Title: Land of the Free, Home of the Brave (1/3)
Author: queenB
Email: planitclare@yahoo.com
Rating: PG

Disclaimer: The X-Men don't belong to me and are property of Marvel Entertainment Group. No money is being made from this endeavor... yadda, yadda, yadda.

Continuity: X-Men Movie Universe. Set after the events in the movie with flashbacks from before.

Characters: The whole team.

Summary: The prodigal son returns. Warren Worthington, one of Xavier's original students finds himself back at Xavier's School.

Archiving: Archive only with my permission.

Feedback: Yes, please! Comments are adored, cherished and drooled over at planitclare@yahoo.com

*   *   *

"Land of the Free, Home of the Brave"
Part One
by queenB
 

"And in other news this evening, Warren Worthington III, chairman and majority stock holder of Worthington Enterprises answered allegations that researchers employed by his company have in fact been tampering with government research in Mutant physiology. A long-time defense contractor for the Federal government, Worthington is accused of derailing government efforts to isolate the x-factor genome to more easily identify mutants among the human populace."

"We go now to taped footage of the press conference earlier this afternoon at Worthington Enterprises in New York."

'Though I cannot confirm or deny my company's involvement with these accusations, I believe the more important matter is what these allegations have revealed about our own government and what they are doing with the tax payer's
money without their consent. The Mutant Registration Act was killed in the Senate, yet the government continues to
pour funds into research towards identifying and even eliminating mutants. This research is not just targeted toward dangerous mutations but every mutation. Even latent mutations. It could affect people who show no signs of mutation, carriers who do not even know they possess the gene that may be passed onto their children or their children's children. I am afraid that if this research is not checked, it may lead to the unauthorized registration of mutants across the country and even the globe, beginning a cascade effect of which we can only guess the horrible outcome.'

'Mr. Worthington! What is the harm in research and in documenting instances of mutation among the general public?'

'It only harbors paranoia. It becomes a tool for those who hate and fear what is different from them.'

'What are you afraid of?'

'Afraid? Sir, if I am afraid of anything it is of my government committing a quiet genocide against its people's will.'

'Genocide? But the information the government released indicated these tests are meant to repress the so-called x-factor in mutants and to keep latents from passing the genome onto the next generation.'

'If you'll excuse the cliché, ladies and gentlemen. But the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.'

'Mr. Worthington, is it true that you are not only a mutant sympathizer but a mutant yourself?'

'We are all human, sir.'

'You didn't answer the question, Mr. Worthington.'

'Yes. I believe I did.'

"Mr. Worthington finished the press conference still denying the charges against Worthington Enterprises. It is believed by unnamed sources that he along with a team of Worthington researchers will accept sole responsibility for the charges and disassociate themselves from the rest of the company. This is Trish Trilby with the Evening News. Stay tuned for the weather and this weekend's travel outlook."

Scott Summers turned off the television with a heavy sigh as he narrowed his eyes behind his ruby-quartz lenses. His
mentor, Charles Xavier, shook his head as Scott slumped on the couch and held his head between his hands. "It seems your former classmate has gotten himself into trouble."

A small smirk on his lips, Scott asked, "Would you expect any less?"

"From Warren? No."

"What do we do? Let him handle this on his own? You know when he left the school he said wanted nothing more to do with the X-Men."

Pressing his fingertips together, Xavier appeared deep in thought as he answered, "That he did. Which is why you and Wolverine will watch him from a distance. He doesn't need to know you're watching his back. I'm afraid of what may
happen to him now that he is out of the proverbial closet. I can't allow one of my first students fall to harm... even if it means going against his wishes."

Scott nodded as he stood and prepared to leave the room. It had been exactly two years since Warren Worthington III,
also known as the Angel, had left the halls of Xavier's school. It had been close to a year since he had last spoken to the man he once referred to as his best friend. Closing his eyes and breathing another deep sigh, he wasn't sure what he would say to him when and if the time should come. He only hoped it wasn't the disaster their last meeting had been.

*   *   *

"The Professor sends his regards."

Warren Worthington III placed his cup of coffee on the table and furrowed his brow as he studied his friend from across the table. "I was wondering when you were going to bring up Xavier and ruin an otherwise enjoyable afternoon."

He noticed Scott shift in his chair as his posture grew stiff. "I'm sorry. I thought you'd want to hear how he was doing. How we all were doing."

