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Jean felt awful.

Not just awful. She felt useless, helpless, horrid, terrible, disgraceful, and pretty much every other self-diminishing single word she could possibly think of.

The night Jean had dropped Warren off was one that had changed what she had thought would be her future forever.

Jean pulled up to the curb in front of the huge Worthington Enterprises building, which also housed the Worthington family and any guests who may present themselves. No one knew exactly what the Worthingtons did by way of business, though it was probably a little bit of this, a little bit of that. Whatever it was, they were doing it well. Exceptionally well by the looks of the building.

Warren sighed where he sat and undid he seat belt to get out. With his hand on the car's door handle, the young Worthington turned to look at the redhead seated beside him, "You know...you can stay here if you want."

"What?" Jean asked, not sure if she heard him right.

"I've known you for years, Jean. I know you well enough to know that you haven't a clue where you're going to go. You can stay here," Warren shrugged.

Jean shook her head, "No Warren, I can't. I can't ask that of you."

He gave her a sarcastic smile, one of his specialties, "You didn't ask. I told you that you were welcome under the roof of my family. Free room and board."

Jean tossed the thought over in her mind for a moment, but settled on declining again. Warren sighed, running a hand through his blond locks, "Jean, come on in. You're not hurting anything, I promise. Just...just stay tonight and make a decision on where you'll live tomorrow."

After a long moment, she agreed. Warren smiled genuinely for the first time since he had seen his best friend and girlfriend in love. They both got out of the car, pausing a moment as Jean grabbed a bag she had packed from the backseat, and walked in.

Jean had been here once before, and while the lobby was still the same, it took her breath away. She had either made no physical indication to her awe or Warren was so traumatized by the days events that he didn't tease her about it, as he would have on any other occasion.

Her awe only increased as they went past the lobby, which as far as she had gotten before. Warren led her to a private elevator and up to the guest quarters, where she would be the only one staying. From the looks of things, they didn't have many guests stay at the Worthington building.

She knew that this was only one Worthington building out of five across the country (New York City, Los Angeles, Chicago, Miami, and Phoenix), but if they were all like this...

She couldn't even finish the thought. Living in such luxury was only a dream to mortal minds like hers. It was the life of an angel.

"Anything you need, dial 9," Warren said, motioning to the phone.

Jean nodded. She placed her bag in front of her massive bed. Warren grabbed her right wrist, turned her around, and hugged her close to his chest. Jean hugged him back, knowing that both of them needed it. She felt his wings on his back, trapped in an evil harness and behind clothes. She couldn't even imagine what it would mean to him for him to be free.

Never wanting to leave the quiet, warm safety his arms provided, but knowing she had to, she stepped back and smiled up at him. For the first time in her life, Jean Grey couldn't read what someone was thinking by looking at their face. This man probably never lost at poker. Jean thought.

She had an instant desire to dive into his mind and read exactly what he was thinking, but then he turned on his heel, and walked out. Jean snapped out of that desire the moment he did so, kicking herself mentally for thinking about doing as much to her friend.


Jean woke the next morning, having gotten the best sleep she had ever had. She woke to the sun shining in through the window, curtains not drawn for once (something Scott had never allowed), and being able to gaze at the sky as she fell out of the dreamy haze she was still waking from.

"Pretty spectacular, huh?" a maid said, poking her head in the door.

Jean moaned something potentially agreeable and continued to stare as if it was a masterpiece in the Museum of Modern Art.

The maid carried in a tray with breakfast on it over to a table. She had black hair pulled up into a tight bun, looking to be around her early thirties. Her dark orange uniform brought out the bright blue in her eyes, "My name is Candy. If you need anything, dial 9 and ask for me."

"I can promise you I won't need anything."

Candy laughed, "Well, in case you do, give me a shout. That's what I've been told I'm here to do."

"Do the Worthingtons always have people wait on their guests?"

Candy was silent until she got to the door, where she winked over her shoulder at the redhead who was just getting out of bed, "Nope. Only important business associates they're hoping to score a deal with, themselves, and apparently friends from the way you're here."

Jean noticed a hole in what she had said, "I know Elizabeth Braddock had lived here after she began dating Warren. Didn't she...?"

