All characters are trademarked and copyrighted to Marvel Comics. They are used without permission, and no money is being made on this work.


Release, Part Five

by Tangerine


The waves crashed upon the shores of Brooklyn, creating a thick foam couple with a fine spray with every violent movement. The sounds were calming yet still, like a peaceful night in the country, undisturbed by everything going on in the city.

Two pairs of shoes lay in the sand, lost in the dark. Betsy, with cuffs rolled to her knees, was trying to coach the hydrophobic Warren into the water.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do, Betts, but it's not going to work," Warren said hesitantly, backing away from the coursing water. "I just don't like oceans, or seas, or lakes, or rivers, or bays, or every other natural body of water."

"Come on, Warren," Betsy coaxed, stepping up to him with arms extended. "It's not that bad. It's nice, and I promise I won't let anything happen to you."

Warren looked at her skeptically, before moving deeper into the ocean. He froze as something slimy ran across his feet. This was only one of many reasons he detested water, too many creatures he couldn't see. He has also watched 'Jaws' one too many times.

"You can't swim, can you?" Betsy asked, grabbing onto his hand as he teetered unsteadily in the water. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about, luv."

"Oh, I'm not embarrassed," Warren amended quickly, standing in place until he could convince himself once again nothing was going to eat him. "My father tried to find people to teach me. I've had dozens of different instructors, but it didn't help. I sink no matter what I do, and with the wings, it's impossible."

"But your bones are hollow, shouldn't you float instead?"

Warren smiled. "There's a hell of a lot of logic in that theory, but I've never been one to follow the rules. My bones are denser than water, and air does have a mass. Combine that with my suspicious lack of body fat and huge, heavy wings, and I sink like a rock."

"So, no life threatening experiences?" Warren shook his head. "Well, if it means anything, I'm quite the fish in water. Should, for any reason, you end up in the water, I'll be able to save you."

Warren raised his blond eyebrows, stepping back at the sight of Betsy's sadistic grin. He was about to protest before Betsy splashed him with a huge wave of water. It knocked him back, and he sputtered helplessly, pushing his blond hair out of his eyes. "I cannot believe you just did that!"

Betsy's grin died down somewhat as she neared him, ready to apologise. Instead of facing a wounded man, she was hit with a stream of water in her face. "You... you... you little sneak! I thought I'd hurt you!" Warren laughed, running from her as she tried desperately to soak him in return. She splashed about fiercely, ducking whenever he fought back, and soon they were both drenched to the bone, laughing and stumbling as they emerged from the ocean.

They fell onto the sand, grasping each other tightly in strong arms. Thankful for the dark surroundings and near abandonment of the shore, Warren embraced Betsy strongly in a kiss, pulling her warm body snug against his.

"I've never made love on a beach," Betsy murmured, peeling the wet shirt from her lover's back, massaging the tightly packed sinewy muscle with smooth hands. Tentatively, she encircled the base of his wings, loving the downy softness as new feathers grew in to replace the old. "I'd like to try it."

Warren smiled, continuing to kiss down her tanned shoulders, slipping the straps of her tank top down her arm. "So would I, Ms. Braddock, so would I."

* * *

Later, they quietly sat on the beach, refusing to let each other go as the night grew darker, becoming lost in the silence and the fog. Betsy shivered slightly, immediately being warmed by Warren's snug body. "The water's so peaceful at night, so untouched by everything."

"Yeah," Warren agreed quietly, thankful for Betsy's telepathy once again another young couple walked past, hands clasped and talking softly like lovers did on a special night. It hide them from scornful eyes, let him be himself without fear of reprimanding looks, let them sit together, unclad and loving it. "Sometimes I wish my life could be like that, just existing without being bothered by everything else."

"It was Apocalypse today, wasn't it?" Betsy asked quietly, knowing she might wreck the incredible moment by mentioning the name, but she had to know.

Warren froze for a brief second, ready to tear himself away, but he didn't, he couldn't, because she deserved an answer. "Yes, but other than that, I don't understand anything about it. I mean, he's never done that before."

