(Five)

Julien had continued his inspection of Remy's impressive ship and had gone back inside the Dragon looking for another peek and maybe the use of the bathroom. One ride wasn't enough for him to know his way around and he had to look around for a moment before he saw a door labeled "Lavatory." He made his way over but paused when he saw Kimble's shirt lying in a rumpled heap just outside. That was odd, why would Kimble have just dumped it like that? The answer came soon enough. There were voices coming from behind the door - Aiden saying something in that near incomprehensible garble of his, Kimble's teasing response, and then an unmistakable groan of pleasure, one from Aiden.

Julien stood there shaking, his mind refusing to comprehend just what he was hearing. The sounds of lustful passion from behind the door left little room for doubt, though he still stubbornly refused to accept it. Numb, he couldn't help himself from reaching for the door, he had to prove himself wrong. Being unlocked, it swung open easily. Julien froze in shock and surprise.

Kimble and Aiden had snuck off on their own for a quick session of play, never dreaming they might be interrupted, not with Remy and Julien so distracted outside by getting to know each other better. It had begun with Aiden simply intending a quick make out session to give Kimble some comfort for being upset earlier and like most things these Siskans do at play, it had simply progressed onto something more substantial all on its own. Kimble, being the needy creature that he was, could not refuse. All thoughts of possibly being caught had gotten lost by the wayside.

The bathroom here was tiny, not much larger than an airplane lavatory, and quite cramped. Aiden was up against the back wall, wedged in between the sink and the toilet, one foot up on the closed toilet seat for balance. His shirt was open and half off, his shorts down around one ankle in a rumpled heap. Kimble was down on his knees in front of him with his back to the door, his face in Aiden's lap, moving in a steady rhythm as he gave intimate worship to his lover. Julien was inexperienced, but he wasn't so naive as to not recognize what he was looking at.

Once alone with his Kimble, the hardness that Aiden often projected to others was gone. He was slack and relaxed, looking younger and more vulnerable, the picture of complete surrender as Kimble pleasured him. Aiden's hands were buried in Kimble's hair as he showed his appreciation with gentle sifts of his fingers through the long ebony tresses. Only Kimble here was in some semblance of order, he still had his pants on, though loose and unbuckled. His eyes were closed, his throat making soft noises of joy as he took pride and pleasure in his work.

Julien took all this in with shocked surprise. Julien's mother had been a prostitute and Julien had seen things no kids should ever have to see, but this? This he recognized only from things Frost had taught him. Things that were an evil that must be wiped out. He thought back on what he had seen from these two and realized he should have known about them from the start. They were more than roommates, more than two friends who could not be long one without the other. But was there more to this than that? Was it no coincidence that these two had been the ones who had made him the most welcome?

Kimble jerked to a halt with a startled grunt when he suddenly realized they were no longer alone. He made an abortive motion to rise, to try and hide the act he and Aiden had been engaged in, but the room was simply too small for him to go anywhere and Julien was blocking the doorway. Kimble had no way out so he stayed as he was, trembling violently now on his knees, his head down in shame and humiliation.

"Julien," Aiden greeted tersely, his voice as cold as ice as the hardness returned to his face. He was now looking over Kimble's head at their guest. He had sensed the presence of the boy, how could he not? Julien's vibrations of disgust and revulsion were sharp and painful. "What you doin' 'ere?"

"You should have locked the door!" Julien snapped with all the arrogance of righteous indignation, his hands curling into loose fists. His horror and disdain was plain on his face. "You two 're queers."

Kimble was uncharacteristically still as he knelt there, quaking. Where he might have turned at the unexpected intrusion and greeted Julien with his usual charm in an attempt to defuse the situation, the words Julien had spoken in disgust had frozen him in place. He flinched noticeably at the word "queers" but didn't argue. He lowered his head instead, his breath coming in deep pants as he shifted gears violently from fierce arousal to sudden shame and embarrassment at having been caught in such a compromising position. He didn't dare turn and face his accuser. He was visibly shaken, his wings drooping deeper in humiliation with every breath.

Aiden's gaze on Julien was sharp and defensive, but he resumed the gentle stroke of his hands over Kimble's head without apology, this time with another purpose besides desire. He knew Kimble well enough to know the pilot would have fled at that moment if the boy hadn't been blocking the door. Kimble might feel shame at that moment, but the Dreamer certainly didn't, and he wanted Kimble and Julien both to know it. Aiden's voice was haughty and belligerent as he returned, "Ze door wasz closzed, eh? You should 'ave knocked. Didn' zey teach you mannersz at 'ome, leetle boy?"

