A/N: Hello again, after a hiatus. :) This chapter has been slow going, but it's finally here. Sorry for the delay! I love the holidays, but they're always so hectic. Anyway, I'll stop rambling and get on with it. Thanks for all your reviews! I got a bunch this past week, which was kind of odd since there hadn't been an update in awhile, but they were awesome nonetheless. ;) I repeat it every time I update, but comments are always appreciated. :D

Chapter Nine: The Power of Guilt

December 6, 2006
9:45PM

Warren

Of all the evenings for my mother to start up Twenty Questions, it had to be tonight.

When I'd invited (read: been forced to invite) Sera over to my place, I'd calmed myself by meticulously planning how the evening would go. I'd prepared. I did a full-scale cleaning of the apartment, removing any and all evidence of my second life. I searched for stray feathers, washed my entire wardrobe, hid my 'costumes', shoved the books on birds and flying I'd checked out from the library into my desk drawer. I wanted to appear completely and utterly normal. Unextraordinary. Boring, in fact.

And since she was coming at ten – I'd drilled that into her head well enough, and Sera was a girl who kept her promises and was always punctual – I'd thought I'd have enough time to fly for a bit before she came over. Flying always helped me calm down, and since the thought of a female besides my mother entering my apartment sent little shivers of anxiety through me, I knew I'd need it. But like I'd said, I'd had the evening all planned. An early dinner at seven. A thirty-minute fly at eight. A shower afterwards. A last-minute cleaning check. And then, that would give me ample time to go over my notes and be ready for Sera's arrival.

But naturally, my evening didn't go like that. Not when my mother called right at eight o'clock.

"Warren? Warren, honey, this is your mother."

"Yeah? Hey, mom. How are you?" I raced up the steps, carefully holding my wings out and away so I wouldn't step on the ends. I'd learned that the hard way – stairs had been particularly tricky to deal with at first. When my wings had first reached their full peak, I'd accidentally yanked out the bottom feathers many times in just this manner. Not only did it mess up their flight capabilities, but it hurt like a bitch, as well.

"Oh, good, good. Your father and I had dinner and dessert at Le Deauville this evening. Came home, relaxed for a bit, fixed a martini, watched the news." She chuckled. "Not too exciting, but a good evening nonetheless. Your father's already gone to bed, he has to get up early for that stockholders meeting in the morning." She paused. "What about you?"

"Nothing much here," I said casually. Except for the fact that I'm being held responsible for another man's death, and it's all over the news, but it wasn't really my fault because apparently there's someone – or something – out there watching me… and whatever it is, it's powerful. Powerful enough to snap parts of a steel bridge apart. Oh, and I'm about to have a girl come up to my apartment, and all this hiding and preparing is stressing me out. "Not much at all…"

"Really." Her tone changed, becoming more impish, and I paused, standing up straight. I recognized that swift change – it meant that I was about to get interrogated, and her interrogations inevitably led to a discussion of relationships… I inwardly groaned. What now?

"Really," I repeated suspiciously. I dashed into the room, fishing my hood out from the back of the bottom dresser drawer.

"Mmm-hmmm. So what's this I hear about you spending some time with a lovely young lady at Lighthouse Café?"

I blinked. "Huh?"

"Oh, Warren, don't play coy. Suzanne said she stopped there for coffee yesterday and saw you sitting with, and I quote, 'a pretty brunette'."

Sera… "Oh," I said. "Yeah. That was, um, one of my classmates. Sera. We're working on a project together. We were talking about it then."

"Sera? What's her last name?" I rolled my eyes – a typical question from my mother, always needling for background information… family names were very important to her.

"Slone, Mom. She's from West Virginia, I doubt you know any of her family. You'll have to pay for a background check if you're curious." I sighed, planting myself down on the bed. Glancing at the clock, I saw that I was already ten minutes behind. "And, for the record, we are friends. Just friends." Were we? Could I even call Sera a friend? The word seemed alien to me; I hadn't had anyone whom I could call a real friend in years…

Yeah, I decided. Friends. It sounded nice.

"Well, that's how the best relationships begin, Warren. As friends. What's this Sera like?"

I grunted with irritation. "I don't know. I'm not interested in her that way." I leaned back on the comforter, staring up at the ceiling. "Mom, I don't want to be rude, but I really have to—"

"Oh, things can change quickly enough," she interrupted. "You remember me telling you about how I didn't even want to be near your father when I first met him? But he was so persistent, and somehow we became 'just friends' as you said, and then—"

"Yes, yes, I know," I finished. "You started dating, fell in love, got married, and had me seven years later. A beautiful fairy-tale romance."

