A/N: Thank you to all of those who reviewed my first fanfic! This is just a random idea that popped into my mind and I hope you enjoy it.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. It's on my wish list, but I think my chances are pretty slim.
Warren was sitting in a particularly comfortable armchair. He had retreated into the rec room with a book ever since one of the students, Jubilee, had sparked an ornate rug in the hall. It had ended with a small fire, extinguished by Bobby, a furious Storm and a lot of chaos. Needless to say, he was in need of some peace and quiet.
The day had been sunny, but Storm's fury had turned the sky grey with heavy clouds. It was just beginning to clear again, and Warren could even spot a sliver of sunlight fighting for freedom. The constant changes of light made reading difficult, and he growled in frustration.
"Something wrong?"
Warren's head shot up at the voice. A girl sitting across the room from him was looking at him. She had a skiing magazine in her hands and a bright look in her eyes. He smiled and gestured out the window.
"I wish Storm would make up her mind what kind of mood she's in. This book is a little faded, and I'm having trouble reading it."
The girl smiled, "A faded book? That's something. Most people don't go anywhere near the books, so they're pretty clear. What are you reading?"
He held the book up so she could see the cover. She gave a sad smile and sighed.
"You're new here, aren't you?" she asked, setting down her magazine.
"How could you tell?" he asked in return, marking his page and shutting the thick book.
The girl curled her legs up under her chin and hugged her knees.
"That book, for starters. Most people won't go anywhere near it. I heard Storm and Hank arguing over whether to throw it out or not last week. It's the first time they've ever disagreed on something, I think."
"Why throw it out? It's a classic!" Warren frowned. He had spent a large portion of his youth in the confines of his father's home, and had developed a respect for books. Reading had allowed him to disappear into someone else's shoes, and someone else's problems, rather than his own.
"So was the person it belonged to," the girl said quietly.
Sensing grief seeping into the room, Warren quickly changed the topic.
"So, what are you reading?" he asked unwillingly. He was curious about the book's previous owner now, but the topic seemed hushed.
"An article on this new skiing lodge opening up in the state. Not really my thing – I prefer ice skating – but I'm still going to ask Bobby and Piotr about visiting. I haven't seen non-mutant snow for ages. Well, non-mutant snow that didn't turn to slush in the space of a day, anyway. And you can't really ski down slush. Jubilee tried."
Warren raised his eyebrows. Snow wasn't in his list of favourite things. It froze his wings into uncomfortable shapes, and it would take ages to thaw out. That, and the time he had tried to glide down a ski slope with his wings when he was fourteen. The result had been the discovery of how prejudiced most hospitals were against mutants.
He stopped his wandering mind, realising the girl was still talking.
"And even when snow did manage not to melt, John would take care of that pretty quickly. I don't know how many of his lighters of his Scott would confiscate every winter, but when Logan found the collection, he was shocked. He thought they all belonged to Cyclops, and he went for days thinking that Scott might possibly be a rebel. Rogue finally ended his misery and told him the truth, and he now denies he ever thought Scott had a spine. We used to tease him about it, but then we realised we were in danger of losing a limb, so we stopped…" the girl trailed off, a reminiscent gleam in her eyes.
"You do realise I don't know any of these people?" Warren asked, grinning.
Her eyes turned sad and she hugged herself tighter.
"It's probably better that way, y'know?" she said quietly, "It hurts a lot of people here to mention them, but you're different. You never knew them, you're probably never going to know them, and it doesn't affect you. You can hear about them and not cry. Heck, you can even pick up that old book without a second thought."
There was a knock on the door and a dark blue head poked through.
"Kitty?" the man asked in a thick accent, "Bobby vas looking for you. Somesing about ice skates."
"Thanks, Kurt," the girl replied, rising to her feet.
"Bitte shon," the blue German replied, tipping his head as he left.
"I'm Warren," Warren said, getting up and holding out his hand.
The girl accepted it and shook it gladly, "Kitty. About the book, a word of advice: read it alone. It's painful for too many people here."
Warren nodded and slipped the book inside his large coat, before resuming his position on the armchair, "It was a pleasure talking to you."
"Likewise," Kitty grinned, walking off in the direction of a solid wall.
Warren nearly jumped out of his seat as she slid through the wall, and it took a minute or two to recover from the surprise. However, he could fight the curiosity no longer. He pulled the book from his coat and stared at the front cover.
'The Once and Future King', by T.H. White.
He flipped to the first page, searching for a name. He smiled in success at a handwritten note on the inside cover and read it eagerly. However, the names meant nothing to him, and he put the book down in disappointment.
Charles,
I hope you enjoy this as much as I did. A small token of my appreciation of our friendship. May it entertain you on gloomy nights and revive all your good qualities in times of hardship.
Your friend,
Eric
A/N: What did you think? I won't know unless you review, and I welcome constructive criticism. Thank you!