Candy shook her head, "I guess somewhere in his heart he knew she was bad news. Everyone did, but we were all too nice to tell him. The poor guy was so desperate for someone to love him as much as he could love them. He wanted Ms. Braddock to be it. No, I think he really needed a friend at that point more than a bad girlfriend. You seem to be it."

Jean understood completely what she meant, nodding in a way that the woman knew to leave. After a breakfast of food she would swear for weeks was the best she had ever had, probably seeming like that due to the amount of pathetic school food she had been living on at the Institute, she took a quick shower and spent the rest of the day working on research for another appearance in Congress.

Later that night, after it had already gotten dark and Jean's eyes were straining with pain, her brain either refusing to notice or care, and watering with overuse, Candy came back in, not particularly surprised to see that she had stuck around, "Just the girl I was looking for."

Jean doubted that the woman was much older than her, definitely not old enough to be refering to her as a girl, but she still turned around to face her, "Why would that be?"

"The older Worthington has sent me to ask if you plan on staying for sometime. He would also like to send a personal plea that you do for his son's sake, and most of the staff here would agree and plea with, mind you."

Jean thought about it for only a second before she nodded, "I guess I will stick around. I kind of enjoy the peace and quiet. But, um, I can't..."

Candy shook her head, "No, no. The Second told me to tell you not to worry. If you'll stay around here for his son, there's nothing you need to worry about. He'll take care of payments. Honestly, one more person under his roof shouldn't be too much to deal with for a billionare like him, if I do say so myself."

Jean spent the days and weeks following working on putting together presentations for Congress, many of which went alright, but didn't have the desired affect, talking to her old students through many means of communication, and trying to get Warren out the shell he had closed around himself.

Jean Grey felt like a failure. Warren had been stuck in that shell for almost three months now. Three months since the incident at the Institute. Three months of trying to get him to open up. After three months, she was ready to give up.

She had been scared that the senior Worthington would have kicked her out and blamed her for the cocoon of safety Warren had trapped himself in. He didn't.

In fact, Warren Worthington Jr. had sought her out one night to inform her of as much, sure that one of these days his son would wake up, and having her presence around would help. It was even helping him (Warren Worthington Jr.) as it was nice to have a woman in the house again. Ever since Kathryn (his wife) had died, it had put a toll on them all, leaving an empty space surrounding them that Jean was starting to fill by just living there.

After three months, Warren didn't seem any better. If he absolutely had to speak (which was the only time he did as much) it was in a horribly grievous monotone that left anyone that heard it feeling guilty they had made him use the vocal cords the good Lord had bestowed upon him.

Jean was at a party, filled with congressmen, businessmen, and the elite of the elite, feeling completely out of place. She was dressed in a floor-length dark green dress, shimmering with jewels at the neck and bust line in the light, her hair done up in an elegant chignon and she wore a minimal amount of jewelry. Even though she had the appearance of a gorgeous executive, she felt like a swimsuit model.

It would have been nice to have one of her oldest friends to talk to, but he was standing in a corner of the room, a show girlfriend on his arm and almost empty wine glass in his hand. She felt suffocated by the insane amount of kiss-assery in the room. Needing to escape, she settled for the balcony.

The balcony was massively wide, and stretched around three-fourths of the building. The most amazing part was the complete lack of any walls, which she would have suspected for a building that frequently held parties of such aristocratic company. No, instead it was a set of metal bars that were as tall as she. They were done in such a fashion, however, that it lacked the cheap tackiness that seemed to infect everything, leaving it with the same horridly expensive feel as the rest of the structure.

It was an uncommonly clear night for New York, leaving the sky scarce of the usual pollution cloud that hovered over large cities, though light pollution was not an exception, making seeing the stars still impossible. It was still nice to be able to go outside and not have her nose wrinkle in disgust over the overwhelming incense that was car exhaust, factory fumes, and just plain nasty.

(Little A.N.! This part was not inspired by the movie 'Titanic'. My beta reader, aka my mother, reminded me that something like this had happened in the movie. I've actually never seen the movie past the first 30 minutes for personal reasons of disgust, so I apologize for this seen being kind of like that. This is my disclaimer.)

Deciding she wanted to feel more of that air, she decided to play a Titanic and stepped up on the first bar, lifting her a good four inches off the floor, and held on tight. Wanting to feel more, she stepped up another level, being now eight inches from where she started. Not a whole lot in retrospect, but she didn't care. It felt like miles.

