So Say Good-Bye, It's Independence Day

by handyhunter

Summary:

Three weeks after Alcatraz, Warren runs away from home again. He ends up at Xavier's school and learns a few things about himself with the help of some new friends.

Notes:

For the xmmficathon. Thanks very much to harmonyangel and second_batgirl for the hand-holding and beta! Title from Bruce Springsteen's 'Independence Day'.

Nearly three weeks after the mutant stand-off at Alcatraz, on a chilly, mist-covered fall morning, Warren ran away from home again. Only, it probably didn't count as running away when he pulled out of the driveway in his sweet sixteen sports car with a wallet full of money and all his credit cards in working order. He had no particular destination in mind, only a deep desire to be someplace else.

As departures went, this one was a lot more low-key than busting through a window in front of millions of people. Well, it was probably only about a hundred people initially, then the news stations picked up the story. The Worthingtons occasionally appeared in magazine articles listing the "most influential" people in America, but they were hardly the stuff of tabloids -- until Warren upset the course of his father's latest project to cure mutants. The goal was to fix Warren, but his dad never could do anything half-way: why not turn a tidy profit and curry political favour while he was at it? Somewhere along the way, in the years between catching Warren pulling out his feathers to hiring private tailors to hide Warren's inconvenient and unnatural wings, what Warren wanted for himself was lost to his father's ambition and vision of a son Warren never was; someone he was, now, quite sure he didn't want to become.

Warren looked up at his rear-view mirror once before reaching the end of the driveway, and saw his father watching him drive off. He looked impeccable, as Worthingtons always did, standing there on the front steps. They'd had no words for each other, since that day at Alcatraz. No, "Hey, thanks for saving my life," or "Where are you going?" or "When will I see you again?" or even "Good bye." But then, they'd never been much for talking, he and his father.

The gates at the end of the road slowly swung open when his car tripped the sensors. San Diego is nice this time of year, Warren thought to himself, settling a pair of sunglasses on his nose. He breathed a little easier once his house was out of sight and didn't look back again.

***

Warren never did make it to San Diego. He drove five miles south on the I-5 before he gave into the feeling that he was headed in the wrong direction.

***

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was in a state of controlled chaos when Warren arrived. The damaged windows were boarded up, weeds had overrun the lawns and gardens and it looked like there was a hole in the side of the building. He was too far away to be sure when he was stopped by Wolverine, grim and menacing. Warren had a sudden fear that dropping in unannounced wasn't such a good idea. He stopped the car and slowly got out, holding his hands in the air.

"Oh. It's you," Wolverine said, retracting his claws. "Still got your wings?"

Warren nodded stiffly.

"Could use some help fixing the windows." Wolverine stalked off, without waiting for a reply. It was, Warren realized, his way of saying "hello" and "you may stay."

"Thanks," said Warren, belatedly, and if Wolverine heard him, he gave no indication of it.

***

The garage was undamaged and half-full of dusty cars in various stages of repair. Warren's fit right in, and, on his way out, duffel bag in hand, he wondered which of the teachers had a car hobby.

***

By the end of the day, Warren's shoulders were sore, not so much from flying, but from lifting equipment and holding up boards or sheets of glass; he was pretty sure he was developing blisters on his palms. This was not something he'd imagined himself doing, but it kept him from moping and generally being useless.

From inside the mansion, Peter Rasputin rapped on the window to get Warren's attention. "We're done for today. Dinner is in ten minutes!" he said through the glass.

Warren nodded to show he understood, then flapped his wings, ignoring the slight twinge of protesting, over-worked muscles, and flew a long, lazy circle around the school before landing on the roof. It was nice here, to be able to fly without wondering what the neighbours would think or have to pretend not to be a...mutant.

I am a mutant.

He turned that thought over in his mind a few times; it got easier the more times he repeated it. It was starting to turn cold, and he'd taken his off shirt and wing harness earlier. He pulled his shirt back on again, letting his wings bunch up the back of it - he'd find a way to deal with that later - and left the harness in a tree.

***

Because they were similar in age and the mansion was crowded due to an influx of students/runaway mutants - plus a several rooms were still unusable, though they were working on it - Warren ended up roommates with Peter Rasputin.

***

Peter was extremely tidy and did not seem to have much in the way of things. Warren had left the majority of his belongings at home, but what he'd brought with him rivalled the amount of clothing Peter had. Not for the first time, Warren felt embarrassed by his wealth, which was a ridiculous response to being born to privilege -- it wasn't like he didn't know how much easier having money made his life.

A pair of gloves landed on his bed, next to the pillow. Warren turned around, startled.

Peter grinned at him. "Maybe your hands won't hurt so much tomorrow."

"Oh. Thank you." Warren wondered if he should say something else, offer money in exchange for them, or was that the wrong thing to do?