"There's no need to be sarcastic, Warren," she said primly. "I'm simply saying… maybe you should give things a chance sometimes. You never know…"

How did I get into this conversation? I sat halfway up and looked to the clock again. Twenty after eight. Shit. "Mom, I—"

"Warren, I haven't talked to you in weeks," she said disapprovingly. "You can give your mother a few minutes of your precious time. Now, are you going to tell me about this young lady or not?"

I sighed heavily. You didn't argue with Katherine Worthington when she took that tone. Looks like my plans for the evening were going to be altered. I flopped back on the bed, letting my wings hang over either side. "Fine."

xxxxx

Thanks to my mother's predilection for conversation concerning my non-existent love life, I had approximately fifteen minutes before Sera was supposed to arrive by the time I finally hung up the phone.

Fuck. There went my nice, relaxing, fully prepared evening.

I scrambled through my room, searching for a fresh pair of bandages to wrap myself. Once I was sufficiently wound up, I threw on a clean sweatshirt, slid into my most comfortable jeans, and nervously raked a hand through my hair. God, I hated feeling rushed…

I ran downstairs, quickly doing a last-minute check of each room, cursing my mother all the while. Thankfully, my neat freak nature meant that the premises were clear – all my cleaning beforehand had taken care of that. Sighing loudly, I stopped in the center of the dining room, trying to remember where I'd thrown my bookbags.

Then the buzzer rang. I strolled over to the front hall and pushed the button. "Yes?"

"Mr. Worthington, there's a young lady named Sera here." The clerk at the front desk always had such a formal air about him… I'd tried to be as friendly and easygoing with him as I possibly could, but he always insisted on calling me 'Mister" and never "Warren." Proper protocol, I assumed, but it made me feel old nonetheless.

"I'm expecting her," I said. "Send her on up." I pressed the box button again to turn it off and then anxiously wrung my hands. How ridiculous was I acting? I shuffled into the kitchen, noticing a bottle of sweet, dark Pinot Noir that I'd left out on the counter after dinner. Quickly grabbing a small glass from the cupboard, I poured it half-full and immediately chugged it down. Not exactly the way you were supposed to enjoy fine wine, but it relaxed me almost immediately. I'd had several glasses in the days that followed my accident at Tremonte… I sighed out loud.

I can do this. Just a normal evening.

There was a knock on the door. I froze. That was quick…

I can do this. Just a few hours. Everything's cool.

Several minutes later, another knock. I blinked, startled, and glanced at the clock – 10:00PM exactly. I almost laughed at her militant punctuality and finally walked towards the door. Taking a deep breath, I grasped the door handle and slowly, hesitantly pulled it open.

She was standing in the hallway, fidgeting and looking as uncomfortable as I felt. She was dressed plainly, in a dark green sweater and faded jeans, her hair down and loose about her shoulders. I paused, biting my lip. "Hi," I finally offered.

"Hi," she said, sounding almost shy. She averted her eyes, and I found myself staring at her hands, which were nervously pulling at the long, frayed sleeves of the sweater. She had nice hands. Long, elegant fingers.

Enough of that, Worthington. I nodded quickly at Sera. "Right on time," I murmured, fighting back a smile. "Come in."

I held the door open and she slowly walked inside, looking more edgy with each tentative step. As I led her back to the den, where we would be staying for most of the evening, I noticed after a few seconds that her footsteps were no longer immediately behind me.

"Wow," I heard her whisper. I turned around. She stood just inside the doorway, arms tightly clasped together, looking all around the front foyer with wide-eyed wonder. I suddenly felt embarrassed – I'd never given a lot of thought to how my family's wealth must have appeared to others, but as I followed her gaze around the room, I began to understand. The crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the antique cherry side table along the wall, the matching set of Tiffany lamps in the corners of the room… the décor alone had probably cost about twice what Sera's yearly teaching salary had been. "Your apartment is, um, gorgeous," she added softly.

I felt my face flush. "My mother decorated it," I said quickly, as if that excuse would somehow humble me. "And when I moved in, I just kept it that way."

She nodded, coming a little closer to me, offering a timid, sweet smile. Where was the headstrong Sera I'd gotten to know all semester? "It's nice. Very nice."

I started walking again, indicating for her to follow. "Yeah… she's got good taste," I said. I paused when I reached the couch. What now? Sit and make some excruciating small talk for a minute? Get right to work? I gnawed at my lip, then abruptly turned. "Um, do you want something to drink?" A perfect stall tactic.

She gave me a grateful smile. "Just water is fine," she said. I nodded and headed to the kitchen.

I grabbed a set of long, tall glasses and filled them with ice. "So far, so good," I murmured to myself. Luckily, I supposed, she seemed to be a little overwhelmed by everything, which meant she probably wouldn't be as willing to ask intrusive questions, or to request a tour of the apartment. I would be perfectly content keeping her in that one room. It just made things easier for me. Less chance of her discovering anything she shouldn't.