Julien wasn't sure what hurt more, Aiden's unwillingness to feel shame for his apparent homosexuality or the belligerent return of his words. Aiden was suggesting that Julien was the one in the wrong when Julien felt just the opposite. Certain that he was the one correct here and not his two deceitful benefactors, he snapped back with as much disgust as he could muster, "It doesn't change the fact that you're both perverted little faggots."

Kimble cringed again, whimpering softly as if in pain, but Aiden continued to try and calm him with his hands. His eyes meanwhile had hardened that much more as he answered the boy, "It'sz a leetle more complicated than zat."

"No it isn't!" Julien snorted. "Mr. Frost said all queers are going straight to Hell. Queers like to fuck little boys. Is that why you two faggots pretended to be my friend? So you could fuck me, too?"

Kimble's head whipped around in shock at the accusation, his eyes opening as wide as his mouth. It had been a little while since he had been confronted with this level of hatred and revulsion, he wasn't prepared for it to come from such an unexpected source. He couldn't believe the ugliness that had just come from this child he had thought was his friend. He shouldn't have been all that surprised, he now reasoned, this wasn't the first time he had been turned on so unexpectedly from an unforseen quarter. Just when he had thought he was safe in a new and loving friendship, here it was, that same old hatred. The same old misunderstanding and lack of tolerance. Maybe Aiden was right about the Chuckfet after all. That none of them could be trusted with his love or affection. It hurt more than he could say.

"I- I ain't never pretended ta be yer friend, Jules," Kimble stammered in his shock and hurt, trying feebly to explain. Even he could see that it was already too late. "I wouldn't ever hurtcha. Never likes that."

"You stay away from me!" Julien shouted and fled.

Outside, Remy's alarm only increased when he next heard Julien come thundering down the ramp. The boy flew past him, his face flushed red with anger and horror. Julien was quick on his feet, he bolted to the stairwell and was gone in a flash.

"What de 'ell now?" Remy complained, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. This was getting really old, the kid was so unpredictable.

Asher touched his shoulder, his voice betraying preternatural knowledge as he spoke, "You go after him, I gots the boys."

"Quoi?" Remy asked in confusion, taking a step the way Julien had gone. Asher frequently did this, speaking randomly like a telepath. Asher sometimes acted like the rest of them knew stuff at the same time he did when they really didn't. Asher wasn't a true telepath - nobody was quite sure what he was really - but he often seemed that way. Most telepaths and intuitive people had received training for this – sympathy training for dealing with the 'headblind' rest of us – but Asher had not. It was awkward and maddening at times.

Trusting in Asher's wisdom, Remy obeyed Asher anyway, but stopped when he heard a gut wrenching wail of agony that could only have come from Kimble. Instinct dominated his heart's concern for his son and he flew up the ramp of the ship without hesitation, ignoring Asher's command.

He came into the main room and saw the bathroom door was open. Aiden stood in the cramped little doorway, doing his best to plead with Kimble who was having some kind of meltdown inside the tiny room. Remy didn't need to ask any further questions about what had happened when he saw Aiden was only half dressed.

This team of three had been flying the Dragon for months now, growing close and working together as a solid fluid unit. They were all uniquely bonded and understood each other pretty well. That meant that they accepted certain things about each other that had blended into the background over time and simply became the way things were. This wasn't the first time by far Remy had seen these two slink off by themselves for a moment of private play and the tiny bathroom was really the only secluded place for it on the ship.

This should not have come to any surprise really, if Remy had but given it a moment's thought. He wasn't blind. He didn't even need his eyes to know that these two were still very much on fire for one another and tumbled often. It wasn't uncommon for him to stumble innocently across residual vibrations from the pair more than twice in the same day even if he never caught them in the act itself. They were mostly discreet, their hiding places always creative and most often amusing to the thief. He had learned fast that his friends weren't about to give up any opportunity that presented itself, not even on a work day. Knowing how badly these two had needed each other, Remy certainly wasn't going to complain about it. He just considered it one of the challenges of his new job and would just chuckle to himself and move on.

Finding Kimble and Aiden play was also more likely to happen on a day where either one of them had been upset. Today qualified in the sense that Kimble had been disturbed earlier at the idea of being on a squad. Aiden had probably done this to cheer him.

