Release, Part Twenty-Two

by Tangerine

It had been thirty-seven days since they had arrived in England, so Warren could spend the last days of his life with Betsy in the place of her birth. It had been forty days since Warren's wings had been hacked from his body, forty days, and he knew the truth as he opened his eyes that peaceful morning.

Warren Worthington III would not live to see another day.

It didn't come as a shock, for it was, after all, inevitable, but it made him thoughtful. Betsy lay sleeping quietly beside him, oblivious to his realisation, and he was glad of it. Let her have these moments of dream before she woke to the cold, hard truth of where he was.

It had stopped snowing. It was the heaviest snowfall in recent years, and as the countryside fretted and complained about the unwelcome weather, Warren took joy in it. Instead of the violent winds and blinding snow, the sun had decided to come out today. Betsy would be glad for the reprieve.

Warren placed his hand on his lover's abdomen, knowing that a baby, his baby, was growing and maturing within the warm confines of her womb. He wondered if the child would look like its mother, and Warren hoped as much. A child would be blessed to be as beautiful as Betsy was.

He thought about all the things he would miss. The birth. The first step. The first word. The first day of school. The graduation. The wedding. The birth of grandchildren. He would miss all of that and more, so much more, but he didn't want to think about that. It was enough that his life had been passed on in the release, that he would not be forgotten with time and fade away.

His pale, blue eyes rested on the engagement ring Betsy wore. There was an unspoken understanding that there could never be a wedding, only the knowledge there would have been one had the circumstances been different. It was enough for both of them, and he knew he could ask for nothing more than that.

Warren ran his hands through her long hair. He would miss this, the touching, the feel of her body beneath his body, the sleek sensation of flesh against flesh. Kissing the square of her back, he moulded closer to her, holding his lover tightly.

It hurt so much to move now, hurt so much to even breath, but he knew it would not last forever, and he wanted to spend his last day on earth free of the numbness the medication brought. He didn't want anything to take away from the incredible sensations of life.

Life, how he had taken it for granted in his younger years. He wasted so much of the precious commodity on women and alcohol and parties. If someone had told him at eighteen he wouldn't live to see his twenty-seventh birthday, he would have done something more with his time, something greater than had already been accomplished.

He could take solace in the knowledge that his existence hadn't been a total waste. As an X-Man, he had saved countless lives, and eventually gave his in return. True, the Morlock Tunnels had been the beginning of the end, but that was where the true hero the Angel was born to be came into existence. When he had gone there to find Artie, when he had seen the child surrounded by the Marauders, he hadn't thought, he had only reacted. Knowing he could not win, he let those monsters tear him apart so Artie could escape. It had been the most heroic thing he had ever done, and no matter how much he wished the result could have been different, he would do it again if it meant saving a child's life.

He held no regret.

Warren thought of the happy times in his life, and though it seemed sometimes he had forgotten, there were some, few but enough. It was enough for him.

He had found acceptance in the X-Men, and perhaps that's what saved him from falling into the dark pit of destruction rich, young brats often found themselves in. Just when he thought existence was worthless, they came into his life and changed it for all time.

He had fallen in love during that innocent time, first with Jean and then with Candy. Even now, after everything that happened, he still loved Candy. Like him, she had been destroyed by a madman who never once asked if that was what she wanted, so he could not detest her for that, nor could he deplore her for hating him. In truth, he felt she had little choice otherwise.

He remembered the joy of discovering his feathered wings had grown back. Like a miracle, they were simply there one day as if they had never died at all. That was the first step he took in releasing himself wholly and completely from the deal he made with the devil. His death would be the final act of freedom.

And Betsy, Betsy had made him happy when he hadn't thought not a force in this world could ever make it possible for him to love again, but she had done it. By the time she had come into his life, his soul had been fractured beyond repair, or so he thought, but with time and tenderness, together they pieced each other's souls into entirety. He would love her always for that precious, selfless gift.

And how he loved her...

Betsy opened her eyes slowly, blinking slowly into existence. Immediately, she was aware of the rhythmic breathing behind her as Warren lay against her. Turning in his arms, she looked deep in his eyes and saw the truth though he tried to force it away by closing them to her horrified expression.

"No," Betsy whispered quietly, forcing his eyes open with her fingers to show her what he felt, for she could no longer feel anything from his mind. He had severed the rapport. "No, it's too soon, Warren. You haven't given me enough time."

Days ago, it had begun to hurt to speak, so he tried not to, but today, today he would speak like he had never spoken before. For the first time in his life, he would be totally himself, completely honest and using the words he took from his heart. Today, she would hear the real Warren speak for the first time.

