Lonely Nights
The night was dark with a heavy veil of clouds covering the moon and stars from view. The only sounds to be heard were the distant hoot of an owl out hunting for its prey. The mansion was silent, everyone fast asleep at this hour, with the exception a sole man standing in his room, staring into the darkness of the gardens. His eyes, sharper than that of other men, could make out the shape of the trees edging on the garden, could see the outline of the hills that rose in the distance, even though the world was shrouded in the darkness of high night. It seemed as if the world was all black and grey. The otherwise vibrant green of the grass dimmed by darkness, the soft blue of the sky nothing but a murky dark-grey.
A soft sigh escaped from the man's lips as he lowered his head and closed his eyes. The window of his room was wide-open, allowing the faint breeze from outside to creep in and stroke across his face with soft fingers.
The man relished this time of the day. No one else awake, the silence filling the mansion permitting for thought and reflection. His life had changed so quickly, with him going from being a freak amongst humans to a hero on a team of other heroes. His life was never quiet anymore, so he treasured these moments were he could take a deep breath and calm down.
He felt so tired. The pressure of being someone the majority of humanity despised, and at the same time working to save said humanity, it was wearing him down. Never experiencing gratitude, just prejudice and fear and hatred. All because he was different from them, all because of whom he was by birth. A mutant.
His mouth tightened, and his hands clenched into fists. All this hatred, it was seeping into his very body, making him detached and cynical. He didn't want to be this person who despised all people, who judged everyone just because of those who hated him, but he couldn't help it. Years of having to hide who he was because his father, his flesh and blood, didn't tolerate that his son was different, years of living in fear of being exposed, and now being an X-Man. Trying to save a world that didn't want to be saved, at least not by them. It just filled him with this hatred, this want to just leave them all to be, let them destroy themselves and not care.
He lifted his head and opened his eyes. The night was just as dark as it had been before, a fitting image of a dark world. Slowly he turned away from the window. His gaze drifted over his room. It was small and decorated in furniture that didn't belong to him. He had left his old life in San Francisco to come here, which meant he'd left all his belongings there too. For two years he had lived here, and never once had he bothered to do much with the space. It had never really felt like home. But then again, neither had the apartment back with his father. They were just places to stay, never home. Home had been the place he lived in when his mother was still alive, but that was long ago, a faded memory.
The man hesitated for a short moment before he shrugged off the shirt he wore. The wings which marked him as different, that had given him the nickname Angel, unfolded, finally released from their prison.
There was a small crack in his back as the wings stretched to their full length. He had been keeping them close to his body for the entire day and now they were aching from it. They were not made to be hidden, but he couldn't stand the way people always stared at them if he did not hide them. It made him uncomfortable. One would think people stopped caring eventually, seeing how long he had been living here, but there were always new kids coming to the mansion, and they were always gawking at everything they saw that was out of the ordinary.
But now, in the solitude of his room, there were no one to look at him.
After releasing some of the tension that had built up in the wings Warren, that was his real name, given to him by his father, turned back to the window and nimbly crawled up on the window sill. He crouched there like a predator waiting for its prey, his eyes scanning the darkness for a moment. Then he let himself fall forward, plunging into the dark night.
His wings stretched and beat and lifted him, defying gravity. Normal people could never do this. When normal people fell out windows they soon after met the ground beneath. But Warren was far from normal. He hadn't been in years, not since the first time he noticed the bumps on his shoulder blades. He could still remember wondering what was wrong with him, why his back was itching, why the bumps seemed to grow larger by the day. And then when the first hint of soft white down started to cover them. He'd understood then, understood that he was one of them, one of the mutants he had seen in the news. And it terrified him, terrified him to the extent that he had tried to get rid of the problem himself. But no matter how deep he cut, how many times he mutilated himself, they always grew back. Until finally his father caught him.
He had stopped then, too afraid of what his father would do, where he would send him, if he kept on trying to remove them with violence.
Then, a decade later, his father had found the way to remove them permanently. Just a needle in the arm and he would be free. But then, then he could not do it.
So he fled. Jumped out of a window, stretched his wings and escaped. Much like now.
His escape landed him here at the mansion, where he had hoped to start anew; to find people like him that accepted him. But, even if they seemingly did just so, it had not ended up like he had hoped. He never felt like a part of the group, always felt on the outside, like he was just there in the background to be used when they needed him for a mission, but never anything else.
It was only when he was flying that he forgot his fears and loneliness and hatred. Now all that mattered was the winds stroking over his face, the building ache in wings that hadn't been used enough, the biting chill of the night sky that prickled gently at him, his mutation taking away the most prudent sting of the cold.
He flew higher up through the sky, reaching for the eternity that was hidden behind the clouds. The air got thinner and colder, but he was built for this element. Beneath him now he could only see a blurry darkness, and above him it was more of the same darkness. He had no goal he was reaching for, he just flew, going higher and higher.
It didn't take him long before he was flying through the heavy clouds that were blanketing the world, and then, with a powerful stroke of his wings, he was above them. He could see the moon now, could see every bright pinpoint that was a star. But still he flew higher.
The air was so thin he was starting to feel it now. It got harder to breath and every stroke of his wings was a struggle. He knew he should turn back, but he just wanted to keep on flying. He wanted to escape, and this was the only way he knew, into the air where it was only him.
Even he, who never noticed it much on the ground, was starting to feel the cold affecting him. He had no idea how far up he was, but it was quickly getting closer to his limit. Goosebumps spread across his naked torso, trailing down his muscled arms and chest.