I filled the glasses with ice-cold water from my Brita pitcher. Clutching one tightly in each hand, I started back, mentally reminding myself that everything was going to be just fine.

xxxxx

Just when you think you know someone, they always find a way to surprise you. I'd discovered this time and time again, so you'd think it wouldn't come as a shock. Candy, for instance; a girl who'd originally claimed she didn't want to settle with one guy – and yet I'd snagged her all to myself. My father, who I'd always thought of as a fair, honest man, apparently wasn't willing to be so fair or honest with mutantkind.

And Sera Slone, who on the outside appeared to be a stiff, formal, no-nonsense wannabe businesswoman, actually had a rather sweet disposition. Sweet, and almost innocent. Things I'd discovered this evening: she loved apple martinis, the occasional smutty romance novel or cheesy romantic comedy, and her parents' golden retrievers; she'd once dreamed of being a Joni Mitchell-style singer-songwriter, and she'd had a huge crush on Aladdin when she was younger (and apparently still did, which I found entirely too amusing). Our conversation throughout the evening was mostly easygoing and light. She was relatively easy to talk to, I discovered, once she settled in and lightened up a bit.

I had missed this sort of interaction more than I'd remembered – I'd gotten so used to being alone and fending for myself that I'd forgotten how nice it was just to be in the company of another. I watched Sera bite her lip as she thought, fingertips tapping the keyboard. Smart, hardworking, kind, pretty… no wonder Jonathan itched for her.

I suddenly smiled then, remembering the priceless look on his face when I'd pointed out the flaws in his pathetic attempt to make me look foolish. "Just a friendly word of advice, Jonathan… next time you try to slight someone, make sure your insult doesn't turn around and bite you in the ass."

"It's so quiet here," she said softly, pausing her fingers in mid-type and shaking out her hands. I'd brought my laptop down to the den, and we were using it to write up the report, taking turns to type. Sera wasn't used to typing on a laptop keyboard, however, and though she hadn't complained, it looked to me like her wrists were getting a little stiff.

"Yeah," I said. "It is."

"I like it. It's so peaceful, you can actually sit here and think without being disturbed… at my apartment, a good night is when there's only one party going on upstairs…"

I nodded slowly. Silence was nice, true, but there were times when it could be overwhelming… "Yeah, it's nice. Most of the time."

"Mmmm." She stared off into space for a minute, as if thinking, then began furiously typing again. Smiling softly, I scooted just a little closer and leaned over, reading over what she had just written.

The option of creating a genetically superior child sounds tempting to many parents, but the reality is less inviting. "Perfect" genetics or cellular construction simply do not exist in the real world, only in the minds of the dissatisfied. Evolution dictates that there is never a final "solution" to imperfection, because mutations are inevitable. Bacterium and viruses become hardier. Animals develop limbs and new functions to adapt to their environment. Even the systems of the human body develop differently depending on their circumstances – everything from skin and eye color, to leg length, to lung capacity. Even if this so-called "perfection" could be achieved, it would be short-lived, as evolution would inexorably put a stop to it.

"Nice," I said. I liked the way she thought – and I had to admit that reading about the evolution of humans somehow made me feel a little better about myself. It was true – humans did evolve and change, albeit in a much smaller, more subtle way over time…

"Thanks," she said absentmindedly. She stopped typing and nibbled on a fingertip, her hair falling from behind her ears as she bent forward. I heard a low rumble then, a growling stomach, and then her face tinged red as she looked up, embarrassed. I laughed out loud as she gave me a sheepish look. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"Are you hungry?" I asked.

"No—oh, I'm fine. I'm fine."

I narrowed my eyes. Mentally counting back her evening, I figured she probably hadn't had much time for a dinner, if she'd even had time at all… I knew she'd been on the go all day. "Well, I am," I lied. "So I'm gonna get some leftovers out, and you're welcome to them." I didn't wait to hear her reply – I was already up and into the kitchen again.

I'd made Thai Lettuce Wraps earlier, a precursor to my dinner. I pulled out a large tray, setting it on the counter. Collecting the large leaves of lettuce in a little pile, I took out the bowl of stir-fried filling and poured some soy sauce into a side dish for dipping. I carried the tray into the den and set it on the table.

"Here," I said. "I made way too much, so… have at it."

"What is this?" She eyed the tray suspiciously, then cast a glance at me. Ah, right. I sometimes forgot that not everyone was vegetarian like me.

"Thai Lettuce Wraps. They're vegetarian, yes, but delicious." To demonstrate, I grabbed a leaf, spooned some filling inside, and poured a little soy sauce on top. I took a gigantic bite, chewed, and swallowed. "Try it."

"Okay…" She gently set the laptop aside, and reached forward. I watched, amused, as she gingerly picked up some lettuce and began putting together a messy wrap. Holding the food in one hand and her palm open underneath to catch any dripping, she took a small bite. She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then her eyes lit up. "Hey," she said. "These are pretty good!"

