Title: Freak on a Leash

Author: Askani'daughter / Eruntalince (newloverboys@yahoo.com)

Website

Notes: The post-sabbatical chapter. Sorry about the wait, guys... Oh, in case you've been wondering about old One-Eye's mysterious stance on sexuality, I shall finally delve into it. I've been waiting on purpose, for this chapter, actually. :) No, really, I have. I swear I haven't been ignoring it! Oh, and I took a *lot* of license with Candy Southern, but what the hell, I've taken a lot of license with everything in this storyline. *grin*

//thoughts//

~foreign language translated into English~

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Freak on a Leash 7 - Insides Out

By Askani'daughter

 

Warren was sleeping peacefully on the hotel bed when Scott came out of his shower. Scott watched him for a moment from the bathroom doorway, toweling his hair dry. Scott's thoughts were mixed up. He wondered how Warren could fall asleep so easily after what had happened, and then instantly wondered if Warren was faking sleep to avoid dealing with Scott.

Scott knew what had happened was a mistake, but he couldn't deny how much he had wanted it. When Warren's kisses became more urgent, Scott could only reply in kind. His hands seemed to develop a life of their own, and before Scott even realized what he was doing, Warren was naked and under him, warm and desperate. But it hadn't gotten much farther.

The moment Scott's hand touched Warren's naked cock, it almost seemed that Warren became possessed. He began to sob and cry, begging for Scott to stop. The brunet had never felt so guilty about anything in his whole life. He instantly removed his hand and his body from the blond, mumbling apologies and escaping to a cold shower.

Scott dressed in a pair of smiley-faced boxers St. John had bought him for his birthday as a joke and an old concert t-shirt. He exchanged his shower goggles for his sleeping goggles, and combed his damp hair, mentally berating himself for letting his dick do his thinking.

Scott sat down on his side of the bed, looking over at Warren. The beautiful blond's lashes were fluttering, and his wings drew even more tightly about his body. Scott noted that Warren had redressed himself in full pajamas, rather than the boxers he had been wearing earlier. He was obviously still awake.

Scott sighed and brushed strands of golden hair from Warren's face gently. "I'm sorry, Warren. I'm so sorry," he whispered, and stretched out beside Warren, far enough away to let Warren decide if he wanted to come closer or not.

Apparently Warren wasn't mad at him, because he instantly rolled over and hugged Scott tightly, burying his face in Scott's t-shirt covered chest. Scott wound his hand through Warren's hair, and wrapped his other arm around Warren's tightly folded wings. "I love you, Warren," he whispered, knowing the blond needed to hear that.

"I love you, too," Warren whispered, hugging Scott even tighter, his eyes tightly shut. "And I'm sorry... for starting something I can't finish."

"Don't be sorry. It won't always be like that. And I can wait. I want to wait. My dick might not want to, but it'll have to deal," Scott said softly. Warren's statement almost immediately absolved Scott of his guilt.

Warren chuckled nervously, and settled along Scott's body, relaxing enough that Scott could tell he really did want to sleep. Scott leaned his head back against his pillow, sighing to himself. There were times he really hated being a man, and every time he wanted to roll over and fuck Warren's brains out was one of them. Scott idly wondered where this affectionate, nurturing, patient part of himself had come from. It seemed to have emerged solely for Warren. It was odd how he played the part of Jean in his new relationship with Warren. And he enjoyed it, even more oddly enough.

He wasn't tired, whether from the failed sexual attempt or the cold shower, he didn't know. He just found his entire mind jammed full to the brim with all his thoughts and feelings.

He loved Warren so easily. He didn't fall in love, love fell into him. Every emotion Scott had trouble expressing to the world, he could express to Warren. Every feeling he couldn't grasp, he could grasp with Warren. He finally had found his Other, that one person that fit like a puzzle piece against his soul. He never expected it to be another man, but maybe he should have.

