Release, Part Nine

by Tangerine

Warren struggled to read Betsy's mangled handwriting as he stood in the frozen food aisle of the local supermarket. The list was almost entirely comprised of Kraft Dinner, television dinners, soda pop and, to Warren's utter dismay, feminine hygiene products.

Grabbing as many chicken dinners as his frozen hands could hold, he tossed them into the cart and began to walk. He didn't enjoy shopping, but he had exchanged his laundry duties for the sole privilege. It was the lesser of two evils.

It wasn't the shopping so much that he despised, it was the people. The screaming kids and the amorous women he could ignore, but it was the other people, the people talking about the FOH, the FOH themselves, the people talking about mutants as though they were lower than bugs, he hated them. Not realising who he was, he had complete strangers talking to him about the government and the Friends of Humanity. By declining the conversations, they would turn on him. It made the entire experience rather unpleasant.

Before Warren realised it, his shopping had, for the most part, been completed. Only one more section to tackle, and it was the one he least wanted to go to. He loved Betsy, he did, and he'd do just about anything for her, but when he made that promise, this wasn't what he had in mind.

Gathering his strength, he pushed the cart into the dreaded 'female' aisle. To his immediate relief, it was completely devoid of any member of the opposite sex. Only one other man, looking as lost and mortified as he felt, stood staring at the sight. It was enough to put the fear of women into any man's heart.

Warren once again fought with Betsy's horrible handwriting, making a mental note to advise her to print her instructions on the computer next time. He knew if he had paid more attention to her preferences during her times of monthly distress, he'd be having an easier time, but he avoided it, as any good man would, like the plague.

"Well, I never expected to see you here."

Warren shot around, mortified to be caught red-handed but appearing calm even in the face of adversity. "Even I have to eat."

"I don't doubt that, Mr. Worthington," she replied with a weak laugh, "but I meant I didn't expect you to be here, in the dreaded no man's land. She must really have control over you. Tell me, is she the one you completely dropped me for?"

"Charlotte," Warren protested quietly, wondering just how many more of his ex- girlfriends he was going to encounter, and more importantly, could he handle anymore? "I didn't completely drop you."

"No? You just stopped calling entirely and decided for yourself that the relationship was over. Believe it or not, Warren, that's not how most men dump a woman. Most men will tell her face to face, or even over the phone if they're total cowards, but you, no, you, you take it upon yourself to just assume that by not calling I therefore know it's over! Damn it, Warren, what sort of an insensitive jerk are you?!"

"Is that a rhetorical question?" He asked, his eyes darting around so he wouldn't have to look at Charlotte. The man in the aisle spared him a sympathetic glance before grabbing what he came for and leaving.

"God!" Charlotte exclaimed, throwing her hands up in sheer exasperation. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't punch that pretty face of yours."

"Scott already broke my nose," Warren offered, realising he was treading on dangerous ground, but he couldn't stop himself. It was coming too easily to him when he hadn't been able to banter successfully in years. "And my face is already blue on its best day."

This calmed Charlotte down slightly, so she no longer looked as though she wanted him dead, only mortally wounded. "I do not know how you can joke about this. You really hurt me, Warren."

Warren nodded slowly, clutching onto the list until it crumpled between his fingers. "I know, and had I realised what an asshole I was being, I wouldn't have done it. It is completely my fault, and I understand that."

"No," she said, shaking her head as she said it, "we still would have broken up. We just weren't meant to be, Warren, maybe the right people at the wrong time, but it wouldn't have worked." Charlotte paused. "I'm still angry at you, though."

"Isn't everybody?" Warren asked ruefully.

Charlotte's face softened as she looked upon him with pity. "Things are that bad?"

"Bad? You've been one of the high points of the past few days, if you can believe it." Warren forgot where he was for a moment, and now was merely a time for talking to a friend, a friend he had hurt terribly in his stupidity. "Do you remember Candy Southern?"

Charlotte nodded. "She died, didn't she, before I met you?"

"Well, she's come back to life again," Warren muttered, still in a state of disbelief. "Char, have you had any reports about somebody maybe missing a... body or having found a body or having seen a naked woman just appear out of nothing or how about grave robberies?"

"I don't know offhand, but I could check it out. If you stop by my office tomorrow, I should be able to help you," Charlotte replied with a shrug.

"Char, thanks," Warren said quietly, realising he desperately needed to change the subject. "How's Timmy?"

