Undercloak: Part Seven

by queenB

"They've been up there a while."

Hank empties the last of the coffee into Warren's mug and rinses the pot in the kitchen sink. This is his friend's second cup of coffee in the last thirty minutes, and from the looks of the kitchen, it wasn't the first pot brewed this morning. Warren has never been a big coffee drinker above the solitary cup of pick-me-up first thing in the morning, but Hank notices that he is not overly irritable and his hands are fairly steady. He figures his high metabolism must be staving off the caffeine's over-stimulative effects. Either that or Warren is plumb exhausted and the coffee is what is keeping him alert.

Noticing the lack of sparkle in his friend's normally vivid blue eyes, he considers speaking to him on the matter of his health. Then he remembers why he and Logan made the trip, how worried Warren must be about Betsy and puts himself in his friend's situation. He places the coffee-pot gently on the drying rack as he decides that if Warren's health seems to deteriorate any more, then he will intercede, but not sooner. As the X-Men's primary physician, Hank often treads the line between personal doctor and friend. He decides what Warren needs most is a friend, and instead of delivering a lecture on the evils of caffeine, he offers, "That they have. At least Betsy has desisted from her vociferous verbal assault."

Warren sighs, wishing momentarily that Hank's vocabulary came with an off-switch. "I hope everything's okay."

"From the fragment we overheard, I would ascertain that Betsy and Logan's conversation is far from cordial. Should we intervene?" He pushes the warm mug toward Warren, trying his best to stifle a frown as the winged man reaches for the coffee.

He sips from his cup, sending Hank a look mixed with fear and a small twinge of amusement, then says, "No way. Not on your life... Hank, you've never seen Betsy really angry have you?"

Pulling a chair out from under the kitchen table, Hank sits across from his friend. "Though we have shared our quota of sticky situations while working together over the years, I can never say I've seen her truly infuriated. Peeved, yes. But she always seems to retain a modicum of composure."

"Well needless to say, it's not pretty."

"I can imagine."

"I've never heard Betsy snap at Logan like that." Warren grins to himself, "Let the half-pint sweat it out."

Hank tests the cup of Lemon Zinger tea he made for himself earlier and finds that it has finally cooled to perfect drinking temperature. After drinking a third of the cup's contents, he carefully ventures, trying his best to keep Warren from internalizing his troubles too long, "I hope this outburst does not portend bad tidings, my friend. Most likely they are discussing last evenings events."

Adding more cream to his coffee, Warren speaks quietly, "Let's not talk about that, okay? I'll worry myself to death with the 'what-ifs.' You know me."

Taking his hint, Hank backs down from his attempt to get Warren talking. After years of friendship, he's learned not to push him too hard. With his often heated temper and constant protection of his more private thoughts, heart-to-heart conversations with Warren can very easily turn into a dangerous mine-field. Hank also acknowledges that perhaps he is not the person these emotions should be discussed with and hopes that Warren will be more open with Betsy. So he apologizes quietly, saying, "Sorry to encourage you."

"No problem," Warren whispers, staring blankly into his cup, oblivious to the concern etched in Hank's face as he tries his best to ignore the terrible gnawing in the pit of his stomach and the bitter taste in his mouth. He pushes away his cup in disgust, though he's unable to tell whether the coffee is causing these symptoms or his concern for Betsy.

The two friends sit awkwardly across from one another, suddenly at a loss for words. Warren begins to drum his fingertips on the kitchen table and Hank starts to whistle an aimless tune. The sound of a door opening and then closing interrupts their individual choices of entertainment and the two watch the ceiling, their eyes following a path of quiet but audible footfalls.

Noticing his companion is just as mesmerized by the goings on overhead, Warren ventures, "That must be Wolverine. Betsy doesn't make a sound when she walks."

"Ninjas are known to be quiet."

"But you'd think with all of his training and ability, he would walk just as quiet. You know, stealthy?"