It wasn't as if Warren was the first man Scott had ever harbored sexual, emotional, affectionate feelings for. There had been another boy he liked when he was in foster care, when he was fourteen. His name was Mark, but Mark was soon shipped out to another home. When Scott was fifteen, he'd had fantasies about a certain male actor. When he was sixteen, he'd shared his first sexual experience with a boy he didn't even know in the high school bathroom. It was just a handjob, but it counted for something, Scott supposed. But then the Professor had found him, and he met Jean. And it turned out he wasn't gay after all, as he'd originally thought. He was bisexual, whatever that really meant.

Bisexuality turned out to be more complicated than Scott first supposed. Instead of the urge to check out every woman in the room, he had the urge to check out *everyone* in the room. But he was as happy with Jean as he would have been with anyone else. And he was happy with Warren, even if he wasn't getting any. Sex wasn't that important to him. Sure he had urges, strong ones at that, but he didn't need it to fulfill him. Strangely enough, having Warren cuddled up next to him was more satisfying than any sexual experience he'd ever had. A simple expression of love was all he needed. Scott wondered if this was some insane feminine side of himself he'd never explored, but decided that wasn't true. He wanted to have sex with Warren, more than anyone else he'd ever met, and it sure filled his fantasy life. But Scott knew without a shadow of a doubt that if even if he and Warren could never have sex, Scott would still die a happy man, as long as Warren was with him.
Jean had once told him he was far too sentimental, and Scott had to admit she was right. He really was sentimental. He was emotionally repressed, but Warren just seemed to bulldoze past every wall Scott had put up over the years. For Warren, Scott felt... free.

//Listen to me. I should start a greeting card company. I can't believe I'm so emotionally attached to this guy,// Scott thought to himself, sighing again.

Scott never expected to bond so deeply to another man. One never expected powerful emotions to be shared by men, but there they were, laughing at social stigma. Their relationship ran deeper than what even existed between most men and women. Warren had come to Scott emotionally naked, every defense and wall he had smashed to pieces. And Scott had helped Warren rebuild himself, set himself back up. And when they did that, they became closer than brothers. He needed Warren, Warren needed him. It was so natural, it was like breathing.

"Go sleep. Thinking too loud," Warren mumbled sleepily, his sentences broken, causing Scott to chuckle. Warren didn't have to be a telepath to read Scott's mind, it seemed.

"Yes, sir," Scott sighed happily and snuggled back against the love of his life, letting himself drift off to sleep.

***

"Is this the place?"

"Yes."

Scott stared at the large house before him with a frown. It was built mostly of wood, and seemed in good repair. There were no lights on inside, and it seemed as though no one was home. Something cold was growing in his belly, though. Something was not right.

"She should be home. Let's go see," Warren said, opening the car door and stepping out.

Scott followed suit, shivering in the cool Maine air. He opened the car door again, and pulled out a jacket to put over his sweater. He glanced at the nearby cliff, noting that the sea air was drifting over the land. He'd never be able to survive in Maine. It was too damn cold.

Warren smiled at him and then began to walk towards the house. Scott followed, feeling nervous. He reflexively checked his pocket to make sure he had brought his battle visor. Warren walked up the steps and onto the porch, casting a single glance back at Scott. He looked nervous, too.

Scott was beginning to think this wasn't such a hot idea.

Warren pressed the doorbell as the wind chimes softly tinkled behind him in the night breeze. Scott looked around, his eyes scanning amongst the trees for anything. It was dark. Was that a shadow of another car in the trees or was his mind playing paranoid tricks on him?

Scott heard the door open and quickly spun to the noise. The door was half-open, and a tall young woman peered out from behind it.

"Warren," she said dully, sounding unsurprised. The figure Scott could only presume to be Candy was rail-thin. She looked like she was anorexic. Her face, which might have pretty once, was drawn tightly about her skull, and dark circles were drawn beneath her true blue eyes. Her hair was black as pitch, but her eyes were the same as Warren's. She wore a tight red shirt, which showed off her ribcage more than her small breasts. Her skirt was black, and cut short, revealing thighs covered in scars. The track marks were as bad as Warren had said. Candy Southern looked like hell.

