A/N: I'm baaaaaack:) Sorry for the delay. Long story short, I had a whole bunch of stuff happen in the past few months, which included getting a new job and moving into my own apartment. So I was pretty crazy busy, and slacked on finishing this chapter. It was actually almost ready to post back in March, but life intervened and delayed it. :) Anyway, here it is. It's not my favorite, but it was necessary. I am very eager for the next part, so I'm starting on it right away. :)

Thanks for all your reviews! As always, comments/suggestions/flames are welcome. ;)

Sera

"So what clever story does he have for us this time?"

I looked up at Jonathan, cringing at the way his voice positively dripped with venom. He glared down at me, arms folded tightly. We were out in the hallway; presentations were going on inside the classroom but I'd told Professor Marcus when I got to class that we had some 'issues' we needed to work out before presenting. Understatement. Once Jonathan realized who was conspicuously absent from class – his dear friend Warren – he'd nearly blown a gasket. I'd never heard so many four-letter words strung together so creatively.

I carefully cradled my cell phone in my palms, looking away from Jonathan and trying not to cry. My back was beginning to ache from sitting on the cold, tile floor, but I didn't have the energy to stand up. "He's… he's had an emergency come up. I don't think he's going to make it."

Jonathan's face froze, and for a moment, I was truly afraid he might do something violent, like put his fist through the crumbly cement wall. "What?" he seethed. "You said he had all our stuff, Sera."

I didn't miss the accusatory tone to his voice – I'd had to confess to him that Warren and I had met alone the night before and that I'd given him everything to keep. Jonathan had barely spoken to me since the incident in the coffee shop with Warren, and so that revelation had been news to him. And naturally, hearing that I'd actually gone to Warren's apartment had infuriated him even further on top of things. I could only imagine how he'd react if I told him that Warren was a mutant…

What am I going to do?

Talk about being in a bind. I'd royally screwed things up from every possible angle – outed Warren and pretty much ruined his life, angered Jonathan to an unimaginable degree, and now I was stuck with the possibility of failing the final in Ethics, which meant I'd have to take it again in order to graduate. What, I hadn't figured out a way to get myself expelled yet? It seemed like things couldn't possibly get worse.

But out of all of it, it came down to Warren. I could not stop thinking about Warren…

On the phone, he'd been angry, abrupt, and dismissive – and that, of course, was an improvement over the colossal screaming freak-out I'd caused last night. I felt so lost – usually when you made a mistake, you could apologize and try to make it right. But there was nothing I could do, not this time. I'd apologized over and over and over, but I knew it wasn't enough. I'd crossed a major line, and there was no undoing that.

"He does," I said quietly.

"Well then what the fuck are we going to do?" Jonathan shouted. "There is no excuse for this, Sera. None. He knows how important this is."

Important? Sure, important to us, perhaps… but to someone who spent his evenings flying high above the city saving lives, and his days hiding a massive physical mutation, decidedly not. In the grand scheme of things, a simple college presentation was really not very high on the radar…

I shook my head, once again seeing Warren's impressive eagle-like spread in my mind. How on earth had he hidden them so well? Were they folded in, tied down, what? It defied the laws of physics…

"Sera," Jonathan said sharply, interrupting my thoughts. "What are we going to do?"

I swallowed. "I don't know," I said quietly.

"Oh, that's rich," he said bitterly, turning his back on me and stalking up and down the hall. "This is partly your fault, too, you know. I don't know why you trusted him, why you were always on his side all the time. I kept telling you, I knew he would fuck us over. He's an asshole, Sera, he's selfish and rude and used to running over people. But you never listened. You—"

"Look," I said sharply, feeling my temper heat up. Warren wasn't selfish or rude or spoiled… well, maybe he appeared to be to others, but that wasn't his real nature. No one who was willing to risk his life every night saving people could be that self-centered. "He didn't do this on purpose. His… um…" I paused, trying to make up a reasonable excuse for his absence. "His mother's in the hospital."