He tried to ignore his discomfort and went on, each beat of his wings bringing him farther up into the air, away from the chaos that was the world. He wished he could keep on flying, to never come back. His eyes were locked on the moon, the unreachable goal high above, not even casting a stolen glance back at the ground. Had he done so he would have seen the clouds start to shatter, cracking up and drifting apart, driven by the winds of the night.
But his body betrayed him. His wings were hurting now, shivers of cold were travelling through his body, and the lack of oxygen was making his mind struggle to stay alert.
He knew he should turn back, that his body could not carry him much further, but in that moment he was not thinking clearly. The need to get away was too strong in his heart and he was not acting rationally.
And soon it came to what it had to. His consciousness flickered and gave way to darkness, and his steady climb towards the heavens was abruptly turned into an uncontrolled freefall towards the ground.
He spun and twisted in the air, his limp body thrown around by the wind as he fell.
It seemed as if this would be it, that he would meet his end against the unforgiving ground, but as he tumbled through the thinning clouds his mind came to, albeit a bit sluggishly. He blinked with heavy eyelids and through the sound of wind rushing by became aware of his situation. For a fraction of a second his mind played with the thought of just closing his eyes and keep on dropping through the air, putting an abrupt ending to the miserable life he was leading.
But, even if he was not happy with his life he could not let it end this way, and carefully he spread his wings, making sure to slowly steady his fall, taking over control until he was slowly descending towards the ground, dimly lit by the silvery sheen of the moon.
Somewhere along his flight, whether it was on his way towards the heavens or falling from it he did not know, he had gotten a far distance away from the mansion, and now he had to fly across the endless forest for a good while before it finally loomed in the distance. He could only see two squares of light indicating that someone was awake, and he knew that one of them was from his own room. Who else was up at this time he did not know, but he made a wide circle around it, making sure to keep to the shadows so he would not be noticed if the person in the room was to look out.
Finally he could drop through the window of his room. His landing was not as controlled as usually, his wings was hurting badly now, strained beyond their limit, and all he could do was fold them to his body and collapse on the hard floors where he lay panting. The last remainder of the flight had been done only on an adrenaline high, and now it was vanishing, leaving him utterly exhausted and unable to even get himself over to his bed. His body would ache even more from it in the morning, but he could not get himself to care, and just let his mind drift away into sleep, too tired to keep awake even a moment longer.
She looked out the window, searching for something she did not know what was. She had woken in the middle of the night, and unable to get back to sleep she had gotten up, drawn to the window by some unknown force, and since she had been staring into the empty night.
The moon, shining through growing cracks in the cloudbank, cast a faint silvery sheen over the grounds, but apart from the shadow of the forest and the mirror moon in the fountain there were nothing to be seen. Nothing moved as far as she could see, not even the nocturnal animals seemed to be out tonight, but somehow she could not tear her gaze away from the darkness, lost in its nothingness.
Then she saw something moving, far away. It was but a tiny shadow, and she firstly thought it was just a figment of her imagination, but as she stared at it she found that it was still there, high above the forest.
She was about to write it off as some kind of bird and go back to bed, but then, as it made a turn that placed it directly in the moonlight, she found that there was something wrong. It did not move like a bird, and the shape was all wrong.
She kept her eyes trained on it as she shadow came closer, and soon it dawned on her. She should have known all along.
Angel.
Of course it was him, moving through the air with a graceful determination, each stroke of his wings bringing him closer to the mansion, closer to her. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and bit down on it as she kept on staring after him. The moon's light illuminated his brilliantly white wings, giving him an almost ghostly appearance that had her completely transfixed.
But then he made a sharp turn and soared away from her gaze. She was left staring at the emptiness he left behind for a few moments, but she soon tired. There were no pull in the darkness now, and soon she turned away and went back to bed, pulling her duvet snugly around herself, nestling comfortably in the warmth of it.
But she did not immediately fall to sleep as she had hoped. Her mind had its own agenda and would not rest. It seemed determined to focus on the ghostly image of Angel moving through the skies. He had seemed so alone out there, surrounded by the veil of darkness, separated from the real world.
In fact, he never seemed to be a complete part of the world, he was always keeping to the shadows and sides, almost like a wraith with only one foot in this world, the other kept in some faraway place she could have no part in.
She did not know why it was this way, why he was so distant, always keeping to himself, but now she got the sudden urge to find out, to get to know him for real. It did not seem accidentally that she had been pulled towards the window at the exact time he flew past it, it was as if she was intended to see him in his lonely glory. Maybe she was supposed to see it, and do something about it. She had felt the empty feeling of loneliness herself, she knew the pain of it, to be on the outside, always looking in on the seeming happiness of others.
She closed her eyes and as sleep finally seeped in on her she made the decision that tomorrow she would find the true Angel and lure him away from his place in the background, to make him a part of the whole.
In a room on the other side of the mansion Warren was fast asleep, but even so a faint smile curled on his lips, as if he knew what she was thinking and that for once there might be something to wake up to that would be worth it.
A/N: I know it is a bit different from my other stuff; I'm just experimenting a bit with my writing, trying out a more formal writing style. Ah, it feels so good to post something again, haven't done so in months, being too busy with work and writing original works. But, I could never forget about fanfiction either, and have lots of unfinished stuff to work on, so expect more stuff from me. :)