CHAPTER 4
Silver spent the next few weeks finding her feet at her new school. October came and went with one of the scariest Halloweens she'd ever known, zombie mobs courtesy of Mirage, and a freezing mist adding spooky luminescence thanks to their literature teacher, Storm. Storm's classes quickly became Silver's favourite, probably because they were so normal. Rather than focus on mutant-centric philosophy or physics, literature classes meant struggling through the same dry books she knew from her High School reading list, and there was something comforting in knowing that somewhere not too far away, her old friends were also muttering curses at Dostoyevsky and Albert Camus.
More and more, as the weeks passed, Silver became preoccupied with Warren. She had never seen him smile, or socialise, with anyone. She rarely heard him talk, other than when a teacher calling him dragged a few begrudged phrases from his lips. He was easily as cute as Bobby and his accent should have made him top dog, but his reticence set him apart and he had no friends. Silver knew that Rogue, the other silent student, spent hours at a time alone with the Professor and Jean in the basement level, but Warren was like any other student. There was nothing remarkable about him, other than his anti-social behaviour and that trench coat.
One day, nauseated with adrenaline, Silver took her breakfast tray not to her usual table with Kitty and Jubilee, but past them to the corner where Warren sat by himself. Kitty's jaw hit the floor and she immediately turned to whisper with Jubilee. Silver did her best to ignore that. She sat down with Warren, who actually stopped with one of his toast strips, dripping yolk, half way to his mouth. Their eyes met. For several moments, neither spoke nor blinked.
"Hi," she said eventually. Warren looked almost comically shocked, but he eventually swallowed, cleared his throat, and put his fork down.
"Hi," he replied.
"I didn't see you at the fun house on Halloween."
"I wasn't there." He stared at her, as if unable to fathom why she was talking to him.
"That would explain it." Silver chewed some omelette. "You know, something about you has been bothering me since I got here. No one can enlighten me, so please don't be offended, but I have to ask this straight out…" Warren's eyes tightened, and he began to scowl. "What the hell are you eating? You're ruining perfectly good toast with raw egg!"
Warren blinked a few times, and then he began to laugh. Once he started, he didn't seem able to stop, and his chuckle became a chortle. It sounded like he was using laughs he had been saving up for years.
"Soldiers!" he gasped, once he could breathe again. "They're called toast soldiers. And they're a perfectly normal breakfast in Britain."
"You know what, Warren? Other kids here think it's weird." Silver leaned in conspiratorially. "You may not have noticed but you don't quite fit in. Maybe if you could eat some cereal, like a normal person, you'd have more friends."
"Silver, that had never occurred to me. Thank you for showing me the error of my ways. I can now be a well-adjusted adolescent." They were grinning at each other. Their conversation flowed normally after that, and breakfast flew by quickly. Warren was not shy at all, but quick and funny. Why had he chosen to be alone?
The promise of his blue eyes, broad shoulders, and cute accent was quickly realised when Silver developed a massive crush on her new friend. She told no one about it, because she didn't want to act on it- at least not right away. After months of isolation, Warren needed a friend more than a romantic complication. Silver decided not to ask him out until he had some more friends. However, her efforts towards getting him to hang out in groups were mostly in vain. Despite his willingness to talk with her, watch movies with her, sit with her at meals, he once again became his silent withdrawn self when other people were around. Silver knew intuitively that his problem was due to his mutant power, but despite their new intimacy she still had no idea herself what it was. He had never volunteered anything. The few times Silver had subtly brought it up, Warren had not-so-subtly shut her down. Silver realised she would have to use less than savoury methods to get the information she wanted- namely, spying.
After putting her head together with Mirage, Silver quickly learned Warren's routine. Due to his parents paying generous tuition, he had a rare private suite on the third floor, complete with a balcony that overlooked the formal gardens behind the house. He 'went to bed' remarkable early. Even though the nights were getting bitterly cold, the window to his private suite usually stayed open for a very long time, usually past midnight. Anyone who has ever been 17 would know he was sneaking out, and Silver had a hunch he was using his powers either to get out or while he was out. He never participated in mutant phys ed, so he must be 'stretching those muscles' in some way or another.
