Authors' note : Thank you, ish! Hope your review will make others read this. And you won't be disappointed, swear. And look! Quick like a bunny on... well maybe not crack, but Ritalin, for sure.

Chapter 2

I stayed in my room the whole day, switching from my place on the bed to the floor. I spent the rest of the afternoon there, sitting on the warm floorboards in the square of sun light like a house cat. For some reason it felt so good, to simply shut my eyes and let it warm me despite the already hot temperature, to even move to the left here and then to follow the sun as it moved towards the West. It made me shiver in pleasure and feel the blood rush in my veins, made me feel like I could lift the whole house and easily carry it across town. I was only fifteen years old, but so far it was about the best feeling I ever had in my short life.

I would glance at the mirror at some moments, forcing myself to get used to the wings sprouting out of my back. I could only try to imagine how my father felt to literally watch them grow out of my shoulder blades, and shuddered each time I thought of how it might have felt if I hadn't been asleep when they did. After I calmed down, sitting in the sun for a little while, I started to look at them in a new way. I would have found them beautiful in other circumstances, like on a rare species of gigantic bird at the zoo, but on me, considering how it was going to change my life, how I couldn't control them, and how I pretty much doubted they were there for a purpose, they were much, much less beautiful. The feathers shone softly in the light of the sun, a lot of the soft things all over the floor, ruffling and flying around when a soft breeze blew in the room. I only had had the wings for a few days, and they were either already moulting, or I was doomed to find golden feathers all over the place for the rest of my life.

I couldn't control the wings. For half the time I sat there glaring at them, silently telling them to unfold, fold and whatever, but they never did. Instead they followed my mood, apparently, drawing closer like a cocoon when I felt down, perking and ruffling when I found something positive about the situation, and half opening when I sat still and simply let the sun warm me – or should I say us – for hours, probably looking like a gull drying its wings on the reefs.

My mood went down at the same time as the sun. Dad hadn't come back, even though I could hear him passing by the door while he went around the house doing things, probably slowing down and listening. He probably thought I was sleeping. Now it was dark in the bedroom, the sun and its light and warmth long gone to leave place for the moon; and I still sat on the now cold floor, legs drawn up and chin resting on my knees, the wings having, obviously, wrapped around me like a soft, feathery bubble. I listened to the sounds outside, the cars driving on the street down under my window, and kids playing outside, their mothers calling for them to come back in. I recognized a bunch of kids my age from my neighborhood as they walked in front of my house, making me look up at the window, but I didn't get up. It made me wonder what my friends in school were thinking about me being sick for over ten days, and what my father had told them. I frowned, looking down. If I was going to New York in that freak mutant school, it was likely I was never going to see them again.

I heard the television being turned off downstairs at around 11 o'clock, my father climbing the stairs up to his room. He knocked on my door, probably to wish me a good night, but I didn't answer, letting him think I was already sleeping. He didn't insist, and went to bed, and I waited a long moment before pushing myself up to my feet for the first time in hours. I silently walked out of the bedroom and through the dark hallway, going down the stairs towards the patio door in the kitchen. I stepped out on the deck and sat on the wooden stairs leading to the pool, looking around the backyard I had spent my whole childhood in. I loved this place more than the world, and I was going to have to leave it. Leave my friends, my school, my hometown and my house. Leave my father, of all things. All because of my powers. I frowned deeply, looking down at my hands as I balled them into tight fists. I didn't even have powers, I was just a mutant with two stupid wings. Even if I could fly with them, I didn't see how useful it could be to me.

I sighed, staying still for a long moment, until a sound from the street made me turn my head. I got back to my feet, walking across the lawn to the fence, careful not to let myself – or my wings – be seen, and frowned at the black car parked across the street. My eyes widened slightly at the hover chair carrying an old man to our house, curious people dressed in black following him, and I bit my lower lip before heading back inside the house, the doorbell being heard as I stepped back on the deck. I glanced up at the second floor windows to see my father's light up, and stepped back inside the house as he walked down the steps, slowing down when he saw me. "I t'ink dat prof's here, dad," I let out in a low tone, sliding the glass door back shut behind me.

He raised an eyebrow, pushing his glasses up to the top of his head. "Wha..." he let out, walking to the door. He only wore pants under his robe, the belt loosely tied over his chest. He opened it, snorting softly, and I took a step forward to see them, a tall, blonde man, the older guy in the chair, and a pretty redhead. "Hi... I wasn' expectin' yeh now."