"Don't thank me. They're Logan's."

"Lo-- Oh, Wolverine, right." Somehow, he hadn't struck Warren as the generous and caring type.

"You might want to look into sunblock too." Peter's voice drifted over from the other side of the room. "I think Logan draws the line at sharing lotion."

***

Over the course of the next few days, it was inevitable that Warren spent time with the other kids. The first one - other than Peter - who approached him was Rogue.

***

"Can I borrow your car?" Those were her first words to him, and he stammered out a yes before thinking to ask why.

Rogue drove with the convertible top down, fast and a little reckless, the way Warren did when he couldn't fly.

"Where are we going?" he yelled. The scenery rushed by in a green blur.

Where they were going, it turned out, was a small and seedy looking bar, with a motorcycle parked outside. Rogue pulled up next to it and killed the engine.

"Whoa. Hey. This isn't. I mean, we can't just." Warren's father always knew what to say in situations like these, or when Warren made wrong decisions, but the wisdom his father left him seemed to have run out of his brain.

Rogue levelled a look at him. "Relax. I'm not here to go drinking." She tossed the keys to him and made her way to the bar. A minute later, Warren followed her in. She might need help or something, and his curiosity was more than a little piqued.

"I wasn't leaving," said a gruff voice Warren recognized. Rogue was sitting at a corner table with Wolverine.

"Because if you were, you'd take me with you, right?" Even Warren understood that wasn't really a question on Rogue's part.

"Listen, Marie--"

"Listen, Logan," she said, and to Warren's astonishment, he did. "There's nothing left for me here."

"Bobby--"

"Bobby thinks I'm a liability to the team." Rogue held out her hands. "Maybe I am. I mean, am I even a mutant still?"

Logan put his arm around Rogue, and Rogue, who never let anyone touch her, let him. Warren backed out of the bar, feeling like an intruder.

***

Warren Worthington the Second had distinctive penmanship. Warren (Worthington the Third) recognized it instantly on the envelope Storm was carrying into the library.

***

Warren stood to one side of the door frame, pretending to be interested in an old picture of Xavier with his first group of students.

"This is blood money," said Storm.

Warren shifted a little closer to the door. From this position, he could see through the large front windows. Dark clouds rolled in over the school, and Warren feared for the newly replaced windows. He'd seen first hand what Storm could do.

"Perhaps," said Dr. McCoy. "But is throwing it away a wise decision?"

Wolverine looked over Storm's shoulder to read the amount on the check. He let out a low whistle. "It would pay for all the repairs and more, 'Ro."

"He can't buy back the dead, Logan."

Dr. McCoy stiffened and glanced over at the door. "Mr. Worthington! Would you like to join us?" He said it gently, not in the sarcastic way when teachers caught you eavesdropping on their conversations.

Warren remained standing in the hall. "I want to know if my father's going to be okay."

"The students at this school are our main concern," said Storm.

"What if other people want the cure from him?" This had been bothering Warren since he'd left - not that he had much in the way of fighting abilities - and while he knew in some rational part of his brain that Storm being protective of the kids was a good thing, he was not, at this moment, capable of appreciating her perspective.

Dr. McCoy exchanged looks with Storm, and she went to stand next to Logan by the fireplace. Dr. McCoy's whiskers twitched when he spoke. "Now that the ability to suppress the mutant gene is no longer a secret, it won't be long until someone else replicates the formula. As long as your father does not reattempt to manufacture or distribute the cure, I believe he will not come to harm."

"Also, Magneto and Mystique are depowered and in hiding," said Logan. "That's two of his biggest threats declawed."

Warren had heard rumours to that effect, but it was still a relief to have it confirmed.

"Meanwhile, the battle for mutant rights will continue to be fought in the political sphere, which is quite fraught with danger as well, if slightly less physically violent." Dr. McCoy nodded at Warren, who took the hint and left the adults to their talking.

***

About a month into his stay at the school, Warren ran into a problem.

***

Warren's problem was that he had a lot of clothes. A lot of dirty clothes. Not only was he running out of clean underwear and places to stash his used clothes, they were also starting to smell. He asked Peter where the nearest dry cleaners was and got a strange look in return.

"You realize we have laundry facilities in this school, yes?" Peter pointed to his own pile of laundry, which fit neatly into one basket. "Huh. Okay, come with me."

First, they knocked on Kitty and Rogue's door.

"We need to borrow your laundry basket. Maybe Rogue's too," said Peter to Kitty.

"Why?" said Kitty suspiciously, closing her Physics textbook. Rogue wasn't there.

Peter could be very charming when he wanted to be, Warren was finding out. He grinned invitingly as he explained Warren's plight.

Kitty rounded on Warren, totally laughing at him. "You've NEVER done your own laundry before?"