"Hello, Candy. I need your help," Warren said in an odd voice. It sounded almost strangled.

"Don't you always, when you come here? I thought you were dead, Warren. You should have stayed dead. It was a mistake to come," Candy said just as dully as before.

"I'm sorry, Candy. I know you hate me, but I swear that-"

"I never hated you, Warren. I pitied you."

It was an odd statement coming from an obviously strung-out heroin addict with an eating disorder. Scott watched an odd emotion pass over Warren's face.

"I treated you like shit. I'm sorry for that," Warren finally said.

"Don't feel too bad. Everyone does."

"I really do need your help. I need you to find someone for me."

Candy's watery blue eyes flicked over to Scott and rested on him. She looked drained, almost empty. "Your new boy toy?" she asked Warren.

"A friend named Scott Summers," Warren said tightly.

"He's cute. And he doesn't look like he wants to suck you dry for every last penny you own. He even looks intelligent. I'm impressed," she said in an odd voice.

"Please, Candy, I need your help for someone else. I have money. A thousand," Warren said, choosing not to respond to her statement. There was pain on his face that Scott didn't recognize.

"I can help you find them. Follow me," Candy said, her voice sounding distant. She opened the door to let them in.

As Scott entered the house, he instantly smelled the residue of drugs; the harsh smell of crack lingered even in the foyer and the strange, pungent scent of marijuana hung in the air. There was a foul scent of a house never truly cleaned, and filth stained the walls and furniture. Trash littered every corner, needles filled with heroin sat in an ashtray in the hallway. It was the house of the living dead, and Candy was the zombie that dwelled there.

Candy walked, or rather staggered down the hallway, pausing at a doorway that presumably led into the foyer. She cast a glance back at her half-brother, one of desperation almost. "In here," she gasped, and stumbled in. Warren and Scott followed cautiously.

The moment Scott walked in, he felt his heart drop into his stomach.

Sitting on one of the filthy couches was a beautiful Oriental woman with purple hair, wearing a purple catsuit. Candy had fallen to her knees in front of the woman, and a psionic blade rested along her throat, as the Oriental woman's violet eyes regarded the men entering the room coldly.

"Psylocke!" Warren croaked. The woman said nothing.

A male voice began speaking, chilling Scott's blood. "Have a seat, Mr. Worthington. And you too, Cyclops. Or my associate here might let that psychic blade of hers slip. And I'll just start blasting in random directions. Hate to hit a poor, innocent flatscan, but them's the breaks," Havok said.

Warren was trembling in fear. Scott grabbed him and quickly led him to another stained couch, facing Psylocke and Havok. Scott knew he had just moments to figure something out. Something...

Havok's blue eyes kept distracting him.

"Let my sister go," Warren pleaded. Scott maintained his grip on Warren's arms. Warren was shaking so badly Scott was afraid he would fall to pieces.

"If you behave yourself," Psylocke said calmly. She pulled Candy onto the couch beside her, her violet eyes never once leaving Warren. Havok sat calmly in one of the recliners, his feet resting on the footrest. He looked relaxed, but Scott knew he wasn't.

He knew him. Scott knew he knew Havok.

"What do you want from me?" Warren asked, his trembling suddenly ceasing.

"Your life, Mr. Worthington," Psylocke said calmly.

"Why? Who sent you?" Cyclops demanded. Something he had to know. What was it about Havok that kept bothering him?

"A gentleman by the name of Cameron Hodge. What does it matter?" Psylocke replied casually. She was playing some sort of game, but Scott couldn't figure it out. She was waiting for something. But what? The ball was in her court.