The man in the chair nodded. "We are sorry for the late hour, but we didn't see any reason to wait. Besides, it sounded urgent on the telephone, Mr. Taylor." He turned his head to look at me as I stepped closer, stuffing my hands in my pockets. "Good evening, Anton."

"Hi," I replied, frowning slightly as I looked up at the two others.

The woman, who I could tell was older than she looked, gave me a soft smile. My attention, however, was drawn to the man behind her, and the strange way his suit jacket fell. I looked back at her as she stepped forward. Her voice filled my head. The professor would like to speak with your father, and I would like to speak with you, Anton. My name is Jean Grey.

I frowned deeply, staring at her. I wasn't sure I appreciate the intrusion in my mind much. I was, after all, still able to communicate in a normal, verbal way. "Don' do dat," I let out in a breath. I looked up at the other man, who had stayed silent until now. "Who are you?"

"Warren Worthington the third," he let out in a deep voice, a serious look on his face.

Jean bit her lip, glancing back at Warren. "Perhaps you should go with Mr. Taylor. I want to talk to Anton alone." She glanced back at me, using her voice this time. "If you don't mind."

I shook my head no, turning my head to watch my father go with the professor and the blonde man towards the dinning room. I took a step back, tilting my head towards the living room. "I don' mind."

"I should know better," she told me with a smile. "My son is your age. He doesn't appreciate it either. But I forget that I'm even doing it. Your mutancy very quickly becomes natural, a real part of you."

I snorted softly, turning my head to step in the living room as the wings drew closer to my back. "Dat's a bit hard t'believe when it's twice yeh size."

She smiled, "My telepathic field is bigger than me, I know a thing or two about that." She sat on the edge of the couch, looking up at me. "You don't want to come with us, do you?"

I shrugged. "It's not about comin' with yeh, s'about leavin' here. I never asked for dis t'happen."

She shook her head. "No one ever does." She looked up at me again, "You like it here? A good of mine was born here and it's all he can ever talk about."

I nodded, taking a step back to sit on the arm of the couch. "Everyone loves home. My dad an' I always lived in dis house."

"It's very nice. Is it just the two of you?"

I frowned, looking down at my hands. "Yeah."

She nodded, staring at me, and tucked back her hair. "I promise you'll find a life at the X-mansion too, Anton. It never seems like it at first, but we have kind, wonderful people there."

I frowned at my hands, nodding. "Yeah, I guess." I sighed, looking back at her, my eyes narrowing. "I don' really have a choice anyway, do I? I can' stay here, an' dere's nowhere else I can go."

She looked up at me, "You always have a choice. We'd like you to want to be there. We can teach you about your powers, yourself. It's one of the best educations in the country, a beautiful mansion." She shook her head, "And a chance to help humanity." She reached out for the magazine on the table, letting it float back to her hand, and flipped through the pages with the blink of an eye to a specific article. She sent it back to me, and I glanced down at it. "That would be your campus."

I reached for it, looking down at the picture of a large mansion. "Yeh probably right." I pursed my lips a long moment before looking back at her. "Yeh t'ink dere's more dan my wings? Yeh said powers."

She nodded, looking at him. "I'm sure of it." She arched an eyebrow, "If you let me back into your head, I'm sure I could find a bit more about what exactly is left to come."

I frowned at her. I ran my tongue over my top lip. I wasn't sure about the part where she had to get in my head, but knowing more about my powers was tempting. "Okay," I said, narrowing my eyes. "Dat's all yeh'll look for, right?"

She smirked at me, getting to her feet. "Yes," she said, holding up two fingers in salute. She walked to me, laying her hands on my temples, and I sighed softly as I inhaled her perfume. "Relax," she said softly to me. I didn't feel anything, lulled almost to sleep by the sweet smell of the perfume, and after a long while she stepped back with a smile. "A little God," she told me. "Your powers coincide with those of the sun."

I snorted softly. "What does dat mean?"

She smiled, "I'm not sure. It means you draw your energy from the sun, though, and that you can produce heat, light. With time, I'm sure either force beams or fire." She chuckled, "And obviously you will learn to fly."

I stared at her, suddenly interested. "An' I can learn t'do all o'dis if I go with yeh."

She nodded, smiling softly at me. "Not so bad, eh?"

I shook my head. "Non, I guess not." I glanced back at the doorframe before looking up at her. "What are dey tellin' my dad?"

She smiled, "Reassuring him that you'll be safe, I'm sure." She looked up, "There's one more thing I want you to know." She tapped her temple, not saying anything more to me. I frowned, but glanced at the door as Warren reappeared. She smiled, "Warren is the mutant known as Angel at home."

