AN: Just got back from seeing Sky High… again… and I'm ready for more writing. Hopefully all will be revealed… well, some will be revealed…I hope. This is for Jordan.

Oh, and if any of this sounds a little Zach-bashy, please know that I love all of my Sky High kids.

The Sage in the Trans AM

Warren's Trans Am smelt of Chinese food. The AC was busted- which didn't really surprise Margaret- so they drove with the windows down, which was convenient since the passenger side window hadn't been there since he bought it. The breeze was cool outside the car and the muted lights of suburbia floated by like fireflies in the distance. It was almost nice, it was almost a scene from one of her romantic daydreams, if it had been anyone but Warren Peace next to her.

He kept his eyes on the road, the wind barely rustling his hair which was still pulled back. The moonlight was playing across his features, making them look more angular, more sinister. He reminded her of his father, of newspaper clippings she'd seen of him when she was younger. No matter what else she could say of him, Warren was an imposing young man.

She was scrunched up in her seat, her arm and thigh pressed so closely to the door she was afraid she might fall out. Every muscle in her body was tense with the closeness of the man who'd almost killed her in gym. Was this really what is was to be a super hero? Near death experiences and then car rides with your enemies later that day? Forget it.

But Warren wasn't her enemy. No one was ever officially a villain until after high school. Even the Baron had played it cool until he left Sky High. According to Principle Powers, the two of them were partners now until graduation. Margaret saw her year looming ahead of her, just so many days like this one- bloody and disappointing. She grumbled a little bit and sunk down in her seat, leaning her forehead against the door frame.

And what was it she was supposed to do, teach him humanity? Margaret couldn't even talk to Zach, Maj's lite-brite of a boyfriend from the junior class. How was she supposed to teach him how to be human when she was doing such a lousy job of it herself?

She looked over at him. He was still watching the road.

He looked so different with his hair away from his face. In school all she could ever really make out were his eyes, thin slits that burned almost every time he talked to her. Now she could see more to him, how his throat arched so well into his chin, his skin smooth and tan- even in the milky pale of moonlight- and his lips, round and-

Margaret sat up quickly and blinked. These were NOT things she should be thinking, not things she should be noticing. She decided to focus her thoughts on the creature that had stood over her, flame in hand, ready to do her in, the monster that had nearly killed her- the hero that had helped her realize her powers…

"Can I ask you something?" She asked, her voice sounding dull and muted in the pristine silence of the car.

Warren didn't answer, and she didn't really care.

"Why are you doing this?"

She saw his lips purse slightly and his forehead wrinkle a bit in thought. "You see, when I push down on the long one, the car goes faster-"

"Why are you taking me home?"

"Was there somewhere else you wanted to go, Hero?"

"See, that's what I mean. You haven't once called me Margaret, you're always acting like you'd rather be skinned alive than be seen with me, and then you creep up behind me in a deserted alley and offer me a ride home?"

Warren was silent for a moment but she couldn't read his profile, which was all he was offering her of his face.

"I'm not good with people." He finally said, rather quietly. Margaret just stared at his ear. "And you said you didn't like Margaret."

"When did I say that?"

"Freshmen year, power placement. Boomer called you up, Uncle Boomer," he corrected himself, somewhat sardonically. "And you said that you didn't like being called Margaret."

Now it was her turn to stare safely at the road. "You remembered that?" Warren nodded. She wasn't sure whether to be impressed or embarrassed. She wasn't sure of what to say or think, and found a familiar ball of confusion tightening in her stomach every time she was around Warren. Everything inside of her seemed to be in dizzying motion and there he was, calmly sitting next to her, driving, not a hint of life beneath that perfect skin of his. It was enough to make her want to scream.

"Look, I'm not happy about this situation either. You weren't exactly my first choice for a partner. But the way I see it, we might as well make the best of a bad situation."

Warren didn't move.

"But what is Principle Powers on about?" She exploded, exacerbated. "I'm supposed to teach you how to be human? That's like teaching a monkey to write Hamlet."

"Hey!" He snapped, shooting her an angry look which was all the more violent without his hair to ease the sharpness. Margaret was too busy to notice.

"And you can't help me with my powers! You don't know what my powers are!" She paused for a moment then, quietly, "I don't even know what my powers are."

"Well, think," he said calmly, though his voice was still a bit gruff, "What was going through your head this morning?"

