Undercloak: Part Nineteen

by queenB

"Somewhere behind me
a small fire goes on flaring in the rain, in the desolate ashes.
No matter, now, whom it was built for,
it keeps its flames,
it warms
everyone who might wander into its radiance,
a tree, a lost animal, the stones,

because in the dying world it was set burning."

Galway Kinnell, "Lastness" from The Book of Nightmares

As Logan approaches the street block where Warren and Betsy reside in SoHo, he can hear Archangel's muffled steps following closely behind his heels. While by all appearances, the winged X-Man seems urgent to return to his home and his beloved, Logan can sense hesitation and dread in his stride, fear and anger in his scent. These emotions mix subtly with the general anxiety he wears so obviously. 'Poor kid,' Logan thinks.

Though he'd never admit it to a soul, Logan was proud of Warren back at the bar. Not too hot-tempered, but still man enough to stand up for himself. The high-flying Angel has come a long way, he thinks. Five years ago, Warren Worthington III would have flat out refused to accompany Logan anywhere, much less shoot pool with him in a dingy bar. How he's handled himself through the last few months with Betsy has been admirable. Logan has always thought that when the going got tough between the two of them, Archangel would fly the coop so to speak. But he's been strong. He's helped Betsy face her demons. In short, he's been through hell and still stood his ground. Wolverine thinks the kid almost deserves Betsy... almost.

As he stuffs his hands in his pockets and lifts his head to glance up at the bright, blue sky, he's not sure anyone would ever quite measure up. Logan's always been rather protective of Betsy. He's never quite been the surrogate father-figure he was to Kitty and Jubilee, and never quite the brother-in-arms as he was with Carol Danvers. Logan's never been able to put a finger on it, but there's something about her that fascinates him. Maybe it's that by nature she's a study in contradiction, maybe it's that he sees a little of himself in her, maybe it's that he admires her strength and fortitude or maybe it's just that he understands her. The fact of the matter is through all the incarnations she's endured since she joined the team, he's admired her during every one of them. This recent one is no different. He may have let her down in the past, but he swears to himself that this time he will be there for her. He will help her be true to herself, no matter the cost. He knows she would expect nothing less from him and he'd hate to disappoint.

Once they reach the upscale apartment building, Logan hangs back as Warren nods to the doorman and presses a crisp bill into his hand. Archangel claps him familiarly on the shoulder as the man holds the door open and smiles. "Beautiful day it is, Mr. Edmunds."

"Yes, it sure is Mr. Worthington. Lovely day for a walk."

Warren smiles one more time as he moves his hand away from the older gentleman. "That it is."

As he files into the marble-decked lobby behind his teammate, he recognizes the genuine quality of the doorman's smile. He is truly pleased to see Warren. There's a twinkle in his eye that can't be bought by money. As they step into a lift, Warren turns the key to bring the elevator to the penthouse and leans against the elevator wall. "George is a good fellow. He had to put his wife into a nursing home earlier this year. Alzheimer's. Very sad. She's such a beautiful lady."

Wolverine watches Warren shake his head and breathe a deep sigh and is surprised once again today by his teammate. He really has grown up, he thinks. It's the little things that make him realize this. No doubt Warren is helping to finance her stay. The look on the man's face was not only one of fondness, but gratitude. The fact that Warren has not taken the credit speaks volumes to Logan. In his experience, it is a rare thing for a man of wealth not to boast about his philanthropy. He is especially surprised that Warren of all people would keep from tooting his own horn.

"He goes to see her everyday, you know? Talks to her the whole time like nothing's wrong, like she remembers all the details of their life together. He told me last week that she doesn't know who he is anymore, doesn't recognize him. I think that was the deepest cut of all, but he still visits her every day. I don't know how he gets through it."

Tearing his gaze away from the advancing lights charting the elevator's rise and turning to look at Warren, Logan says, "Ya do what ya gotta do to get through. All ya can hope is at the end, it's all worth it."

As the door opens with a soft electronic chime, Warren nods, "Yes. I guess that's all we can do."

As they enter the penthouse lobby, Logan sees Jean standing outside the apartment door with her arms crossed over her chest and a smug expression on her face. "Well, it took you long enough. I trust you didn't hurt one another or maim any pedestrians while you were gone?"

Logan smirks as Warren kisses Jean casually on the cheek and says, "No, ma'am. We were good little boys. I think we deserve cookies. Don't you Logan?"

Wolverine deadpans, "Oh yeah. And milk. We were extra good."

As Warren walks out of the foyer and toward the door, Jean giggles a few times and swats at him. Rolling her eyes and glaring at Logan, she calls over her shoulder, "Betsy's out on the balcony."