Peter gave Warren the thumbs-up sign. Not only did Kitty lend them the laundry baskets, both of which were needed to haul Warren's clothes from the second flood to the basement, she accompanied them to the laundry room.

Where they found Rogue and Bobby. . .not doing laundry. They sprang apart in a hurry.

"Oh my god," said Kitty. "Tell me you didn't freeze the pipes again."

"That's never happened," said Bobby, straightening his shirt.

Warren bit back a grin. "I guess you found a reason to stay," he said to Rogue, who was also in a slight state of disarray.

"Guess again," she said. "But maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought."

"What wasn't?" asked Bobby. Rogue laced her fingers with his and answered, "Warren's fashion choices."

"What are you doing?" exclaimed Kitty. Rogue and Bobby slipped out while Warren went to investigate the cause of Kitty's exasperation.

"Laundry," said Peter. He'd dumped all his clothes in the first machine, which was filling up with soapy water. It looked all right to Warren.

Kitty evidently did not think this was the proper way to do laundry. "You're not sorting your darks and brights?"

"It's faster this way. If you wash all your clothes in cold water, they won't shrink either," he said to Warren.

"BOYS." Kitty threw up her hands and left.

"Don't listen to her. It's not complicated at all," said Peter. He showed Warren how the dials worked, where the detergent was and how to load the machines.

On their way back upstairs Warren tapped Peter's arm. "Hey, thanks."

Peter waved it off. "What are friends for?"

Warren stood stock still at the top of the stairs, watching Peter continue down the hall. He wasn't sure why he felt light-headed, even as his heart felt like it was ready to beat out of his chest. It was the same feeling he had when he first started flying, in that moment of take-off. Friends, yes. That's what they were, and this was the happiest Warren had been in a long time.

***

Some friendships developed slowly, or were partly the product of being in the same place at the same time as the other person. Other friendships hit hard and fast.

***

The first time Warren met Jubilee, she challenged him to a video game. In the course of three hours, she burned through three controllers and somehow got him to agree to replace them and not tell any of the teachers.

The second time Warren met Jubilee, she was doing cartwheels down the hall and crashed into him. They both tumbled over the banister, and Warren frantically flapped his wings to keep them from crashing to the ground.

"Cool," breathed Jubilee. She hung suspended in the air, with Warren holding her up by her armpits.

"Uh huh," said Warren. He let her down and beat a hasty retreat.

The third time Warren met Jubilee, she accidentally set fire to his hair when she went to borrow his hat. When Peter entered their room, Warren had to explain that the feathers all over the floor were 1) not his fault and 2) not his. They came from the pillow Jubilee used to beat out the flames.

This all happened in the course of one day.

The next morning, when Jubilee showed up in the kitchen while he was eating breakfast, Warren told her he was buying her a fire extinguisher for her birthday.

***

There was a mutant crisis somewhere. Storm took Iceman, Shadowcat, Colossus and Jubilee with her to deal with the issue. Logan stayed behind to look after the kids.

***

Warren found Rogue curled up on the sofa in the rec room, watching an old black-and-white movie.

"Can't sleep either, huh?" she said.

"Is it always like this?" he dropped down in the armchair next to her.

"I guess so. Never really gave much thought about what it was like for the X-Men who had to stay behind." She tucked a long, white strand of hair over her ear. "Not that I'm an X-Man now."

"Did you quit?" No one had told Warren about that.

Rogue sat up, tucking her legs under her. "I think they think I quit when I decided to take the cure."

"I'm, uh, sorry."

"Don't be," she said, fierce and defiant. "It was my choice. I'm not sorry and I don't need you apologizing to me either." She held his gaze until he nodded. They sat together until Logan came in to check on them and let them know the mission was successful.

***

Every so often, Peter forgot the effect caffeine had on him. When he had coffee late in the afternoon, he often could not go to sleep at a decent hour.

***

Warren woke up to the sounds of rustling paper. "What are you doing?" He turned his head and propped his chin on his hands. Since his wings had grown in, he'd found it much more comfortable to sleep on his front.

Peter was sitting at his desk in the near dark. "Drawing. Can't sleep."

"I didn't know you were an artist." Warren stretched out his wings underneath the covers.

"You look like a giant bedbug," said Peter. "I should draw you that way."

Warren sat up. "Should I strike a pose?" He flung out his arms and wings dramatically. The covers fell to the ground and goose-bumps covered his exposed skin. He wasn't wearing a shirt, despite the coolness in the air, because he didn't like how restrictive it felt. Under the blankets, his wings could still move at least.

"Ha! If you had a halo, you'd look like an angel." A smile lit Peter's face and he flipped to a fresh sheet of paper.