"That you would. Perhaps his skills take concentration... or he is trying to get our attention..."

"Or trying to annoy me."

Hank laughs lightly as the foot steps begin again and then ventures, "Interesting... I wager it's fairly difficult to be 'stealthy' in a bright yellow uniform. I wonder how he accomplishes it?"

Warren leans towards him and whispers, while trying to keep a straight face, "Easy. He just climbs up a tree and pretends he's a banana."

Hank snorts under his breath and tries to keep from laughing, but fails miserably. "Cruel. You are too cruel and decidedly not funny."

"Then why are you laughing?"

"It must be your diabolical influence. A fiendish Angel, an oxymoron if I ever witnessed one." The Beast's laughter dwindles, and he becomes suddenly serious as he whispers, "I do warn you never to insult our hairy but diminutive companion in his presence, and out of his direct presence might be a hazard as well. With his heightened senses he can hear more than you may intend."

Warren's smile fades as he answers, "Oh, trust me Hank. I'm not stupid."

"Besides, I thought you two were on more friendly terms as of late. I see from your reaction to one another this morning that I was misled."

"We tolerate each other, Hank. Nothing more." Warren nervously plays with a napkin ring on the table, rolling it back and forth across the marble surface as he continues, "He's good for Betts and he's told her the same about me. There's just too much bad blood between us to be friends about the whole thing. But I respect him, and I think finally he respects me. We just rub each other the wrong way. He's worried sick about her, but he rarely comes by to check on her. I take that as a compliment. Means he has some faith in me."

"But this morning?" Hank flattens his palm on the napkin ring, stopping its journey across the table, and Warren looks up at him, lost without something mundane to concentrate on.

"Warren, what is it?"

He drops his head and slowly traces a vein in the marble surface beneath him as he says, "Let's just say I don't feel like he should be here. Not now anyway. We haven't had time to even talk about what happened yet..."

"I'm not going."

Logan closes the door behind him and drops a duffel bag on the bed. "You're all packed. Got your uniform, a katana an' a coupla shuriken in here. I don't wanna hear any excuses. Get dressed."

Betsy crosses her arms defensively over her chest and says, "I'm not going to Salem Center."

He sits on the bed next to the bag and sighs, letting his head fall into his hands. "I thought ya said that workin' out yer powers with me an' Jean would be a good idea."

She begins to tap a bare foot on the hardwood floor, as she answers, "Yes it might be. But I didn't say I would do it."

"Listen. Wanting to face this on yer own is one thing. I can understand why ya don't want the whole team to be comin' to yer rescue. But, Betts, ya haven't even done much trainin' since yer injuries. Plus, ya don't even know the extent of yer new teleportin' powers. We've got the Danger Room up an' workin' again... Ya need to find out what you can do before this challenge deal ya just told me about."

Following an unseen path from the dresser to the nightstand, she starts to pace the room slowly and names a few reasons why she shouldn't go to the mansion: "Warren has a few holo-facilities here, plus my dojo we've set up... And this challenge may be more mental than anything..."

"Which is why I suggested letting Jeannie help out."

Psylocke groans in annoyance before she answers, "I just don't want to make a big production about this and that's what it would be if I go to the school. It'd be just some more meat for that vicious gossip-mill out there. This is my business. Mine and, I guess, Warren's. And yours since I've told you about it. This is complicated enough. I'm not going."

"After the phone call Wings..." Betsy frowns at him and Logan corrects himself, "Warren... made last night, they're already worried about the two of ya. Trust me, ya phone'll be ringing all day if ya don't come. And I'll keep everyone outta yer hair. I'll even keep Cyke from buggin' ya about ya and Worthington not being full-time X-Men anymore."

"I don't know..." Betsy stops pacing and sits in a chair, twisting a lock of purple hair around her index finger. "I just don't like feeling needy."

Logan growls to himself, probably wondering if being stubborn is a prerequisite for becoming an X-Man. Willfulness seems to be a common trait among all of his teammates. "Betts. What is this really about? Ya know this is for the best."

