The final bell of the day rang and Warren forced himself out of his seat. The heat in the mansion was weighing him down, making his wings feel even heavier than they ever had before. He finished packing up his books and slung his bag over his shoulder, grimacing when it hit his wing. He dropped his books off in the room he shared with Bobby and went out to the balcony, the lazy summer wind gently blowing stray locks of his hair across his face. He had decided to let it grow out.

He heard a woman's voice and turned to see Storm talking to a few students that had congregated at the front of the manor. He knew they were all getting ready to leave for the summer, to go home to their families, to be with their loved ones. He felt a pang of longing in his chest but shrugged it off and turned to look up at the sky. Overhead, seagulls were flying, their screaming cries reaching the people down below. If he flew up high enough, no one would ever know he was a person and not a bird. He hadn't flown in a few weeks; something inside of him was weighing him down.

It had been a few years since he started having the nightmares. At first, they weren't bad. A grotesque face, screaming, fire, nothing unoriginal or all that worrisome. But three years later, he was having them every single night. He woke up sweating, feeling like he was on fire, his throat raw like he had been screaming. More often than not, he woke up because Bobby was shaking him, his hands frantically working to cool down Warren's feverish skin. It felt like there was a fire inside of Warren and he couldn't explain it. Bobby never asked what the dreams were about, but he caught him looking at him often, eyes glazed over and eyebrows scrunched.

It made Warren feel exposed.

Now, on the balcony, the hungry fire inside of him was eating away at everything it touched, making him shake and hold onto the railing. He really didn't need to launch himself over it and not catch any air. The fall would surely break a bone or five. He felt like screaming. Warren closed his eyes shut tight and pictured her. The girl with black hair and shining claws, so much like Logan in that aspect. He saw her grinning, a toothy, cocky grin that made his stomach twist and knees go weak. He saw her in his arms, his wings like fire, as they flew above city after city. He saw his eyes reflected in hers, saw them kissing.

He screamed, throwing his head back. He saw her burning, he saw her crushed, he saw her slowly repairing herself, bone by bone, tendon by tendon, muscle by muscle. He saw her dying time and time again and he saw her building herself back up from death, just… like… Logan.

When he stopped screaming, he noticed that the students in front of the manor were staring at him and Storm was hurrying over, her moves frantic and panicked. He heard movement behind and turned to see Bobby approaching him, concern written on his face. "Warren, are you okay? I wanted to ask if you wanted to catch a movie with us since school's out but… do you need some alone time?"

Warren's wings were twitching and his heart was racing. Storm was getting closer and Bobby was standing there, patiently waiting with worry all over his face. Warren felt the fire raging and his face contorted, tears stinging his eyes. "I-" His throat was tight and he could hear Storm calling his name, asking if he was alright. He gasped and threw himself off the balcony, squeezing his eyes shut as he caught air and flew high up into the sky. He felt the air and his blood rushing in his ears. Despite the calls from Bobby and Storm- the latter of which could easily follow him- he flew away. He flew over the city, over the bay. He flew until his wings grew tired and the sky was dark. He landed in an alleyway, catching his breath. His wings were aching and shaking from the strain he had put on them. He was lost, he knew that much. He realised that he was far away from the manor without any way of hiding his wings. Not that that was an easy task back at the manor either. He had stopped wearing his straps because he had been yelled at, told that the straps could cause his wings damage.

He realised he hadn't hidden them in years. Mutants were well known now, but not widely accepted. He stepped out of the alleyway, reaching into his back pocket and feeling relief at finding his wallet. He walked into the closet store that was still open.

His hair tickled the back of his neck as he flew over the flat, dry land beneath him. He was certain he was somewhere in Nebraska, far from the Mansion back in New York. It had been about three weeks since he flew away that day, yet the fire was no calmer. It was eating away at him from the inside. The nightmares still plagued him and he was sick of waking up screaming. He had many incidents were the motel staff came rushing to his door, knocking and asking if he was okay. He landed down in an empty parking lot, in front of a small store called Uncle Neal's. He had seen a sign somewhere from above that told him he was in a small town called Minden. He walked in, ignoring the gaping stares of the employees and few customers that his wings created. Off to his right, there was the cash register and to his left was a small dining area.