"Told you." I felt very smug as I grabbed another. My parents, though they now tolerated my vegetarianism without making comments, were never willing to try any of my recipes. It was kind of nice to have a enthusiastic taster.

She helped herself to another. "So where'd you learn to cook like this, Warren?" she asked. "Your mother?"

"Food Network," I answered. "And general cookbooks."

"Ah, okay. I'm never able to keep up with those shows… I can't chop fast enough, or I forget an ingredient or something…" She chuckled. "I consider myself a pretty good cook, but anything too fancy usually ends up a mess."

"It just takes practice." Which I have plenty of time for, of course… or used to, anyway…

"Yeah, I suppose…" she paused to munch for a moment. Then, daintily wiping her mouth, she spoke again, her voice a little softer this time. "Just out of curiosity, and if you don't mind me asking, why are you a vegetarian? Is it more of a moral choice, or a health choice?"

I opened my mouth, and then decided I didn't know how to answer that. What had I told my parents? I couldn't quite remember the exact reason. Something about how I didn't much like the taste of meat anymore and had decided not to eat it. Despite their confusion (and initial disapproval), they'd reluctantly accepted it …

"Well," I started. "I… I just decided to try it, and liked it. I just, um, feel better. It's healthier, I think."

She accepted that statement without delving any further. "That's cool. I sometimes wish I was vegetarian, but I love cheeseburgers way too much." She smiled. "It'll catch up with me one day."

"Nah… you might as well enjoy what you like while you can," I murmured. Because you never know what the next day is going to bring… Okay, I was getting way too introspective here. And that was a dangerous area. I cleared my throat. "Anyway… how close are we to being done?"

"Very." She smiled, finishing off another wrap and picking up the laptop again. "So close I can practically taste it."

"I like the sound of that." I held out my hands. "Here. I'll type for awhile."

She laughed, eagerly handing off the laptop. "I like the sound of that."

xxxxx

An hour later, we were finished, edited, and ready to go. A miracle, really.

Sera was in the kitchen, talking on the phone with a friend. And judging by the chagrined look on her face as she walked out, it was a conversation she wasn't too keen on having. If I'd stayed downstairs, I knew without a doubt that I'd be able to hear her entire conversation even with her in the other room – possibly even her friend's voice on the other line. My hearing, along with all my other senses, had intensified quite a bit since my mutation.

However, the more moral part of me wouldn't allow that, and so I went ahead and printed our paper, taking the time to go upstairs into my office and retrieve it. The pages were already lying on the printer by the time I reached it. I picked them up, double-checked the order, and quickly stacked them into a neat pile. Once back downstairs, I saw on the couch to wait for Sera and quietly read over what we'd written. Not too shabby. Not too shabby at all.

"What's this?" Sera walked back into the room, looking at me curiously. I smiled, holding up our evening's work.

"Our GPD report, all typed and ready to go," I replied breezily.

"Printed, already? That was quick…" She looked over it quickly, and I noted the look of sheer relief on her face – no wonder. She was probably exhausted. It was well after midnight, and I knew that she'd been up since the early hours of the morning.

We began packing up – I kept all our materials together: the report, the back-up disc, the folder of research. She'd asked me to hold onto everything, and I could only assume that it was because I was generally the earliest one to class. I stood up from the couch, stretching my arms far over my head. God, I was dying to get out in the brisk nighttime air…

"Stiff back?" Sera asked, glancing over. She had a gentle smile on her face, her eyes sympathetic. I felt a twinge of wistfulness, a sudden desire to be soothed, to let someone take care of me for once…

"You could say that," I murmured. "I just need to…" Fly. I just need to fly. "…move around. I've been here all day, haven't even been outside. Just studying and getting other stuff done."

"I know the feeling," she said, bending to retrieve her coat and purse. I smiled in spite of myself. Thanks for the empathy, but I can assure you that you don't. She bent to retrieve her coat and purse, and without even thinking about it, I craned my neck to check out her ass a little. Again. Christ. I needed to get laid…

"Well, Warren…" she announced, straightening up, "I'm not trying to be rude, but I'm heading out. Thanks for helping."

"Did I have a choice?" I asked, arching an eyebrow. If I recalled correctly, I pretty much didn't. Actually, I'd been threatened, if memory served. I shrugged it off – the evening had gone just fine, no problem. I'd even kind of enjoyed it… "You're welcome."

She beamed, as if proud that she'd successfully dragged me through this whole process, hitching the straps of her bag up a little. With her hair hanging loose and straight instead of in a ponytail, she looked a little older than she usually did – which simply meant that she looked like an actual adult and not a teenager. I'd caught Jonathan staring at her hair before – in one of those creepy, I-want-to-touch-it sort of ways. He probably had a hair fetish. He looked like the type to yank on a girl's head during sex, just for the masochism of it all. Jackass.