I stared at Warren. "An' dat means?"

He narrowed his eyes, glancing at Jean before stepping closer to the couch and looking at me. "It means that if you're a nice boy, I might be able to help you." He nodded to my wings. "With those."

Jean smirked and cocked her head to the side. "Why don't you show him what you mean by that, Warren."

He snorted softly, but shrugged off his suit jacket before unbuttoning his shirt. I let out a soft breath when he took it off, my eyes going to the white wings on his back. They were harnessed to his back, but he untied them, letting them unfold enough to let me see them. I let out a soft breath, staring at them. Beyond the fact the harness looked uncomfortable, he still had been able to hide the wings from view. I snorted softly, lips turning up. "Yeh deserve yeh name, den."

He snorted, but smirked, narrowing his eyes at me before looking back at Jean. "Is he coming with us?"

She smiled, "Ask him that, not me."

He turned his head to look at me, raising an interrogative eyebrow. I nodded, glancing at his wings again before looking at Jean. "Yeah, alright." I paused. "I'll go."

.. … ..

Wyatt sighed as he climbed the staircase, head hung and a heavy weight over his heart. He didn't look it, but he was excited. He was excited to find a place for his son, a place where Anton would be safe and could learn to love himself. It was a place that Wyatt couldn't offer at home anymore. He didn't know how to fly, how to master any sort of mutancy. He wasn't even sure how to keep the bigots away. He sighed and knocked on the door, feeling useless as his heart squeezed. He could hear Anton gathering things in his room through the thin wood. He was packing up already. No warnings, no chance to say goodbye. The X-men were taking him that night, and Wyatt would be alone for the first time in ten years. Ten years, that was all they had together. Ten years of being a father, ten years of having a son. It didn't feel like enough. "Need help?" he asked as the door opened, and Anton smiled at him.

He nodded, stepping back to let him in. "T'ink I need another suitcase, too."

He nodded, "Yeh can have mine." He licked his lips, "Probably need a lot o'space t'pack up yeh whole life."

He frowned, looking back at the bed where the suitcase was open. "M'not packin' my whole life. Jus' takin' what I need."

He glanced up at him, sighing softly, before he walked to the closet to pull the rest of his clothes. "I'll give yeh money t'go shoppin' up dere. Yeh gon' need a good winter coat."

He nodded, walking to his desk drawer, and frowned as he reached in for socks. "Guess so." He snorted softly. "She said I took my energy from de sun. Winter's gonna be real fun up dere." He looked up at him. "Don' take it all, dad, m'leaving some here."

He glanced at him, giving him a sad smile. "Not much of a point to dat. Dey... dey made it seem like yeh gon' wanna stay up dere fo'a while."

He frowned, swallowing, and turned to the bed again. "Dey're not lockin' me up dere. S'not like I can' come back now an' den."

He walked to him, laying a hand on his back. "Non, yeh can come back s'much as yeh want. An' f'yeh don' like it, m'on de firs' plane t'bring yeh home." He wrapped his arms around him, hugging him. "Yeh gon' give it a good try, t'ough, right?"

He nodded, silent for a moment before hiding his face. "Gonna miss yeh," he breathed.

Wyatt sighed softly, heart squeezing in his chest. "Gonna miss yeh too, kid," he breathed, pulling him close. "We been t'rough a lot in de past few days. Almos' t'ought I was gon' lose yeh fo'ever."

He shook his head, arms going around him as well. "Not gonna happen. I'll come back, I promise."

Wyatt nodded, shutting his eyes as he pulled him closer. He kissed his forehead, before laying his cheek on the top of his head, fingers smoothing back his hair. "I know yeh will, an' when yeh do yeh'll have all o'dis figured out." He looked down at him, giving him a smirk. "I know yeh gon' turn out jus' right, fils."

"Merci," he let out, glancing up at him, and smirked as well before pulling back and looking down at the suitcase. "Maybe next time I can save on de plane ticket."

He grinned at him, ruffling his hair. He sat down on the bed to fold up the last bits of clothes. "Yeh gon' be nice dere, right?" he asked with a sad smirk. "Gon' make friends?

He snorted softly. "M'goin' dere t'learn about my powers. From de way dey talk 'bout it, dere's a lot of kids dere, some are bound t'be nice." He shrugged. "Not my priority. Never is, yeh know dat."

He nodded, looking back at the shirt he was folding. "Where d'yeh want me t'tell 'em yeh are?"

He smirked. "It's a private school in New York." He chuckled. "Fo' gifted kids, no less. I t'ink dat part of de truth should do."