The floor was made of tile and the walls were white, stained with age. The florescent bulbs above hime cracks and whispered, dusty and in desperate need of some care. He ordered some warm food, his stomach growling at the thought of real, warm food. There weren't an abundance of options, but plenty for Warren. He asked how large the pizza was and got an awkward response. A personal sized pizza. He thought for a moment and then ordered two, as well as a large Coke and pretzel poppers. He was famished. He paid and once he got his food, sat down at one of the tables.

The chair was hard and the backing was metal, but it wasn't the worst thing Warren had ever sat on. The table was slightly sticky from usage throughout the years, but that was the last thing on Warren's mind. He scarfed down the food and drink, stomach soon feeling full and heavy. He threw out his trash and approached the counter again. "Where is the closest phone booth?"

After a nervous answer, Warren began down the street, eyeing the storefronts and houses. The town was small and it was late, most people were inside. He noticed a few groups of people here and there, lit up only by the weak orange light from the light posts. He suddenly felt exposed and the fire inside of him was lurching. He found the phone booth and popped in some change, waiting for the operator. A tired, staticy female voice came on and he forced himself not to scream. He had his head turned so he could see behind him. "Hello, yes, I'd like to be patched through to the Xavier School of Higher Learning, please." There was a pause as the operator found the number and a loud popping sound as she transferred him to that number.

He heard the Professor's voice and he felt himself grow even more sick. "Hi, Professor. It's Warren." He swallowed hard, tugging out a few feathers in anxiety.

"Warren, where are you? We have all been greatly worried.

"I… Where I am isn't really important. Um, I just wanted to call and let you guys all know I'm safe. I'm really sorry about running off. I- uh. Could I talk to Bobby? Is that okay? I don't know how long I have with the phone booth and I'm pretty short on change."

Warren wasn't sure why he couldn't just talk to the Professor, but he felt like the Professor was going to look into his mind through the phone, even though he knew that was asinine thinking. There was a short moment of silence and then he heard Bobby's voice. Bobby, the only person who knew about the nightmares and long nights without sleep. Bobby, the last person he spoke to before he flew off to Minden, Nebraska.

"Warren? Where are you, dude! I've been so worried these past few weeks. You just, screamed and took off. I'm really worried."

"I… I'm fine. No, no I'm not. That- that's why I left. I need to- to, like, find myself, but. I'm okay. I am. Safe, at least. But I wanted-"

"I'm glad to hear you're safe."

Warren swallowed, his chest feeling tight. He hadn't realised how worried everyone was. He felt horrible for leaving like he did, but with the fire growing inside of him and the nightmares getting worse, he had felt so trapped. "Yeah, sorry. But, I just wanted to call and let you know that I'm okay and stuff and.. I'm not sure why I didn't just keep talking to the Professor but I just felt like it would be better to talk to you. Hey, I'm sorry I ditched you on that movie. Really shitty on my part. Sorry. But, anyways. I… I will be back at school. I don't know when but I will be and I just… wanted to tell you that and I mean, guess you should tell the Professor that, too. I'm not gone forever I just…"

"It was because of the dreams, wasn't it?"

He hated how Bobby wasn't as dumb as his jokester attitude gave off. "Y-yeah. Yeah. I just… I gotta know why I'm having them. Why it feels like I'm on fire all the time. And who that girl is. Maybe running isn't the answer because I know the Professor would help, but something's telling me that the answer is better if I find it on my own, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. Listen, I'm not mad at you. None of us are. We're just worried about you. Call us again, okay? Keep us updated. Three weeks of hearing nothing is really scary." Bobbys' voice softened, "it was really good to hear from you, Warren."

"I-" an automated voice interrupted him, telling him his call was almost over. He swore under his breath. "Hey, Bobby, I gotta go. My time's almost up. It was… it was really nice to talk to you. I'll be back; I promise." With that, he hung up, pulling out more feathers from his left wing. He bit his bottom lip and wrung his hands together.

He backed out of the phone booth, lost in thought. He heard a pop from behind him, someone's shoe kicking up a rock. He spun to find three guys dressed in black, ominously half-circled behind him. He frowned and brushed hair from his face.

"We know what you are," one of them growled.

"Is that thing I am possibly an angel sent from God above to change you of your ways? No? Damn." Now was no time for him to be joking, but that's how he got when he was nervous, usually. Just now on the phone, he had no idea what that rambling mess of stutters and noises was. One of them made a move toward Warren but he sidestepped him and thanked all of the practice Xavier had put him through. "Listen, I'm really not the type of person you want to fight."