Staring at his reflection in Scott's glasses, he wished for once he could see his friend's eyes. He was always so hard to read behind those red lenses. Over the years Warren had been able to get past the barrier and find other ways to
read his friend's moods: the hang of his shoulders, how his head tilted when he was concentrating, the smirk he got when he was being sarcastic. But now all he could read was a red, glassy void. Apparently in the year since he had
left Xavier's he had gotten out of practice. "You know I care, Scott. It's just best for me to keep that part of my past distant right now. I know you don't understand... but I chose a separate path. Hearing of the school will just dredge up all the bad feelings from when I left."

Scott sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Okay, fine. I understand."

"Okay, then."

"So how are things at Worthington Enterprises?"

Warren spoke in a tired tone as he placed his cloth napkin on the table. "It's been difficult picking up where my father left off. It took the board members a long time to accept me as the new chairman, especially considering my age. But they're coming around and we've got a lot of work to do to get the company back on its feet. Dad's death struck the company a harsh blow. It will take time, but I look forward to the challenge."

Scott picked at the last of his dessert with his fork as he asked casually, hedging around the unmentionable topic but
still keeping the conversation in safe waters, "So you think you made the right decision?"

Nodding his head and picking up his coffee again, Warren answered, "Yes. We're doing good work, Scott. I think we can really make a difference."

Across the table, Scott smiled. "Good."

Returning his smile, Warren said, "I always knew I wanted to make a difference in this world. Luckily I inherited the
engine to do it." He paused as Scott finished the last of his tiramisu. "So how's Jean?"

Scott smirked. "I thought we weren't discussing Xavier's?"

"We aren't. This is different. This is you and Jean."

Shaking his head, Scott placed the fork on his empty plate and said, "Jean's fine."

"So have you popped the question yet?"

"No. But we are sharing a room now."

Warren chuckled. "And Xavier is fine with you living in sin? No, wait. Don't answer that... I'm breaking my own rules again."

"So how about you? Any lovely ladies in your life since I saw you last?"

"I'm afraid that I haven't had the time with all the work at Worthington Enterprises. Besides, getting close with a woman is a little awkward," he gestured with a thumb at his back, "considering."

"Ororo never had a problem with them."

Warren narrowed his eyes at Scott, amazed and insulted at his bluntness. "Ororo is different than most women and you know it."

Unflinching, Scott stuck to the topic. "She misses you."

"And I miss her."

"Then why don't you visit?"

"You know why I don't visit."

Scott shrugged and released a heavy sigh, his voice laden with annoyance as he responded, "Yes. I suppose I do."

Blinking slowly and steadying his breath, Warren thought of leaving the table, of running far away from Scott Summers
and his damned X-Men. But he couldn't walk away, not like this. "Why are you acting like this? You're supposed to be
my friend, Scott. You always were before."

He watched Scott fold his arms defensively over his chest and if he could have seen his eyes, he is sure he would have been glaring at him. "I'm sorry. I didn't come here to attack you."

"Then why are you?"

"Because I think you made a mistake leaving us. It's like you left a hole in the team."

Warren shook his head. "You'll get over it."

"I'm sure we will. We'll have to. We've got a lot of work to do. Important work."

Warren couldn't help but laugh out loud at his words. "I'm sure it is."

"What? What's so damned funny?"

"Just the thought of the three of you running around pretending to be superheroes. I mean doesn't it bother you, Scott? That all those years ago when Xavier brought us in, gave us a place to learn and adjust to our powers... gave us safety, protection and an education. All those years and what he was really doing was training us to be a bunch of soldiers for some damned mutant war? Don't tell me it doesn't."

He stared at Scott who remained motionless across the table, his breathing controlled and his lips pursed tightly. "Well, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Sometimes... but it's for the greater good. We all have a duty... even you."

"Duty? The greater good? How many children does he have there now?"

"Forty-two."

Warren laughed weakly and placed his head between his hands. "And how many of them will become part of Xavier's arsenal? Listen, I know he's a good man, with good intentions... but seriously, if the public ever got an inkling of what he was doing at that school of his it would create mass hysteria. You want to change the public's view of mutants? You want to make sure that we will have a place in society? Don't hide away and train to be lethal weapons. Do something about it like I am."