"Hodge? Hodge is trying to kill me?" Warren asked, blinking in shock. His sister twitched on the couch, but said nothing.

"If he paid you, we could pay you more," Scott offered desperately. The set of Havok's jaw caught his eye. So familiar...

"Possibly. But I'm not the one you have to worry about, Mr. Summers."

"'Summers'? His last name is Summers?!" Havok cried, sitting bolt upright, the recliner slamming closed. He looked incredibly tense.

"Alex, really, you should calm down," Psylocke said easily, a slight smile threatening to spread across her lips.

"'Alex'? His name is Alex?!" Scott blinked, startling.

Warren blinked, his eyes growing wide as he stared over at Havok. At Alex. Scott knew. It had to be. He'd been feeling it since they met. He stared at Alex. At suddenly familiar features. At a set of lips he knew well. At the curves of cheeks, and lines of the nose. Alex stared back, and for a moment, time was frozen.

"I had a brother... my younger brother. His name was Alex. Alexander Summers. You're him aren't you? You didn't die after all, did you?" Scott demanded, standing up. For a moment, he'd forgotten the gravity of their situation.

"Remember your loyalties, Alex. Remember Lorna. And remember Domino," Psylocke advised darkly. "Kill him. He stands in our way."

Alex swallowed and looked away from Scott. "I walked in here with nothing. And I'll walk out with the same," he said softly, raising his hand.

"Alex, wait, please, you have to listen-" The blast from Havok's palm sent Scott through the wall and outside the house, ending his plea. Scott felt his heart would break.

His brother was his enemy.

***

Warren cried out as Scott flew away from him, sent through two walls and into the cold lawn of his sister's house. Havok leaped after Scott, and Warren found himself facing Psylocke, who gripped his sister's arm. A purplish psionic blade formed from her hand.

"Let my sister go," he said evenly. Warren knew Scott could handle himself. And whatever battle was to be fought between Scott and Alex Summers was theirs, and theirs alone. But Warren had come here for a purpose. He'd come to save his sister. He'd come to find Psylocke. Here was his big chance to be a hero.

"Run," Psylocke whispered, and with a strangled cry, Candy set off outside at top speed. Psylocke blocked the exit, smiling coldly at Warren Worthington the Third.

"Fucking bitch. You won't be able to mindfuck me this time," Warren hissed, throwing off his jacket and spreading his wings, glowering fiercely at the beautiful woman.

"That wasn't my intention, Mr. Worthington," Psylocke smiled, and quick as a shadow, she followed Candy outside.

Warren growled, and followed suit, his wings slowing his progress on the ground. As soon as he emerged into open air, he took flight, and suddenly realized he had no idea where Psylocke or his sister had run to.

He flew blindly into the night, too angry to appreciate the irony.

***

Scott opened his eyes, his back aching from where it had smashed through a solid wood wall. He was positive he would be feeling that one in the morning. He knew he had been unconscious, but he had no idea for how long. Seconds, minutes, days?

His brother stood over him, his handsome face set into a scowl. Alex's fists glowed with energy, and his blond hair hung in his face, obscuring Scott's view of his eyes.

"You're not my brother! My older brother died in a plane crash when I was six! You're not him! I won't let you be him!" Alex yelled, his fists crackling with energy that he slammed down onto Scott's chest.

Scott felt like he was being punched, but other than that, he felt nothing. Scott lifted his visor almost instinctively, knocking Alex off his feet, but doing little other damage. Scott knew that wasn't right. Alex's blasts could take out a city block, and Scott's blasts could knock holes into mountains. Their powers had little effect on either of them.

"I'm Scott Summers. You're Alex Summers. Nothing could ever change that. Not even you, 'Lex," Scott choked out, exchanging his glasses for his visor.

"Stop saying that!!" Alex screamed, putting such force into his blasts that it sent Scott into the trees.

Scott stood up. He had to fix this. He had to save Alex. He'd missed his chance fifteen years ago, and he wasn't going to miss it now.