Warren stops mid-stride and turns back to face them. "Thanks, Jean... for everything. And Logan? Thanks."

"Good luck, kid."

Logan watches all the levity drain from his teammates face as he looks down to the parquet floor and then back. "Thanks. That means a lot."

And with that, Warren disappears into the loft and shuts the door behind him, leaving Logan and Jean alone. They stand there for a few moments before she presses the elevator call to take them back down to the street.

For a brief moment, Logan debates insisting they stay a little longer so that he can spend a little time with Betsy but thinks better of it. Instead, he stays silent as they wait for the elevator. Finally Jean volunteers, "Scott said he would meet us out front. You didn't see him on your way up did you?"

"Sure didn't."

The elevator chimes and the two step in and Logan presses the button for the lobby. "So how was it? Really?"

"It was fine. Wings ain't all that bad."

Jean nudges him in the ribs and grins, "See. I told you. He's not the snob you make him out to be."

He shakes his head and returns her grin. "Now I wouldn't go that far."

Rolling her green eyes, Jean says, "Okay. He's loosened up over the years? Is that better?"

"Yeah. That'll work."

Her face wearing a more serious expression, she asks, "So how's he doing?"

Leaning into the oak paneling of the elevator, Logan states matter-of-factly, "Better than I expected. He's putting up a brave front."

"Sounds like his style."

Logan nods. "Yep."

As they walk into the lobby, Jean pauses for a moment and the two loiter in the center of the fine, patterned flooring. "I spoke with Betsy about us keeping tabs on her tonight."

Hooking his thumbs in his belt loops, Logan stares at the floor and asks quietly, "And what did she say?"

"Well, while it makes her a little uncomfortable, she's also glad we'll be nearby. She's fine with it... on one condition."

Wolverine finishes her thought. "We don't interfere."

He can feel her eyes on him as she continues. "You got it. We're just there in case she needs backup or this Tar fellow decides to play dirty."

Keeping his eyes toward the floor, he remains silent as he notes the grain of the marble, how the flow of the veins from stone to stone make them appear almost seamless. Almost. After a few seconds, Jean asks, "Logan? You will honor her wishes, won't you?"

Finally meeting Jean's gaze, he says flatly, "I'll do what I gotta do."

Groaning under her breath at Logan's comment, Jean cuts her impending tirade short as she spots her husband standing outside the building on the sidewalk. Logan eyes her as she folds her arms over her chest, takes a deep sigh and then drops them again. "Look, there's Scott. We'll talk about this again later."

Logan follows her out to the street, making sure to tip his hat to George on the way out and stands aside as Jean greets her husband with a quick kiss. Scott nods his head to Logan and then asks his wife, "So how was everything?"

"Better than we expected, but not as good as I had hoped."

"That bad?"

Snaking her arm through his, she says to Scott, "We're X-Men, hon. It's never a walk in the park."

Cyclops shakes his head and grins at Logan as he asks jokingly, "Then why did we sign up for this in the first place?"

Jean chimes in, "Oh you know. The fame, the fortune..."

Sharing an amused glance, Scott and Logan say in unison, "The women."

Attempting to mask her amusement with a frown, Jean asks, "So where are you parked?"

Scott points north. "About two blocks that way."

"All right then, let's get to it. I'm famished."

As they round the corner and head for the Summers' car, Logan pauses on the sidewalk briefly as he looks up toward the relatively low SoHo roofline. On a balcony above, he can see a wisp of purple hair caught in the light breeze, waving like a violet flame. He releases a deep breath and then whispers, "And good luck to ya, too, darlin'."

"What was that Logan?"

Logan smiles and catches back up with Scott and Jean as he says, "Just something that caught my eye. Now let's get going. Ya know how bitchy Jean gets when she's hungry."

"I do not get bitchy!"

"Yes, sweetie. You do."

"Do not!"

Shaking his head, Wolverine follows the two as they engage in the sort of play fighting only married people engage in, the mock- chastisement that only comes from years of love and affection. For all that's gone on in their lives, they have finally found happiness with one another. Not a day goes by that he doesn't think about how lucky they are to have found and kept each other in the topsy-turvy lives they lead. And for a moment, he wonders if Betsy and Warren have a rapport like this, if they find as much comfort in the mere presence of one another as these two do. For both their sakes he hopes they do, for there is nothing more beautiful in the whole world than feeling like you belong and are cherished.

Betsy leans against the rail of the balcony and watches the traffic move below. She doesn't notice as a man stops briefly to gaze up at her and his heart sits like a leaden weight in his chest. Instead, yellow cabs pass in a blurry haze of motion and through the open glass doors a Delibes opera swells in crescendo. Two female voices intertwine in a pure, harmonious truth. She lets the melodic, almost siren-like voices fill every cell of her body with light, every thought with beauty. When she cued up the compact disk, she hoped the opera would help her free her soul from the worry hanging over her every breath and for a brief moment as the music fills her, she actually begins to feel alive again.

