't deny it."
//Make it stop!! Please, I'll do anything...//
Jean swallowed, and closed and opened her eyes. Focus. Remain calm. "Scott and I... we talked... today," she said in a hoarse voice.
Logan stared at her with those intense hazel eyes of his. "About what, Jeanie?" he asked calmly. His eyes glittered now.
"This isn't... the time for this, Logan," she said and put a hand on Warren's door, and pushed it open. The screams filtered out into the hallway. Ororo had appeared in the hallway, looking concerned.
Jean walked inside.
//Please, Scott... please... come back...//
Jean gasped and an image filled her mind. Warren's nightmare had nothing to do with Callisto...
He was dreaming of what would happen to him if Scott left. Spurred on by the intense grief that was permeating the psychic area, Jean walked over to Warren's bedside, and grabbed the blond by the shoulders, shaking him none too gently awake.
Warren was sweating profusely, soaking through the sheets. His head rolled on his shoulders for a moment before his blue eyes snapped open, wildly looked around the room, and focused on Jean Grey's face. Logan stood by the doorway, peering inside. Jean could feel the Professor calling her mind, but she told him she was handling it, and sent Ororo back to bed. All the while she stared into those bottomless blue eyes.
Jean could feel another sort of fear, the old, Callisto-type fear arise in Warren, as he realized a woman was forcefully touching his bare skin. As if burned, Jean let him go, and took a step back. Warren grabbed his sweat-soaked sheets and covered himself, staring at her with eyes full of wariness and doubt.
A tear came to Jean's eye.
"He wouldn't leave you, you know," she said plainly.
Irritation flashed across Warren's beautiful face. He hated being mind-read.
"He wouldn't," Jean insisted. "He needs you, too."
Warren said nothing.
"We talked today, Warren. I don't think he told you. He's horrible at expressing himself. But we talked. Do you want to know what we talked about?"
Jean watched as Warren's Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed.
"We talked about you, Warren. We talked about how much we were drifting apart during the past several months, before you even came along. Before Logan even came along. We talked about how similar we are, and yet how different, all in ways that don't work for very long. We talked about how much we love and care for each other, like a brother and sister. We talked about Scott's feelings... for you. We talked about how happy and alive you make him feel, how needed and wanted he feels around you. We talked about how much he loves you."
A tear rolled down Warren's face, soon followed by another. His wide, sad, blue eyes watched Jean intently, but he still remained silent.
"We talked and talked, while Hank examined Bobby and St. John. We talked about how you make him feel passionate. We talked about how much he needs you, so he can be the real Scott. Not the X-Men's fearless leader, or the big brother, or teacher to everyone. But how you make him feel like a whole person. He needs that. I can't do that. Not even the Professor can do that. But you can."
Warren wiped at his face.
"He would never leave you, Warren. If you don't know why, then think about it. He needs you. You complete him, and he completes you. I've known him long enough to tell you that."
Warren looked away from Jean, but he could hide nothing from her.
"He wouldn't hurt you. And you won't hurt him. At least not in the way you imagine. You have to trust him, Warren. That's what real love is all about. Trust Scott. You trusted him with your mind, soul, and body. Now trust him with your heart. It'll turn out okay. I promise. Trust him not to break your heart, and trust yourself not to break his. Right now, all you're doing is pushing him away. And then you'll be without him anyway."
Warren looked back at Jean.
"We broke up, Warren. It had been heading in that direction for months. He wants to be with you. You're breaking his heart by running away from him."
Warren licked his lips, his eyes cast downward. He opened his mouth and finally spoke. "Telepathy really cuts down on conversation time, doesn't it? Was your conversation with Scott as verbally one-sided?"
Jean laughed as the tension broke. "I see why he loves you, smart-ass. And no. Scott's not as easy to read as you," she smiled.
Warren offered the auburn-haired woman a weak smile. "I can see why he loves you as well. You're not so bad... for a woman," he said evenly.
"Good thing you're gay, Warren, because that line would you get nowhere with a woman," Jean smiled. "Are you going to be able to sleep okay tonight now, or do you want me to get you some medication?"
Warren licked his lips, his eyes still focused on the floor. "Actually... I'd prefer it if you... stayed with me..." he whispered.
Jean nodded, understanding what Warren wanted. He wanted a Scott proxy, and Jean was as close to Scott as he could get without the real thing. As different as she and Scott were in some things, they were essentially the same in many others. They were both compassionate, calming people. They were safe. Jean slipped out of her robe and slid into bed beside Warren, feeling him tense, and then force himself to relax, forcing himself to understand that Jean was safe, and she was nothing like Callisto.
"Will you talk to him...?" Jean asked. To her surprise, she felt Warren slide his arms around her, drawing strength from her human comfort. She idly wondered if he'd had any affection as a child, because as an adult, Warren seemed in desperate need of it.
"Tomorrow. I have to think about what I'm going to say," Warren whispered, and closed his eyes.
Jean patted the younger man on the back, feeling Logan's penetrating gaze on her back. He was jealous. Jean smiled to herself. Something else she needed to deal with. Warren relaxed against her body, finally letting go of the last of his fear.
"My sentiments exactly," she sighed. Warren said nothing, as he already knew what she spoke of.
While Warren talked to Scott tomorrow, she needed to have her own conversation with the man *she* loved...***
Scott angrily worked on his motorcycle.
He polished it furiously, as if had offended him, and he wished to polish it out of existence. He worked his jaw as he worked, practically seething with unhappiness.
"Scott...?"
Scott said nothing, hoping Warren would go away. Hadn't Scott already mucked things up enough for Warren? The poor man had suffered from possibly the worst sexual experience since Rosemary had a baby, and Scott had gone and *kissed* him.