Scott leaned in toward Warren and pointed at his glasses as he whispered angrily, "Some of us don't have the luxury f
blending in with society. And some of us were lethal weapons before Xavier found us."

Sighing and avoiding looking at his friend's face, Warren said quietly, "We've had this conversation before. You know I won't change my mind. I know you had a difficult life before Xavier found you and you've always had my empathy, but that doesn't change how I feel."

"No. I know it won't... because you're a coward and can't face the fact that you've made the safe choice in this life. We're not the ones hiding in an ivory tower."

His eyes flashed and his face grew hot with anger as he snapped his head up to glare at Scott. "What did you call me?"

In response to his anger, Scott back-pedaled and apologized, but Warren couldn't hear anything but the pounding of his own heart in his ears. Blindly, he got to his feet as he fished in his wallet and left a pair of twenties on the table. As he grabbed his coat from the back of his chair, he managed to speak before he prepared to storm out of the restaurant and swayed on unsteady feet. "I've been called a lot of things in my day, Scott, but never a coward. I won't let anyone call me that. Not even you."

As he turned to leave, he felt Scott's hand on his back and the sensitive flesh twitched as he flinched and tore himself away. Without even intending it, he found himself raising his voice. "Don't touch me!"

Around him he felt the stares and heard the murmurs of the other diners. And before Scott could apologize again, he
left without another word. It was that day he decided he would live a perfectly happy life if he never heard the name Xavier again. He would make a difference, but it would be on his own terms and in his own way. Scott was right. He did have a duty to the rest of mutant-kind. But it wasn't as a soldier in Xavier's army and it would never be.

*   *   *

"Mutie-lover!"

Warren grimaced as he shuffled backwards into the alleyway. He'd thought it was odd when his taxi driver took a wrong turn off of Fifth Avenue but didn't think it was any more than the usual New York City cabbie scam of "take the rich guy the long way to get a larger fare." When they turned into the warehouse district and two of his friends emerged from the shadows and forced him out of the car, only then did he begin to grow a little worried. Now that one of them was screaming slurs at him and wielding a Louisville slugger he was definitely much more than worried. It was safe to say he was scared out of his wits.

He continued to back away from the three men as he said with a forced smile, "Listen. We're reasonable men... so why don't you just put down the baseball bat and I'll give you my wallet?"

The men only grimaced as they advanced on him slowly and he could have sworn he heard one of them growl as he pulled out his wallet. "See? I've got more than a few hundreds in here. We'll call it even and all walk away."

"We don't give a shit about your money."

Nervously sizing up the three large men and realizing that he barely stood a chance against one of them, he pocketed his wallet while he tugged his necktie free from his neck with trembling fingers. "Then what do you care about?"

"Seeing your mutie-lovin' hide smeared across the pavement."

Before he could get another word in, much less start an offensive attack, the man swung the bat at his face. Luckily he deflected the blow with his arms as he ducked away, but it still made a sickening thud as it made a glancing impact with his elbow. While he dodged one swing after another, his eyes darted madly around the alley and he realized they were slowly backing him into a corner... that the only way out was up. He then screamed out in pain as the bones in his forearm snapped as the man finally landed a solid blow and he fell to his knees as he tore at the buttons on his shirt with the hand on his good arm. Standing over him, the three men laughed as one of them kicked him once in the stomach as he writhed on the pavement. They barely noticed as he tore at his shirt and reached his fingers toward a locking mechanism on his chest.

As he tried to find his bearings and get back to his feet, he felt a pair of large, hairy hands pick him up and toss him against a garbage dumpster as the back of his head made impact and he stumbled forward, fingers still reaching toward the lock even as the world spun around him, the halogen street lamps swirling in pinks and greens against the muddy-gray night sky.

But as the lock gave and the harness sprung open, the pain and curses no longer mattered. He didn't even notice as the men held their mouths open in shock as he unfurled his great, white wings. He didn't even care as the entire alley
filled with a red light and his attackers were knocked against the far wall and a man with metal claws held them at knife point... because he was free and they couldn't hurt him any more. No one would ever again. In the sky he was untouchable.

*   *   *

In the alleyway, the X-Man code-named Wolverine stood over Warren Worthington's three attackers as Cyclops raced to his side. "Did you get anything out of them? What did they want?"