With Julien spending so much time at the Siskans' apartment, their opportunities for play would have been much more limited. They both knew better than to throw down in front of the boy. Just because they were Siskan didn't mean they didn't have any sense of manners. Again, not that Remy had even given it any thought. He hadn't even noticed this day when Kimble and Aiden were no longer there outside the ship, it had fallen under his radar. He had been too busy entertaining Julien and trying to get to know him better. It had never occurred to him that anything might happen. It had been a mistake.

Kimble was still inside the tiny bathroom, choking a bit on his sobs as he fumbled to get his shirt back on. As if getting dressed could hide what he had just been caught doing. "I ain't never touched him, I swears! I wouldn't ever hurts him! Not him 'r nobodys! Why does this keeps happnin' ta me?"

"I know disz, Keemble," Aiden replied, his voice gentle and patient. He was vibrating calm and peace, hoping to placate his lover's hysteria. Morrowhiem was wisping off of his body in a golden cloud, drifting Kimble's way. "Do not cry, my love. You do not need to explain anyt'ing to me. You done not'ing wrong, not one t'ing."

"What's goin' on?" Remy asked just to get this out in the open, doing his best to keep his voice level and unaccusing. While this was certainly awkward, it didn't explain enough why Julien had been so scandalized. Remy could see the Dreamer's barely controlled fury buried under the cover of calm he was trying to project to Kimble who continued to bawl.

Aiden looked up at him, his pale green eyes filled with pain and anger. "Julien come unannounced. Szee usz play and szay terrible bad t'ingsz."

"Like what, cher?"

Aiden's face hardened all the more as he snarled, "You 'ear Keemble cry! What you t'ink 'e szay?!"

Remy sighed, not satisfied with Aiden's angry response. There had to be more than just that. "Kim, what did Jules say to you?" he asked, taking a peek over Aiden's shoulder.

Kimble didn't answer. He was seated on the john, his face bright red with shame, wet and dripping with tears. He wasn't issuing complaints anymore, he just sat there and hitched, almost hiccuping as he tried to calm himself. Aiden's Morrowhiem was swirling all about and starting to work its magic, Kimble's heavy sobs had stopped for the moment. Even so Remy knew Kimble well enough to know Aiden's Morrowhiem alone wouldn't be enough to bring Kimble all the way down. It was just as well Asher was here.

"Kimble, talk to me, fils."

The pilot swallowed but wouldn't look up. "Said I cain't be his friend no more."

" 'E say why?"

Kimble shuddered and turned his head away. He sobbed with renewed shame and humiliation, his shine dark with self loathing and disgust. "Cain't 'members an' I don' wants to!"

Remy sighed internally, hating Kimble's pain. This was so typical, especially of the post-Game Kimble. He shied away from anything emotionally painful in pitiful denial, no better at lying than he was at facing up to his own stress. Of course he remembered, he was just doing his best to avoid the pain.

Aiden moved before Remy could. He took a step back into the tiny room, possessively blocking Remy's way to his precious lover. Aiden embraced Kimble, lovingly pressing the pilot's head to his chest. He stroked Kimble's hair back again, his hands gentle, but his eyes mean as he looked at back at the thief. "You Chuckfet all ze szame, in ze worl' or out. Szo much fear what you do not undersztand. Why you all t'ink zat szomeone diff'rent plan 'urt for you, eh? Szo afraid you all are. Ze 'urt you bring, it come from you'szelvesz!"

Remy nodded, absorbing Aiden's misplaced recrimination even as he translated the jumbled up message. Round fifty-seven of the same old crap. Julien had walked in on the boys and assumed the worst, that they were making plans for him, ones Julien wouldn't enjoy. "I'll go find 'im and 'ave a chat."

Aiden turned away, dismissing him. He returned his attention to his lover, bending down to bring Kimble into his arms, fresh tears were leaking down Kimble's pale white cheeks again. As angry and haughty Aiden could appear at times, there was never any doubt of his level of caring for his Siskan lover. He felt so deeply for the poor broken pilot, it was the only thing that made his rudeness bearable at times. Remy knew the anger wasn't directed at him and the best way to end it was to find Julien and get this straightened out.

Remy backed out of the doorway and let Asher pass.

(break)

Many levels below, Star slipped out of Hank's private suite and shut the door behind her, hearing the solid click of the lock. She wasn't fearful of regaining access, she had her badge, one of the few that would work on this lock. Hank had gone down for his nap and she was off to see what Warren had been keeping in secret for her precious Master.

The directions Warren had given her were detailed and easy to follow. Janie, Warren's secretary smiled at her and let her right on in.