Charlotte smiled at the mention of her son. "He's doing great. The doctor's say he's improving with the physical therapy, and he doesn't need the crutches to walk short distances anymore. He still has those dreams of being able to run again, and for the first time in a long time, I'm starting to think that, too." Charlotte smiled sadly, bitter memories of her husband's death and Timmy's injury rushing back to her. "I could live with what you did to me, Warren, but when I wasn't able to explain to my son why you suddenly disappeared, that's what hurt me the most."

"If it means anything at all, I'm sorry about being such an insensitive clod, about just throwing you out of my life without an explanation. You deserved one, and I was too much of a jerk to realise that. I'd like us to be friends, if you can forgive me for being an idiot."

Charlotte looked at his outstretched hand, hating the fact it was Caucasian when it should have been blue, and took it. "And, against my better judgement, I'd like that, too." Charlotte looked at the list in his hand with a amusement. "Do you need some help with that? You were looking rather... confused when I first saw you."

Warren laughed, handing her the sheet of paper. "I can't read her handwriting. I sometimes think she should have been a doctor."

Charlotte scanned the paper and then grabbed a box off the shelves, handing it to him. "This, Warren, proves why God created women; men couldn't live without us. Have a nice day, Mr. Worthington, I have to get to work."

"Goodbye, Charlotte," Warren said as she walked away, feeling horrible about how badly he treated her. He had cared for her, perhaps even loved her, but it could never have moved beyond the friendship level, and it still didn't excuse him from what he had done. He had treated her like garbage, and he would never forgive himself for that.

* * *

Warren slipped into the apartment quietly, arms full of grocery bags wich were carefully balanced. The doorman had offered to help him, but he had declined, much to his present dismay. But luck was in his favour, and he made it to the kitchen with little difficulty. Betsy sat at the table, doing the crossword.

"The god of erotic love?" Betsy demanded of him without even looking up, waving her pen for a quick answer. She knew the answer, she always did because of remnants of a long-dead precognitive power, but she enjoyed testing his knowledge and wasting her time on what she called 'simple activities.'

"Warren."

"I won't disagree, but the second letter is an 'R.'"

Warren smiled, thanking God the eggs had made the trip back home without mishap. "Eros." Warren frowned slightly at the state of the crushed bag of rippled chips then quickly hid them away. "How has your day been, hon?"

"Candy squirted mustard all over my white blouse," Betsy muttered, staring at the newspaper with dedicated eyes. "An accident, she claims, but I swear to God she meant to do it. I said that to her, and she stomped out of here, stealing my keys, so I couldn't leave without getting back in. I suppose I could have just managed to merge in, but you know how I hate going through the shadows."

Warren shivered at the mention of her shadow-merging powers. Betsy had enjoyed the new aspect of her powers for weeks after she discovered she could do it, but one night of horror was enough to convince her it might not be wise to use them too often.

It had been a horrible night. The power had gone off, and it had been pouring rain, with lightning and thunder shaking the city. That was the night the shadows had tried to take her back.

Never before had the shadows ever controlled her, but that night they had as her mind was ravaged with a severe fever, and Warren had narrowly escaped being killed by her many times. The experience had been a nightmare, and had Warren not been able to hunt her down and hold her in his protective arms until morning when the light came back, she would have become one with the shadows for all time. Betsy had not used her bizarre power since.

"That was a bad night, wasn't it?" Betsy asked rhetorically, sighing deeply as his mind unconsciously projected what he felt onto her. "I'm only glad you were there to stop me from becoming whatever it was they wanted me to be."

Warren bent down and kissed the top of her head. "So am I." Warren returned to putting the food away. "So she just left? Did she saw where she was going, or when she'd be back?"

"No," Betsy replied, scratching in a word with a feverish hand. "How was shopping? I see you survived, anyhow."

"Barely," Warren joked, handing her the bag. "I hope this proves how much I love you. I wouldn't sacrifice my dignity for just anyone." Betsy shook her head in bemusement. "Oh, and I did run into Charlotte Jones. We had a nice talk."

"Nice talk?" Betsy's voice oozed sarcasm when she spoke it. "Last I heard, she was still out for your head." She frowned deeply creasing the skin around her red lips. "Though, I must admit, I don't enjoy being the other woman."

