March 3, 1983
The wedding party had lasted long into the night. Warren figured that it was actually morning now, but he wasn't quite sure. Everything seemed a little blurry after the ceremony. Although the wedding had been rather sudden, there had been quite a lot of champagne afterwards.
Warren wasn't a stranger to the copious consumption of alcohol, he'd been to plenty of business parties that had taken an interesting turn rather quickly. He could always hold his alcohol, although not as well as he'd like. At least he'd never thrown up on anyone. However, something about being back at the Institute had him feeling self-conscious.
Scott talked a lot about how everyone had changed. Warren thought that it was more telling that, no, no one had changed that much. Alex still seemed domineering, standing in the corner of the room, his Brotherhood-turned-X-man, and once again pregnant wife by his side. Warren thought that, now that he was older, Alex wouldn't seem as quite so much of a giant to him. Instead he seemed bigger somehow.
The Professor and Moira seemed more set into their roles somehow, that same welcoming family image that seemed a little less necessary now. Sean was still semi-absent, he didn't know where he was now, and Hank was just straight out gone. The children were growing up, but he had never really known them that much, so it didn't make too much of an impression.
He looked around him. Clarice and Calvin were standing together, their ringed hands clasped tightly together. Warren supposed that they were the Rankins now. He couldn't believe that they had managed to make sense of what he felt was a very long distance relationship. Their hands were entwined and he wondered how they'd managed to make that thing permanent.
As for Scott and Jean, they were gloomily unchanged. Scott was still his brother's pet and Jean was still standing in the position as the smart and perfect person she always was. Even the sight of the two of them brought back his old feelings of inadequacy and rejection.
It irked him that it still stung after all the years that had passed that he'd lived so long in Scott's shadow. Warren knew that it shouldn't. He was a successful businessman with more money than Scott would probably see in his life. Scott would probably never even leave the Institute, never be anything outside of it, but he was still the cheerful, perfect teenager grown into an adult.
Next to him Ororo smiled. She'd calmed down with the passing years, he supposed it was her teaching career, but there was still a fierce fire there that he admired. He was glad. No matter what, he knew that he could always be confident about her friendship.
"You look a little out of it Warren," she said.
"Ah, you know how it is," he said.
"Not really," Ororo said, "Three years. I can't believe they kept it secret from all of us for so long."
"It seems like a very Clarice thing to do," Warren said.
He rubbed his temples.
"Even thinking about it makes my head hurt," he said.
"Because that never happens," Ororo said.
Warren laughed.
"Alright Miss Teacher," he said, "Go ahead, but I'm getting another drink."
"Don't overdo it," Ororo warned.
"Yes mother," Warren said.
He waved to her, laughing, and headed into the next room. It was empty, but he knew there were still a few bottles in there. As he began to pour himself a drink he heard voices from the next room over.
"Some night, huh Alex?" Scott asked.
"You can say that again," Alex said.
Warren rolled his eyes and picked up his glass. It looked like the Summers brothers were having a heart to heart. Again.
"I didn't think this night would be so surprising," Scott said.
Putting the bottle down Warren took a sip of his drink.
"Scott, there's something I have to tell you," Alex said, "I was going to tell everyone tonight, but I don't want to steal Calvin and Clarice's spotlight."
Warren took another sip, barely paying attention. It wasn't his brother who was talking.
"I'm going to retire Scott," Alex said, "Me and Lorna."
Warren nearly choked on his drink. His eyes widened and he tried to keep from spitting it out everywhere. He looked behind his shoulder at the adjoining doorway. He knew that they couldn't tell that he was listening, but still.
"What?" Scott asked.
"Lorna thinks it's time, and I have to agree," Alex said, "Scott, we've got Max now, and now there's another child on the way."
Warren edged away from the door, feeling his nerves go taut.
"But, Alex-" Scott said.
"No, I know what you're thinking," Alex said, "Isn't that his life? And yeah, I understand. But, well, I think that it might be time to move on-"
There was a pause where Warren could hear Alex taking a deep breath.
"-and give the next generation a chance."
Warren felt his heart rate speed up, his thoughts boiling through the alcohol.
"Alex...you can't mean-"
"I do," Alex said, "I couldn't leave the X-men in better hands than yours."
A pain began in Warren's head. He set his glass down and left the room as quickly and quietly as he could. He didn't want to hear anymore. Warren shouldn't even have been listening in the first place, but now he felt sick. He also felt drained, both emotionally and physically.