Star came into Warren's large office and bowed in greeting at the man who was waiting there for her. "Ya wanted ta sees me?"

He smiled at her, pleased she had come. "Yes, thanks for coming. Let's take a walk."

"I cain't leaves Hank fer long."

"This won't take much of your time. I want to show you something. It's for Henry."

"Hank. He calls himself Hank now."

He just smiled. "Of course. Hank. Come with me."

They left his office and took the nearest set of stairs, going deeper into the more restricted levels. As they walked, Warren began to speak. "I've known Hank a long time. Did he ever tell you about how we used to sneak out at night and drink whiskey up on the roof?"

"Nope, he ain't never did," Star replied with a short laugh. She would enjoy this, a tale of Henry in his youth.

Warren told his story as they walked, telling old secrets about how he and Henry would slip out at night to talk about girls as they drank illegal whiskey and discussed their hopes and dreams for the future. Plans that hadn't come to fruition for either of them in the long run.

Star wasn't sure where they were going, but the longer they walked, the more isolated they were becoming. The hallways became less finished, less polished. Warren shifted gears and explained that this was new construction that had been temporarily abandoned. With their losses during the Game, this housing wasn't needed just yet. This wasn't all for apartments, he said, there were also special rooms for new technology. It was here that he would be taking her.

"Ah, here we are," he said as they rounded one last corner. This hallway was a dead end and concluded with a huge metal door with a special lock on it and a security screen. Warren used his badge on the security panel and smiled when the door opened for them with a loud clicking boom. He opened it for her and waved her inside. She entered and walked a few paces in but stopped, uncertain. The huge room was empty except for a desk and a single wooden chair.

"What is this?"

Warren shut the door behind them and waved his badge over a second inner panel, locking it with a loud metal clang. It was an ominous sound, echoing in the nearly empty space.

"I should go," Star said moving for the door. The sound of that big lock turning had frightened her badly. "I been gone too long already."

He let her go to the door unhindered, a strange smile on his face. "You can try, but you won't succeed."

Star grabbed the door handle, yanking on it but it wouldn't budge. She turned back to face him, her face wild with panic.

He had moved to the desk and was slipping off his expensive suit jacket. He lay it over the desk chair, careful with it. He saw her looking at him and set a small glass vial on the blotter, his smile growing wider. He began to unclasp his cufflinks, intending to remove his shirt.

"What's that?" Star asked, her voice small and scared.

"Honey."

"This ain't about Hank, is it?"

He continued to undress, his crisp white shirt next and then the undershirt followed. He was careful with his wings as he disrobed, his shirts had been specially made for this. She hadn't known him long, and while she was normally very perceptive, it wasn't until now that she realized that his wings were fake. They had been cleverly made and lifelike, she could see, and it took some effort for him to detatch them, but he did so and lay them carefully on the desk. Even after he had removed them, they twitched a little as they lay there, like they were trying to escape. It was grotesque and more than a little creepy, intensifying her fear, of the wrongness of this.

Warren slipped out of his shoes as he finally answered her, "No, I'm afraid not. I'm sorry I lied to you, but I doubt you would have helped me on your own. I need you to do a very large favor for me."

"What would that be?" she asked cautiously, only just now beginning to realize the extent of the danger she was in. His control had been so very good, she could see that now. His breathing, his heart rate, he had been so very careful not to let his agitation show. It was the years of X-man training that had made this so easy for him, she had heard Henry speak of it for hours on end. But now, now that he had her right where he wanted her, he was beginning to unravel. It was the excitement, the anticipation of what he thought was to come.

"I need you to keep me alive," he said oh so casually, but she could already see the darkness pooling around the edges of his shine and she knew this was going to bad, very bad indeed. He began to unbuckle his dress pants and stepped out of them, laying them over his shirts on the chair. Even crazed, he was still meticulous and careful.

He actually hadn't planned on doing this today, but with Wolverine sniffing around so suspiciously he had no choice. It was now or never and the thought of never was simply too much bear. He wasn't going to let Logan cheat him out of his one last chance to regain what he had lost so long ago.

"You – you don't needs me fer that, yer just fine," she replied, hoping beyond all hope that what she was seeing was just her imagination and not real. "You ain't even sick."

"I haven't been fine for a really long time," he said almost wistfully, a strange little smile teasing the corner of that handsome mouth. He was only in his underwear and socks now. "Not that anyone here has really noticed."

His eyes met hers, maddingly calm in spite of the fact that his mind was gone. He tapped the glass vial with an elegant finger. "I am going to take this and you are going to save me."

