Title: Freak on a Leash
Author: Askani'daughter / Eruntalince (newloverboys@yahoo.com)
//thoughts//
~foreign language translated into English~
_________________________________________________________
Freak on a Leash 6 - Love To Love You
By Askani'daughter
Where to go from here?
Warren sat in one of the many unused sitting rooms of the mansion, staring out the large bay window. He liked this room when he wanted to be by himself, and when he wanted to go flying, because the window was so big. He had just finished a long night flight, and was leaning against the open window frame, lost in thought, while the cool spring breeze tousled his shoulder-length hair.
It had been three weeks since Dominic died, and St. John had accidentally been put in cryostasis by Bobby. Three weeks since Scott and he had first kissed. Hank's machine had failed to wake St. John, but he was making plans with Scott for a new one. Fred had finally started to act normal again, but Bobby was getting worse every day. Three weeks...
There was no doubt he loved Scott. And he knew Scott loved him, though neither man had actually vocalized their feelings. Neither needed to, as both their actions said everything they felt. Scott and Warren loved each other deeply. Which was part of the dilemma they faced now.
Not much had changed between them, yet everything had. He and Scott still shared a bed without ever engaging in sex, yet the comforting embraces now included passionate kisses. Yet oddly, Scott was even more careful with his hands than ever before. And there was an obvious undertone of restraint in all his actions. Before, Scott had been perfectly content to hold Warren all night, but now there were times when Scott would abruptly pull away from Warren's arms. And there were times when Warren had to do the same.
Like tonight.
It was as though the expression of desire between them had unleashed it full force. Scott had made it clear he wanted Warren, though he never pursued it. Even though Warren couldn't see Scott's eyes, he could tell by the twitch of Scott's lips, in the very way he touched Warren. Warren could almost smell the desire for sex from Scott. But it wasn't an option, not yet. Warren was still damaged goods. He could finally accept Scott's love, but he wasn't ready to accept Scott's lust.
It wasn't that Warren didn't desire Scott. He did. He wanted Scott more than any other person in his entire life. There were times when he felt he was going to die if he couldn't be with Scott in every sense. But then the old, familiar sick feeling he got every time he was aroused would return to haunt him. Fear would possess him, and force him to run away and hide until he could regain control of himself. Callisto had tainted sex for him. Her grip over his heart had faded, but revolting images of her hands on him were forced up when things got too intense with Scott. And Warren never wanted to associate Scott with pain and degradation.
Which is why he had fled tonight, angry and frustrated.
It was the inability to be sexual with the first person Warren truly cared about that made him so angry. Warren knew how to bring a man to the height of ecstasy. Warren wanted to do that for Scott. But he couldn't. Warren wanted to lose himself in Scott's often clumsy, and yet thrilling touches. Warren wanted to let Scott fuck him senseless. But he couldn't. Because then he would think of Callisto, and terror would replace lust.
Warren's body had fully recovered, and over the past few months, he had managed to pull himself back into a reasonable facsimile of a real person again. Warren had been able to piece back together the parts of himself he wanted, leaving out the bits he didn't like. He had emerged a different, better man. A man that Warren was happy with. But his rape, while allowing him to become a better person for suffering through it, had completely and utterly destroyed his sex life. He was unable to even masturbate without dragging up the shame and humiliation of what Callisto had done to him, and had made him do.
But now, Warren didn't even feel angry about it anymore. He just felt tired, empty, and defeated.
He'd never argued with Scott before. Ever. They had gotten along so perfectly when they were just best friends, when they were acting brothers. But sexual tension and frustration were wearing them both down. Warren couldn't even remember how the argument started, or what it was about. One moment, all was peaceful, next moment, Warren was throwing things and yelling at the top of his lungs unintelligibly but for the occasional curse word. Scott had responded by barking scathing remarks back at him. The argument had ended with Warren pressed against the wall while Scott kissed him like he was a drowning man in search of air.