"Are you scared?" Betsy inquired, leaning into him as she tenderly stroked the blue flesh on his arms. She no longer noticed the difference as vividly as she once did, but in the times when they were together alone, she appreciated the beautiful and exotic nature of his flesh.

Warren stared out into the night with cold, ice blue eyes, blinking slowly before finally whispering his silent confession, "terrified."

* * *

"Careful," Betsy warned playfully as Warren stepped into the dark apartment, dropping his keys on the front table. "I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself again."

Warren chuckled ruefully. "Very funny, though we should unpack sometime soon, my love. It is getting a bit dangerous." It was in that particular moment Betsy chose to trip over a huge box that sat in the middle of the dark hallway. Unable to catch herself in time, she smacked into Warren, knocking the wind out of him, and they both fell onto the ground. They lay still for a brief second, dazed and breathless. "And you claim to be a ninja?"

Betsy nodded with a smile, helping him up, once again mildly surprised at his light weight. It never ceased to amaze her that a man with his build, weighed less than her, much to her own dismay. "Let's just hope the neighbours don't wander over here wondering what the racket is." She looked at Warren, letting her glance stray lower with a teasing grin. "We might have to explain what we did with our clothes."

"Not with the love of my life being a telepath, we won't." Warren wandered over to the answering machine, noticing the red light blink impatiently. "We have a message. Who wants to bet it's from Scott demanding I come into to make up the Danger Room session."

Betsy laughed loudly as she disappeared into the kitchen. "I won't, the odds are too highly stacked in your favour."

Warren smiled, pressing the play button with his middle finger.

"Warren? Listen, I don't know if this is even your number anymore, but I had to try. Warren, I don't know what to do, God, I don't even know if this is really happening, but I need your help, Warren, please. I'm at a cafe, in Soho, called the Happy Teacup. If this is you, come as soon as you can."

"Hon, who was it?" Betsy asked, entering the room. Warren turned to her slowly, pale and shaking. Betsy paused a moment in shock then darted to him, grasping him before his legs could give out. "Warren, who's the message from?"

Warren shook his head, moving towards the bedroom and mumbling in shock, "this can't be happening to me, this cannot be happening to me."

"Warren!" Betsy exclaimed, chasing after him. She found him on the bed, wrestling his lean legs into a pair of hip-hugger jeans. His hands were shaking violently, and he was unable to do up the buttons. Betsy placed her hand on his, easing his jerky movements. "Whatever it is, it has you trembling. What's wrong?"

Warren bit his lip, shaking his head. "This can't be happening, Betts, not now." Warren stood up, brushing her off and running to the front door, sliding into his sandals. "I'm sorry I can't explain this to you right now, Betts, but I have to make sure it is for real first. Watch out for me, hon?"

Though slightly angry at his explanation and worried at his irrational behaviour, she nodded. "Always, lover, always."

* * *

The Cafe was tiny, situated on the corner of a not too busy street, and completely empty, save for a few unsavoury patrons. Warren stared at it, wondering whether he should go in or merely staying out in the dark wondering if he should enter. Either way, he was terrified of what the night held in store for him.

Placing an unsteady hand on the wooden door, he pulled it open, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the window. He had forgotten his image inducer, but that was the least of his problems. He stepped into the cafe, the smoky atmosphere attacking his sensitive lungs. The scent reminded him of Wolverine, menacing and strong.

His breath caught in his throat as he finally saw her, sitting quietly at a table, wrapped in a blanket and drinking coffee. Her dark hair fell in long curls over her shoulders, and her big, brown eyes caught his as their eyes met for the first time.

"Warren!" She cried, throwing her arms around him in a strong hug. "I am so glad to see you. I was so scared I'd never find you."

Warren stared at her, numb and confused. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do? Sensing his hesitation, she let go, leading him back to the table. She offered him her coffee, but he shook his head no.

"I'm so sorry to do this to you. If there had been any other way, I would have done it." She grasped his hands tightly, staring at the blue skin. He was still so unlike the man she remembered, and she was almost afraid of the differences.

"You're dead," he muttered tearfully, fearing this was the mental breakdown he'd been expecting. All this stress in his life, it couldn't be good. He needed a break, a vacation. He needed normalcy in his bizarre life. "Oh God, you can't be here, you're dead."