"Alright. If it'll shut you up." She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes and prepares to rattle off a list that has weighed heavily in her mind for a while. "I'm sick of how they always insist that they take care of your own, but when I needed them the most, when Kwannon came here, almost everyone turned on me." Logan starts to object, but Betsy interrupts him, "Even you."

He releases a heavy sigh and lets her continue. "Or when Warren was teetering on the edge of insanity, obviously suffering from severe, chronic depression... nobody did a damn thing. Nobody reached out to him. Luckily we helped each other, found each other. I'm sick to death of their hypocrisy."

"But, Betts."

Betsy's eyes flash in anger as she seethes, "I'm not done yet! This is my life now and my fight and I'm sick of you people meddling with it. I gave up counting on the team a while ago. I care about many of you individually and feel that I could count on any of you in that capacity... but put you all together and you're the most unfeeling bunch of people I've ever known. You've got your priorities skewed. If you're not useful, you're ignored. And when you could be useful it doesn't matter anymore because you've already been forgotten about. It happened to me, it happened to Warren. Hell, I think the only X-Men business I took care of for a while there, before Sabretooth gutted me, of course, was either spar with him or make sure cerebro was still functioning normally. Even after the whole Kwannon issue was resolved, even after I proved myself time and again, I was still treated like a janitor."

"I think I see where this is going."

"I'm sorry, Logan. It's just how I feel."

"It's alright, darlin'. Go on."

"I don't know. It's just back when the team was smaller... before I became this..."

"Before the Hand?"

Betsy sighs and closes her eyes, doing her best to block out the memories before she continues. "Yes, before Xavier returned, before we moved back into the mansion and re-formed the team. I felt needed then, you know? I was the only telepath. I was necessary, an integral part. And after then? At least Xavier had the wisdom to arrange the Blue and Gold teams so that I was still essential somehow. But..."

"This is about Jean isn't it?"

She stares at the floor, not wanting to make eye contact with her friend. Jean has always been a sore spot with Betsy. Although they have slowly grown to become friends, she's always felt a fierce competition with the fiery red-head. A competition she could never win. Not only is Jean more powerful than Betsy, but she is the heart and soul of the X-Men. Everyone loves Jean and Betsy's never quite felt like she was truly accepted. She loves being an X-Man and always has. Loves the action, loves the excitement, but mostly loves being a hero and serving a real purpose in life, helping to make the world a better place.

For a while, she thought her teammates were beginning to understand that quality in her, but then things fell apart. Then she fell apart. After she was turned into a ninja assassin, no one seemed to understand her, and being displaced as the team's sole telepath distanced her even more. When she first joined the X-Men she felt like an outsider, but an outsider who was needed. Now, she just feels like an extra in a movie of someone else's life.

In many ways, Psylocke projected all the bitterness she felt about her change in the team's roster onto Jean. Jean had it all. She was powerful, popular among her teammates, and had a man... or two, or three... heck, possibly a dozen who were crazy about her. And Betsy was very jealous. In many ways, her flirtation with Scott wasn't about him at all. It was about Jean, about taking what she "had," just like she'd done to Betsy.

Then Warren happened.

He was so hurt, so in need of someone to listen, to care about him as a human, as a man. He wasn't the "High Flying Angel" anymore and wasn't Apocalypse's harbinger of death. He was some where in between and he didn't know where, couldn't find where and it was slowly driving him insane. The kicker was, even with all his brooding, all his cries for help, nobody really noticed, really cared. They all thought it was temporary, that he'd be back to his "old self" in no time. But the truth was, they were frightened of him. Sure, they'd still be friendly with him and try their best to understand... though none of them really did. None of them except for Betsy. And out of that understanding grew love.