"You're Alex! You always had a bad temper, I remember. You'd scream and shout until Dad beat you so hard you couldn't talk. You had a teddy bear you called Kermit, after the frog from the Muppets. You like jelly sandwiches, no peanut butter, with crusts. I know who you are!!" Scott screamed back.

Another blast from Alex sent him to his knees. The blond approached angrily, his fists shaking. "SHUT UP!!!" he screamed, sending forth his most powerful plasma burst.

Scott opened his visors all the way in response. The brothers' powers met in the middle and with the force of a small bomb, sent out a shockwave that slammed into them both and felled everything in a fifty foot radius.

Scott choked, feeling like he had broken a rib. But he stood back up, glancing over at Alex. Alex also came to his feet, staring stupidly at his hands. Scott suddenly realized his visor was broken and hanging off his face.

He was *looking* at his brother. With his own eyes. Their powers had cancelled each other's out. For the moment, Scott had no optic beam, and could see the world without a ruby quartz lens.

Alex looked up and blue eyes met blue...

***

The light of an explosion caught Warren's eye, and he glanced back, his brow furrowing in concern for Scott. But then his eye caught on the shadows of two running females, illuminated by the light.

"Candy!!" Warren screamed. His sister was running for the cliff's edge. Psylocke was not too far behind.

Candy looked back at her brother in the air, and mistook him for an angel. She tripped over a tree branch and fell to her knees, sobbing. "Make the running stop, please, make it stop..." she cried. Psylocke was almost on her.

Warren yelled incoherently and swooped down, slamming into Psylocke's midsection with his left wing. She gasped and flew back into the tree line, crashing against a trunk and lying still. Blood trickled from her lips.

"Candy, are you all right?" Warren asked, spinning around to check on his half-sister. But the raven-haired girl had gotten to her feet.

And she was still running. For the cliff.

"Candy, no!!" Warren cried, swooping after her.

Candy jumped from the cliff with one great leap, screaming and crying. Warren's heart leapt into his throat and he reached for her, praying to a god he never truly believed in. Be it divine intervention, or the speed at which he was flying, he caught her around the midsection before she even fully cleared the cliff. Warren looked down at the sharp rocks below. The drop was well over two hundred feet.

Candy squirmed in his arms. "Fall, fall... let me fall," she gasped, sobbing breathlessly.

//Warren?//

Warren gripped his sister tightly, feeling the Professor speak into his mind. //Professor, we need your help. My sister... Psylocke did something to her. I think I knocked her out, Psylocke that is, at least I hope she's knocked out. And Scott's fighting his brother!// he cried mentally.

//One thing at a time, Warren. Bring your sister to the Blackbird immediately. We're almost to the coastline. Fly southeast from your position,// Professor Xavier replied, exuding calm.

Feeling pulled in three directions, Warren obeyed.

***

They were still fighting.

Fist to fist, foot to foot. Apparently Alex knew martial arts as well as Scott. They couldn't seem to win. Scott had lost track of time. All that mattered was trying to convince Alex to listen to him. And staying alive.

"Alex, please! I'm not your enemy! We can work this out!" Scott cried, ducking a roundhouse.

"Will you just shut up? There's one way out of Domino's group, and I'm not willing to take it! Just give it up, you lying fuckwad!" Alex yelled back, swinging wildly now.

//I'm coming, Scott. Hang on.//

Scott blocked his brother's next blow and ran for the cliff, the telepathic message lingering in his mind. The Professor must have relayed Warren's thoughts to him. Warren was coming. And the Professor, too. He stared out at the dark shoreline.

"Now you're running? Our powers will return eventually, not like it would matter. Only one of us is going to walk away from this," Alex said harshly, as he approached Scott from behind.

"You're absolutely right about that, Alex. You always were stubborn, but this is important. I've agonized over you every day of my life for the past fifteen years - about how I dropped you, about how I killed you. But you're alive. I didn't kill you after all," Scott said evenly, staring out at the shoreline, not turning to his brother.