"We don't care what type of person you are," a different one spoke up, his voice was higher pitched and almost horrible to listen to. He laughed, that was even worse. "All that matters is that you're one of them muties. A monster. A fuckin' freak. An' we're gonna make this world better by one."

Warren sighed, feeling a headache coming on. He continued to back away, hands up by his chest. "Listen, I really, really don't want to fight you guys. I've been on this whole 'we shouldn't fight people, instead understand them' regimen and I'm sure my professor would be none too happy to know I beat up three people in the middle of Nebraska."

The third one, the one he hadn't been keeping too keen of an eye on, reached into his pocket. Warren felt his heart spike when he saw the silver flash of a gun. "Oh god, please. Can we not talk about this like civilised people? Do I really have to do this?" The sudden sound of the gun shooting answered Warren's question. He felt intense heat blossom in his right shoulder and wing. He grimaced, left hand going up to the shoulder in a panick. He pulled it away to find blood. His face went pale and looked up at the attackers, blue eyes wide in horror.

Suddenly, the fire in him, that had been boiling over all night, exploded. He flew up into the air, skin warm and the air hissing past him. He heard the attackers gasp in surprise. Oh, how he must look to them. An angel for sure. His blond hair billowed as he stopped, just high enough for the once stagnate air to finally shift. He stopped to catch his breath, looking down at them. Something was wrong with him. Something was different. He noticed it looked like his skin was on fire, but that wasn't possible. Warren didn't create fire. He never had. He flung himself down to earth, scooping up on of the attackers, the one with the gun and flew fast up into the air. The gun fell from his grasp. Warren was no longer any angel. He was a vengeful one.

His tongue felt thick and the words were foreign. "I could drop you from up here. Hundreds of feet in the air. You would die, but not before feeling every bone in your body break."

After much pleading and whimpering, Angel lowered his altitude and dropped him on top of his friends from about fifteen feet, reveling in the sound of their pain. He flew off, the fire engulfing him and changing him. " I'm coming to find you, Laura ," he hissed.

He woke up shivering. The rain was a light drizzle, but Warren was soaked to the bone. He must've slept through the rain for a while to have gotten this drenched. He stood and looked around. He was by the Puget Sound, the annoying call of seagulls and the barks of seals could be heard coming from over by the Ferry. He walked around until he found a small gas station, a 7/11. They had pretzels in a hot box and cooler with Coke. He grabbed two of each and paid for them at the counter, the person eyeing his wings in fascination. He gave her a terse smile and walked out, hiding under the overhang to eat his pretzels. He noticed a lot of people stopping and staring at him, and when they stared for too long, he would wave politely.

He had dreamt about her again, when he had first seen her with all of her skin charred and licked away by fire. The first time he had seen her bones, shining and glistening, covered in adamantium. He watched as her muscles grew back and her skin grew back, patches of it raw and red, almost festering. He dreamt about a time a man larger than life had crushed her skull right in front of him. That had lead to a large fight, a break up. He had dreamt about holding her limp hand and sobbing. He knew her name now. Laura.

He went back into the store and asked the cashier the date. She was pretty, in a plain kind of way. Light skin with large brown eyes. Her hair was dark, almost black, and wavy, pulled back in a ponytail. She smiled and gave him the date, eyeing his wings. "Are they real?"

He paused, his smile of thanks slipping off his face. "Yes," he replied shortly.

"I think they're cool. I used to wish I had powers or was a mutant," she admitted. "But after I saw a friend of mine get beat up for being one, I kind of realised I was really lucky that I was born without all of that. But I love mutants. I think they're the coolest thing. You guys are cool." She smiled, her teeth slightly crooked, like her smile.

"Thank you," Warren replied, honestly unsure of how to respond to that. "My name's Warren."

"Laura," she replied, holding a hand out for Warren to shake. His heart stopped in his chest and he could feel the floor slipping out from underneath him. It took everything he had not to pass out and to take her hand without breaking it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he breathed, feeling his heart sink down into his stomach. At their touch, the fire inside of him dimmed down.

"Are you from around here? Bremerton isn't that big, so I should have seen you around here at some point," she laughed lightly, leaning over the counter some.

"Actually, no. I'm from New York."

