Notes: And the plot thickens. I figure if they made some of the bad guys good, I can make a few good guys bad. *smirk* It should also probably be noted that my description of Warren is androgynous, that is being indiscernible in gender in appearance. No rippling muscles for this Angel, sorry. Hell, if they made Wolvie tall, Rogue a teenager, and Scott younger than Jean, *I* can make Warren androgynous. Um, heavy, angst, and very dark subject matter. Not for the light of heart, nor weak of stomach.
Note 2:  This one was a bitch to beta for poor Mara Greengrass.  I had huge POV issues, but she helped me sort it all out!  Kudos to her!
 

//thoughts//

~foreign language translated into English~
 

***************************************
 
 

Something takes a part of me,
Something lost and never seen.
Everytime I start to believe,
Something's raped and taken from me... from me.

Life's always got to be messing with me. (You wanna see the light?)
Can't they chill and let me be free? (So do I.)
Can't I take away all this pain? (You wanna see the light?)
I try to every night, all in vain... in vain.

Sometimes I cannot take this place.
Sometimes it's my life I can't taste.
Sometimes I cannot feel my face.
You'll never see me fall from grace.

Something takes a part of me.
You and I were meant to be.
A cheap fuck for me to lay.
Something takes a part of me.

Feeling like a freak on a leash. (You wanna see the light?)
Feeling like I have no release. (So do I.)
How many times have I felt diseased? (You wanna see the light?)
Nothing in my life is free... is free.

- Lyrics to Freak on a Leash by Korn.

********************************************
 

Even with Scott to snuggle with, Warren couldn't sleep.

Warren gently detached himself from the older man, smiling fondly down at the sleeping beauty. Scott was snoring lightly, face and sleeping goggles buried into the pillow. His arms closed reflexively over the space Warren had left, and pulled Warren's pillow tightly to him, nuzzling the pillow in such an adorable manner that Warren wished he was back in Scott's arms to be receiving such a cuddling.

Warren frowned. Cuddling. Snuggling. Comfort. Friendship. Support. Companionship. Scott was getting more than anyone else in Warren's life had ever received from him. And so much less. Most people just got meaningless sex from Warren. Warren had not so much as even attempted to kiss Scott Summers.

Warren sighed and put on a robe, absently brushing his shoulder- length blonde hair, while staring down at Scott's chiseled features. Warren had more with Scott than anyone in his life. Warren cared more about Scott than anyone in his life, including himself. Lately, with Scott and Jean's unresolved relationship, Scott had become Warren's lover in every way but sexual. Sex wasn't even brought up, though Warren thought of it on occasion. And then the dread that sex put in the pit of his belly, combined with the suspicion that Scott saw him only as a little brother replacement would wipe the thoughts from his
mind. But on occasion, lying beside someone as attractive as Warren found Scott, on many other levels than mere sexuality, Warren found that snuggling with Scott only disturbed him.

Half-formed and oft-buried desire would surge through him like a foul green fire, and Warren would have to leave the bed, dark memories of sewer stench and an unwashed woman filtering unwanted into his mind. Desire, sexual want, became synonymous with Callisto and her torturous rape of Warren for days on end. Prior to his abduction, Warren was already homosexual, and his distaste for Callisto's gender only added to his disgust and horror at being raped. Even though
Scott was a man, Warren retained the fear of being dominated, tortured and forced to have sex. The act itself was now tainted by the sick, twisted pain Callisto forced on him. Warren could not even masturbate without becoming ill and hysterical. The one time he tried, he spent five hours in the shower until Scott forced him out, drying him off gently, dressing him, and staying with him until he calmed down and stopped whimpering like an animal.

Which is why Warren left the room. Regardless of how Scott felt about the matter, even if Scott wanted him, Warren was not able to separate his pain from his pleasure. He was not ready to deal with sexuality, not with less than two months spent to recover. And Warren would never associate someone he loved as much as Scott with something he found so terrifying and repugnant.