Their hands were all over each other. Warren could feel Scott's erection pressing into his hip, and knew Scott could feel his own against his upper thigh. Warren had felt hot all over, like his body was on fire, and he thought for one brilliant moment that this was it, and he and Scott could finally be truly together, and then...
...and then he felt nauseous and dirty.
Warren had pushed Scott off of him with strength he rarely displayed and fled as fast as his body would let him. Fled to this room and then jumped out of the window, flying until both anger and disappointment had faded away. But the fact remained that Warren was broken. He wasn't worthy of Scott. Scott was the nicest guy in the world, and he didn't deserve some fucked up guy who couldn't even get a hard-on without freaking out.
For one wild moment he considered just falling out of the open window he sat by, and not bothering to fly up. Everything seemed so bleak. He could never be with Scott physically. A real, true loving relationship seemed impossible for him. The Professor had tried to help, Jean had tried to help, and Warren had even taken medication for it. It was driving him crazy to have what he so desperately wanted right there waiting for him, but he couldn't claim it.
Why couldn't he make Callisto go away? Ultimately, it was he who could force her from his dreams. He was the one who had to be strong enough to do this. But Warren was weak-willed, he knew it. And he hated it.
The door to his room suddenly slammed open, making Warren jump and nearly fall out of the window in surprise. The blond angel gripped the window frame, staring in shock at the small girl who ran into the room and grabbed his arm.
"Mr. Worthington," Rogue gasped, her brown eyes as wide as they would go. "Please, Mr. Worthington, you have to come."
Warren blinked and stood up, staring down at Rogue. Despite the fact he'd given his class permission to call him Warren, they all insisted on calling him by his last name. Scott had trained them all too well. "What's wrong, Rogue?" he asked, extracting his arm from her surprisingly strong grip.
"It's Bobby, Mr. Worthington. He's been locked up in his bathroom for hours now. We're all afraid he's doing something bad. Please, Mr. Worthington, you have to come," she pleaded.
"Why me?" Warren gasped, his wings fluttering nervously. How was he supposed to help with teenage angst when he couldn't even manage the melodrama of his own life? He could only screw this up worse. He had to call in Scott, or the Professor, or even-
Rogue blinked, as if the idea of questioning Warren's ability to deal with problems had never crossed her mind. "But, Mr. Worthington, Bobby listens to you. Like Fred does. Like we all do. Because you listen to us. Please, Mr. Worthington. Mr. Summers is Mr. Summers, and everyone else wouldn't be able to understand him," she said quickly, tugging on Warren's arm again.
Warren blinked. He was only four years older than Rogue and Bobby. He wondered why they looked up to him at all. He was just an arrogant fuck-up. He was just-
Rogue's eyes brimmed with tears, and Warren realized none of his students knew that. They looked up to him. And he owed them, especially Bobby, enough to help them.
"I... I don't know if he'll listen, but I'll try. If it doesn't work... then I'm calling the Professor," he said. Rogue nodded and practically dragged him out of the door.
Warren followed Rogue quickly, her anxiety apparently infectious. He wondered if Bobby was trying to kill himself, and it suddenly seemed very urgent to find the boy. Rogue almost seemed to sense this, and the pair began to run down the hallways, until they arrived in front of St. John Allerdyce's room.
Warren realized his whole class was standing there, looking at him expectantly. Fred, Jubilee, Kitty, and even Rogue stood in front of the door, waiting for Warren to enter. Looking to him to make things right. As if he was some sort of hero, riding in on his white horse to save Bobby from his personal demons.