Speaking of Jonathan… I averted my eyes, uncomfortable and unused to issuing an apology. "And…" I started, "sorry. Some people just… just don't get along. End of story." Understatement. I shrugged. "And I suppose your friend Jonathan and I fall into that category."

Sera fidgeted, as well. Apparently it was a topic she wasn't much fond of, either. "Yeah, I guess. But it's over now, right? And after tomorrow you'll never have to see him again. Maybe. Unless you have another class with him, I suppose." She laughed nervously then, darting her eyes all around. Right. She was ready to leave. And no wonder, it was late, and I was tired as well… though I was determined to get a quick flight in before I went to bed.

"A shame," I said sarcastically. "Do you need me to show you out?"

She nodded, her face reddening. I led her out of the room, maneuvering back into the front foyer. "But for the record, Warren…" she said from somewhere behind me, "are you ever going to tell me what you said to him yesterday to set him off?"

I smirked.

"And while I'm doling out advice to you, Jonathan, let me offer this as well – Sera's not impressed by your macho man bravura. I'm not the only one who can spot a fake a mile away. I'd suggest a different tactic, but I have a feeling that wouldn't work, either." I looked up, meeting his eyes dead-on. He tried to keep a straight face – a decent attempt – but the tell-tale twitch of his left lid let me know that I'd hit a nerve.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He leaned back in his chair, struggling to hold my gaze. His lips tensed, wrinkling tightly in the center.

"I'm talking about you and your lame, transparent attempts to get into her panties," I drawled. "Subtlety's not exactly your strong point. You might as well give up with the attitude, because if she was really interested, you'd have already been hitting it by now."

I thoroughly enjoyed the way his face flooded with a stark, reddish tint. "This is none of your business, you prick," he growled.

I raised an eyebrow. "It is when I have to look at it every time we get together. Christ, Jonathan, if you any balls like a real man, you'd just ask her out and get it over with instead of acting like a pussy." Not that I wanted Sera to hang out with this douchebag in the first place, but it felt good to point out his lack of confidence.

He clenched his jaw, practically seething. Perfect. "Fuck you, Warren."

I grinned. God, he made it so easy, always leaving me a window wide open. "I'd say 'fuck you' right back, but since you're obviously not getting any, it doesn't really apply, does it?"

I smiled again, just from rehashing the memory. God, that had been utterly satisfying. Especially when he'd leaped up, face beet-red and sweating, and stormed out. "I don't need this shit. You're a fucking asshole, and I don't have to sit here and listen to this anymore." Bingo.

I'd watched him stomp through the café, merrily calling to his retreating back. "See you Thursday!"

I shook my head gently at the fresh memory. Yep, he was definitely going to be in a fine mood tomorrow when he saw me. I met Sera's eyes – they had that wide-eyed, eager look to them, as if she was fully expecting a complete rehash of the conversation. Nah. Not just yet. Maybe one of these days…

I grinned. "No," I answered matter-of-factly.

xxxxx

The air outside was more than just brisk, it was downright frigid. Approximately thirty seconds after Sera left, I leaped off my balcony into a clear, cloudless sky, my view illuminated by the stark white light of the moon. The air was icy cold, practically sharp as it stung what little skin I'd left bare. My lungs burned as I maneuvered between a line of tall skyscrapers, dipping and swerving at a swift speed. I would have to keep my flight short this evening, since I needed to get some rest for tomorrow, but that was okay. I was just happy to get out at all, especially after the day I'd just had... hell, the weeks I'd just had. The accident, schoolwork, stress, my mother calling tonight, Sera coming over… It was tumultuous, to say the least.

I sighed, angling to do a quick hairpin 180-degree turn and heading back to the apartment.

I landed on the balcony, gracefully balancing on the railing and squatting to catch my breath before leaping down. I threw open the doors and walked inside, relieved to be warm again. I stopped in the center of the room, taking the time to stretch my wings, relaxing the rigid muscles and working through their soreness. I'd probably be a little stiff in the morning, seeing how this was my first excursion in awhile, but that was okay.

I grabbed my mask, ripping it off and sighing loudly. I should really get to bed, I thought. Normally, I took time to sit and wind down after a flight, maybe even eat something, but it was already so late that I didn't want to bother. After a few more stretches, I straightened up and headed for the stairs. Long day tomorrow… but then I'm done, and I can rest. I smiled at that thought, and began climbing the stairs.

I'd reached the top and was nearly to my room when I heard it. A familiar ring, the sound of a cell phone going off. I halted, startled. What the fuck? My entire body stiffened; my heart began racing.