"That relationship was over before ours started, though not officially," Warren added, pausing in the middle of the kitchen with a stalk of celery in his hands. "She talked to me, and she listened in return; that was a first. It was actually a pleasant conversation after we argued for awhile."

"Good," Betsy hummed, chewing the end of her pen. "Four letter word for nuisance?"

"Twit," Warren replied. The phone began to ring, and Warren, being the nearest, picked it up in his blue hands. "Hello."

"Hello," the male caller replied. "I'm assuming this is Warren I'm speaking to."

"Then you assume right," Warren quipped, dread building in his stomach as he deduced who the man must be. He had never met him, nor had they ever really conversed on the phone, but the British accent was a dead giveaway. "Do you want to talk to Betsy?"

Betsy raised her head, looking at Warren curiously. The look on his face was enough for her to wonder who he was being forced to talk to but the mention of her name had sealed her need to know. She mouthed a 'who?' Warren replied a mute, 'your brother.' Betsy smiled, leaving the two men to talk. Perhaps she should have warned him Brian was planning on calling, but it was too late now.

"Actually, I was hoping to speak to you," Brian said, oblivious to the silent conversation going on between the lovers. "Betsy has told me you're planning on restarting Worthington Enterprises."

"I'm trying," Warren answered, glaring at Betsy, "but I'm having trouble finding people to back me. I have several of my father's friends pledging their help, but their numbers are few. I have enough money of my own that it should be up within the next few months."

"Then I have a proposition for you."

Curiouser and Curiouser, Warren thought to himself. "Go on, I'm listening."

"Betsy must have told by now I've lost my powers, and I'm doing what you are, trying to rebuild my life. What I'm asking is simply that Worthington Enterprises and Braddock Enterprises merge. You get the support of European Market, and I get the American Market. I remain in control of my company; you keep yours, and Betsy stays the connection between the two. The only major change would be the name."

Warren gawked at the phone, for this was the last thing he ever imagined happening. "Why?" Was all Warren could manage. "Why would you want to do that when I'm so obviously a mutant, which is the very same reason this is ten times harder than it should be?"

Brian sighed loudly enough for even Warren to hear over the phone. "Recently I have been informed that one of my former associates had been skimming profits. The man responsible has completely disappeared, and I've accepted there is little chance I'm ever going to see that money again. Financially, my company's in a recovery period, and I need the new market if the company's going to survive. We focus on scientific research, and having a major Enterprise supporting our research as well as financing it, would be a major step. You would get a share of any profits made, of course, as well as recognition as being the top Chairman of the company. I am not out for money, Worthington, only to do what I enjoy. You would own it, but so long as you allow me my control, I have no problem with it."

"Fair enough," Warren agreed, his mind swimming with what this merger could do for him. "Give me time to think about this, and I'll get back to you. I'll say this now, there is a good chance I'm going to go with this."

"Well, Betsy knows where to find me when you've reached your decision. Tell Betsy I'll call her tomorrow, and that I send my love."

"I'll do that." Warren wished him well and hung up the phone with a sigh of relief. Betsy laughed gently at him, and he smiled. "You could have warned me he was going to call, Betts. Not to insult your brother, but he terrifies me."

"His bark is worse than his bite. He wants everybody to think he's so tough and macho, but if the truth be known, he was always the cowardly twin. I'm the one you should be afraid of." Betsy grinned wickedly, and Warren laughed, happy to be here, with her, and for the first time since was young, he was happy to be... alive.

* * *

Candy shivered slightly, wrapping the leather jacket tighter around her body. She had needed desperately to get out of that apartment, but now that she had, the truth scoffed back at her, and she couldn't help but feel terrified at what she was being asked to do.

She also realised she had no choice. It had been taken away from her, and now she lived only to serve so that one day, she might live again. She knew she should be dead, that she had died and should be that way still, but she found herself clinging to life. Had she been stronger, she would have been able to turn down the offer, but she couldn't, not when he offered her life. Her only regret was that in exchange for that she might avoid the ultimate end, she had to tear Warren down.

She hadn't though she'd be capable of hurting him so she could live, but anger does strange things to an already wounded mind. He, like her, should be dead, and he, like her, was given an offer he couldn't refuse. It was only fair that he suffer like she had, like she was hurting seeing him with her, that mutant bitch.

Candy cast one last look out onto New York City at its busiest and smiled, for though she had been to hell and back, that hadn't changed.

[next part]

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