"I don't belongs to you," she stated firmly, trying not to get angry. She had feared this, being used by those who did not understand. "I won't do it."

He continued to smile that knowing smile, even as he walked over to where she stood cowering against the door. He moved gracefully as did all the well trained X-men, but while he was of a proper weight, he wasn't in their tip top condition. His bare torso was scarred, jagged rips that raced towards his spine, where the worst of the damage had been. It made him look even more insane, even though his voice was still and calm as he spoke to her, "You are a machine, Logan says, and you will do as you are told."

"I ain't no machine – " she began to protest, but was silenced by a vicious and sudden blow to her face, one that sent her tumbling to her knees. She fell awkwardly the rest of the way to the floor dazed and clumsily tried to scramble away.

He caught her easily and dragged by her hair, bringing her back over to the desk. His eyes searched her own as he manhandled her, seeking her level of resistance. "You will do as I say or I will cut you and bleed you out!" he snarled through tightly clenched lips.

Star trembled in his grasp, uncertain of what to do. She could feel this fight on two fronts – one coming from the man who had her in his control, and the other from deep inside. Like Kimble, she was split but living with Henry had eliminated the need for the others and so they had gone silent. A happy Siskan was a held together Siskan. Now, Luma, her most violent self, was being roused by her need to protect herself.

/ You cain't lets him do this to us! Luma growled, her voice still sleepy but perhaps not for long.

But he's the Master's friend! He's an authority figure! Star protested to her inner self. She was straining the limits of her control, worried just as much about what might happen if Luma got out in full as what Warren might do to her. Luma was strong, Luma was possessive. She might not let go and Hank meant too much to Star for her to lose him to her invisible sister.

"Lets me go!" Star demanded of Warren, her voice deepening with every word, almost changing into Luma's rough growl as Luma began to gain the upper hand. Even as Star fought to maintain control of her own body, she also batted uselessly at her captor's and face with her hands, unable to free herself. Even as vicious as Henry had been to her, she had never felt this much fear, this absolute certainty that she could be killed.

Warren didn't seem to notice that Star was fighting on two fronts, he was reaching behind him for the glass vial of poison on his desk. He had been planning this ever since Henry had been poisoned and he had seen the result. He knew that the Honey would cause a secondary mutation, one similar to what had already been there. It didn't take a rocket scientist to make the leap that the resurrection of his true wings lay in that glass vial, like magic. When Warren had seen that Star had kept Henry from dying, he had pulled her file, checking everything about her. She was Siskan which meant she was compliant and eager to please. She had also received no self defense training whatsoever. She was his for the taking and unable to stop him from carrying this out.

"You will do as I say!" he commanded. "I have sacrificed and sacrificed for everyone else! Now it's high time someone sacrificed for me!"

Star struggled uselessly on his grasp, trying not to lose control. She would need her mind clear if she was going to survive this. She knew what he was talking about. She had been briefed on many members of the X-men and Henry had told her many tales of the First Class. Of Warren he had spoken very highly. Warren had fought bravely in the Morlock tunnels during the Massacre and had been terribly wounded. Both of his wings had been impaled and shattered and so had to be surgically removed. He suffered a terrible mental breakdown and had spent years in therapy. In the meantime, Henry had used Shi-ar technology to create for him some prosthetic wings, enough that he could fly some, but it wasn't the same. He had tried to return to field duty but it didn't go well. Left with no choice, Warren had moved on to other ways to serve. Everyone had thought that Warren had gotten over it.

They were wrong.

He continued to rant, "They think good ole Warren, he's as good as he ever was, but they don't know. It's not just about being up in the sky. It's about feeling. I can't feel it, the wind in my feathers, the cut and stroke of each movement of my wings as they move through the air. They don't know! They don't know what it's like to lose the very thing that made you who you are! I'll do anything to get them back. Anything!" he snarled, his fists gripping her all the tighter as his madness grew and grew.

"Yer friends, they seen yer heart, they knows that it is good," Star reasoned, hoping to still get out of this if she could keep her wits. She wanted to glitter him in an attempt to calm him, but with the sexual side effects, didn't dare. If anything, it might only encourage him. "Whatever yer thinkin's...please, don't do it. I won't tells nobody ya hit me. It'll just be between us, friends like."

He looked at her then with his pale blue eyes, so handsome and yet, so very empty. He brought that vial of Honey closer. "It's too late for that, my dear. My plans have been set and once I make a plan, I always carry it out. Just ask Charles."