Wait… that Sera's phone… I clattered back down the stairs. Sera was gone, but apparently she'd left a present behind. It's coming from the kitchen… she must have left it in there when she got the call. Yet another thing for me to add to the collection of stuff I had to take to class in the morning. Well, no big deal, I could just throw it in my bag, and hopefully I'd remember to give it to her tomorrow.

Then, the ringing stopped. I frowned – it hadn't rung for very long; unusual. I ran to the kitchen doorway, feeling a strange rush of adrenaline in my chest. Something felt off. Very off…

I flipped on the light.

xxxxx

Two years ago, in the early afternoon of an otherwise ordinary day, I'd stiffly awakened on the cold tile of my dorm room shower. I'd gotten up, looked into the mirror, and received the shock of my life – a newly winged mirror image that had caused me to become nauseous, to cry, to feel as if my heart and lungs were going to explode inside my chest and asphyxiate me. It was a feeling that I was sure I'd never experience again – it was far too extreme, too painful, to live through again.

And yet, tonight, in the extreme late hours of an otherwise ordinary evening, I was unfortunate enough to experience it a second time, like deja vu.

"Warren," Sera said, her voice trembling and quavering, like a flimsy piece of paper rattled by the wind. My breath caught in my throat. My wings. Oh fucking Jesus Christ, my wings, she can see my wings…

I wanted to die. I wanted to sink into the ground and never be seen again.

Because Sera – Sera Slone, my classmate and supposed 'friend', was on my kitchen floor in a pile, looking more terrified than I'd ever seen anyone look in my life. I was at once furious, terrified, desperate, and disbelieving. A thousand and one questions raced through my head, all clamoring to be the first asked – What are you doing? Why are you here again? And how the fuck did you get in here? – but I couldn't articulate a single one.

Instead, I stared back at her, mirroring her horror with my own, painfully conscious of the incriminating set of appendages looming from my back. No more hiding. I had nowhere to run.

She tried to speak again. "Warren, I—"

I didn't want excuses. I didn't want reassurances, or accusations, or any sort of conversation, period. I wanted to close my eyes and pretend like none of this ever happened. I wanted her to stop looking at me, at my wings, with that horrified expression…

"Get out." The words sounded alien – low and harsh and far away, as if the sound was coming from another body. Had I just said that?

Sera struggled to her feet, and I could see her legs shaking, even from across the kitchen. "Warren," she said desperately, snatching her phone up from the floor when it made another odd beeping noise. I tightened my hands into fists, growing angrier by the second. Hating her for becoming witness to my darkest secret, hating myself for letting my guard down and bringing her into my life in the first place, hating God for turning me into this abomination and putting me in this situation to begin with. She clutched the counter, steadying herself, her eyes never leaving mine as she tried to explain herself. Something about the phone, knocking on the door and not getting an answer, and…

Oh, fuck it. She'd fucking entered my home without permission. I felt my face grow red. "Get out," I hissed at her again – quite simply, I couldn't think of anything else to say. "GET OUT!"

Her chin began to quiver – she was starting to cry. "I'm sorry," she said hoarsely. "I won't tell anyone, I swear… I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—"

I couldn't take it anymore. All rational thought had long since flown out the window – no pun intended – and I snapped. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOME!" I screamed at her, letting the full brunt of my rage surface. I was heedless of the terror in the young woman in front of me, the woman I'd considered to be pretty much the only friend I had, up until about five minutes ago. Rational thought was no longer an option. Instinct took over, and I let anger disguise my fear.

She went silent, only nodding as an answer. Before I could even blink, before I had time to move, she took off at a dead run out of the kitchen, clattering through the penthouse. Her body brushed against the edge of my wings as she jetted through the door – the first time a person other than myself had touched them – sending an unusual little shiver right through me. I didn't move, didn't turn to watch her leave. Seconds later, I heard the front door slam, and then all was quiet.

I grabbed the door frame, swallowing. To say I was in a state of shock would have been the biggest goddamn understatement of all time. "Oh, shit," I whispered aloud, pressing my body against the frame for balance, struggling to remain calm. What just happened? What the fuck just happened?! "Oh, shit, shit, shit…"

xxxxx

There are times in life when you feel so hopeless, so desperate, so completely destroyed by the hand life has given you, that you can't even make it out of bed.

Thursday, December 7 – that was one of those days.

I lay awake all night. After Sera had 'left' – "run away in horror" was a more accurate description of it – I'd somehow made it upstairs and into bed. I don't actually remember this happening, but I must have done it, because when I returned to my senses in the early hours of Thursday morning, I was lying on top of my covers, clad in only my boxer shorts.

I blinked, staring up at the darkened ceiling. I had no idea – no earthly fucking clue – what I was going to do about this fiasco. I'd been so, so careful; how could this have happened? How could I keep a secret this huge from longtime friends, from my parents, and yet allow a girl whom I didn't even know all that well to discover it? What was she going to do, who was she going to tell? I didn't believe for a second that she wouldn't say anything, though she'd attempted to make that flimsy promise last night. Hell, she could make a hell of a lot of money just by alerting the media. And why wouldn't she? A poor college student, working her ass off just to get by, and suddenly a gigantic cash cow falls in her lap?