They knew nothing about him. They didn't understand. He fucked up everything he touched. He couldn't be expected to help Bobby, he needed to call Scott or someone else to-
Rogue grabbed his hand suddenly, as if she knew what was going on inside Warren's head. The gloves on her hands were as smooth and soft as her Southern drawl. "He needs your help, Mr. Worthington. Don't you let him down. You can do it. He won't listen to us. But he'll listen to you. None of us know why you're here, or what happened to you before you came here, but it's no secret you got the royal fuck-over. And you made it out a pretty damn decent person. He respects you for that, we all do. Mr. Summers is too reserved, and Ms. Grey is too sensitive, and Ms. Munroe is too distant, and Professor Xavier is too old. You ain't even all that much older than us. He needs you. There's no one else to look to," she said softly, so only Warren could hear her.
Her wisdom seemed impossible for one so young, but how many times had she absorbed the lives and memories of people far older than she? Lingering in her head was at least Logan and Magneto. God knows who else ran around inside of her. Her intuition fortified Warren. He had to do this. He could do this. Rogue let go of his hand and smiled shyly.
Jubilee pointed to the door, her hand slightly shaking. "I already picked the locks on this door and the bathroom door. You can just go in. Kitty saw him crying when she poked her head in, and he won't come out for anything. He's been fucked up since John got iced, but now it's even worse," she said.
Warren nodded, straightening his t-shirt and pajama bottoms out of habit. These kids were like family. They only had each other to trust in this cold world. They were all looking out for Bobby. They'd already lost too many of their number. He stepped past them and went inside the room, his wings fluttering in his anxiety.
He paused for a moment inside St. John's room, feeling an unwanted tear spring to his eye. Three weeks. This room had been left alone for three weeks. St. John's dirty clothes still littered the floor, as did empty soda bottles and chip bags. Band posters covered his wall, and his CD collection was spilled across his dresser. A carton of cigarettes, missing only two cigarettes sat at the edge of the same dresser, and his stereo blinked the time, as if in anticipation of its owner's arrival. The room smelled like St. John, like his cologne, like his own, almost burnt scent, like the Marlboros he smoked when he thought Scott wasn't around.
It was the room of a fiery, quirky, impish teenage boy. It was the room of a real, live, living person. A real live person who should be in said room, lying on his bed, listening to his Marilyn Manson CDs just to piss Ororo off, while reading porn magazines. The knowledge that St. John should be in his room right now, huddled beside his best friend while they played their videogames made Warren want to scream in frustration.
He understood why Bobby would have locked himself in the bathroom to cry after coming in here.
Warren knocked softly on the bathroom door, managing not to trip over St. John's shoes. "Bobby?" he asked softly.
There was no answer. Warren didn't expect one. He twisted the doorknob, and it opened, thanks to Jubilee's expertise with locks and how to open them without keys. The soft, white bathroom light spilled across him as he opened the door and he peered inside to find Bobby huddled up by the tub, his knees drawn up, and his face buried in them.
Warren crouched low, and slunk inside the bathroom, falling to his hands and knees while he peered nervously at Bobby, his crystal blue eyes casting
about in case any razor blades, guns, needles filled with heroin, or any other instruments of suicide were laid around. Only an open book lay beside Bobby, to Warren's relief.
"Bobby?" Warren asked softly, reaching out to touch Bobby's bare arm. The chill of his flesh startled Warren, and he suddenly noticed how cold the bathroom was. He folded his wings around his shoulders, shivering as the cold hit him full force.
Bobby finally looked up, tears frozen to his face. His electric blue eyes seemed dull, something Warren had never seen on the boy, and it frightened him.
"Fuck off," Bobby said without passion or any real energy.
Warren sat back on his haunches. What the hell was he supposed to do? What could he say? He settled for acting like everything was normal, and Bobby wasn't having a nervous breakdown.
"Why are you here?" Warren asked gently.
Bobby reburied his face in his knees. Warren sighed.
"I'm not going to just go away. I'm a stubborn prick, ask anyone. I give people hard times. I didn't even let Callisto fucking rule me for very long. I don't just give up. Answer the question, or we'll be here forever, or at least until I freeze to death," Warren said as firmly as he could, trying not to let his teeth chatter. And then he suddenly realized he'd said Callisto's name.