Eventually, throwing caution to the wind, Silver picked a spot in the grounds from which she could see Warren's window but, from the window, she would be masked by shrubberies. She told Kitty and Jubilee that she wanted some privacy, and knowing no one else would miss her, she settled down to wait. The grounds eventually emptied their giggling occupants, and bedroom windows lit up one by one till the mansion was a blaze of light against the inky black night. Warren's window stayed dark, though a movement within proved he was there.
It was late. Silver was beginning to nod off when a sound snapped her alert. Warren's window had been opened with a bit of a scrape and a squeak. The light from other windows glowed behind a silhouette- but it didn't look like Warren. It was huge, bulky, and wide. And then it grew wider and wider and wider, until Silver saw what it was. Wings. What looked like massive feathered wings had stretched from the centre form, and then gracefully, the winged thing swooped down out of the window, flapped the enormous wings once, and then began to climb into the sky. It flew directly over Silver's hiding place, and she got a perfect view, her mouth open in shock. It was Warren.
Bare chested, long golden hair pale in the moonlight, he flew on white feathered wings into the sky, high and low, weaving in out of the low clouds. She suddenly knew the well-developed muscles of his broad shoulders and perfectly defined torso were due to flying. She knew why he was quick and graceful. He was like an eagle, fierce and graceful in flight.
Unthinking, Silver emerged from her hiding spot and stood alone in the centre of a field, watching him fly in the distance. She was mesmerised. None of the other students had physical mutations; most of them looked human and had unseen powers. Not Warren. The secret of Warren's mutation was propelling him among the stars.
Silver was so lost in the dreamlike quality of watching him fly through the night sky that she completely forgot he hadn't wanted anyone to know. So when he flew towards the mansion, over an hour later, and spotted her, she waved to her friend with a huge grin on her face. He dropped to the ground a ways off and walked towards her. She noticed when he walked that his wings folded against his back but not nearly close enough to be invisible under even a bulky coat. He must bind them tightly under that jacket, she thought. By the end of the day, it would be hurting terribly. Silver had had her arm in a cast as a kid and remembered the pain of flexing her wrist the first time it was unbound.
She was so happy to see him and so enamoured of his wings that she didn't understand the scowl on his face.
"What the hell are you doing out here?" He hissed at her.
"Watching you fly. It's amazing!" she said, trying to understand his anger.
"Come to have a good look at the freak show, eh? I hadn't thought that of you, Silver. Everyone else, sure, but not you." He looked deeply wounded.
"What, you think I'm judging you?" she asked blankly. "We're all mutants, Warren."
"None of you are like this! Everyone else here can walk around and no one would ever know. None of you know what it's like to have your secret on the outside, for people to see the second they look at you that you're nature's big joke. Pretty soon, you lot will be able to pack your powers away with your diploma and no one will ever know. But I have to live with this every day. I can never go to the beach, or a gym. I can't take my bloody coat off. I'll never feel a woman put her arms around me. Can you imagine the scream when she felt these?" He gestured with disgust at his wings, as lovely as a swan's. His face was bitter. "So go ahead, get an eyeful, have a laugh, and go back and tell all your girlfriends about the freak." He turned away from her to stride off in anger, but Silver chased after him. She reached a hand out to his bare shoulder, angling it carefully so she didn't touch his wings.
He let her turn him around and stand with her hands on his shoulders, looking up into his face.
"Warren. You're still the same guy you were this morning. And these…" Slowly, so he could pull away if he wanted, she reach out and stroked one feathery wing over his shoulder. "These are beautiful. Warren, you're an angel. You're like Saint Michael- a winged warrior."
Warren's face softened at her unflinching touch. "Saint Michael was an Archangel, actually," he said wryly.