Jonathan paused, and I noticed the way his nostrils flared a little – like he was trying to calm down, steady his breathing. "Really," he said flatly. "What happened?"

I glared up at him, feeling angrier by the second. And fervently hoping that he wouldn't realize that if Warren's mother had been in the hospital, it would have likely been all over the news. "I don't know what happened, I didn't ask for details, but let me tell you, he sure as hell didn't plan this to ruin our grades."

Jonathan's eyebrows quirked in surprise at my outburst. "What are we going to do?" he repeated in lieu of an apology. Why was he asking me? He had equal share in this debacle; couldn't he at least try to come up with another solution instead of throwing everything in my lap?

I sighed, resting my forehead on my bent knees for a second. "I don't know. I think we just have to wing it. I mean, we really don't have a choice but to tell Dr. Marcus that he didn't show and he has all our stuff. We'll do the best we can. And maybe he'll let us do it later, like a make-up."

Jonathan snorted, throwing his arms up. "Fat chance." Shaking his head angrily, he slapped one hand against the wall, startling me with a loud crack. "I gotta take a walk," he said. "I'm so fucking pissed off right now I could scream."

"Yes, go do that," I said. God knew I could use some peace and quiet at the moment.

He didn't respond. Instead, I watched his back retreat down the hall, around the corner and out of sight. I heard the heavy double-doors that led to the outside open and shut, leaving me with nothing but the steady murmur of the fluorescent lamps in the ceiling.

And finally, I had a few moments of quiet to think, remember, and brood.

xxxxx

Get out! Get the fuck out of my home!

That command – no, demand – will be burned into my mind forever.

Though I've been accused of being a goody-two-shoes all my life, I've done a lot of not-so-great things in my twenty-seven years; actions and words that I'm not so proud of and would really not care to remember. I'm well acquainted with that low, burning feeling of guilt that bubbles within after doing something that hurts someone else.

But despite all the horrible things I've done – called Mary Ellis a fat cow to her face in the sixth grade, cheated on my freshman-year boyfriend with an older guy from another school, even abandoning my fiancée, Nick, in order to pursue this wild pipe dream in New York – not once did I feel the type of oppressive, relentless remorse like I felt with the Warren situation.

It came down to this – not only had I betrayed his trust, but I'd proven myself a huge hypocrite. All semester, throughout the journey of our GPD project, I'd claimed that I had no problems with mutants. Defended them, even when Jonathan went off on one of his long-winded rants about the devolution of humanity. In retrospect, it was no wonder Warren trusted me, warmed up to me – he probably thought he'd found someone who wouldn't judge him, should he ever decide to come clean. But what had I done? Reacted with fear. Sheer terror, actually. I'd screamed, cried, and begged, all things that did not particularly indicate that his mutation was no big deal to me.

I was ashamed, simply put. I'd cried – actually cried, once I finally made it home and safely inside my apartment. Adrenaline brings you to the highest of highs, and I'd coasted on that during the entire train ride, never quite calming the jitters that came with the fear. Getting home, however, had changed that. You know that awful feeling when the adrenaline drops? Normally, it's a slow process, a careful subsiding until your mood levels off. But last night, I'd simply crashed. I was exhausted, drained, but unable to sleep. So I'd just sat on my bed, curled into a little ball while hot, fat tears dripped down my face.

Yet somehow – a true miracle if I ever saw one – somehow I'd made it out of bed this morning, showered, and come to class. As if everything were perfectly fine and nothing was out of the ordinary.

Warren, on the other hand, apparently wasn't up to playing that particular charade. And I couldn't blame him.