Slippers on feet, and robe around waist, Warren trudged down the labyrinthine hallways of the mansion. He could probably wake up the Professor, even this late at night, but he didn't want to talk about his problems. He just wanted to think through them on his own.

The sound of metal blinds fluttering in the breeze reminded Warren of chains jingling in the darkness. The bracelet on his wrist reminded him of handcuffs binding him to a soiled, metal-framed bead. The necklace he wore reminded him of the spiked collar around his delicate throat, attached to the jangling chains...

Warren abruptly ripped both necklace and bracelet off, oblivious to the fact that they were only recent gifts from Scott. He fell against a wall, leaning against it desperately, sweating for no reason, his blue eyes darting wildly along the hallway. This was not going to be an easy night for him.

Warren wandered down a few more hallways, leaning against the wall for support, trying to breathe and force away the irrational fear. More than once, he considered jumping out the nearest window, and flying away until his wings refused to work, and letting himself fall miles back down to the ground...

The sound of soft, adolescent male crying startled him out of his misery.

Alert, feeling the fear recede, and the memories of pain and darkness fading from his mind again, Warren cautiously made his way in the direction of the crying, noting he had somehow wound up very close to the boy's hall.

Huddled up near one of the windows, framed by the moonlight, was the unshapely form of Fred Dukes, crying softly into his pudgy arms.

"Fred?" Warren asked gently. It was odd, how the teenagers he was sure he was going to hate became as stabilizing a force to him as Scott.

The over-weight boy's head shot up, tears streaked down his face. He flushed in the moonlight, looking ashamed and embarrassed.

"What's wrong, Fred? Are you hurt?" Warren asked, stepping closer to the boy, hoping his previous terror was not still evident in his face.

Fred looked at his French and business teacher dubiously. "Hurt?" he gave a bitter laugh. "I'm invulnerable. I found that out when my father hit me with a baseball bat for getting fat when I was thirteen."

Warren stared seriously at the youth, drawing his robe around his tightly. "There are more ways than just the physical to hurt someone, Fred," he replied.

Fred bit his bottom lip. "I gained ten pounds. Not even Dr. Grey knows when I'm going to stop gaining weight. I already weigh three hundred, Mr. Worthington. I'm just a stupid, fat, slow fuck. Ask anyone. They'll tell you," he said darkly, his face a mask of pain.

Warren stared at him. Fred was at one end of the spectrum, and he at another. Warren was ungodly beautiful, and he knew it. Whereas his mutant genes made him physically perfect, it made Fred fatter every day. Warren didn't know what it was like to be pointed at and laughed at. Or be whispered about behind your back, or picked last for every team. Until recently he hadn't known what it was like to be an outcast, and certainly didn't know what it was like to be undesirable. And yet...

"Who told you that, Fred?" Warren asked gently.

Fred turned his face. "Dominic," he spat. "But he's right. He's always right. Dominic, he's got muscles bigger than the  Wolverine's. He's from Greece, you know. He was an all-star soccer player until his mutant powers surfaced and he accidentally caused an earthquake that killed half the people in the stadium."

The sports jock, ever popular, always right in the mind of an outcast. Fred obviously idolized the burly Dominic, envious of the
other boy's fitness, and physical prowess. Dominic probably didn't even realize how much he hurt Fred's feelings. Warren had learned Dominic was insensitive, and boorish, but not necessarily cruel. Just self-absorbed, and picking on Fred made him feel better about his own short-comings. Warren knew the type intimately.

"And you? Where are you from, Fred?" Warren asked, wondering what he was supposed to say. He sat down beside Fred, letting his wings stretch out.

"New York...unlike most of 'em here, I was glad to find out I was a mutant. At least then it gave my father a real reason to hate me," Fred said darkly, staring out the window.

"At least yours had emotions for you. The moment mine found out I was a freak, he hired an assassin to kill me," Warren said bitterly.

Fred looked over at him, mildly surprised. Warren had yet to speak of his past to his students, and they found him as mysterious as Wolverine. "That's rough. Mine only beat the shit out of me when he was drunk," Fred smirked.

