Got To Go There To Come Back
Author: Iris, "sleepallday" at Livejournal
Rating: Fairly tame but around PG-13.
Timeline: Directly after Alcatraz events of X3.
Summary: After the fight at Alcatraz, Pyro is found and brought back to Xavier's mansion. For his criminal actions he has been given house arrest at Xavier's School and he must learn to adjust.
Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men or any characters used in this fanfiction. This story is just for fun, and any resemblances you find to actual people, living or dead, shows that you have strange friends.
Author's Note: This is my honest-to-goodness, first ever, never-before-done fic. I have absolutely never written a fic before. This isn't a plea of "Please be nice to me!" It's more a warning of, "Oh my God, this is going to suck." I'm more of a graphics kind of a person. But I had this plot idea, and I just had to try it out, and I'm hoping against hope that it works. So I'd really appreciate it if you guys gave it a try and let me know how it goes, and if you'd be interested in reading more. Feedback is the only thing you get in return for writing, is it not?
I am posting to because someone had expressed interest in seeing this story up there, but I normally post to Livejournal and would very much appreciate any comments left there, too. If reading from Livejournal is easier for you, look for the username lovethiscity. Catch up on updates to the story whichever way is easier for you.
Chapter 1: "You don't know who it is?"
As though nothing had happened the night before, the sun shone cheerily down on San Francisco. The weather was no indicator of the destruction that had occurred on Alcatraz Island, and Warren Worthington was closer to the puffy clouds above than any other human that afternoon. Warm thermals lifted him higher and Warren felt lighter than he ever had since the day he first took flight years ago.
Fearing that more of Magneto's mutants would hunt down his father, Warren had flown him away from the fight on Alcatraz and didn't even dare taking him back to their home. Surely they knew where he lived. Warren couldn't risk his father being anywhere near the fight, and had to leave them behind as he took him to his aunt's home several miles away. Nobody got much sleep that night – his aunt, surprised by the sudden visit and even more so by the shaken up look on her brother's face, and the two Warrens, who spent the night talking. As soon as it was morning, the younger Warren phoned the mansion to tell Storm, the newly appointed headmaster, that he would be soon returning. He wanted a place to belong, to make a difference, to actually do something instead of moping and hiding his wings. Now he had finally reconciled with his father, and for the first time, nothing was weighing down his wings as he flew past the wreckage on Alcatraz.
A "Danger" sign on the ground miles below made Warren grow strangely nostalgic. When he was younger, as the kids in his classes moved up grades, more and more of them began showing up in glasses. Warren's eyes were of the contrary – they sharpened like a hawk's. Nothing escaped his eyes when he was in the air. Nothing – certainly not that boy on the ground who was still moving.
Warren swooped down, to see who it was. Upon closer look he didn't recognize him, but he couldn't have been older than he was. He was light brown haired and burned in the face, maybe in other places too. His clothes were definitely singed. The boy was stirring, but not awake. Warren didn't even think twice about whether or not he should help him, and bent down to pick him up. He turned around to take flight again, and his usually graceful movements were suddenly interrupted by his wing swinging around to knock over some pieces of metal. Several pieces piled on top of each other fell to the ground, one of them cutting him on the shoulder on the way. He groaned, blaming it on his lack of sleep and wondered when he would get used to not having those wings in a harness.
Although the cut was deep and began to bleed immediately onto his front and on the boy in his arms, it wasn't long before Warren was in the air and the cut was healing itself. While searching for one of his father's nearby offices, Warren noticed that the cut was almost nearly gone. Nice, he thought. This had happened on several other occasions before. Guess this is another added bonus to the wings? Warren took a dive, and placed the boy on the roof of the office building while he went down the stairs to find a phone.
"Storm? It's me – it's Warren."
"Hi, hon. I thought you were on your way. Is there are problem?" she answered tiredly.
"No, not exactly. It's just, yeah, I was on my way. But I saw someone at Alcatraz, and he's hurt but alive. And I guess he was there last night so I'm guessing he's a mutant, too. I just wanted to tell you I'm bringing someone else with me."
"You don't know who it is?"
"Well, no, I don't recognize him but I thought maybe he was one of the students and couldn't be found last night. Is everyone okay? Are you missing anyone?" Warren grew suddenly concerned. Maybe some of them hadn't made it.
"We're… Professor – we're okay for the most part," Storm managed to get out. "All the kids have returned."
"He has light brown hair, looks like my age, shorter than me…" Warren answered.
Storm hesitated, thinking that the description sounded like it could be Bobby and felt a twinge of paranoia for her students until she remembered that he was safe and in the school. "No, he doesn't sound like he's one of…" she trailed off.
"Storm? Are you there?" Warren asked.
There was some hesitation, and then, "Yes, bring him with you."
Warren, thankful for the empty room, opened a window and chose to fly back to the roof instead of taking the stairs. The boy was still there. He looked the same, only… what was different? Taking him in his arms again Warren realized that the burns were gone. Could he have the same healing power that he did?
Back in New York, Warren landed gracefully as always on the lawn of Xavier's school. As he was using both his arms to carry the boy, he turned around and used a wing to thump on the front door. There were some running feet, and Rogue threw the door open. She smiled at Warren so briefly it was barely there, and it was replaced with widened eyes and a gasp as she recoiled: "Pyro."