Release, Part Ten

by Tangerine

"That's a good movie," Warren muttered as the credits began to roll. The movie had been a nice change of pace, allowing him to simply relax and enjoy having Betsy near him. Candy had returned in the middle of it, having been gone twelve hours without an explanation, and scowled at them, or so Betsy swore. Warren hadn't seen anything of the sort.

"I seem to recall you got a bit uncomfortable at a certain part of the film," Betsy replied, sitting between his legs, leaning against his muscular chest. She loved the feel of his body rising and falling smoothly with every breath. It soothed her in way she hadn't thought something so meagre would.

"I was sympathising with the poor boy. In the entire movie, that's the one scene that disturbs me. It's as though it wrecked the fun time they were having, totally killed it. It just saddens me." Warren shrugged, playing with a strand of her hair between his fingers.

"I have a complaint or two about the ending of it, but then Stephen King isn't known for his brilliant endings. It was charming film. I'm glad to have seen it."

"I still can't believe you haven't seen 'Stand By Me' before. I've seen it at least four times," Warren said, moving his wings into a more comfortable position. The blood had ceased running through them, and they were now numb with pins and needles. It was a strange, and unpleasant, sensation.

"In 1986, I was a famous model and hadn't the time for such things. I knew I'd see eventually. I was in no great rush."

"For me it wasn't just a movie; it was me longing for something I didn't have. All I wanted was to have friends like that, but instead I had none, save for Cameron Hodge, and befriending him was one of the biggest mistakes of my life."

Betsy looked back at him, rubbing his arms with her hands gently. "Come now, you must have had others. I though you were mister popularity."

Warren frowned deeply. He hated thinking about his childhood, but he knew it would help if he just talked about the horrible time, but it had scarred him enough. "They used to call me the 'Angel' in grammar school, you know, because I was such a goody-two-shoes. They all hated me for that reason alone, and as we grew older, I only gave them more reasons. I tackled school with little difficulty; I was on a slew of sports teams; and I, sort of..." Warren trailed off, years of scorn and embarrassment coming back to him.

"Sort of what, Warren," Betsy prodded gently.

"Matured sooner, I guess. Just because my wings didn't grow in until I was thirteen that doesn't mean the rest of me didn't enjoy getting a head start." Warren sighed deeply. "Needless to say, I was also quite popular with the girls. In truth, by the time I was thirteen, the only people I paid any attention to were girls, so that's where the whole Warren Worthington, playboy comes from. All I wanted were friends."

Betsy frowned slightly, for her experiences had been disturbingly similar. "My best friend was Brian, so you must imagine what the other girls thought of that. I've had friends, but not many I'd tell my closest secrets, maybe not any at all." Betsy paused, pulling his arms her stomach. "Save for you."

Warren smiled, hugging her tightly. "Lovers, best friends, soulmates what more could we ask for in this life we lead?"

Betsy remained strangely quiet, for she had been asking herself that very question for a while now, thinking about what more she wanted from their relationship and wondering if he wanted the same thing she did.

* * *

He looked around slowly, absorbing ever detail about the strange environment as he had been taught to do. He was a predator; he needed to know and see more than others did. It was who he was, and he couldn't change that.

He crept through the murky swamp, ignoring the strange creatures he felt brush against his legs. He had to be strong; he had to show no fear, or he would be weak, and only the strong survived. It was who he was, and he couldn't change that.

"Are you not afraid?" The dark, sadistic voice asked, and he looked around, trying to see who it was that spoke to him. He could see no one, so he continued walking, intrepid and adjudicated. It was who he was, and he couldn't change that.

"You should be afraid," another voice added, her soft tone strangely familiar. He ignored that second comment, walking on as though nothing had been uttered. He showed no fear nor would he ever be that weak. It was who he was, and he couldn't change that.

"Show no fear," the third voice advised, her strong British sound giving him more strength. He trudged on through the wild weeds, the difficult mud and the black water. He couldn't give up. It was who he was, and he couldn't change that.