"What about your mother?"

"Too drunk and too high to bother with me. Yours?"

"Too self-absorbed to bother with me, unless she was showing me off at a party, of course."

"We have something in common," Fred noted with mild amusement.

"We have a lot of things in common, I think. Nobody ever judges us for ourselves, always judging us by our appearances. Do you know I used to be a rich, selfish bastard who was more interested in himself and his money than anything else? I would have been one of those stupid, mean bastards who picked on you for no other reason but to make myself feel better about my own empty life," Warren said, staring at the large boy's face, seeing a glimmer of good looks there, long forgotten and well hidden by folds of fat.

Fred blinked. "Why'd you change?" he asked.

"I had a humbling experience before I came here. And because of that, someone pointed out to me that looks and wealth mean nothing. Someone proved to me that some people don't care what you look like, and can actually like you for yourself, no matter what," Warren whispered.

"Mr. Summers is a great guy, ain't he? He saved me from having to join a circus, to become part of the freak show just to eat. He saved most of us, you know. Even Rogue, though you'd never know it the way she goes on about Wolverine. He pulled her out of a burning car. He rescued Kitty before she wound up in one of the mutant concentration camps. He pulled Jubilee out of a mall before the feds could, when she blew up an arcade game she was playing with her powers. He saved Dominic from the angry crowds. He saved Bobby from starvation, and St. John from the Brotherhood. He's saved us all. I guess you're just
like us, Mr. Worthington. We all owe something to Mr. Summers. He may not be the only X-Man, but he's the first one in, and the last one out," Fred said with a smile.

"Warren," the blond angel smiled. "How many times do I have to tell you, Fred? My name is Warren. And you're probably right, Fred. Just like you, I'm one more little brother Scott rescued from a terrible fate."

Fred looked at the man beside him with impossible wisdom. "No, Mr.Wor-Warren. You're not one of Mr. Summers' little brothers. You're his best friend. He needs you. You make him happy. I can tell," Fred smiled.

Warren blinked and then smiled. "And you, Fred, you are a very wise young man. Both wiser and smarter than me. And far more comforting. You will be a great man one day. Don't let something as stupid as how you look bother you. Anyone worth your time can see past that," Warren said kissed Fred on the forehead before standing up.

Fred looked up at the angel in shock. Rogue was more likely to be kissed than he was. He smiled, and his face lit up. And for that moment, Fred was a very beautiful young man.

"Get some sleep, Fred. Good night," Warren smiled as he headed back to his room, knowing he could rest now comfortably beside Scott, and the nightmares wouldn't even be so bad tonight. He was Scott's best friend. He was important to Scott. And that thought made him happy and safe.

"Good night, Mr.-Warren. Sweet dreams."
 
 
 
 
 
 

"Stupid little faggot. How can you stand it, Jeanie? He's fucking sleeping in the same bed as that little pansy angel boy."

"He's not cheating on me, Logan. I would know. Now please drop it."

Scott walked into the dining room ahead of Warren, working his jaw. Warren sighed, knowing that the comments they both heard from the hall would only make things worse between Scott and Logan. And indeed, when Warren came in a moment later, he noted that the tension between Scott and Logan was particularly thick this morning. Jean was studiously trying to ignore them all.

Everything about Logan seemed to rub Scott the wrong way. The way he talked, the way he walked, the way Logan looked at him. It was even worse than Logan's animal magnetism that attracted women but irked men. Whatever it was, Scott obviously made it personal, which was odd for someone like Scott. Logan took everything personally, so that was no surprise. But it seemed to Warren like Scott took offense when Logan *breathed*.

Warren sat down beside Scott, wondering exactly why the X-Men's leader hated Wolverine. There was no other word for it, but hate. It was as if Logan had done something wrong, and Scott had yet to forgive him for it. And this morning was particularly bad, thanks to Logan's comments.