Bobby actually looked up, his incredibly blue eyes staring intently at Warren. "Was that her name? Callisto?" he asked.
Warren swallowed, looking away from Bobby's intent gaze. "Whose name? What are you talking about?" he asked. Bobby couldn't possibly know that-
"I saw, you know. One night. I was walking around the mansion, and I heard this scream..." Bobby whispered.
Warren closed his eyes, suddenly wanting to cry. Bobby knew. Somehow, he had found out. The kids weren't supposed to know. No one else was supposed to know about his shame.
"I think Logan was having a bad day himself, because he let me in. Or maybe he thought I could help, I dunno. And there you were, lying on that bed soaked with your sweat, lost in some sort of trance. I'd never seen such a fucked up look in someone's eyes. Logan told me what happened to you. Told me what happened to him. It was all fucked up, and everyone was having a bad night.
"And then Mr. Summers came, and everything was all right for you. The moment he took you in his arms, you just snapped out of it," Bobby said, animation creeping back into his voice.
Warren covered his mouth, willing himself to calm down. Both he and Bobby were silent for a long time before he could finally say something. "You weren't supposed to know," Warren whispered.
"But I do. I didn't tell anyone, like I promised Mr. Summers. I kept your secret, Warren," Bobby said. Only he and St. John called Warren by his first name, Warren suddenly realized.
Warren didn't want to talk about this right now. Not with Bobby. This wasn't what he was here for.
"Tell me why you're in here, Bobby," Warren said after a while.
Bobby looked up and around, at anything in the room but the angel who sat before him, wings and legs folded. He chewed his bottom lip, obviously pondering what to say. And then, without warning, he spoke.
"It's hard to remember the sound of his voice. Does that sound crazy?" Bobby asked.
Warren turned his face. "No, Bobby, it's not crazy. It's normal, it's-"
But Bobby cut him off, apparently in the mood to talk now. "I should remember it. We talked all the time. About everything. He's the only person in the world I could trust enough to talk about everything with. Except, of course, this one little thing. This one little thing I thought would make him hate me," Bobby choked out.
Warren remained silent, realizing Bobby needed to let this out, because it was eating him alive. The temperature dropped again in the bathroom, and Bobby's skin was frosting over.
"It drives me crazy, that I can't remember the sound of his voice. I miss him so much, Warren. He's all I've got. The only thing that makes me feel human, who likes me the way I am, who forgives me when I fuck up. And I fucking forgot the sound of his voice."
Warren chewed his bottom lip. Bobby's eyes were closed now, and his hand picked up the book beside him, cradling it in his lap.
"I loved him. As cheesy, as stupid, and as girly as that may sound, I loved him. I loved him as my friend, my brother... I loved him... in that way."
Warren looked up and stared hard at Bobby, his eyes slowly widening as he realized what Bobby was confessing. He'd wondered about St. John and Bobby's relationship, but had never seriously thought they were anything more than friends. Warren suddenly realized why Bobby was acting like this. Bobby had lost more than a friend.
"I couldn't tell him that. I thought he'd hate me, and push me away. Or he'd gently reject me, and our friendship would suffer. We kidded about it all the
time, and all the time, I wanted to pretend we weren't kidding." Bobby paused, his voice catching as the temperature dropped again. "But I didn't say anything about how I felt, or what I am. I mean, St. John might have accepted me as a mutant freak, because he was one too, but who was to say what he'd do if he found out his best friend was gay? The guy he used to sleep with, take showers with, hang out with? It could have ruined everything."
Warren watched Bobby wipe the frozen tears from his face, feeling his heart bleed for what Bobby felt like. Because he had felt the same. Still felt the same, to some extent.
Bobby began to talk again. "But last Valentine's I ruined everything because I'm an idiot. A total friggin' idiot. I got this Valentine's Day card. I thought it was from Remy, that Cajun guy who was here for a little while. I thought it was from him, but I was so dead wrong."