It shouldn't have mattered that Scott was taking over the X-men. He'd been groomed for the position since he was a teenager. Besides, why did the team's leadership mean anything at all to him? Warren hadn't even been a member for years.
Somehow it did matter though. Warren was important outside of the Institute, but inside it he was a footnote. It shouldn't matter, and he leaned against the wall, angry. Why couldn't he let it go? Why the hell did Scott's success get to him?
The alcohol seemed to melt away and he suddenly felt like crying. Being a footnote did matter, and it wasn't because he was clinging to his childhood. The X-men had been the only time in his life when he'd done something meaningful, and his contribution to that had been paltry. He'd only excelled at things other teammates could do better, had a mutation that was barely conducive to combat. He might have been on the team or off it, and it wouldn't have mattered.
He staggered towards the main entrance hall. He could remember when he'd first come in, his eyes wide and hoping that someone could help him with his wings. Now he appreciated them, but what purpose had he put them to?
Warren sat down on one of the steps and ran a hand through his hair. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol that made him teary: he was sober enough to know that he wasn't drunk enough to blame everything on the champagne. Warren wished he could just leave the Institute. He could see now that coming back had been a mistake.
"Whatcha doing?"
Warren looked up. David was walking down behind him. His Scooby-Doo pajamas belied the strangely intelligent look on his face. Warren could see that his eyes were a little red: not with crying, but as though he were tired.
"You should be in bed," Warren said.
It was just about all he could manage.
"I have trouble sleeping," David said.
He sat down and nodded towards the sounds of the party.
"Why aren't you there?" he asked.
"Needed some air," Warren said.
It was an understatement, but he didn't want to snap at David. No matter how irritated he was David was just a kid, and it wouldn't be fair.
"You should go outside," David said.
"I don't need that much air," Warren said.
David nodded. For a moment they sat in silence, the sounds of the party trickling through.
"I was hoping I'd find you actually," David said.
Warren looked at him.
"Why?" he asked.
David swung his legs.
"I was pretty young when you left," he said.
"You're still pretty young," Warren said.
David shrugged.
"I never thanked you," he said.
Warren raised his eyebrows.
"What for?" he asked.
David looked at him as though he was an idiot. It was pretty much how Warren felt.
"You saved my mom," David said.
Warren blinked, trying to remember what he was talking about. After a moment he remembered when they had fought Sinister, holding his arm over Moira's mouth, cutting it so his healing blood trickled into her mouth.
"Oh, that," Warren said, "No biggie. Now go back to bed."
David's eyes narrowed.
"It's not nothing to me," he snapped.
Immediately Warren drew back. There just seemed to be so much venom in David's voice. David closed his eyes for a moment and then breathed in.
"She's still here because of what you did," he said, "And Kurt got to know her. He wouldn'tve gotten to know her if she'd died then."
David drew his legs up to his chest.
"So thanks for doing what no one else could've," he said.
Warren blinked, surprised at the turn the conversation had taken, but he shrugged.
"No one else has healing blood," he said.
"Nope, but no one else told you to do what you did," David said.
Warren wanted to tell him that no one else had known, but that wasn't true. Scott and Boom-Boom had both known, and neither of them had thought to give it a try. He hesitated, turning over the thought in his head.
"Thanks," he said.
David nodded and yawned.
"Now I'm going to give sleeping another try," he said.
"Good luck," Warren said.
David nodded and headed up the stairs. Warren stared straight ahead of himself. He'd saved Moira Xavier. How could he have forgotten about that? It had been such a small act, but it had certainly meant the world to David, Charles, and Kurt. Now that he concentrated he could remember that Charles had thanked him afterwards. He'd looked like a man handed a pardon as he stood before the firing squad.
How many other people had he helped and saved and just never given a thought to? He'd never gotten the bad guy like Scott and saved the day, but did he have to? Warren had carried Terry safely down to the hanger where she'd seen her father. He'd saved bystanders from becoming collateral during their missions. They'd gone home to their families because of him.
He straightened up. He'd done something, even if he wasn't a super X-man like Scott. He'd been a good X-man, even if he wasn't one anymore. He didn't have to be. There were other things he could do with his life.
Warren had an enviable, and rather sizable, income. There were things he could do with that. He could help people. It was like his eyes were opened and, suddenly, he didn't feel like he'd hit rock bottom. He felt like a door had been opened somewhere.
He got to his feet and straightened his suit. Tonight was the beginning of something else. Scott could continue being an X-man: it was what he did best. Warren had been a good X-man, and he could be proud of his record. However, like Alex, it was time for him to move on.