Warren had discovered that while Scott was emotionally repressed, he still managed to be a moody little bastard. And despite Warren's dislike of Logan, he often could attribute the infamous arguments between Scott and Logan to Scott's attitude. It's was as if Scott wanted to piss Logan off. Which was almost suicidal, as far as Warren saw it.

The day before, Warren had been sword-training with Logan in the danger room, and quickly learned how fast and truly dangerous Wolverine was. Warren had several years of sword-fighting under his belt, a fascination and a hobby he had picked up. But Logan was far better, on the level of an ancient samurai. And the praise from Logan on Warren's own skill with a blade was a source of pride to Warren. Compliments from Wolverine to anyone were unheard of, unless one was Jean Grey.

The past three nights had been better for Warren, but nightmares persisted, and most nights he would wake up screaming, to be held and comforted by Scott until it was time to wake up. Perhaps the lack of sleep on both their parts was causing Scott to act on edge.

Professor Xavier's voice caused Warren to focus back on the conversation. "I personally think the young men need a boy's day out as well. You, Jean, and you, Ororo, have taken Rogue, Jubilee, Kitty, and a few of the younger girls on many excursions of late. I think the boys are feeling left out. They've been cooped up in the mansion for the past three months, since the time they helped St. John burn the boathouse down. I shall lift their restrictions. Scott, would you and Warren like to escort our young men out today? Perhaps to the mall so they can spend their allowances, and a movie? Perhaps the latest fantasy one, with all the swordsmen and wizards?"

"Sounds like a great idea, Professor. I'm sure they'd love a chance to get out. Alright with you, War? Feel up to hanging out with teenagers in a public place?" Scott asked, turning to his best friend.

"Huh? Sure, sure. With which teenagers?" Warren asked distractedly, staring at his food. Anxiety filled his mind, but he tried to shove it away.

"Bobby, St. John, Fred, Dominic. Your class. You don't have to come if you don't want to, Warren," Scott said gently, calming Warren with a few words and a compassionate touch to the shoulder.

"It's okay. I'd like to get out. And I like all those boys," Warren smiled, relieved to know it would just be the four he was familiar with.

Logan snorted and muttered something under his breath at Warren's comment. Scott heard it, and turned his face towards Logan, somehow managing to convey a reproving look. Logan's smirk faded under Scott's glare.

"I shall let them know telepathically. You two finish your breakfast. They'll meet you in the garage in an hour," the Professor said, ignoring all the negative emotions flying about his table.

Warren and Scott rushed through their scrambled eggs and toast, and quickly ran up to their room to dress appropriately. Warren forced Scott to wear some of his new clothing, and took the full hour to dress himself. Warren wanted to look perfect.

They wound up being late for meeting the boys in the garage, but the teenagers didn't seem to mind. They were all too gleeful for a chance at escaping the mansion for the day. Both Bobby and St. John were gleaming in trendy perfection, Dominic still managed to look cool in a sports shirt and a pair of baggy jeans, and Fred was grateful to have found clothes that fit him since his overnight growth spurt. Luckily for him, it was not his weight that increased, but his height. Fred now towered over the other boys.

"Alright, hop in the Blazer. And no fighting over seats," Scott said, opening the doors to the large SUV.

"Fred takes up two!" Dominic complained.

"And yet, he still manages to smell better than you. Don't they believe in deodorant in Crete?" St. John asked, wrinkling his nose at Dominic.

"Fuck off, you little faggot. You and your little boyfriend Bobby want to share the backseat so you can take turns sucking each other off?" Dominic sneered.

"Do. NOT. EVER. Use. The. Word. 'Faggot'. In. My. Presence. Again. Understand?" Warren hissed dangerously, and all four youths turned to him in mild shock. Never had they seen Warren look upset, and his eyes were practically glowing in anger.

"Yes, sir," Dominic blinked, swallowing slightly as the smaller and slender man glowered at him.