Sheathing his claws, Logan grimaced. "No. Two of 'em were knocked unconscious by yer blast. The third passed out when he saw me. Guess he'd seen enough mutants for the night. I'm guessin' they were just yer run of the mill mutant-
haters."

Cyclops frowned as he looked up at the night sky. "Most likely."

Beside him, Wolverine closed his eyes as he breathed deeply. "I lost his scent. What does this friend of yers do?"

Scott climbed a nearby fire escape and said flatly, "He flies."

Releasing a heavy sigh, Logan joined him on the fire escape as they climbed toward the rooftops. "Great now ya tell me. Flies, huh?"

"Yes. With great big wings."

"What was his code name? Angel?"

"How did you guess?"

"Dunno. Guess it seemed more poetic than Chicken Boy."

At the top of the ladder, Cyclops extended his hand to help Wolverine up onto the roof as he smirked. "Chickens don't
fly."

Logan grinned as he walked toward the edge of the roof. "And neither do ya. Coincidence? Ya tell me."

Shaking his head, Scott looked out over the low buildings and caught a glimpse of something large and white dropping
between the buildings. He pointed as he spoke to his teammate. "There. About ten blocks northeast."

Logan ran back to the fire escape as he called over his shoulder almost before Cyclops could blink, "I'm on it!"

And as he slid quickly down the ladder and raced back out of the alley toward Warren's position, Scott could have
sworn he heard him clucking.

When Scott caught up with Logan he found him holding Warren's head off the pavement with one hand as he secured a splint with the other and Warren's large white wings twitched above both their heads. Without looking in his direction and completely focused on his patient, Wolverine said to Cyclops, "So is this who yer lookin' for?"

Crouching down next to both men he said, "That's him, alright. Is he okay?"

"We need to get him back to Jean quick. I think he's got a concussion. Arm's all busted up and he's got a lot of surface bleeding, but he'll live."

Scott frowned as he looked down at Warren's face and he blinked back at him, seeming to look past him. He was about to step away and retrieve the Blackbird jet when Warren called out to him. "Scott? Is that you?"

He took his friend's good hand and said gently, "Yes, Warren, it's me."

Warren coughed once and then smiled. "It's about time you showed up."

"Sorry I couldn't be here sooner, buddy."

He turned his head away and Logan looked up at Cyclops with a frown as he shook his head, obviously hurrying him toward the Blackbird and their quick ticket home. "It's okay, Slim. I forgive you."

Scott sighed as he got to his feet and sprinted toward the jet as Warren's words rang in his ears. If only they had found him sooner. If only they had been with him in the alley when he had been attacked. Warren might forgive him... but he wasn't sure if he could forgive himself.

*   *   *

Ororo Monroe's heart raced as her feet pounded down the hallway toward the X-Men's underground med lab. Had it really been two years since he was last here? In so many ways it felt like yesterday. They had all been so busy teaching the children, training and learning to operate as a team. Between Jean's work with the government and the insurgence of Magneto and the Brotherhood, she had almost forgotten about Warren... almost. In her heart, she always hoped he would return to the team and to her. But not like this. Never like this.

As the medical bay doors shut behind her, she saw Scott, still in uniform, and asked him quickly, "Scott, what happened? Is he seriously injured?"

Her frantic tone jarring Cyclops from his train of thought, he said distractedly, "He was attacked before Logan and I
could get to him... three bigots with a baseball bat... Luckily he got away from them before they could do any major damage."

She could tell he was beating himself up over not being there for Warren when he needed him but he seemed less distracted as he continued, his words reflecting a more professional tone. "Jean's treating him now. He's got a broken arm, some bruised ribs and a slight concussion. She thinks he'll be back on his feet after a few days bed rest."

Glancing nervously over his shoulder towards where Jean was treating Warren, she asked bluntly, "Can I see him?"

"Well... I," he sighed. "I don't see why not."

As she walked past him, he caught her arm and she stared up at her reflection in his ruby-quartz lenses as he spoke to her, his voice filled with concern, "Be careful, Ororo. Don't expect too much too soon. I couldn't stand to see your heart broken again."

She smiled at him and patted his arm as he let her go. "Do not worry, old friend. I can take care of myself."

"I'm sure you can, Storm. But humor me anyway."

As she walked further into the medical bay, she smiled at Scott. "Always."

*Continued in Part Two*