Alex's footsteps halted. "Kill me? No, worse, you abandoned me. You left me to rot in foster care. You left me to Domino," he hissed.

"You *do* believe me, then. But I didn't abandon you. I got caught by the wind, and when I landed, I hit my head so hard I went into a coma for a year. I went to foster care, too, Alex. To people who liked to beat me almost as much as our father did. But I was lucky. Professor Xavier saved me from your fate. And he'll save you, too. He has a dream. A dream of peace between everyone, human and mutant alike. And one day, that dream will come true. I'll *make* it come true," Scott breathed, his back still to Alex.

"There are no dreams left for me, Scott. I'm damaged goods. No one can save me. I'm the walking dead," Alex said, his voice growing softer.

"That's what Warren wants to believe. He wants to think he's damaged goods. He wants to think that no one will ever want him. He's afraid of being saved. He's afraid of love. I think it's easier for him to give up. But I try, Alex. I try to save him. I won't give up on him, ever. And I won't give up on you, either."

Scott turned around finally, and smiled at his brother. Tears were streaming down Alex's face. "You are my brother, Alex. And like Warren, I love you. I will always love you. No matter what," he said gently, taking a step back towards the cliff's edge.

Alex's eyes widened. "Scott...?" he asked.

"You were right, you know. Only one of us will walk away from this. Come to me in Salem Center, if you believe me. If you want to be saved. Because in the end, Alex, only you can save yourself," Scott said and then let himself fall from the cliff.

***

"Scott!!" Alex cried, rushing to the edge and peering down. Scott was smiling up at him as he fell. And even as Alex blinked, a winged form grabbed Scott and carried him off towards a hovering black ship.

Warren entered the Blackbird with Scott in his arms, like a guardian angel. Alex's hands gripped the edge of the cliff as the Blackbird disappeared from view and flew off. Alex felt a familiar tingle in his body and knew his powers were slowly returning.

"Go, Alex. Go to your brother. I'll take care of Lorna."

Psylocke's voice startled Alex and he quickly wiped the tears from his face. "What game are you playing at, Psylocke? Why did you reveal he was my brother?" he asked.

"Please, Alex, my name is Betsy. And I was testing your disloyalty. I can't defeat Domino alone," she said softly.

Alex turned to her, and studied the woman's face. There was pain there, and guilt as sincere as his own. "Why? Why do you want to defeat her?" he asked.

"Because I hate her. I hate what she has made me, and I hate what I have become. I once had honor, I once was a good woman, now I am nothing. Go to him, Alex, and I will keep Lorna alive. Then come to me. Come to me when you have gained the allies I need to defeat my master, my owner, and my creator," Betsy said plainly. The ice was gone from her expression. Alex almost thought he saw desperation in her eyes.

"I'll go," he said simply.

***

"You have beautiful eyes," Warren whispered, resting a hand tentatively on Scott's shoulder.

Scott smiled wanly at him. "They're my mother's eyes," he said softly.

Warren rested his head on Scott's shoulder. They were in one of the alcoves, away from Ororo, who was piloting, and the Professor and Jean, who were treating Candy in the medical area. Scott's arms went around him.

"My powers are returning," Scott suddenly said, pulling his glasses out, and putting them on reluctantly. He sighed heavily into Warren's hair when he was done. Warren could tell he was in deep thought.

"Do you think your brother will come, Scott?" Warren asked after a long silence.

"I know he will, Warren. He has to."

"I saved my sister, but I wasn't able to get Psylocke," Warren said softly.

"We'll save St. John, Warren, don't worry. Just believe," Scott whispered, pulling Warren closer to him.

Warren wanted to believe, but he couldn't stop worrying. So he settled for letting Scott hold him, and prayed that belief would be enough for the time being.

 

TBC in Part 8

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