"Whatever," she replied. And, leaning close, she put her cheek on his bare chest and wrapped her arms around him. She felt his pinions brushing her arms, the warmth from his body heating his silky skin, the place under his wings as comforting as anything she could ever imagine.
"See?" she murmured, snuggling him. "No screams."
"I dunno, I think I feel a shriek coming on." His voice was thick with emotion as he tentatively put his arms around her. She shivered at his touch, which he promptly misinterpreted.
"How long have you been out without a coat, you ninny?" he demanded. He pulled away and looked her in the face.
"Um, since dinner?"
"You idiot!" he said, without heat. "You'll catch your death."
"You know, Angel, in the New World we know that germs cause illness, not night air."
"Do you know what causes silly girls getting a slap? Remarks like that one."
"Ooh, check the tough guy without a shirt on." Warren chuckled and threw his trademark coat around her shoulders. He scooped her up in his arms and, in one breathless movement that left Silver's stomach back on the grounds, she was suddenly three stories up standing on Warren's moonlit balcony in the arms of her dream guy. Warren, however, completely missed the romantic potential of the moment. He dropped her gently on her feet and led her inside.
"You're all clammy. Get in the toilet and get your clothes off. Put these on." He gave her one of his shirts and some sweatpants. Dutifully, not wanting to argue as the night had gone so well, she changed into his things. They swamped her, but they were cosy.
"So, what's your wing span?" she asked curiously as she plopped down in his bed.
"Is that a pick up line, or are you just really tactless?" he asked, grinning. "C'mon, you're going to bed."
Once again, he swept her up, walked to the balcony, and launched them into the night. Riding in his arms felt effortless. After the first few beats of his wings, they travelled smoothly, the wings doing all the work and his arms holding her safely. He flew high in the air, over the top of the mansion, and down to the back door of the girls' dorm.
"You'll get your clothes back tomorrow," he told her. "Now go to bed!" and leaving her to let herself in, he flew back in the air and disappeared towards the boys' dorms.
"Wow," she breathed. She dutifully went to her room and got in her PJ's, careful not to awaken her softly snoring roommates. But instead of trying to sleep, she turned on her discreet bedside lamp, pulled out her sewing kit, and took Warren's shirt in her hands. She began to work.
When they sat down in class the next day, Warren dumped her clothes from the night before on her desk, and Silver pulled his (neatly folded) from her bag and handed them over. Mirage wolf whistled at them.
"Long night, you two?" he called, and the class laughed.
"Warren, you're blushing," Silver teased, unbothered by her classmates.
"Of course I'm blushing," he retorted. "I'm English. If I weren't red, I'd be transparent."
"Right, settle down," Dr McCoy said, setting a briefcase on his desk. As order was called, Silver grinned to herself. She couldn't wait till lunch!
Jubilee took Silver aside in the lunch line, and talked to her in a low and earnest voice. "Are you ditching us for that boy again, Silver? I know you've got some secret mission to make him fit in but Kitty's starting to think you don't like her anymore. You haven't sat with us in weeks. It really isn't cool."
Silver smiled at her. "Last time, Jubilee. Tomorrow I'm back with the girls. My secret mission will be accomplished before 5th period."
At lunch, instead of grabbing a table with Warren, she took him by the wrist and started pulling him outside. No one had eaten outside since October, due to it being stupidly cold, so when they reached the out of doors, they were in perfect privacy.
"Look! Look what I did to your shirt!" cried Silver, unable to contain herself.
"What, did you get make-up on it or something?" he asked, a smile twitching the corner of his mouth. He held it up, looking at the front. "It's the same."
"Look at the back!" she urged.
When he turned it around, his face went blank. For hours last night, Silver had worked. She cut and hemmed two slits in the back of his shirt. The bottoms of the hems contained magnetic strips, sealing the bottom of two long, narrow holes. Wings would be able to fit out through those holes, the shirt would close itself beneath them.