"Oh," I sighed aloud, leaning my head back against the wall with a low thunk. So what now? He could avoid me today, but could he avoid me forever? Possibly, considering the size of this school and the classes – after today, the semester was over and in January the process would begin anew. It certainly wasn't as if we ran in the same social circles, either – actually, I was pretty sure Warren ran in no social circles, a fact which had seemed odd to me before discovering his secret. The poor guy, always hiding…

I wondered who else knew about his wings. Parents? Any friends at all? Doctor? He'd done a spectacular job of concealing them – something that still boggled my mind every time I thought about it. And Warren, as reclusive as he was, still counted as something of a celebrity, with his enormous wealth and high-profile parents. I'd never once heard any trace of gossip that he was a mutant… How had he kept the rumor mill silent all these years, staying out of the tabloids? And for that matter, just how long had he been a mutant? Since birth? Childhood? Or was it more recent? I'd remembered reading an article in TIME magazine once about dormant mutations that waited to develop later in life…

I wanted so badly to ask all these questions – now that I had the time to reflect, I wasn't really afraid anymore, mostly just curious… I both pitied and admired him, and I had an uncontrollable itch to pick his brain and figure out how he made it all work. I'd meant what I'd told him – I wouldn't tell a soul. I wasn't interested in money or blackmail or special favors, despite what he probably thought. I just wanted to… well, to learn. To learn and understand…

I groaned, curling my knees up and resting my elbows on them as I massaged my temple. Well, one thing was for sure – I might have been ready to learn, but Warren was not interested in teaching me.

xxxxx

"Sera?"

I lifted my head slowly, staring up at Dr. Marcus. His head peeked out of the classroom, and concern was etched across his solemn features. When it became apparent that Warren was a no-show, I'd begged him to let us go last so that we could try and regroup. He'd agreed to let Jonathan and I stay out in the hall while we figured out what to do... but obviously, our time was growing shorter and shorter, and I still had no plan.

"Yeah?" I asked quietly.

His eyebrows furrowed. "Where's Jonathan?"

I tapped my fingers nervously on the floor. "Um… good question. He's… blowing off some steam, we should say."

A look of understanding dawned on his face. "Warren still not show?"

"Um, no. And… I don't believe he will. He had a… a family emergency come up." Amazing how easy it was to tell this lie. Why? It would have been so easy to be truthful and say that Warren flaked out and I didn't know why he wasn't there…

Dr. Marcus pursed his lips. "I see. Well, Sera, you'll have to do it without him. I won't penalize either of you for his absence."

"He has all our stuff," I said quietly. "So we're in trouble there."

He sighed heavily and hung his head. "That's why I tell all you kids to keep copies of your material," he said with reproach. "To prevent these kinds of incidents."

I bristled slightly at his use of the word "kids". I was twenty-seven years old, quite a far cry from a 'kid'… and I didn't appreciate his condescending tone. "I get that," I said icily. "I suppose that after working eight hours, taking two finals, and finishing up this presentation at one in the morning last night, it somehow managed to slip my mind."

Dr. Marcus raised one eyebrow. "When Jonathan gets back, come back inside," he said, choosing not to acknowledge my sarcastic reply. "I'll work something out with you two."

"Okay," I mumbled, staring down at the floor once again. The door closed, and I was alone yet again in the silence of the hall.

xxxxx

Ten minutes later, I heard the door at the far end of the hall creak open and slam shut, echoing all the way down the corridor. I suppressed a groan – it was probably Jonathan, on his way back to bitch and moan about our situation some more. I wasn't looking forward to bringing him inside to meet with Dr. Marcus.

I didn't bother looking up, instead, I remained in the floor with my legs crossed, idly picking at the dry skin around my nails.

The footsteps came closer, clicking gently against the tile all the way up the hall. When he was a few feet away from me, he stopped, and I let my eyes drift over to his shoes. A pair of dark black leather dress shoes – not the brown boots Jonathan had been wearing. I jerked my head the rest of the way up, staring up at my new company.

Warren.

He'd come. He'd actually come… I felt my eyes widen.