A hand grabbed him, yanking him into the darkness. His mouth opened in a scream, and the black sludge seeped into his every pore, suffocating him, drowning him until he felt his essence being stripped away.

The hand pulled him out of the abyss, clasping his neck and bringing him up, so he hung suspended above the Oppressor. He tried to scream, but his larynx was being crushed by the metallic fingers. He tried to struggled, but he couldn't, for he had no strength. "Why... are... you... doing... this?"

"Because you belong to me," the voice hissed in response, grasping one feathered wing and ripping it off. He screamed in anguish, thrashing wildly in a last attempt to stop the attack, but the Evil One simply smiled and took hold of the second wing, tearing it from his back. "And you will always belong to me."

* * *

Warren did not scream as he woke. His throat was so parched, he could not make a sound. His body covered in sweat and his covers twisted around his legs, he stumbled out of the bed, running to the washroom with a ragged sob.

Leaning over the white toilet, he vomited into it, shaking violently. He fell back against the wall, bringing his knees to his chest, and he whimpered like a child. His wings curled around his body like a protective veil, promising to protect him from his greatest fear. He clutched at them, urging them to surround him like a blanket.

"Oh, God, Warren," Betsy murmured as she ran into the washroom, bringing with her a sheet from the bed. She draped it around his slick body, attempting to restore some of his lost warmth with a tight hug. They rocked on the floor in silence for an hour before Warren finally uttered anything intelligible.

"He's invaded my mind," Warren mumbled in shock, shaking his head as he muttered it. "And I can't get him out. He'll continue until he has torn me down, and I return to him. Betsy, I can't go back," he whispered tearfully, clinging onto her arm as though it were a lifeline.

"I'm not going to let you go back," Betsy promised, burying her face in him flesh as she placed a hand to his face. "We're going to make it through this together, Warren. I'm not going to let him ever get to you again. Your life is mine; my life is yours. Nothing bad can happen so long at that remains true."

* * *

Warren ran his hand gently down her back, tracing the length of her spine with his fingers tips. He moved his finger back up her body and between her shoulder blades, which were quite prominent on her toned back. The skin was smooth to his touch and so warm that it calmed him to only feel her there.

His actions did not wake her, and she continued to mumble wistful, quiet sounds into the morning sun. Betsy's hair lay across his arm, beautiful and surreal in it's purple colour. He knew, with definitive proof her secrets had given away, that she was indeed naturally purple. It was an odd contrast against his blue skin.

He looked at the clock, surprised to see the late time. It was nearly eleven, and he had promised Charlotte he'd be down at the station in the morning. Groaning under his breath, he stumbled out of the bed. Tired and sore, he managed to shave, brush his teeth and style his blond hair with little difficulty. Settling on black dress pants, a white silk shirt, and a blue tie, he dressed with half-closed eyes.

Betsy stirred under the covers, pulling them closer to her. She opened one eye and glanced at Warren. "Going somewhere?"

"The police station," Warren replied quietly, tying his leather shoes. "This is my thin- veiled attempt to find out how, or why, Candy is suddenly resurrected. Charlotte said she'd look through the reports. I should be back by lunch time. I'll cook." Betsy nodded, closing her eyes again. Warren smiled, kissing her on the forehead before he left the room and the apartment.

* * *

"Sorry I'm late," Detective Jones muttered with a bagel in one hand and her bag in the other. "Timmy came down with a cold, and since my mother-in-law doesn't drive, I had to rush around trying to find a drugstore before my shift."

"If it had to do with the great boy of yours, consider yourself excused," her supervisor, Antoinette Weston, replied with smile. She knew Charlotte well enough to know she wouldn't have been late unless the situation was of the utmost importance. "There's a man in your office, claiming you were expecting him."

"Warren?" Charlotte muttered with a groan. "The guy's never been on time in his life, and he choses today to start. I swear to God, I'll never understand him. How long has he been waiting, Toni?"

Toni smiled. "Let me guess, he's an ex-boyfriend?"

"Something like that, yes," Charlotte snorted, sticking the bagel under he arm as she got herself a cup of coffee.