I reached up, rubbing my eyes. I had one hell of a headache.

I should have talked to her, I thought. Screaming at her, though it certainly felt good at the time, didn't help my case any. Maybe if I'd stayed composed, I could have calmed her down, and we could have worked out a deal. I didn't like the idea of blackmail, but if it took money to keep her mouth shut, so be it. I certainly had enough to spare, and I knew I could beat any offer from the New York Post or likewise. But now… what could I do? I would have been perfectly happy to have never seen nor heard from her ever again, but I knew that wasn't an option. Call her, maybe? But what if she'd already told someone? What if it was too late?

"Fuck," I whispered aloud, clenching my eyes tightly closed. "Fuck."

My alarm rang shrilly – alerting me that it was time to get out of bed and get ready for class. Which was almost laughable, really. Fuck class. Going to the final meant seeing her; it meant being vulnerable, facing up to the travesty of the evening before. There was no way in hell I was going to put myself in that position right now. Our presentation would pretty much be ruined, and my grade would certainly be shot, but I didn't care. And what would a bad grade matter in the grand scheme of things, anyway? I had more important things to stress about. I simply could not do it, not now.

I reached out, slapping the alarm angrily. My wings twitched underneath my back; I was lying on them and they longed to be stretched, but I refused to move. Fuck these wings, too, they deserved to be in pain. They'd caused me enough, hadn't they?

With the silence of the room restored, I remained in bed, staring stonefaced at the ceiling.

xxxxx

At around 10 o'clock, I still hadn't gotten out of bed. That is, until the phone rang. Incessantly. And since I only kept one phone in the house, a cordless, and that phone was downstairs, I had three choices: go down and answer it, go down and disconnect it, or remain in bed and listen to the shrill rings until my brain leaked out my ears.

I angrily jumped out of bed, heading downstairs with the intent of ripping the phone out of the wall. Halfway down the stairs, I heard the machine pick up.

"Warren? Warren… I know you're there."

Sera. What was she doing, calling me?!!?

Her voice was hesitant as she continued. "I mean, I think I know you're there, I'm pretty sure… I hope you're listening. Um… Warren, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for what happened last night, for the way I reacted, and… I don't know, this isn't the time or place or method to go into this, but I just wanted you to know that. We should talk. We need to… later, whenever you, um, feel up to it. And… I didn't tell anyone. I swear. And I'm not going to, I promise. I'm not like that." She paused for a long moment. "Warren? Please… pick up the phone."

Like hell, I thought. I started walking again, my feet hitting each step and echoing in the empty apartment. I heard a loud, staticky sigh, and then she began talking again, her deep voice slightly muffled.

"I hate this, I know you're upset… I know this sounds awful, and I hate that I have to ask this, but… you have all our stuff. Everything… and we need it. And, well, we need you. Please…"

What? You expect me to come to class today? You expect me to do you a favor, after you broke into my apartment last night?

Her voice dropped lower. "We're going last, so it'll probably be like… an hour and a half before we're supposed to go, but we need all the materials. Please, Warren, please don't do this. I know you're angry and rightfully so, but I am begging you to just—"

The machine beeped loudly – it had cut her off. I stormed into the den, glaring at the tiny gadget, watching the red LED merrily blink, reminding me that I'd missed a call.

And then the phone rang, again. And I refused to answer. Again.

"Warren? Please… it took everything I had to get up and come this morning, I was so upset… I know how you feel… I mean, well, not really, I guess, but… the point is, I'm sorry. And please don't do this, not when we've worked so hard all semester…" She continued on, talking and cajoling and repeating herself ad nauseam, but I ignored it all. But for some reason, I didn't pull the plug. Let her bare her soul if she wanted to. Throwing myself facedown on the couch, I stretched my wings out on one side and let them hang down. When all else failed, I opted to simply sleep. I could forget about this mess for awhile and at least stay out of trouble. And maybe, if I was lucky, I'd dream about being fifteen again, back in the days of normal things, like homework and two-hour tennis practices, cute girls and awkward sex, crude joints and forbidden beer in the dorms. No wings involved. Those, as they say, were the days.

BRRRRIIIIIIING! BRRRRIIIIIIING! BRRRRIIIIIIING! BRRRRIIIIIIING!

"Leave. Me. Alone," I muttered through clenched teeth.

BRRRRIIIIIIING! BRRRRIIIIIIING! BRRRRIIIIIIING! BRRRRIIIIIIING!