He looked exhausted – no surprise there, as I was fairly sure that like me, he hadn't gotten an hour's worth of decent sleep last night. His hair obviously hadn't been washed, and though he was dressed appropriately for a class presentation, his clothes seemed to be a little rumpled and unkempt, as if thrown on in a hurry. Though I tried not to, I couldn't help but stare at him and remember the way he looked the previous night, with his snug clothes and wings unfurled – majestic, statuesque, surreal, and beautifully terrifying. Now, however, just an ordinary kid; a slouchy, grumpy college student…

I blinked, startling myself back to reality. "Warren!" I exclaimed with a little too much enthusiasm, leaping to my feet and scurrying to him. I halted, though, when I was directly in face to face with him, suddenly realizing that I'd been on the verge of throwing my arms around his neck to give him a hug. Instead, I fluttered them nervously in front of me as I struggled to remain composed. "Hey," I said nervously. "You came. I can't believe it. You really came."

Your wings… how in the world do you hide your wings? I can't even tell…

"Yeah." He had his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his coat, and he neither smiled nor frowned as he spoke. Rather, his face was an unsettling mask of perfect blankness, like a wax figure. I waited for him to expound on that, but he didn't. I inwardly sighed. Obviously, it appeared that the bits of personality I'd cultivated out of him were gone, completely erased. I watched as he slowly lifted his bank and pulled out a folder – our presentation material. I sighed sharply with relief.

"Thank you," I whispered. I carefully accepted the folder from him, hoping he didn't notice that my hands were trembling. Warren, the Avenging Angel, quietly standing less than two feet away from me… It felt so strange, being so close to a man – no, mutant – who was, well, famous. Which was somewhat ridiculous, considering that Warren himself was pretty famous just for being his rich self, and I'd gotten over that fact fairly quickly. I looked up, mentally commanding every muscle in my body to react normally. "Thank you so much, Warren."

This all seems so awkward, so mundane… casual, polite, forced conversation…

"Sure." He shrugged and turned, as if leaving. Panicked, I stumbled after him, swallowing hard. He didn't turn around, so I walked sideways as I spoke, trying to keep up.

"Hey," I said uncertainly. "Um… what I said on the phone… I meant it. All of it. I'm sorry." He kept walking, and I kept tripping along beside him. "I made a huge mistake and I apologize. I shouldn't have done it. I don't blame you at all for being angry. And I promise I won't tell a soul. I—"

The door down the hall screeched open and slammed shut again, startling me into silence. As soon as I heard the next set of footsteps, I felt my heart speed up a little with dread. This time, it really was Jonathan, strolling around the corner with a sour look on his handsome face. As soon as he saw Warren, that face soured even further. Actually, I guess you could say it pretty much curdled. And by the way Warren visibly tensed, I could tell the feeling was mutual.

I closed my eyes, bracing myself before remembering the little white lies I'd told on Warren's behalf. I stepped forward and grabbed Warren's arm without thinking about it, speaking low and from the side of my mouth. I felt the muscles of his forearm tense under the pressure of my fingers. "I told him your mother had to go to the hospital," I mumbled in a rush. "I had to think of a good reason why you didn't show…"

He nodded curtly, still staring ahead at his arch nemesis. I let go of him, backing away and casting a furtive glance towards Jonathan. He stalked towards us, glowering.

"Nice of you to show up," he said, practically spitting out the words.

"Jonathan," I said quietly. "Just stop—"

"I know, I know," he said sarcastically. "Play nice. Fine. Do you have our shit, Warren?"

"Yes," Warren said, his voice dangerously low.

"I have it right here," I said, holding the folder up. "Now, let's just go—"

Jonathan interrupted me. "How's your mother?" he asked evenly.

"She's fine," Warren answered. I squirmed at his side, hating the fact that I had to be involved in this situation at all. "She was having trouble breathing. An allergic reaction to some medication she's on." He cast a slow, deliberate glance my way. "She's fine now."

"Well, that's nice," Jonathan said flatly. "Now let's go get this over with."

Warren regarded him coolly. "I'm not—"

"Yes, let's go," I blurted out, my voice rising to a comically high pitch in an effort to stop Warren's next statement. I knew what he was going to say – 'I'm not doing it,' or something similar – and I also knew that hearing that would cause Jonathan to seriously blow a gasket. I threw the next words out in a rush. "It's just about time, Dr. Marcus came out here to talk to me just a few minutes ago, and he said to come inside when we were ready."