Warren and her grew steadily closer until they were an official couple. Things were wonderful, but as they were growing closer doubts would creep into her mind. Though he was helping her to feel needed again, her old insecurities still lurked around the edges of her life. And in many ways it still went back to Jean. Even though Warren told Betsy he loved her, she wondered if he were comparing her to Jean and was only with her because Jean was unattainable. To this day, these thoughts creep in and out of her mind, and she can't help but dwell on them as Logan asks her about Jean.

She wants to answer him but she can't. She doesn't know how to say it without... "You're scared you'll sound spiteful an' jealous if ya say it, don't ya?"

Shifting her gaze abruptly from the floor to him, her eyes widen slightly in amazement.

"It's natural to be feelin' like that, darlin'. Ya two were set up in a sort of competition to begin with. A telekinetic with that kind of power? Ya can't compete. Don't let it make ya feel like you're not good enough to be on the team, though. Ya got abilities she don't have, too. Jean'd be the first to admit that. Ya will always be an asset."

She relaxes a bit and sits next to Logan on the bed. "It just seems like I've always been under her shadow. It just makes it harder when I've grown to understand why everyone cares so much about her."

Logan smiles, welcoming the shift in the conversation's tone. "Ha! Ya got that right. Red's always been such a heartbreaker."

"See, you're still not over her." Betsy elbows him playfully in the ribs. "I think she's had most of this team's men wrapped around her little finger at one time or another..."

"And that's the job ya always wanted, huh? Alright, I could name a few times that..."

"Okay, so I've been a little flirtatious."

Nodding knowingly, Logan ventures, "Ya could say that."

"Don't even bring up that time I... or the other time... or, um, well. I see your point." Betsy giggles to herself for a moment and Logan waits for her laughing to subside.

She sits quietly for a while before she asks him, "Logan, what does everyone think of me and Warren?"

"What do ya mean?"

"Do they think that we settled for each other because I couldn't have Scott and he couldn't have Jean?"

Logan says, "Naw. Though if ya were going for Jean left-overs, ya could've had better taste..." and then clears his throat.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny." She swats him with a nearby pillow and walks toward the large dressing room.

"So, are ya gonna go?"

"I guess. If you promise you'll keep it as low-key as possible. No team meetings, no de-briefings. None of that. I'm just coming to work out, okay?"

"I promise."

Betsy closes the door of the dressing room/closet and asks Logan, her voice muffled slightly by the door between them, "Was Warren dressed when you came in?"

"Sure was."

"Tell him I'll be down in a minute."

"So amazingly enough, even though most of his memory is missing, Joseph's scientific knowledge is astounding. Scott has kept his access to our data resources very minimal, but I hope that our fearless leader will allow me to capitalize on his perspicacious computer science skills and enlist him in my research..."

The edges of Warren's mouth curl into a smile, which goes unnoticed by his blue-furred friend as he continues, "... I surmise that my latest findings may lead to something truly productive and I can use all the expertise I can muster..."

Warren begins to giggle and puts a hand over his mouth, as Hank still rambles, "...Perhaps he might observe something intriguing in the data I have gathered that I might have missed..."

Finally, Warren can't contain his laughter any longer, and a hearty laugh escapes from his lips, catching Hank's attention. "Unless your concept of humor has somehow changed, I really don't think I've said anything that amusing, my friend."

"No, Hank. You didn't. I'm sorry to interrupt. You were saying?"

"Nothing really of consequence, it's just that an extra set of eyes may help in my research."

"Uh-huh. I can see how that might..." Warren snorts in amusement under his breath "... be an advantage."

Hank looks at him in befuddlement and says. "Out with it. What is so amusing."

Warren giggles an answer. "I don't know."

"Mm-hmm. Yeah, right."

"No really, I don't. It must be... Betsy. Funny. It's stopped."

Puzzled, Hank asks, "What's stopped?"

"She must have been laughing about something."

Planting his elbows on the table, Beast leans closer to Warren and exclaims, "Nifty! You didn't familiarize me with the intriguing factoid that you and Betsy had developed a psychic-thingie."

