Dislaimer: I own nothing to do with the X-Men, I'm just having some fun with the characters.
Rating: Totally G – there's nothing in here to hurt anyone.
Summary: Kitty meets Warren in Las Vegas, and brings him home to Westchester. One-shot. Alternating first-person format.
Author's Note: I'm not really sure where I'm going with this, or indeed if I'm going anywhere with it. It was in my head, it had to come out. The format is out of the ordinary but please R&R to let me know what you think – good, bad, or indifferent. Hope you enjoy it. gitania
Come Home
KITTY:
I met Warren in a Las Vegas back alley at 4am. He was practically unconscious, but I guess that still counts as the first meeting. By 9:30am we had been rejected by every air carrier out of Nevada – apparently my new companion was not allowed on an aircraft – and had taken to the idea of driving home to Westchester. It's a long drive. I didn't even know if he had a licence. Still, we drove.
WARREN:
Ever since I was a kid I have woken up at 6:30am on the dot. Only once have I woken up with a girl in the room that wasn't my mother or someone in my family's employ. And then, only because they were cleaning or bringing my breakfast.
I met this girl at 6:30am in a beautiful Las Vegas hotel room. She was on the phone when I opened my eyes, and she turned to smile reassuringly at me. I was reassured. She finished her call and starting talking to me about meaningless things like we already knew each other. I was still trying to figure out how and why I was in a clean, king-sized bed still wearing all of my clothes. She talked about a school.
KITTY:
He told me he had never been to school before. He looked too old to be a student, but I knew Xavier would welcome him anyway. He had been home-schooled since he was ten years old, by the best tutors from the U.S.A. and abroad. He failed to mention how his parents afforded this, and why he now looked like a beggar. He failed to mention why he was hundreds of miles from home, being beaten bloody by four guys, twice his size. I didn't ask.
I told him that this school was somewhere he could be safe.
WARREN:
I still don't know why I trusted her. She told me I would be safe and I believed it. She offered me breakfast and a hot shower, and we went straight to the airport. Her bags were already packed – I had nothing to bring.
We were turned down by every carrier there was. I couldn't wear my trench coat in the airport, and no-one wanted to let me and my wings on a plane. She wasn't deterred. She rented a car from a company in the airport, arranged to return it to their New York lot, and we were ready. We were on the road by 9:45.
KITTY:
We drove fairly quietly. He wasn't much of a talker and I know better than to force idle chit-chat out of those who don't offer it. When he asked to hear about Xavier's school, I told him everything. At first I don't think he could really imagine a school that would welcome him. Kids who would easily grow accustomed to having an angel in their classes. Teachers who would grade him according to his efforts and nothing else. A place where he wouldn't have to hide.
I asked him what he wanted to do with his life. He said that he had never really thought about it. I knew that his response wasn't to cover up a dream that he felt too foolish to reveal – it was the truth.
WARREN:
I had never been to a real school before. I suppose that means that I am now socially inept. But I've seen enough TV shows set in high schools to know that I didn't miss a lot. Cheerleaders, definitely worth seeing, but the whole social ladder always reminded me way too much of ancient civilisations. Kings and emperors ruling with an iron fist over serfs and slaves, using weapons of humiliation and physical strength.
She told me that Xavier's school wasn't to be grouped with the majority. She said that the students there all knew how it felt to be the serfs; and the only rulers were the gentle-handed teachers – tough but fair. Somehow, I believed it.
KITTY:
In my time as a student I've seen plenty of wide-eyed young people make their way up the front steps of Xavier's school; but none with as big a show of strength as Warren. It takes a lot of days to drive from Las Vegas to New York, but not nearly as many as it takes to forget the pain of being beaten into unconsciousness. His bruises and cuts had faded, and he was no longer limping when he walked, but he had been broken on the inside. He was afraid to go inside – I could feel it radiating from him – but he opened the front door for me like a gentleman and bravely followed in my wake.
WARREN:
At first I wondered where all the students were – Kitty had taken my trench coat from me and left it in the car, and I was a little anxious to walk into a school full of people without it. We took the elevator up a few levels and walked out into a wooden corridor. She said we were going to see The Professor. I thought it strange that a school this large would have only one Professor. Didn't the other teachers have any degrees or qualifications?
A soft male voice beckoned us to come in, and she stepped through the doorway after offering me the same reassuring smile from the morning we met. Again, it worked its magic. I followed.
KITTY:
He's in his room now, probably sleeping. He's been given one of the bigger rooms right at the end of one of the student dorm levels. Not to impress him, but because he needs at least a double bed to accommodate his wingspan. He seemed surprised that the Professor didn't bat an eyelid at his feathers, but that was before he learned of some of the staff's special talents.
It's been a long trip, and I know he's still a little anxious being here. I'm not too worried about him – I'm sure it won't take long for him to see that this is the place that we can always return to. That no matter what happens, you can always come home.