Warren narrowed his icy blue eyes. "Sera," he said with a warning tone, "I told you, I—"

"Oh, and thanks for keeping this stuff," I interrupted, slightly embarrassed when I realized I was practically shouting in my efforts to continue cutting Warren off. "And thank you, again, for coming today…" Warren's mouth closed tightly as I spoke. "I know it wasn't easy," I finished quietly.

"Okay, okay," Jonathan said, oblivious to the unspoken dialogue currently buzzing between his teammates. "Let's go."

Warren tried one more time. "Really," he said. "I have to go—"

And then, Dr. Marcus saved the day.

"What is all the shouting about?" The three of us turned to see our bewildered professor, peeking through the door once again. "Julie and Troy are trying to give their presentation in here, people." He paused, noticing that our third member had arrived. "Warren," he said. "Glad you could make it. Everything okay at home?"

Warren glanced at me yet again. "Yeah. Everything's fine now," he mumbled.

"Excellent. Well, come on inside," he said, pushing the door the rest of the way open. "Now that you're all here."

And this time, with the professor's no-nonsense stare locking him in place, Warren didn't protest. The three of us silently filed into the room and took our seats.

xxxxx

Fifteen minutes.

That's all it took. A semester of suffering, months of playing mediator, weeks of stressful late nights, and one spectacularly horrible evening led up to this: Fifteen measly minutes of presenting and discussion.

Standing at the podium, shakily reciting the speech I'd memorized, I couldn't stop my mind from wandering, pondering if it had even been worth it. No, I finally decided. No.

It went well, at least as well as could be expected. Jonathan and I both stumbled in our rebuttals – since they couldn't be pre-prepared, we had to speak extemporaneously and that ability was apparently non-existent in either of us. Warren, however, glided through both his prepared part and rebuttal without flinching. Not even when he was challenged about the cure by Erica Wilkins, a cool, snide redhead who was defending the other side. He merely tossed her a patronizing smile, fired off a snappy remark, and effectively embarrassed her into silence. Warren's father's involvement in the current 'mutant cure' was common knowledge, and considering the circumstances, I found it astounding that he could stay so calm when discussing it. Amazing – his own father was helping eradicate his kind. It made me wonder, more than ever, if his parents actually knew. But again – if they didn't, then how?

"Great job," I whispered to him when he sat back down next to me, attempting civilized conversation. Both groups were seated in the front of the room, behind our respective podiums. I fidgeted, cracking my knuckles as I scanned the semi-bored faces of our classmates, who were listening to Dr. Marcus's opinion of our debate. We'd been the last group to go, and he hadn't told us to return to our seats yet. Regardless, it was over. "Really. You did well."

He didn't respond. He stared straight ahead, ignoring me. I furrowed my brow and continued to crack my knuckles, wondering how long it would bother me that Warren Worthington III hated my guts. With a long swallow, I realized that the answer was fairly evident: a long, long time.

"Thank God that's over," Jonathan murmured, gently nudging my leg. I turned my attention to him, sighing. Well, at least he seemed to have calmed down. For now.

"Yeah," I said softly. "Agreed."

"I'm getting drunk tonight," he muttered. "I'm done with classes and I need a break."

"I'd be there with you if I didn't have to work," I said dryly. "A little Captain Morgan and Coke sounds pretty damn good right now…" I squeezed my hands into fists, cracking my pinkies one by one.

"Could you stop that?" Warren hissed. I glanced over at him, surprised, and noticed he was staring at my hands. Oh, so now he was speaking to me?

"Why?" I grumbled. "It's just a nervous habit, sorry."

"It's loud and obnoxious, and besides, you're ruining your joints." With that statement made, he turned away again.

"What do you care, anyway?" I whispered to myself, the words barely more than a soft breath of air against my lips. I noticed his shoulders tense and jaw visibly clench, and my eyes widened. Had he heard that? Did he have some insane superhuman hearing ability, as well?