He smiled at him, putting his clothes in the suitcase and closing it. "Dat's what I'll tell dem, den. Hol' on, I'll be right back." He got to his feet, heading into the hallway, and got another suitcase before he walked to his armoire. He looked inside, and pulled out two jeans, ones he always wore around the house, and put them in the suitcase, before walking to the desk he had in there. He sat down and opened the top drawer, sifting through to pull out a few pictures, pausing as his fingers brushed the one of him and Anton's mother. He bit his lip at it, smiling sadly, before setting it on the desk as well, and sealed them all in an envelope for the boy, putting them into a side compartment of the suitcase. He pulled a few books from his shelves, sighing as he looked around for anything else he could grab.

His eyes narrowed slightly at the closet, lips turning up in a grin, and he stepped inside of it, sifting through the racks to the very back. He pulled the leather jacket off its hanger, hitting it gently to remove the dust, and glanced to his left as Anton stepped in the room, probably looking for the suitcase. He smirked at him and held it up, "I was damn skinny when I was a kid, I don' know what yeh maman saw in me. Here, dis is fo'yeh. I haven' worn it since I was 20." He smirked, "Don' know how much time yeh'll spend on a bike up dere... o'how comfortable dat harness Warren had on was, but maybe yeh'd just like t'have it around." He smiled, tossing it to him. "Smells like me an' motor oil."

Anton caught it, lips turning up into a smile as he looked down at it, fingering the soft leather. "Merci," he said, chuckling. "S'great, I love it."

He smiled, "Put some other stuff in de bag fo'yeh." He reached for it, carrying it to Anton's room, and they filled it with the rest of his stuff. "Yeh got yeh toothbrush?" he asked him.

He snorted softly, narrowing his eyes at him. "Yeah, dad, got it." He looked down at the closed suitcases. "I could pack de whole room, t'still feel like m'forgettin' somet'ing." He sighed, and smirked. "De woman said dere was a guy from Louisiana on de team, t'least I won' be 'lone."

He smiled, "Well dat's good. Can help yeh get over de cold. Dey showed me pictures, t'looks like a nice place. An' yeh can take yeh computer up dere, and call me an' email me. Write t'me. Anyt'ing yeh want, I'll get it to yeh."

Anton nodded, tracing a zipper with the tip of a finger. "I will, I'll write. We can chat an' all, won' be too bad." He paused, and took a deep breath. "Guess I should go downstairs."

Wyatt nodded, sighing softly. He wrapped his arms around him. "Gon' tell yeh I love yeh up here."

He moved close, nodding as he hugged him back. He was silent a long moment. "I love you too, dad," he whispered. He hugged him again before pulling back, averting his eyes as he reached for one of the suitcases and pulled it off the bed. "Let's go, den."

Wyatt swallowed hard, his heart squeezing as he took the other suitcase and the duffle bag he had brought. He followed him down the steps, and glanced up to see the others waiting. He frowned and set the bags down, watching as Jean levitated them all a few inches from the ground and had them float out to the car, Warren following her. Wyatt wrapped his arms around Anton again before he could step out, pulling the boy tight to his chest. "Yeh gon' take good care o'my son, aren' yeh?" he asked in a broken voice to the professor, his heart beating furiously in his chest.

The old man smiled softly, nodding. "You have my word, Mr. Taylor. We'll be waiting for you in the car, Anton."

He left, leaving the door open for him as he headed to the car. Wyatt looked down at Anton, holding his face. "Be good," he breathed, snorting sadly. "Don' get into trouble. Eat all yeh food, shower..." He swallowed, "Call me f'yeh miss home." He kissed his forehead, "An' I'll be dere as soon as I can be, I promise."

He nodded. "I will, I'll call yeh," he said in a broken voice. He looked up at him, his eyes glassy, but managed a smile. "Yeh should get 'nother dog."

He laughed sadly, eyes moistening. "Maybe I will." He kissed his forehead and hugged him again. "I love yeh so much Anton. I never could o'asked fo'anyt'ing better in m'life. I love yeh. I love yeh." He kissed his cheeks, before stepping back. "Go now. I'll see yeh soon."

He nodded, stepping back and looking up at him. He smiled sadly, and didn't say anything else before turning and stepping outside. He breathed a "g'bye, dad," and the door shut, the sound of Anton's footsteps on the pavement echoing to him a few moments later. Wyatt felt his heart leave out the door along with him, and he took a few steps back to sit hard on the steps. "Merde," he breathed gently, hiding his face in his hands. "Ten years," he let out.

He wanted his son.

More to come!