Warren dropped the pose and flopped back down on his bed. "Oh, god. Don't call me that."

Kitty stuck her head in through the door. "Call you what?"

Warren looked at Peter. Peter shrugged. "The walls have ears."

***

The name, unfortunately for Warren, stuck.

***

"Hey, Angel!" said Jubilee, some days later. She plopped herself down at the kitchen table and helped herself to Rogue's ice cream. "Warren," she said, over Rogue's startled exclamation and insistence that Jubilee find her own spoon, "is it true? Did your father run tests on you?"

Warren wasn't sure if his "What? No!" or Rogue's "Jubilee!" was louder.

"It's what everyone's thinking," Jubilee said, blinking innocently.

"I didn't realize you were a mind reader all of a sudden, sugar," Rogue drawled.

Jubilee licked the spoon clean. "Hey, blame Kitty. She dared me to ask him."

"Really..." Rogue stretched out the two syllables, as Kitty and Bobby walked into the kitchen together. Rogue's eyes narrowed. "Did you know about this?"

Bobby glanced from Rogue to Jubilee to Warren and to Rogue again. "About. . .the ice cream melting?" He reached out and touched the carton of double mint chip. The ring of water underneath it also froze.

"Neat trick," said Warren.

"Wanna see what I can do?" Jubilee wiggled her fingers. There was a flash of light and a pop as one of the light bulbs flickered and died. "Oops. I was never here," she said quickly, as she backed out of the dining area and disappeared down the hall.

"Um, yeah, I should go too," said Warren, not that anyone was listening to him. Rogue was staring at the newly frozen ice cream, Bobby was looking at Kitty for help, and Kitty was watching Rogue. Clearly, those three had their issues to work out and it had nothing to do with him, which was totally fine with Warren. He'd go hang out with Peter instead.

***

School had started up again, though with the shortage of teachers, the curriculum was a bit unbalanced. Logan made all the kids take lots of self-defence classes.

***

The first day, Logan paired him with Rogue. She almost knocked him out before he knew the session had even started.

"Depowered, not powerless," she said, possibly laughing at him. This time she held out a hand to help him up, and he took it.

"Are you still thinking about leaving?" Warren staggered to his feet, wings spread out behind him for balance.

Rogue circled him, fists up. "I don't know. 'Once an X-Man, always an X-Man,' you know?"

Warren didn't know, actually, but the training started in earnest and he was too winded to speak. He wasn't sure he liked fighting. He was more sure he liked being able to fly away from a fight.

"We do what we have to do," said Peter. "You weren't here when the school was invaded."

"Yeah, but do you like being an X-Man? Would you do something else, if you could?" Warren pestered Peter with questions in the changing room.

"Perhaps, but it's good not to have to hide who you are, no?"

Warren flapped his wings a few times to help them dry off. "Yeah, of course. I think I already outed myself on national TV, though."

"One might have thought you were inspired by Tony Stark."

Warren made a face. "He's not a mutant. Anyway, Jubilee wants to go to the mall. I told her I'd take her if she stopped calling me 'Angel' for a week. Want to come with?"

"Sure. Angel."

Well, that definitely called for a face full of feathers.

***

Six months after the mutant incident at Alcatraz, Warren Worthington the Second made a televised appearance. He casually mentioned the contribution of Worthington Industries to the city of San Francisco to help repair the damage caused by Magneto and his followers. He went on to say that Worthington Labs was not shutting down, but would be going in a different direction: "The 'mutant cure' was a misguided attempt to fix something that does not need to be fixed. I'm sorry. I see that now."

***

There was a sudden quiet in the rec room, the silence only broken by the reactions of the reporter on the television. Warren was afraid to look at anyone. Peter, sitting next to him, went so still, Warren thought he turned into his metal state. Warren brushed his fingers against Peter's and concentrated on fighting his flight instinct.

"Do you think he's brainwashed?" Leech finally said. Some of the kids laughed. From the corner of his eye, Warren saw Rogue slip out of the room.

Warren was almost a hundred percent sure it was an accident when Jubilee fried the television set with her powers.

"Oh, cr--ud," she said. "At least we know it's not Mystique?"

Logan shook his head. "I thought we worked on those powers, kid."

"I don't know what happened," said Jubilee, over-doing the innocent expression just a bit.

"What are you going to do now?" Peter said, looking at Warren.

"I don't know. Call my dad, maybe." But first. . . Warren looked at Storm. "I want to be an X-Man."

Warren didn't realize until after he'd left home what he was missing of the world and what it was like to be with other mutants and have real friends -- he glanced at Peter again, and maybe something more than friendship. The freedom to be himself, to not change who he was, or - he thought of Rogue - to have that choice and to have friends and family, who accepted him as he was. . . Those things Warren knew now, how much they were worth fighting for.