"We have... had all the time in the world," he replied with softness, stroking her gorgeous face and touching her moist lips. "We have been . . . blessed, utterly and com... completely. It was... enough."

"But I don't want you to go. I can't bear to think of how I will carry on without you, not waking up to find you in my arms, not going to sleep knowing you'll be there beside me through the night. It's too soon, Warren, too soon."

"I will... never leave you, not com... completely, not with . . . our baby waiting to be born." Warren caressed her smooth belly, splaying his hand over the flesh, for he knew he could feel the infant. He felt its soul. "When you miss me, re... remember our... child. That will be enough. Let it be enough."

Betsy placed her hand over his, soft tears flowing down her cheeks. She had never thought it'd be so hard to let him go, not when she knew it was coming, but being here in the flesh wasn't like the spirit. It was too painfully real to be denied.

"This is so hard," she confessed, laying her head on his chest, on the warm, smooth flesh as it slowly rose and fell with every sweet breath, and how his heart beat with precious life, raging against his body as it withered away. God, she would miss that sound.

"I know," Warren murmured, moving his fingers across her face, tracing the contours so he would remember everything about it for all eternity. He wanted to memorise her body completely, so he would never lose it. "I know."

"Betts, I want to... see the world... show me the world."

So Betsy gathered him in her arms, and he was like a child as she held him, weightless because his heart was pure. Together they walked to the library where the huge window would allow them both a look into the snowy wonderland. It was so pure, so innocent, like their love. The sight that morning was more beautiful than it would ever be again.

Settling on the ground before the magnificent view, Betsy held Warren to her, wrapping them both in warm blankets to protect them from the bitter cold. Her arms curled around his chest, clutching at him even as he continued to slip away, but even with the danger of mortality looming on horizon, that they were together was enough.

It was enough for them both.

"I never noticed how... peaceful the world is," Warren murmured, leaning against her as she kept her arms tightly around him. "How did we . . . miss the beauty? How can people be so... so evil when the world is so... so perfect?"

Betsy could find no answer to give him and ease his thoughts.

"I'm sorry," Warren whispered, offering his final apology, to the world, to Betsy, to the unborn child in her womb, to everybody he had somehow wronged whether he meant to or not, "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Betsy assured him soothingly, combing his hair away from his face. His skin was so pale now, almost white though it still clung to the blue tint, but his eyes, his glorious eyes remained blue and clear. She would remember them for all time, for they were the most beautiful sight she knew she would ever behold.

"I never thought it'd... it'd be so hard to let myself... die."

Betsy began to cry softly, her tears dropping like gentle rain upon his shoulders, spilling down to the rest of his body, and Warren joined in her mourning, letting their sorrow and lament mix on his chest.

They needed this release together.

"I never thought it'd... it'd hurt so much to know I... had to let you go and leave you behind, but I know... someday... we'll be together again. I can be... happy knowing it will only be a... a blink in time be... before we are... one again.

"Is this... is this the right decision?" Warren asked, gasping as the pain increased in intensity, but he loved it too, took obscure pleasure in the suffering. It meant he was real. It meant he was still alive.

"I didn't kill Apocalypse, I only wounded him, and if you don't end this now, it's going to continue on forever." Betsy kissed his head forcefully, pathetically, for the end was too near. "And, God, I don't want you to die, but I understand why this has to be. I have to release you and let you stop what he started. You are a hero, Warren, and this is what heros do. The decision is right."

"I will miss... life," Warren said simply, slipping slightly in her arms. "I... hated it while... living, but I love it... in death."

Betsy wept silently above him at the words, for all was silent now like the world was in anticipation of what would come next. "It isn't fair. You don't deserve to die."

"Fair? No, it's not, but... but it's here, it's... it's real. I should have died in the... in the explosion, I did, and this... this ma... makes it real!" Warren cried out the last words, arching in Betsy's arms at the excruciatingly horrible pain.

He could feel Betsy's body shake as she sobbed for his loss, but he could find no more tears of his own to shed for what had been stolen from him in his youth. He accepted it and hated it, but he could not combat it any longer. He had been fighting for years, and now all he sought was release.

Release.

"I love you, Betsy, I've always loved you, even when I didn't know I did," Warren murmured as the pain left his body free from it. "I'll love you always, forever, and I hope, I know nothing ends for it all leads to . . . "

"I love you, Warren, I love you."

And with a last, laboured breath, Warren Worthington passed away in a final whisper:

"Release..."

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