Warren blinked, sensing how the story ended.
"Remy showed up, and I thought it was him. I was so upset after seeing you, and Logan, and thinking St. John would never love me. So I fucked him. Lost my virginity and everything. It was great, it felt great. I was able to forget. But because I did that, I ruined everything," Bobby's voice faded away, and his Adam's apple bobbed up an down.
"Wh-what d-do y-you m-mean?" Warren asked, his teeth chattering. The automatic heater suddenly kicked in on the bathroom, and Warren almost cried in relief.
Bobby stared at one of the bathroom tiles, tracing it with his fingers, leaving frost trails, despite the heater turning on. His lips formed a bitter smile. "St. John sent me the Valentine. He loved me. And he heard me and Remy fucking, and thought I didn't like him. It said so in his diary," Bobby said softly, shoving the book in Warren's direction.
Warren scanned the diary, and sure enough, in St. John's perfect handwriting, it told of John's discovery of Bobby and Remy together, and how badly it had hurt him to think Bobby didn't like him back. It was the worst case of missed signals Warren had ever heard of. He set the book down and stared at Bobby again.
"I read it, thinking if I read his diary, I could remember his voice. He loved me, Warren. And I loved him. But we were both too chickenshit to admit it.
With all the shit we'd both been through, we didn't want to lose what we had. All that time, and all those opportunities..." Bobby was crying again. "I could have lost my virginity to St. John if I wasn't so fucking stupid. Maybe it shouldn't matter because I'm a guy, but it really hurts to know that I could have felt what I did with someone I loved. That I could have been with the person I really wanted."
"Bobby, I..." Warren trailed off, speechless. How could he fix this mess? What was he supposed to say?
"Don't you fucking get it? He fucking died thinking I didn't love him! He fucking died without us ever being together in a real way! He fucking died, and he died because I fucking killed him!" Bobby screamed, suddenly pounding his fist against the wall. Ice covered it instantaneously.
Warren grabbed Bobby's wrists, and spun the boy around. "Bobby!!" he yelled, and Bobby stared at him, blinking in surprise.
Warren drew in a deep breath, and without stopping to think, he spoke. "He's not dead! St. John is not dead! We still have a chance and we will find a way to wake him up! If it's anyone's fault, it's mine, because those people were after me!" Warren bellowed, shaking Bobby with all his strength.
Bobby swallowed. "It's not your fault. I hurt him. I was the one who messed it all up. Every single fucking time," he whispered. "I can't control my powers anymore. I can't wake him up."
"You saved his life, Bobby. He'd be dead, burned from the inside out, if you hadn't frozen him. So you read his signals wrong. And he read yours wrong. Last I checked, only the Professor and Jean are the telepaths around here. So you still have a chance. A chance for him to be alive and well, and a chance for you two to be with each other," Warren said firmly.
Fresh tears, not frozen this time, leaked out of Bobby's eyes. "I don't want to live if he won't be with me. There's no point to it. He built me up after my parents knocked me down. He brought me back to life, and gave me a reason to live. Everyone has to have somebody. You have Mr. Summers. And I had St. John," he whispered.
"Have St. John. You have him. He's not dead, and he's not going to die," Warren said with more confidence than he felt.
Bobby burst into tears, and leaned forward, falling into Warren's arms. Warren wrapped his arms around the teenager, stroking his back, as he would a child. As Scott had done for him for so many nights, Warren rocked and held Bobby until he calmed down. Bobby had bottled up every single emotions he'd felt since Valentine's Day, and now he finally let it all out.
"I promise you, Bobby, I will find a way to bring St. John back. I will find a way," Warren whispered, desperately trying to figure out who could help him find someone to save St. John.
And then he remembered Candy.
***
She lived in a big house, alone for miles. On one side was a huge cliff punctuated with sharp rocks and harsh waves at the bottom, and woods surrounded everywhere else.