How could he have been so stupid? Warren had been raped and tortured. And Scott got carried away in the moment, and without thinking, had kissed the blond. Warren got scared when a woman got too close to him. Even if Scott was male, the mere sense of desire, the mere whisper of sexuality, even if only presented through a kiss, had frightened him away. Warren needed a friend, not some emotionally repressed guy who wanted to explore his sexuality with him.
There might be times when it seemed Warren liked him, but it didn't matter. Warren couldn't be ready for even a simple kiss. Scott was furious with himself. He'd probably set Warren's recovery back by months. How could he have done something like that to his best friend? To someone he loved so deeply?
"You're mad at me."
Scott pulled out a ratchet, still not looking at Warren, as he angrily worked on the bike's gears with a tight-lipped expression. He was angry with himself. But maybe if he just let Warren think he was mad at him, Warren would leave.
"I'm sorry, Scott. I didn't run for the reason you think."
Scott still didn't turn and look at Warren. It would hurt too much. As bad as he felt, as guilty as he felt for hurting Warren, he himself was hurt. He'd wanted Warren to like him. To be able to forget about Callisto. Couldn't Warren realize by now how much he meant to Scott? That Scott would never, ever intentionally hurt him? Couldn't Warren trust him? Part of him was hurt that Warren couldn't set that aside. That Warren couldn't like him back. It was childish and immature, but Scott couldn't force the feelings away. He understood why Warren ran away... but it still hurt.
"It's okay, Warren. I'm very sorry. I let myself get carried away in the moment. I hope I didn't hurt you too badly. You have nothing to feel sorry for. It was all me. It's okay. I... I'm sorry I kissed you. I should have talked to you first. I'd still like to be your friend, for what it's worth. But for obvious reasons, I don't think we should sleep in the same bed anymore. It's okay. I know you've had it rough, and it was completely insensitive of me to kiss you. It's okay. I'll get over it. I won't ever do it again. It's okay."
"You keep saying it's okay. Are you trying to convince yourself?"
Scott dropped the ratchet on the ground and stared at the wall across from him. He couldn't look at Warren. Because then he'd have to think about how badly he was hurt by the fact that Warren couldn't set aside his pain to be with Scott. And what if Warren didn't even like him? Just because Warren was gay and liked affection from Scott didn't mean he *liked* Scott. Maybe Warren just liked him as a friend, or a big brother.
Stupid, insane emotions. Guilt, desire, and love clashed in his head. He needed to support Warren, not try to seduce him. Scott laid his forehead against the cool metal of his motorbike, trying to force his heart to act the way he wanted it to.
"Yeah, and I'm not doing a good job of it. What the do you want from me, Warren? I'll do whatever you want. I'm not going to lie and pretend I don't want you. I've been lying about that to myself since I first met you. And I know that's not what you need. But I can't make it go away. What do you want me to do now that I've gone and fucked everything up between us?"
"Turn your face towards me, Scott. And close your eyes."
"Why?"
"Humor me."
Scott did as he was told, still not looking at Warren. He didn't want to see the perfect face, the golden hair, or the sky blue eyes. It would only make his heart hurt more. He pointed his face in Warren's direction and closed his eyes.
"Do you trust me?" Warren asked.
Scott didn't even hesitate. "Yes," he answered.
He felt his glasses being pulled off, and Scott flinched. What was Warren doing?
Warren's smooth, cool hand rested on his face, stroking his cheeks, his eyelids, his lips. Gently caressing his face. How could Warren do things like this and not expect Scott to react accordingly...?
And then fingers were replaced with lips, and Scott found himself lost in the bliss of Warren's mouth enveloping his own.***
Elsewhere...
"What did you find out?"
Havok leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. Polaris stood next to him, trying desperately not to look scared. It was Psylocke who was center stage, being interrogated by their boss, their owner, their master. Domino.
"He has a weakness."
"What?"
"Not what, but who."
Domino's eyes narrowed at the violet-haired ninja. Havok's lips curled upwards. He had to admire Psylocke's balls. She was the only one who would fuck with Domino, if only a little. Maybe she had a death wish.
"Then *who*?" Domino hissed, stroking the trigger of her gun with her index finger. Psylocke didn't flinch, but she did swallow nervously.
"Her name is Candy. Candy Southern. And we can use her against the mark. Stake her out, while we're gathering intel on the mark and his friends. Warren will go to her eventually. He has to."
"Why?"
"Because she's important to him."
"How, Kwannon? Don't play games with me."
"She's his half-sister, Domino. And she can get him information. Information he's going to want."
"Which is?"
"On how to cure his little friend. The one I mentally fucked up."
Havok noted that Psylocke didn't sound too proud to be responsible for fucking up the kid's head. Lorna grasped his hand when Domino glanced back at them. Domino's black lips curled into a sneer when she noted Lorna's movement. Havok put an arm around the girl, and stared emotionlessly at Domino.
Domino turned back to Psylocke. "Excellent work, Kwannon. Alex, I want you to go with Psylocke, and stake this Candy Southern out," she said blandly.
"Why *me* and Psylocke?" Alex blinked. Usually, Domino would pair up Psylocke with Caliban, for his muscle and tracking abilities.
"Because Lorna's going to stay with me. And if you betray me, I'm going split her open, from vagina to sternum."
Alex swallowed, and Lorna went pale. Domino didn't trust him now. Why? He felt Psylocke's impenetrable lavender gaze rest on him, her beautiful Oriental face smooth and expressionless.
What did they think they knew about him?
"As you wish, *master*," Alex spat.
Domino half-turned her face to him, revealing her harsh profile. Her smile was particularly cruel. "Now you're starting to understand the way things work with me, boy," she said pleasantly.
Alex had a bad feeling about all this.
Worse than usual.