"Rapport? Yes, that we do have."

"So when are you two selecting a china pattern?"

"A what!?"

Hank smiles to himself. "Well, things must be pretty serious if Betsy's established such a bond."

Looking his friend squarely in the eyes, Warren attempts to keep his friend's queries in check and says almost dismissively, "Hank, we've been through a lot since we've been together."

Hank lifts an eyebrow and drums his fingers nonchalantly on the table, then muses, "I see. You know it took years for Jean and Scott to develop theirs?"

"I guess it did. But Betts has had a strong link with others before... Brian, Logan... Hank, what are you trying to say?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Just that it's one thing to be sharing a bed, and it's another to be sharing your minds."

Warren blushes as much as a man with blue skin can, and he stammers, "Hank... I... I really don't think, that is I don't know if... We haven't talked about the possibility of..."

Just then Logan walks into the kitchen, saving Warren from his clumsy ramblings. "Aw, leave him alone, Beast. Of course he's serious about Betts. Wings here probably has a traffic stoppin' rock already picked out." He places a hand firmly on his shoulder and takes advantage of Warren's seated position, leering down at him intimidatingly. "Ain't that so, Worthington?"

Warren clearly perceives his not so subtle message. In his own way, Logan's made sure Warren knows that if he hurts Betsy there will be Hell to pay. So, he answers as best he can, while still attempting to retain control over the situation, "If we decide to take that step, Logan... Yes, I'll be ready."

Letting go his hold on Warren's shoulder, Logan says, "Fair enough" and takes a seat at the kitchen table.

Hank tries his best to cover a possibly awkward silence, and asks the obvious. "So how is our favorite purple-haired telepath?"

"Not my place to say, really. Hows about 'she's doing fine'?"

"I believe that's sufficient."

"She said she'd be coming down soon, so ya can wipe that worried expression of your face, Worthington. She's gonna tell ya all about it."

For a moment, Warren forgets about his pride and asks, "So did you talk about...?"

"Yep."

"And should I be worried?"

"Probably."

Fidgeting again with the napkin ring, Warren mutters under his breath, "Great. Just great."

"And Hank, not a word when we all get back to the mansion. I know how ya just love to gossip, and I promised Betsy everything'd be quiet. That way she won't have to deal with a big hub-bub when she comes to work out."

Hank says, "I promise. Not a word" then with his hand, pretends to zip his lips closed.

Looking up from the table, Warren squints uneasily at Wolverine and says quietly, "She's going to Salem Center?"

Logan leans back in his chair and crosses his hands behind his head, enjoying making the younger man squirm. "Yep. Gonna use the Danger Room."

"Why?"

"Not my place to say."

Warren fumes quietly in his chair as Betsy silently enters the room, carrying her duffel bag. She drops it next to the table and drapes her arms gently around Warren's neck from behind, rubbing her cheek against the soft down of his wings and kissing him playfully on the cheek.

Shrugging off Betsy's embrace, Warren spins in his chair to face her, seething, "So am I invited to tag along, dear?"

She walks calmly to the sink and frowns at the empty coffee pot before she answers him. "Of course, luv. And there's no need for sarcasm."

Joining her at the sink, he angrily sends to her, hoping to avoid a scene in front of their guests, *I was just wondering why you're leaving me in the dark, here.*

Betsy returns, *Oh, you know how you're so sexy when you're jealous, but it really isn't like that.*

He loudly says, "Like Hell!" and then continues his words telepathically, *Like Hell it isn't. I thought we were going to face this together?*

*And we are. We'll talk about this later, but right now...*

Warren rolls his eyes. *Yeah, yeah. Whatever.*

*Don't you 'whatever' me. I'm not pushing you out, I swear. I love you Warren. I need your support, more than anyone's. Don't be silly about this.*

*It's just...*

*I know, I should have talked to you about this first. I'm sorry. But you know how Logan can be. And I know that's no excuse. I just wanted to work things out in my head before I talked with you about it. I didn't want to scare you...*

Grabbing her hand in his, he sends, *I'm already scared enough, Betts.*

Betsy pulls him close and gives him a gentle hug while she telepathically soothes him enough to keep him at ease until they can finish their conversation. Stepping away from him, she smiles and turns her attention to their friends, who have been staring at random objects in the room while the couple had their psionic argument.