"I know I should be," she replied, blinking back tears, "but I'm not, Warren. I know this has happened before, but this time isn't like the last. Cameron Hodge has nothing to do with it, not this time. This time, this time I'm real, and I'm human. I am Candy Southern, reborn again and again."

* * *

Warren opened the door quietly, praying Betsy hadn't waited up for him, but the reflection of light on the ceiling told him everything. She was reading, and she knew the moment he had arrived home. Did she also feel his terror?

Candy stood behind him, aware of every movement he made. She loved him so much it hurt, but it hurt even more to see his insouciance towards her. He had never been the most expressive person, but this was cold even for him.

"Wait here?" He asked under his breath, and she nodded mutely. He disappeared into the next room, and she could hear a hushed conversation. She strained to here what was being discussed, but it wasn't coming out clearly. It was garbled somehow, very strange to her ears.

"Candy? Can you come in here?" Warren called, snapping Candy back to the task at hand. Clutching the ratty blanket closer to her naked body, she walked into the spacious living room, gasping at the sight of the woman standing behind Warren.

"You should have told me," Candy muttered, turning away quickly.

"What was I supposed to say?" Warren protested, but the purple-haired woman hushed him, muttering soft words under her breath. Warren sighed deeply, and Candy turned back to him, her bearings gathered. "Candy Southern, this is Elisabeth Braddock. Betts, this Candy Southern, back from the dead."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Betsy said warmly with a smile, avoiding any touch on Warren's part. She did not need to flaunt what she had, and what Candy had obviously already lost. "I've heard a lot about you."

"And I've heard absolutely nothing about you," Candy replied, jealous when her brain told her she shouldn't be. He had thought she was dead, she was dead, and he had every right to find somebody to replace her. She shouldn't have thought he'd wait for her. He should have waited for her!

Betsy breathed in deeply. "I have some clothes you can borrow for the night, and some for tomorrow if you want them. You can stay here as long as you want. The guest room's ready for you."

Candy smiled falsely. "That's very kind of you, thanks."

Warren exhaled, wishing Betsy back as she left to find some clothes to lend the woman. He stared at Candy awkwardly, guilty for wishing she had never come, but even more guilty for not holding their pledge to love each other forever and ever. He loved Candy, but not in the way he once had. He had accepted her loss and moved on. He loved Betsy now.

"How long have you been going out?" Candy asked, chewing her lip nervously.

"About a year," Warren replied, refusing now to look at her.

"Oh." Candy wandered over to a picture on the mantle of her and Warren together, smiling and hugging, in love. "She lets you keep this picture out?"

Warren frowned slightly, hearing the tone of voice she used. "I can do what I want, but if you're asking if it bothers her, it doesn't. She has a picture of Thomas Lennox right up there, too, her former lover. We're very open with one another."

"I'm sure you are." Candy placed the picture back gently, wondering just how upset Warren would be if she smashed the picture against the wall. "So that's what I am now, I guess, a former lover?"

"I thought you were dead," Warren reacted immediately, reaching towards her, but Candy stepped away, avoiding his touch like the plague. "I still love you."

"But not like you used to, right? You'd like us to be friends?" Candy replied snidely, wanting to just give him a swift punch to the nose and break it, if it wasn't so obviously broken already.

Betsy stepped into the room, sensing the hostility directed from Candy at Warren and cleared her throat loudly, drawing the attention of both people. "I'm a bit taller than you are, but these should fit."

"Is that how they measure breasts these days?" Candy growled under breath, taking the clothes from Betsy without even a simple thank you. "Can you show me my room?"

"Third door on the left," Warren replied, moving to point, but by the time he did, Candy was long gone. Warren sighed deeply, walking into the master bedroom with Betsy on his heels. Dropping the jeans, he sat on the bed, wings pulled close to his body.

Betsy discarded the robe she was wearing and sat behind him, wrapping her arms tightly around his chest. She buried her face in his wing, murmuring as she rocked back and forth upon her heels, trying to sooth her lover as he cried quietly into the cold night.


[next part]

back to Tangerine's stories | X-Men archive | comicfic.net