"Well, if you need a place to stay, my apartment isn't that far from here. It's just up on Highland Avenue," she pointed in the direction of her home. "If you want, I get off in just another hour. You can crash there."

Warren knew he shouldn't take her up on her offer. It was too tempting. There's no way that he found Laura across the country. No way he found who he had been looking for, with her dark hair and dark eyes and crooked smile. He should say no and walk away. "Sure, thanks. I'll just chill in here, then. Thank you."

He leaned against the counter with the coffee and watched Laura work. The people that came in were all so friendly and nice, they all stopped to talk to Laura. A few looked over at Warren with wary looks and he always smiled and waved, not wanting to look off-putting and unfriendly. He came across that often, so he had been told. When Laura's shift was over, they walked to her house. It was up a hill and Warren was surprised to see her walk it with ease. If he hadn't been used to strenuous training, a hill like this would have winded him for sure. The house was blue and seemed small from the outside, but inside, it was a lot more spacious. The downstairs was all wooden floors except for in the sunroom, which was a thin, hard carpet. Laura dragged him upstairs and pointed to a room painted a light baby blue. There were two twin beds in there. "You're welcome to sleep in this room. Right here's the bathroom. I'll be in here," the three rooms were all very close together. The hallway no longer than ten feet long.

After a small dinner that Laura made, they settled in the living room to watch the news on her television. It was small and no where near as grand as the ones Warren's family or the Mansion had, but he wasn't really expecting too much from her. Laura interrupted the silence between them with a small yawn. "Man, it's getting late, isn't it?" She smiled at Warren. "I'm gonna head to bed, turn off all the lights when you're done."

"LAURA!" Warren woke up screaming, his wings shot out and knocked down a lamp. Laura came crashing into the bedroom, her body covered by a short, silken night gown. Panic was on her face and she stood awkwardly in the doorway after turning on the light.

Warren felt himself grow red in embarrassment. "I'm so sorry. It was a nightmare. I am so, so sorry. I can pay for the lamp." Laura shook her head and sat on the edge of Warren's bed.

"Do you have nightmares often?"

Warren swallowed, his face growing hotter. He nodded sheepishly. "A lot. About fire and flying and a girl named Laura. Who looks an awful lot like you but sadder and meaner."

She smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment." Her smile faltered after a moment. "Was it someone you loved?" Laura tilted her head as she asked him the question; it was so innocent.

Warren nodded but followed it with a shrug. "I think she was. I feel like they're memories I'm seeing, but I don't know. I don't know when they could have happened. It's all surreal. But I left New York because something was eating away at me. And it's gonna sound so weird, but when the moment I saw you, the fire stopped trying to escape. And maybe it's because you look like her and have the same name. But this is the first time in years I haven't felt trapped in my own skin, just… trapped in my own mind."

Laura frowned. "It doesn't sound weird." She leaned forward, her hair falling over her shoulders and framing her face. Then they were kissing. Her lips were soft and pliant, warm and welcoming. They kissed like that for a while, slow and learning. It got hotter, more heated, a different type of fire began to burn inside of Warren. They stood together and made their way into Laura's room, her shag carpet making Warren's feet sink. They fell onto her bed, the springs creaking and Warren's wings snapped out behind him.

When he woke up in the morning, he felt heavy and sedated. He yawned and pushed himself up into a sitting position. Laura was waking up next to him, her pale body naked and covered in goosebumps. "Brrr," she laughed, tugging a blanket up around her. "It got cold last night." She smiled up at Warren. "But you sure did keep me warm," she laughed before sitting up.

Warren could feel his throat growing tight. She was so beautiful, but this wasn't the Laura he was looking for, even though she looked so much like her . "I'm sorry," he said suddenly, standing and gathering his clothing. "I'm sorry."

Laura's eyes filled with hurt but she gave him a small smile. "No, no. I… I understand. I'm not her. I shouldn't have kissed you last night. But you just… Looked like such an angel. I couldn't help myself."

Warren gave her a sad smile. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I think… I think I'm going to go back home. I'm out of school right now, but they will be starting up again soon and… I have some stuff I have to touch up on. I'm sorry and… thank you."

He left her house and went over to the bayside, looking out at the sparkling blue water. Washington was beautiful, and he'd have to come visit some time in the future, but for now, he had to get home to New York. School wouldn't be out forever.