Title: Caged
Author: IndigoNight
Summary: Warren left for a reason, but not everybody is as willing to let go and forget the past as he is. When the institute's new student suddenly goes missing, he is surprised to find who leads the charge to bring him home.
Feedback: Yes please, yay reviews!
Pairing: Rogue/Warren
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men or the characters I'm just borrowing them for fun.
Spoilers: Mild for X3
Rating: PG-13 for mild swearing, alcohol and somewhat graphic violence
Warnings: Not that I can think of…
Author's Note: Ok, so, omg, for once, not slash, I know, amazing, but there you are. Just something that hit me one night and I just had to write. Please review
Enjoy!
Warren wondered absently along the edge of the grounds of Xavier's institute for gifted youngsters. It was getting late and the sun was setting. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, thinking of the homework waiting for him, and turned to go back but a voice, a horribly familiar voice made him freeze in his tracks.
"Warren?" the voice said, it was quiet, tentative, just a front for the scheming, conniving truth that lay behind it.
"What do you want, father?" Warren demanded coldly, not turning back to face the man.
"I just wanted to see you, son," was the pleading reply.
"Well, there, you see me, now leave, and don't come back," the young mutant hissed.
"Please, Warren, come back home," Warren flinched away from the hand that tried to place itself on his shoulder, "We miss you, your mom and I, we want you home."
"Why, so you can perform more experiments on me?" Warren asked, barely able to keep his voice from betraying the tears that suddenly filled his eyes, "You just want me so that you can continue on your insane crusade to save the world from my kind, from mutants."
"Warren, please, listen-" the man started again.
"No, father, you listen!" his son yelled back, "I'm done! I left for a reason. So you can just continue trying to 'save' the world with out me. I'm not a lab rat; I'm a human being, your son! Sadly," his last word was nothing more than a bitter, heartfelt mutter.
"Please Warren, don't make it be this way, don't make me do this," Mr. Worthington said, once again trying to reach out to his son.
"If you don't want to then don't, just leave and make us all a little bit happier," Warren said, once again shoving his father's hand away.
"I really didn't want to have to do this," Mr. Worthington whispered, stepping back as several dozen armed men stepped from the shadows and advanced toward the young mutant.
"What the--, no, get away," Warren said, struggling to unfurl his wings and fly away. Damnit, good job Worthington, he thought angrily as the men continued to bare down on him, Brilliant night to wear a shirt. He struggled as the men grabbed him, crying out in hopes that someone would hear, but to no avail.
He punched the nearest man, and swung at the next. He fought as hard as he could, but he didn't notice a man sneak up behind him and plunge a dart into the side of the neck. He felt a small prick, and froze, blinking several times, before slumping to the ground unconscious.
A lone girl stood on the top floor of Xavier's institute for gifted youngsters, gazing absently out of a window. She sighed tiredly; blowing the single strand of white that framed her face away from her eyes, then paused and peered more closely. She couldn't be sure, but she could have sworn she saw several grown men moving about in the shadows near the front gate, she blinked, and they were gone. But as she began to walk away a few minutes later she could have sworn she heard the sound of a van gunning to life in the distance.
8
Warren woke slowly, at first completely at a loss as to where he was. Then he blinked several times to clear his vision, his head felt as heavy as a bowling ball, and he saw the four, plain, clear glass walls that closed in uncomfortably close to him on all sides.
"No!" he cried, immediately jumping to his feet and throwing himself at the nearest wall, "No! Father! Please!" he ran from all to wall, throwing himself at them, panic beginning to seize his mind. In his panic he ripped off his shirt, unfurling his wings, the tips of which easily collided with the walls surrounding him, and tried to fly out, but alas, barely ten feet from the ground his head collided with a ceiling, just the same as the walls, he was completely locked in.
A cage, a cage, his father had put him in a cage! He beat the walls with his fists, praying that they would give. He couldn't breathe, the walls were getting closer and closer, they were going to crush him. He hated in closed spaces, his father knew that, how could he?
"Finding the accommodations to your enjoyment?" asked a cool voice.