"Well done, everyone, well done." Dr. Marcus's voice snapped me back to attention, and I realized that class was officially over – for the last time. "Your grades will be posted online by next Tuesday. If you have any questions before then, email me or stop by my office. Otherwise, you're finished. Have a good break."

Everyone clapped and stood up, collecting their books and bags. Warren, however, shot out of the room like a rocket, bypassing the professor to reach the door first. I froze, watching him leave. I knew I'd probably never talk to him again, but there was a small part of me that wanted to try again. Just talk and apologize one more time…

"Hey, you want to grab some lunch?" Jonathan asked nonchalantly, breaking my concentration. He seemed utterly unfazed by Warren's departure. Actually, he pretty much looked thrilled. Not that I could entirely blame him, but still…

"Yeah," I said slowly. "But… I have to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back. Okay?"

"No problem." He strolled to his desk for his bags, whistling softly along the way. Whistling!

With that, I jetted out the door, bypassing the bathroom and running down the stairs in search of the Angel.

xxxxx

I found him outside on the lawn, stalking across the grass at a brisk, hard pace, apparently forgoing the sidewalks to take a shortcut to his car. I kicked it up a notch and jogged after him, cursing my high heels and flimsy, lacy bra. I thought about calling his name, but decided against it – I was already making too much of a scene as it was.

I caught up with him, grabbing his firm arm again to catch his attention. He immediately threw me off without even turning around – he knew who was behind him, and he sure as hell wasn't stopping.

"Warren," I gasped. "Wait—"

"Leave me alone," he growled, lengthening his strides. "For the last time, just leave."

"Please, let's talk about this, just stop for a second," I urged, trying to keep my voice low. Luckily, because of finals week, the campus wasn't teeming with students like it usually was, so our strange interaction elicited only a few stares. "This must be so hard on you… you've taken on so much, and—"

"No," he said curtly, cutting me off. "We're not discussing this. Not now, not ever."

"Why not?" I continued to pace with him, and shrugged my shoulders. "I thought we were… well, I thought we were sort of friends, and I don't want this animosity between us—"

He suddenly switched directions, throwing me off-balance as I overstepped and stumbled ahead of him. He gave me a blank, icy stare over his shoulder as I stood up and doggedly followed. "Then maybe you should have thought that before you barged back into my apartment without permission," he replied coolly. "Do friends do that?"

I hung my head. This was going to be impossible. Why was I punishing myself? I should have just given up an hour ago and salvaged what little of my dignity I had left… "I know, I know," I said quietly. "I didn't mean—"

He waved his hand violently, cutting me off. "Enough," he said crisply. "I don't want to hear it."

"Maybe you don't want to hear it, but I have to say it," I said desperately. "I'm sorry—"

He stopped then, jerking around to face me. As he turned, I found myself staring at the profile of his shoulders – and once I looked closely, very closely, I could see a nearly indiscernible outward curvature of his spine. His wings, pressed tightly into his back – in whatever way he managed to do it. It was a wonder I'd never noticed before, but I supposed that was what he'd strived for – to be invisible, nondescript. And he knew just how to stand, just how to slouch to disguise it…

"You could apologize fifteen thousand times – and I believe you have, Sera – but it doesn't change a thing," he seethed, balling his hands into tight, whitened fists. "Your words are cheap, and I don't want to hear them. All I want is for you to keep your fucking mouth shut and leave me alone."

Ouch.

I winced. I had no idea what else to say. Was there anything else? "Oh," I whispered. I almost added another 'Sorry' to that, before stopping myself, knowing that it very well could send him into a full-on rage.

"You got it?" he snapped. I nodded mutely. "Good." With that said, he turned and stalked across the lawn, leaving me trembling in his wake. I stood perfectly still until he was out of sight, disappearing between the library and Breckinridge Hall. Gone.

Oh, Warren, I thought, an indescribable sadness settling into my chest. I knew I had to return, to find Jonathan and go to lunch and pretend that my life was absolutely lovely, but I didn't want to move. What have I done?