"This morning?"

"In gym."

"Oh, when I froze you-" Warren let out a long snort. Clearly he was still unhappy about the whole idea of him being frozen, let alone by a girl, let alone by her.

Margaret thought back to that morning, replaying the incident with details. Her stomach started growing queasy at the memory- her being partnered with Warren, Warren dropping her to knees, her nose cracking under Warren's knuckles, Warren's arms igniting and hovering over her ready to strike-

"No!" She cried out, curling up in her seat as the memory of Warren grew nearer. Instantly the car broke, stalled and stopped, the engine coughing a few times before settling into silence. Warren jerked forward at the sudden stop, most of his hair falling out of his ponytail. Margaret was shaken out of her memory and realized that they'd stopped and it quickly dawned on her why.

"Sorry."

"You got to get that fixed, Hero." He said, pulling the tie from the rest of his hair and then gathering his mane back away from his face. "What brought that on?" He turned the key and let out a small, relieved sigh when the car started up.

"I was thinking about this morning."

"Okay, and…"

She mumbled something then turned her head towards the door, the wind blowing her hair out of her face.

"I'm a flame thrower, not a mind reader. What was that?"

"I was afraid I was going to die." She said clearly, a little annoyed. She hated admitting that to him, though she doubted anyone would blame her. Warren's black-leathered figure in the halls made even the bravest of upperclassmen tremble and move out of his way. He was feared and respected by everyone of the students. They'd all have felt the same thing if they had been in her shoes, facing the other end of a fireball- so why was it so hard to let him know?

"What about the cafeteria?"

"I thought you were going to kill Maj."

He snorted. "Why?"

"She mentioned your dad. The last time someone did that, you and Will nearly destroyed the cafeteria."

"So you thought I was going to roast her right then and there?"

Margaret was quiet. When he put it like that it did sound a little far fetched. There was a reason to toast Will; Maj was just blunt. She was starting to understand that Warren didn't do anything without a reason, that all of his actions were a result of careful thought and consideration. That's why his jaw's so tight, she thought, looking over at his face, his jaw line rigid and sharp. There was so much he was keeping in, that he was biting down on and she wondered what could possibly bother a guy like Warren Peace.

"Most powers are triggered by intense emotional stress." he said finally. "That's probably what happens to you."

"Emotional stress?" She scoffed, though it did make sense. This morning under the heart of Warren's attack, was the most alive she'd felt in years. Blood seemed to be pumping to every miniscule part of her body and something switched on inside of her. She could still feel it, like a small ball floating in her stomach, the same ball that tensed whenever Warren was angry with her, which was starting to become regular.

"What triggered your powers then?"

Warren slammed on the brakes and Margaret almost flew into the windshield.

"What the-"

"Home." he all but barked, putting the car in park.

Margaret looked out the lack-of-window and there was her house, a green and white farm rising out of a winding, red dirt driveway. Warren had stopped just shy of their mailbox with "Allen" painted in large black letters along the side.

"How do you know I live here?" Was he a mind reader?

"Your dad orders a lot of sweet and sour pork." He said simply.

"Thanks for the ride." She felt embarrassed and small. She opened the door and got out, jerkily closing it behind her. Warren was staring at her from behind the wheel, his long body laying easily against the cracking leather seats. She couldn't move under those eyes. She wasn't sure if he wanted to say something or drive over her toes, either was plausible from him.

He looked so sad, she realized. He looked suddenly like a lost little boy and it almost broke her heart. Something thick caught in her throat and she sputtered.

"Warren-"

He shuddered, as though someone as suddenly stuck him in ice. His eyes widened and then he really looked at her. Margaret wasn't exactly sure what had happened. She turned to leave but heard his door open and a thick boot hit the gravel road. She turned around just in time to catch a fortune cookie before it ht her in the nose. Warren was grinning wanly at her, one side of his mouth tugging upward slightly. He gave her a short nod and got back into the car, quickly putting it in gear and speeding away, gravel grinding under his tires.

Margaret stared at his tail lights until they faded into the road ahead. She unwrapped her cookie and broke it open, always reading the fortune before she ate. The small strip of paper was bent and a little crumby from the cookie, but it's text was clear-

"Sometimes heroes cannot save themselves."

Margaret stared at it for a moment and snorted before shoving the paper in the back pocket of her jeans and stuffing half of the cookie into her mouth.