Warren's head snapped up and glared into the room beyond his cage, straight into his father's eyes with the utmost loathing.
"Let me out of here!" Warren hissed, trying hard to keep the panic from his voice, and failing miserably.
"I guess not," Mr. Worthington sighed. Warren just glared at him. "Warren," his father continued, his voice taking on the air that it always did when he gave the 'father-knows-best' speech, like Warren was simply asking to go to a party on a school night or something.
"Father, please," Warren said, he was shaking violently, his vision beginning to cloud around the edges due to fear, "Let me out, please."
"Why?" Mr. Worthington demanded, "So you can go running back to that haven for freaks they call a school?"
"I won't, I swear," he wheedled, loosing the battle again his tears as they began streaming down his cheeks. He banged his fist against the wall again, "Please, father, please! Let me out! I'll do anything!" he begged.
"I'm sorry, son," his father answered coldly, as he turned to leave again, "I just can't take that chance."
"Father? Father! No! Please! Father?" he begged, banging his fists into the wall again and again as he slowly slid to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably, his hands leaving small streaks of blood trailing down the glass wall.
He pressed himself into the corner of his cage, curling up into a ball, his knees hugged tightly to his chest and his wings wrapped around his body, in a pitiful attempt to hide himself from the world and its cruelty.
He remained that way for some hours, crying softly into his knees and wishing he was dead. He hated it! All of it; life in general.
He wondered dully if anyone at the institute had even realized he was gone, probably not. A face slid into his mind, beautiful and sweet, framed by soft, dark hair accented by a single streak of white, her face. Did she even know who he was? That was even less possible. He'd seen her, at meals, between classes; she'd been the one ray of light in his empty semblance of a life. If only he'd been able to work up the courage to talk to her, just once, then maybe his life would have been worth living.
But none of that mattered anymore, his father had taken him back, and he was sure that he would never again see the light of day. He would die here, stuck in this glass cage.
He shuddered, pulling himself into even tighter a ball. He laid his head tiredly on his knees, and slowly slipped away into blessed, oblivious, darkness.
8
Warren didn't know how much time passed, for to him there was no time in that hellhole, just endless, meaningless existence.
Three times a day someone would come to bring him food. The first time he had flown at the man, trying to break free, his only reward for which had been a black eye and a split lip. After that he hadn't moved from his corner, spoken, or touched the food they brought him.
His father came down, every so often, and talked to him. He trying again and again to explain that this was for the best and if Warren would just accept it things would be a lot easier. But Warren ignored him, pretending he didn't even exist, that made things easier.
And then it came, as Warren had known it inevitably would. His father appeared outside of his cage, slobbering drunk. He unlocked the door and stumbled in, Warren just gazed up at him with dull eyes.
"C-come on, s-s-s-son," Mr. Worthington slurred, "s-s-s-say s-s-s-something." Warren didn't move. "Say something, damnit!" he yelled suddenly, grabbing the young mutant by the neck and pinning him against the wall. Still Warren refused to respond. His dad punched him, so hard the force of it drove him across the cage so that he slammed into the opposite wall. Warren didn't even try to get up.
His father lumbered over, pulling him roughly to his feet again. "This is all your fault!" he screamed, "You damn mutant freak! What the hell did you do to my son! My Warren!" tears were streaming down the older man's face, but they held no pain for the boy held between his hands.
In contrast however, Warren's face was completely emotionless, his eyes blank and dull, he no longer had enough life in him to feel, "The question, father," he rasped, making the word sound like a curse word, "Is what have you done to your son?" That earned him another punch into the opposite wall.
Warren didn't fight back, he never had when his father got like this, before he had always restrained himself with the argument that he was his father, and he was drunk, now Warren just didn't care.
Mr. Worthington continued in that fashion until he passed out on the floor of the cage and Warren was a bloody heap on the floor. A few minutes later a few men appeared to carry Mr. Worthington up to bed and Warren found himself, once more, lying on the floor of his cage, sobbing brokenly, and wishing for all the world that he had never been born.
He lay there and cried until, once more, he wished for the final time, darkness came to lead him into its quiet, safe, empty depths.
To Be Continued...