Fantastic. Now, it appeared, she was simply hanging up before the machine picked up and then immediately re-dialing. What the hell was her problem? If I'd wanted to answer, I'd have answered by now, goddammit…

BRRRRIIIIIIING! BRRRRIIIIIIING! BRRRRIIIIIIING! BRRRRIIIIIIING!

I swore loudly, leaping up from the bed and stalking over to the machine, angrily shoving the coffee table aside in my wake. It was tempting again to just unplug the whole mess, but by that point I was so pissed off I wanted to vent some steam. I grabbed the receiver mid-ring, growling. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?"

"Warren! Oh, Warren… oh, thank you, thanks for answering…" she seemed unfazed by my method of salutation – probably just shock that I'd actually acknowledged her calls. "Warren, I—we, um, I—oh, hell…" I'd never heard her curse, and if I hadn't been in the predicament I was in, I might have actually smiled to hear it. "You got my message, right?"

"I'm not coming," I said coldly. "Forget it. I don't know why I bothered to answer anyway." I started to hang up, but her tinny voice pleaded to me as I pulled the phone away.

"Warren, I'm not asking much… I know that I am the last person you want to see right now, and I understand that… but please… at the very least, bring me our project and leave… I'll tell him you had an emergency come up, I'll tell him anything… just don't do this to us…"

"'Don't do this to us?'" I repeated. "Name me one good reason why I should do either of you this favor, Sera. I could care less about the grade, I can't stand Jonathan, and frankly, after what you did, I don't want to fucking look at you right now."

She sucked in her breath sharply, and neither of us spoke for a long, excruciating minute. "I deserved that," she finally said, her voice quiet and defeated. "I'm sorry."

I didn't reply. I didn't feel the need to.

"Can we… can we talk about this?" she asked gingerly. "Not now, but… later?"

"Talk about what?" I asked, my voice hard.

"About… last night."

"There's nothing to talk about," I said tersely. "I trusted you, and you came into my apartment without permission. That's a crime, if memory serves. I could have you arrested, if I was so inclined."

"I know." She didn't try and make excuses, didn't protest. Just stated it like it was. It was a characteristic I'd always admired in her before…

"But I'm not," I finished. "I keep my mouth shut, you keep yours shut. End of story."

"I already promised you that," she said bitterly. "You know you can trust me, Warren."

"Can I?"

The two words hung heavy over the line. It was a valid question, though, in my opinion. How could you trust someone again after she'd broken that confidence?

"Well," she said softly, in lieu of an answer to that question, "if you change your mind… it'll be about an hour and a half before we're supposed to go. But even if you don't come… if you want to talk about this, I'm here. I'm sorry, Warren. You have no idea how sorry I am." She sighed again, that one non-syllable thick with unspoken emotion, and I heard a soft click – she'd hung up on me.

Good, I thought, numb as I put the receiver back in the cradle. Now I can go back to bed.

xxxxx

Except, I didn't go back to bed. I couldn't. Oh, I tried – walked up the stairs, crawled under the covers, closed my eyes. A tactic that had worked a million times before when I'd been dragged out of bed by the phone. I waited ten minutes. Fifteen. Twenty. Thirty, and then forty-five before realizing that despite my best efforts, I was not going to be catching up on any shut-eye this morning.

Particularly not when the far recesses of my mind decided to fill in for Sera and continue arguing with me. Bits and pieces of our heated conversation kept running through my head, unbidden.

Fucking conscience.

'Warren, I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…'

"Sure," I muttered aloud. They were just words. Words were cheap. Words never fixed anything.

'We need you… please…'

"Fuck that," I muttered aloud. "You'll be fine." Grades weren't everything. Sera was old enough to know that.

'Don't do this to us…'

"Us," I repeated, disgusted. As if I cared what happened to Jonathan.

'Can we talk about this?'

"No," I grumbled. What could she possibly have to say? What did she want to 'talk' about? Try to offer some lame excuses for her behavior? Ask me questions? Learn more about the freak show?

'I'm here. I'm sorry, Warren. You have no idea how sorry I am.'

I clenched my jaw. Her voice… that plaintive, melancholy cadence it had taken, right there in the last few seconds… it killed me. I didn't know why, because I had every single right to be unforgivably angry with her for the rest of my life, but that final sentence, and final sentiment, slayed me.

I couldn't get it out of my head. Not even after an additional twenty minutes had passed. And I knew, without a doubt, that no amount of time would assuage it.

At least, not until I did the very thing I swore I wouldn't be doing today.

Guilt is an odd thing. It eats away at you, takes over your conscience. And guilt from a pretty, desperate, crushed young woman, especially one who you sort of found yourself attracted to before the fiasco went down, is a spectacular thing… because it makes you say or do things that you would have never, ever, ever thought you'd do.

Like get back out of bed after having your darkest secret unlocked and then go on to your last final, pretending that absolutely nothing is out of the ordinary.