Wolverine entered the room first, refusing to let anyone past the doorway until he had made sure it was safe. When he determined it was, he waved everyone else in. The first thing he could smell was blood, a lot of it. And fear; the room reeked of it. The kid was definitely here, somewhere. He didn't know what to expect, but what he saw definitely wasn't it.
Warren was lying unconscious on the floor. He was covered in cuts and bruises, and his shirt had been removed, exposing the cuts that ran from his shoulder blades to his waist. These cuts had gotten infected, and consequently were oozing nasty yellow pus. Warren was shivering, although whether it was from fever or the low temperature of the room Logan couldn't tell. Storm immediately ran to the boy, trying to wake him, but wasn't being successful. Logan growled in frustration; whoever had done this, whoever was responsible for this debasement, was going to pay.
There was a groan from the floor, and he turned to see that Storm had gotten Warren to wake up. Thank God for small favors. However, the minute he opened his eyes and saw that there were people in the room, his blue eyes opened wide, and he immediately backed up as far as he could, staring at them in complete fear. He shook his head vigorously.
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No. No more. Please. He willed that they stayed where they were. Thankfully, they came no closer. "Warren, it's us. Come on."
No. It was a trick, it had to be. They would never find him, Zarkov had said so. Sure he dreamed about it still, the day they would come and rescue him, but as the days passed he had grown to believe that that day would never come. The doctor had said his hopes were baseless, that the lab was somewhere no one who didn't already know where it was could find it. And Warren had slowly begun to believe it. He stared at his friends, and through the thick fog of pain and fever that clouded his mind, he couldn't do anything other than cower in fear; this was some new trick, yet another part on his treatment where he would begin to have hope, only to have it dashed right in front of him. He curled up in a ball, wishing they would leave. Go away. Just go away; it hurts too much.
"Warren, look at me." A new voice, this time from Kitty. "It's safe now. I don't know what they did to you, but it's okay; we've come to take you home."
Home. He could dimly remember home; a place where it was safe, where there was food. He hadn't eaten in days, and since his metabolism was so fast, it felt like it had been longer. He looked up, looking at the small group of people who were silently hoping that he would listen to them. He blinked a few times, then nodded slowly. Want to go home.