She shuts her eyes against the gentle breeze of the early afternoon and lets the music envelop her like a desperate embrace. Hugging her arms tightly against herself, she thinks that if there is such a place as heaven, surely this would be a part of its soundtrack.

As she lets her head fall towards her shoulder, she feels a pair of arms fitting over her own. She presses her back into his chest and smiles as he kisses her cheek. *Warren.*

He whispers, "Betsy."

*Shh. Just listen.*

Warren holds her tightly as the short duet ends, the voices echoing into a fade, as if the two women were floating past them on a lazy river and they were just lucky enough to be sitting on the bank as they passed. Betsy is reluctant to open her eyes, holding the last sweet notes in her mind tightly, refusing to let them disappear into the noisy New York traffic.

Behind her, she can feel Warren's breath on her scalp as he brushes a few strands of hair away from her face and whispers into her ear, "That was beautiful."

As Betsy opens her eyes, she is jarred by a sudden flash of images... Gomurr the Ancient hanging his head sadly, talking about ceremony and tradition. Logan snarling at Sabretooth through a set of iron bars. Her brother and Meggan speaking wedding vows to one another, a feeling of loss and remorse clouding an otherwise blissful occasion. Warren, haggard and bitter, arguing drunkenly in a bar with Bobby Drake. And lastly, she thinks she hears the sound of wings.

The visions leave as quickly as they came and Betsy is left with a feeling of emptiness. She knows they are glimpses into the future, but what might they mean? She hears Warren stir behind her, his large wings dragging on the balcony's granite flooring.

"Are you okay, dear?"

While she can't decipher the meaning of the images already fading from her memory, they suddenly fill her with a great deal of sadness. She imagines all the terrible things that could happen to her after night-fall, all the things she still wants to accomplish in her life. Tension builds in her thoughts until she chants to herself like mantra, 'I will not let them win. I will not let them own me.'

She takes a deep breath and turns in Warren's arms to face him. Obvious worry is apparent in his features. 'He has always been so concerned for me,' she thinks. 'So attentive, like his love can protect me.' As she looks into his blue eyes and he touches her cheek with his fingertips, she suddenly thinks about how the future might effect Warren, how his life might be if she doesn't come through her second encounter with the Crimson Dawn unscathed. What if she is lost to him somehow? Is that what the vision was trying to show her? Was that shell of a man who Warren would become if she were no longer a part of his life?

As she grips his hand tightly, tears swell in her eyes and she finally surrenders to the desperation building inside. She embraces him tightly and cries onto his shoulder as Warren says quietly, "Shh. I'm here Betsy. I'm right here."

The fabric of his shirt is soft against her skin and his arms feel as if they are the one thing that might keep her safe from the unknown obstacles awaiting her. The whole city seems to spin around them, as if for one brief moment, they reside at the exact center of the universe as the stars of countless galaxies whirl in one mad, giant blur of light and color. As she falls deeper into her sadness, the comfort he provides only makes her pain all the more palpable and she sobs with the weight of it. She can't help but think of how short life is, how she and Warren still have so much to look forward to, so much yet to see, do and say.

After a few minutes, Betsy finally looks up from his shoulder. His face tells her everything she needs to know, psychic rapports and telepathic nuances aside. No doubt, he already knows all the fears racing through her thoughts. Her emotional release must have washed over their rapport, bridging the gap between their two minds.

His words only affirm her hypothesis. "I know, Betsy. I know."

She sniffles and slips her hands under his wings, "It's the little things really. Like, well. Like that duet."

He twists a lock of her hair in his fingers as he asks, "What about it?"

"Like the fact that we've never been to see that opera together. That and a million other things."

Warren smirks. "But you've always told me it's a terrible opera."

Shaking her head, she continues, "And it is except for that one piece... it's just well, we haven't seen it together. You understand?"

"Perfectly."

After a few moments of silence, Warren ventures, "What do you want to do about it?"

She wraps her arms tightly around him and he returns her embrace. For the first time, Betsy notices how perfectly they fit together. How holding him like this is as comfortable and natural as breathing. At last it sinks in how completely intertwined she has become with him, how utterly real and true he is. "I just want to be with you. I want you to hold me like this for as long as you can... I want you to take me flying."

Warren smiles, his eyes still heavy with their shared dread, and says, "Then fly you shall. You know I'd give you the world if I could."

Betsy returns his smile weakly as he leans down to kiss her forehead. "I know you would. I think that's one of the things I love most about you."

[next part]

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