A smile started to cross her lips, and she closed her eyes, holding on tighter to counteract the dizziness that swept over her as she did so. Just as she was getting lost in the bliss of it all, she felt strong, warm arms surround her, locking her in place.

Startled she whipped her head around to see Warren's bright blue eyes and perfect blond hair, not to mention a smile she had unknowingly been waiting to see for weeks, "Hey Red. You know, you can go up higher."

She shook her head, both to help her come out of the shock that he was actually engaging in activity and conversation and to imply 'no', "I can't. I'd fall."

He laughed, "I do have wings, you know. I would catch you."

Jean's face must have shown the fear she was feeling, because his face became serious. He spoke in a low voice, "I won't let anything happen to you, Jean. You can go up higher. You won't fall."

Choking on a gulp, she allowed her green stilletos to fall off her feet and step onto the next bar up and the one after that, while Warren climbed up two as well, making sure he was always two below her. She swallowed her nervousness down like a bad medicine and stepped up another two.

Now she was truly scared. She had nothing to hold onto anymore, being she was two feet from the floor she had taken off from, but Warren's grip on her never wavered. He held her in a way that he was holding onto both her and the railing, both with such a strength she knew within her soul she wouldn't be falling.

With her being eight inches taller than she would be on the ground, she was two inches taller than him, but she felt so much smaller under his gaze. His bright blue orbs had turned so dark they were midnight blue. She couldn't help but laugh a little.

He smiled at her, "What?"

"Your eyes," she said, looking into their depths like she could drown in them as if they were the deepest ocean. "They're my favorite color."

"Blue?"

She shook her head, "Not just blue. Midnight blue. It's...I don't know if you have the clearance to hear the story," she admitted to herself.

He gripped her tighter, though she wasn't sure why that small motion had such a huge impact on her heartrate, "No worries. You can always tell me another time, in a more appropriate place."

She smiled back out at the skyline, and they stayed like that for a while before Warren spoke again, "Jean...close your eyes."

"What?"

"You heard me," she did. "Good. Now, open your arms wide, like you're flying."

She hesitated. Was he trying to kill her? Jean Grey, though she would never admit it to a soul that walked this Earth, was deathly afraid of heights, and had many a nightmare about falling to her death, sometimes from skyscrapers just like this one.

Warren leaned a little closer to her, so his lips brushed the edge of her left ear, as light as a feather and spoke in a voice equally as soft, "Trust me."

Complying with his request, she slowly and rather shakily spread her arms out. When at last she had spread them as wide as she possibly could, she couldn't help the wide smile that fell across her glossed lips, and a while after that, the laugh that rose to her throat.

She was in heaven and he was her angel.

Not knowing why, a song crossed her mind at that moment. 'It's All Coming Back To Me Now' by Celine Dion was running through her mind. She knew that from now on whenever she heard that song, this memory would be forever impressed upon it's lyrics.

Eventually, she began to climb down, which Warren immediately responded to as well. When they got to the bottom, Jean looked up into his eyes. She could feel the smile across her face, and knew she must look like a lunatic. The look on his face softened and he dipped his head. Her body responded in kind, leaning up to his. Their bodies were about to mold together when-

"Warrrrrrennnnnnn! Oh there you are! I've been looking all over for you," the obviously fake blond with an extremely skimpy red dress said as Warren pulled away from her, obviously annoyed. She didn't seem to care as she threw herself into his grasp, forcing the two ex-X-men to back away from each other.

Warren shot Jean a look she once again couldn't read and walked away with his pay-per-lay girlfriend, leaving her thinking, "What just happened?"

Please review and tell me what you think. Too fast? Too slow? Would you like faster? Slower? Do you even like the idea of Jean and Warren together? Tell me!

I'm sorry for the music reference, but I got the entire idea for this story because of that song. That song produced that scene which produced this story. Does that make sense? I thought I should include the inspiration.

If you want to leave suggestions for other pairings you think I should do or you would like to see done, please let me know in a review or PM. I'm always open for ideas, and I'll do pretty much anything as long as it isn't slash or femslash. I have nothing against those type of fics, but I don't write that stuff. Thanks!