Havok drove up to the house, stopping the car somewhere off the road, and stared up at the house. It was twilight, and only a single light burned upstairs. Havok pulled out a cigarette and lit it, puffing out a smoke ring while he considered his mission.
"Nice place," he finally said.
The violet-haired ninja beside him finally spoke. "Warren Worthington the Second took care of his bastard daughter, you have to give him that," Psylocke said in her clipped British accent. He liked to hear her talk. Havok reckoned if she had a personality, he might even be attracted to her.
"So what do we do now?" Havok sighed. His thoughts turned to Lorna, who was no doubt terrified out of her mind being left alone with Domino.
"We wait until the mark comes here."
Havok turned to her suddenly, looking her dead in the eye. "Tell me why I'm suddenly the asshole. Tell me why Domino doesn't trust me all of a sudden," he hissed.
"Do you remember your past, Havok? Before Domino took you in? Your family?" Psylocke asked coolly, betraying no emotion on her face. Havok had seen icicles with more personality than Psylocke had.
"Not really," he answered, wondering what the hell that had to do with anything.
"Then keep it that way. And you won't lose anyone else that you haven't lost before." Psylocke ended the conversation by getting out of the car to set up her psionic security net.
And left Havok to sit and ponder the meaning of her words.
***
The Professor's hands were steepled, and the look on his face was grave. Scott paced the room, and Warren sat calmly in his chair, awaiting Professor Xavier's reply.
"Warren, for you to venture from the mansion by yourself is extremely dangerous. You have a price on your head. It is unwise for you to do this alone," the Professor said gently. Scott was working his jaw.
"She won't respond to anyone else but me. And even then, she's as likely to turn me out on my ass as help me, considering how badly I've treated her in the past. She's my father's daughter from one of his many mistresses. He keeps a roof over her head, and food in her mouth, but he didn't give her much else. She's been in and out of rehab, and it's a good chance Candy'll have even more track marks on her arm than the last time I saw her. She responds to cash. I just need about a thousand, and she'll do anything," Warren said with a sigh.
"You could just as well give the money to Scott, and he could-" the Professor began, until Warren cut him off.
"I told you, she doesn't know him. She won't do it. Candy's paranoid, and pretty fucked in the head. You can thank my father for that. Neither one of us are likely to give him a Father-of-the-Year Award. But she's the only one who can do it, Professor. She's brilliant, heroin addict or no."
The Professor sighed and sat back, his wheelchair rolling backwards a couple inches. His bald head gleamed in the office lighting as Scott stopped pacing and stared down at Warren unhappily. Warren ignored him.
"Warren, it's not your fault. You didn't ask for the assassins to come, and you need to stop blaming yourself for what happened," the Professor said, his blue-green gaze steady and sad.
Warren looked away. "Just let me do this, Professor. Please. Let me do something right, something good. Let me help Bobby and St. John," Warren said softly.
Scott sighed and crossed his arms, glaring down at Warren. "Then I'm going with you," he said, the challenge in his voice more reminiscent of Logan than himself.
Warren sighed. "Scott, we've already been through this-"
"Either I'm going with you by choice, or I follow you, and go with you anyway. Do you think you could stop me?" Scott interrupted.
"I would feel better if Scott goes with you, Warren. A lot better," Professor Xavier said.
"Fine. I don't know how she'll react, but we'll try it," Warren said. Part of him resented Scott butting into what was his business, and the other part was
relieved and happy that Scott had insisted on accompanying him out of the mansion.
Scott nodded, smiling a bit. "Let's go pack, Warren. We'll make arrangements anonymously to arrive in Maine. We're going to be extra careful. I'm not going to endanger your life," Scott said firmly.
"I will do my best to see to your welfare. I'll keep mental tabs on you with Cerebro as much as I can," the Professor added.
Warren smiled gratefully, but he couldn't escape the feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong. But he had no choice. He had to help Bobby and St. John.
Because it was time Warren Worthington III did something right for someone else.