"Try it on, Warren, please? I worked on it all night!"
"You should've been studying for the Chemistry test…" he muttered, but he still grudgingly lowered his bags and unbuttoned his jacket.
Under the jacket was a grossly over-sized T shirt, and under that was something that looked a lot like the restraints used on mental patients. Wide leather straps wrapped around his chest and stomach, and up and over his shoulders. His wings were squashed against his body. The tips of his longest pinions trailed low against his calves, which explained why he wore such a long coat.
Silver helped him unfasten the buckle on the restraints. It came off in one smooth motion, and he immediately stretched his wings are far as they could go. "Cramp," he said sheepishly.
"This should help with that." She smiled at him, encouraging.
He slipped the shirt over his head, and with a tug, the back settled over his wings and the magnetic strips snapped shut. He had dressed himself, in a shirt that left his wings free, in moments. He tugged at the collar, rolled his shoulders, and smiled.
"It fits."
"It is your shirt," she reminded him, grinning. "So you gonna wear it now?"
"Silver, I really love it. I'll wear it every night."
"I was hoping you'd wear it for the rest of the day. I can do this to all your shirts, if you want. They'll all fit the real you, for a change."
"Where did you get the magnetic strips?" he asked, curiously.
"Don't look to close at the mini fridge in our common room. Come on, Warren, please? Will you wear it today?"
He grimaced. "Look, Silver, I appreciate the thought but I just don't know-"
"Warren, you are a freak. At a school full of freaks that was itself specifically built to house freaks. Do you think you're so special that you'll be the only kid teased about their powers? Get over yourself!"
Warren flushed again. His pasty English complexion made it easy to tell when he was feeling anything.
"You'll do yourself an injury wearing that stupid brace. If you can't be yourself here, where can you?"
Warren didn't say anything, but he rolled up his coat and harness and stuffed them in his back pack, which he couldn't put on, but carried in one hand.
"You really should get a satchel with a strap, instead," Silver said coolly as they walked back inside the cafeteria. She tried to appear nonchalant as they walked in. So did Warren. But mutants or not, high school is high school, and a set of huge angel wings do not go unnoticed.
All eyes were on Warren as they walked back in. Giving him a meaningful glance, Silver grabbed her lunch tray and sat down with her friends. Warren followed.
"So, Chem test: stupidly hard or did Dr McCoy give us the wrong test?" Silver asked, digging into her mystery meat.
"Oh no, I thought it was so easy! Seriously, was it hard? Oh man, that means I thought I was doing it right but was doing it totally wrong. If I drop any lower in Chem, I might have to re-sit over the summer and Hank hates it when that happens…" Kitty was off on her monologue, Silver nodding along, while Jubilee looked curiously at Warren.
"The loner makes friends?"
"It's been known to happen," he replied.
"Well, I'm just glad you finally gave us Silver back," Jubilee said with a grin. "I couldn't handle Kitty on my own any longer."
Kitty and Jubilee were only the beginning. Over the course of lunch, what seemed like most of the school visited the table, and ostensibly, the only thing that was brought up about Warren was his shift away from anti-social behaviour. Perhaps the students of Mutant High were more perceptive than Silver had given them credit for, she was thinking- that is, until their table was approached by Bobby 'Iceman' Drake and his cronies. He spoke lightly to the girls, flirted a bit with Kitty, before turning to Angel and looking him full in the face. Warren stood up.
"Look, man, I just want you to know, I understand." Warren's eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't want anyone to know either, if I were the result of my mother's torrid affair with a feather pillow…" He grinned, and Warren just stared at him. Then, Bobby raised one finger and rested it lightly on the centre of Warren's chest.
"Ice on your shirt! Haha!" he suddenly shouted, and, laughing, he sprinted out of the cafeteria, his posse following him.
Warren picked at his shirt, shaking off the frost Bobby's touch had left.
"I'm going to need another one of these for tomorrow," he said, smiling at Silver. "How big is that fridge?"