"So, is he single?" Toni asked with a coy grin. "God knows it's been awhile since a man that gorgeous has even come into my life, no matter how brief the appearance."

"Actually, no, he's not," Charlotte muttered, jamming the bagel in her mouth as she added sugar to her hot drink. "And trust me, you wouldn't want to deal with him. He's hard to get along with."

"Aren't they all?" Toni sighed, catching a glimpse of the handsome man through the partially opened blinds. "He's been waiting for about half an hour, quite impatiently I might add. He shifts in the chair like it's too uncomfortable to sit with his back against it, and I did catch him rearranging the pens in your pen-holder."

"Did I also mention he's neurotic?" Charlotte shuttled off into her office, forcing the slightly ajar door open with her foot. "Sorry I'm late. Timmy's sick."

A look of concern passed across Warren's face. "Is he okay?"

Charlotte nodded, noticing how orderly her pens were as she sat down. "It's just a cold. He's miserable from the lack of sleep, but he'll be okay." Warren nodded briefly, leaning forward as he crossed his hands several times like a drug user who hadn't gotten his fix. "Warren, are you okay?"

Warren looked up, appearing surprised she was talking to him. "I don't know how you can work in here. It's like a closet, with no windows and no space. It's suffocating."

"You get used to it. Listen, is there anything you want to talk about? You seem a tad bit on edge." Charlotte looked down at Warren hands, which he promptly placed at his side. "Did something happen?"

Warren shook his head. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Which for you can be just about anything. I can get the hint." Charlotte began to search through a pile of papers before bringing out a thin file folder. "The night you said this happened on, it was pretty slow. A couple domestic disputes, ten mutant sightings," both Warren and Charlotte shared a exasperated sigh, "one suspected breaking and entering, which turned out to only be the man's cat accidentally knocking over a vase, and one call about a naked woman. That one might be the one that interests you."

Warren looked at file she handed him, quickly reading the details of the report. "It says here she disappeared when he went to call the police. The physical description is a match to Candy, but it still doesn't explain anything. Does he know how she got there?"

"He claims he saw a bright light, which the woman stepped through onto his lawn. He said she was covered in... er... goo and looked, and these are his words and not mine, like she'd just been born. She stood on his lawn a couple minutes then was gone."

Warren sighed deeply, closing the folder. "It's a start, I guess."

"I thought you'd be overjoyed she was back. After all you went through trying to save her, and to finally have her back, you should be happier."

"I know I should. I was willing to sacrifice everything I had when Cameron took her, but there's something so wrong here, so wrong with her, I can't bring myself to feel anything." Warren unconsciously clutched at the sides of the chair, scratching the wood with his finger nails. "And that's what scares the hell out of me."

Charlotte shook her head as she frowned, sipping the hot coffee carefully. "I don't understand how you live through these things, Warren. If it was me, I'm not sure I could cope with all this crap."

"You learn to cope with the crap, Char, and that's where your wrong. If this was you, you'd be taking it better than I am because you're a better person than I."

"No better, no worse, Warren," Charlotte replied, looking at him with compassion she hadn't felt since he'd used her emotions as a carpet for his feet to step all over. "We all deal with it in our own way. I have to say, though, you're looking better than you have in a long while. You didn't smile often enough when we were close."

Warren looked at her, exhaling slightly. "I was depressed when we met, very, very depressed. There wasn't much to smile about, but now there is. I've worked my way through the hardest time in my life, and I'm happy with myself." He stood up, walking to her desk and standing over her. He took her hand in his, and he lifted the back of his shirt slightly, letting her feel the softness that lay beneath.

"Your wings, they're real?" Charlotte asked in surprise, feeling the warm down at the end of her fingertips. "When did this happen?"

"A couple weeks ago," Warren replied with a warm smile. "I don't know why, nor do I really want the truth. For now, I'm happy just accepting something has been given back to me that had been stolen."

Despite the fact she still harboured some hard feelings towards him, she found his happiness contagious, and soon they were joking and laughing like they were old friends, when in truth, that's exactly what they were.

[next part]

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