Scott put a hand on Warren's shoulder. "Dominic, we teach tolerance for everyone here. How can you expect to go out into a world that hates and fears you, and demand their respect and understanding, when you yourself are prejudiced?" he asked gently. Warren took a deep breath, calming his emotions.

Dominic hung his head. "I was just kidding, Mr. Summers. I don't have any problem with gay people. Honest. I just...didn't think..." he said quietly, looking genuinely ashamed.

"It's alright, Dominic. I know you don't understand that what you say hurts people. It's not Fred's fault he's overweight. His mutant genes increase his size. And though St. John and Bobby are nothing more than good friends, it's none of your business if they are or aren't. Now, let's go," Scott said firmly. Warren's eyes flickered over St. John's face as Scott spoke. Did St. John and Bobby snicker at the comments about them being nothing more than friends, or was it his imagination?

The boys trudged in, Fred looking mildly vindicated at Scott's words. St. John and Bobby indeed sat together, whispering to each other conspiratorially, as they always did. Warren often wondered what two boys had to whisper about so much.

Scott drove off, ignoring the boys' protests about what radio stations they wanted to listen to. Scott put on the alternative
station, which seemed to please St. John and Bobby at least. Warren leaned back in his chair, feeling the hump of his wings rub against the upholstery through his shirt and jacket. He closed his eyes, letting the last of his anger drip off of him, listening to the boys' conversation, which Scott occasionally got involved in. He sounded so much older than them, even though in reality, he was only eight years older than the youngest of them, Fred.

They reached the mall in decent time, the six of them piling out, and arguing immediately about where to go. Scott and Warren immediately lost control, and the four teenagers dragged them off across the entire mall, stopping in the videogame store first.

"We'll wait for you in the book store across the way," Warren said cheerfully, getting annoyed by the loud beeps and flashing lights in the videogame store. He had never found video games interesting.

Scott reluctantly pulled himself away from the Playstation games, and followed Warren into the bookstore. Warren almost immediately relaxed, heading to the Science Fiction and Fantasy section. Scott followed, perusing the selection, obviously as much a fan of the genre as Warren.

However, when Scott pulled out Alan Dean Foster, and Warren pulled out Mercedes Lackey, they realized while they shared common interests, they didn't like everything the same.

"Read the Harry Potter books?" Warren asked idly.

"Nah. I like something a bit darker. Like Tolkien."

"You should try them. They're actually really kinda cool."

"Too childish."

"The movie has Alan Rickman in it."

Scott perked up in interest. "Rickman? I love him. Great actor."

"I love him, too. Plays the dour Potions Master, Professor Snape. Try the books. I'll read Tolkien if you read Rowling," Warren smiled, holding up the Harry Potter collection.

"Alright, I cave. But you better read all these books. And no skimming," Scott smirked, holding up the Tolkien collection.

Warren smiled. "I like reading, Scott. You're not talking to Logan here," he snorted.

Scott frowned at the mention of the other man's name, and Warren wondered if Scott's resistance to letting Jean go was more a refusal to let Logan have her than a desire to keep her for himself. But then again, even though they hadn't made any serious moves on each other, Scott and Jean had been found talking and laughing more over the past week. And to Warren's irritation, he even saw them kiss. He honestly had no idea whether the couple was coming or going. Literally.

"Well, let's go buy these and head back to the videogame store. You  wrinkle your nose now, but wait until I show you the graphics of Final Fantasy X. Broaden your horizons," Scott grinned, dragging Warren to the cashier.

Warren acquiesced, and followed Scott over to the videogame store, and found himself interested despite himself by the advances in videogames. However, all the loud beeps from the other games, and all the boys shouting at each other made his head hurt. Scott forced their four charges to make their purchases, and literally had to drag Bobby and St. John away from Tekken Tag.

Warren and Scott led the boys down the main strip of the mall, heading towards a sandwich store for lunch. Warren's mood was drastically improving, as he laughed at Bobby and St. John's impersonations of the martial artists from Tekken. The group casually passed under the huge skylight on the mall, big enough to cover the huge center of the mall.

And then...