Star was horrified that he would even consider such a thing. She tried a different tack and said, "I won'ts do it. I wont helps you. I couldn't do it alla the way fer Hank, I won't be able to do fer yous neither!"

"Of course you will. You will keep me alive and whatever you are unable to fix, Skye will finish for you."

Star's eyes went wide. She knew full well just how insane Skye had become, she had taken the time to read the files on all her kin. She didn't know what was more absurd, his taking the Honey or even considering going to Skye voluntarily. "You cain't be serious!"

He just laughed, the chuckle deep and mirthless. "One thing they say about me is true - once I lost my wings, my sense of humor went right with them."

She squirmed violently, trying to break free, but he was much too fast, much too strong. She was split like Kimble was but Luma was no Zander. Star was just a girl in love with a big blue doctor. Fight training had never been on her agenda and Warren had counted on that. He crushed her to the floor, pinning her with his larger body and was on her, taking little effort to snatch both of her tiny wrists in one powerful hand. "My God," he said inexplicably, his eyes crazed, "..but you are so very pretty. Henry doesn't know how lucky he is."

Star barely had time to ponder that strange statement before he popped the top of the vial of Honey and downed its contents in one big swallow.

"Don't!" she screamed and then he was gone.

Star rolled as he suddenly released her with one huge jerk, his shout of agony far louder than her own pitiful cry. He fell to one side with an inhuman howl as the skin over his torso exploded into long pointed quills, as though he had become a human porcupine. He screamed again as those quills split open into huge white feathers, throwing a fine bloody mist into the air. He had gambled for his wings and had gotten far more than he had asked for. Too bad for him, this was only just beginning.

His hands flew about, grasping and failing to find purchase on anything that could stop this nightmare from continuing on its course of pain and suffering. Star watched in horror as those hands contorted and his very skin flowed and swirled over his fingers like was alive. Blood burst from his fingertips as his nails gave way to claws, talons huge and ugly.

Warren continued to scream as his body changed, the agony unbearable. The sound of his howling echoed off the walls, making it all the more horrible. There was no one rushing to his aid, to their aid. They were utterly alone, something Warren had counted on. He didn't want to be interrupted, one way or the other.

Star scrambled away from the writhing human horror as far as she could, hardly able to watch as his back swelled large and ugly, two growths had sprouted from his spine like tumorous twins, all black and bruised, making ugly bone crunching sounds as they expanded in size. His back arched with the agony of it, bloody spit flying from his mouth as he bent far enough to make any gymnast jealous, the bottoms of his feet almost touching the back of his head. Those lumps weren't the only thing sprouting out of him, another long growth had stretched itself out from the base of his spine. A moment later and Star saw that he had grown a long lion's tail that now thrashed along with his tortured body.

The terrible crunching sounds continued and Star watched as his legs snapped and broke, changing shape and becoming like Kimble's, bent at the knees and going all the wrong way. Blood dripped from him as he thrashed and contorted, jerking about like an animal that had been skinned alive.

Warren's screams were no longer human, no longer anything resembling speech as those growths on his back then hardened and with a sickening crack, broke free from his back into the skeletal frames of wings. Warren's wish had been granted, but at a terrible cost.

His cries were growing weaker, more mortal, as his body took from him more than he could give. His new wings sprouted spines and then feathers, just as the rest of him had, but by then he wasn't feeling too much any more. His breaths had become shallow gasps for air, like a fish out of water, his eyes glazed over and unseeing. His mouth was open wide, showing that like Henry, his teeth had grown into long fangs, red now with his own blood. His face was changing, shifting, becoming less and less human as well.

Star watched him, mere steps away from her own hysteria, but she was a sharp girl, so she was. She had a choice to make – she could let him die as a suicide, or intervene and hope for the best. Her time spent with Hank had made it all very plain what would be expected of her as she healed him, but she couldn't forget what Henry had used to say about this man, that he was one of the First Class, one of the finest students Charles had ever had. His wings had been taken from him in the service of others, a sacrifice that had left him forever changed. Her Master had once admired this man. If she failed Warren, would she be failing Hank?

"Fuck it," she complained, the tears already springing from her eyes. She went to him, the Morrowhiem glitter already sparkling from her hands.

To be concluded in Playgrounds.

Author's notes: Thanks again to everyone who read and reviewed, it's always good to hear from you. I'm back to work so I don't know when I'll have the last piece up, probably a coupla months or so. Hope it's not too long of a wait. :)