"Logan, Hank. You two go ahead. We'll find out own way there." She looks up at Warren and continues, "We have a lot to discuss."

Logan gets up from his seat and says, "We'll see ourselves out, darlin'. But ya don't be too long."

"No, I'll walk you to the door." Betsy then says to Warren, "I'll be right back, luv."

As she leads the two men to the door, Betsy telepathically sends to Logan, *I wanted to tell him about going to Westchester. You know it wasn't your place.*

Logan says aloud, "I know, but..."

Cutting of his explanation, Psylocke says curtly, "I'll see you later." She then smiles as she turns to face Hank, and offers her hand. "And as always it is good to see you, Henry."

Hank takes her offered hand and gives it a quick kiss, delighted that Betsy has resumed the mock-chivalry at which she was always so skilled. "Oh, the pleasure is all mine, milady."

Betsy says "Oh, you're such a cad!" and slaps him lightly on the arm. As he turns on his image-inducer for their journey, Hank smiles to himself and his face shimmers and distorts, changing from blue fur to Caucasian flesh tones.

Frowning at his change in appearance, she says, "Oh I do so hate that blasted inducer you and Warren use. Personally, I think you are so much cuter with the fur."

Hank beams, "Really?"

"Truly."

Logan groans to himself and says, "Enough of the flirting, ya two. We're outta here. Beast?"

"Right behind you, oh diminutive one of sharp claws and abundant hair follicles."

Growling quietly at Hank's epithet, Logan closes the door behind them. Betsy giggles to herself as she walks back to the kitchen to join Warren.

"What's so funny?"

Wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek against his chest, she answers him with "Oh, just Hank being Hank."

Warren returns her embrace, squeezing her lightly as he says, "Yes, he does tend to do that."

Betsy turns her head to look up at him, asking "Do what?"

"Be Hank, of course."

"Well, I guess no one else can do the job any better."

He smiles and lowers his head a bit, giving her a slow, soft kiss on the lips before he says, "Good morning."

"Good morning?"

"Yes, I didn't get to say that to you yet."

Betsy kisses him in return, her fingers playing lightly with the feathers on his back and then tells him, "Well good morning to you too, then."

Knowing the mood can't last for long, Warren says, "So where were we?"

She takes a step back from him and smiles mischievously. "I think you were about to tell me that you absolutely adore me and that you love me more than anything in the world."

"Well, I could say that... But you know what I mean."

Turning her back on him dramatically, swinging her long hair with a flourish, she says, "Yes, I believe I do... but that still doesn't mean you can't say it."

He can't believe that she's being coy at a time like this, but is so delighted with her playfulness that he decides to go along with it. This is a side of her that had been gone from his life for too long and he can't help but be overjoyed with it. He decides the best tactic is to out do her.

Grabbing her wrist, he spins her around to face him. Thrilled by the surprised expression on her face he pulls her close, embracing her tightly in his arms and kissing her passionately. He releases her and grins wickedly to himself before he tells her, "Miss Braddock, I adore you and I love you more than anything in the world."

Betsy smiles, trying her best to retain her composure and says, "Now that's more like it, Mr. Worthington."

"I aim to please."

She tousles his hair spiritedly and shoves him out of the room. "Now, get your things. We'll talk about this on the way to Salem Center."

With a smile, he answers, "Yes, ma'am." Then climbs the stairs to get a few necessities.

With a heavy sigh, Betsy closes her eyes tightly and leans her back against the kitchen counter, thinking to herself, 'For his sake, I do wish it can stay like this. Dear lord, I really hope it can.'

[next part]

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