Release, Part Six

by Tangerine

Warren heard the music faintly in the distance, sublimely erotic in its sound and shockingly familiar in its words. He opened one blue eye, seeing nothing but a purple haze surrounding his face like a fog. Betsy, sleeping quietly with her hot body pressed against his, every move igniting the parts of him she controlled.

Moving slightly, he ran his thigh across hers, enjoying her softness as he massaged her gorgeous flesh. She hummed slightly, snuggling closer to him with a sensual squirm. Smiling, he lay content against her as the words to the music became clearer.

"Stepping out of the pages into the sensual world. Stepping out, off the pages into the sensual world." A strange melody of strings and drums. "And then our arrows of desire rewrite the speech, mmh, yes, and then he whispered would I, mmh, yes, be safe, mmh, yes, from the mountain flowers? And at first with the charm around him, mmh, yes. He loosened it so if it slipped between my breasts he'd rescue it, mmh, yes, and his spark took life in my hand and, mmh, yes, I said, mmh, yes, but not yet, mmh, yes, mmh, yes."

And realisation hit him like a shockwave, stunning him into a painful awareness. Candy was alive and here, in the next room while he lay with Betsy, choosing her over the woman who had been his lover for four years. That song, that was one of the many songs they had made passionate love to, but it was the one song they played during important times, the first time, the anniversaries, the most loving of all times was what that song symbolised.

Any excitement he had felt, left him quickly and Warren sat up, fighting the horrible headache he now had. Like a defeated man, he climbed out of bed, searching for clothes fit to wear amongst the mess on the floor.

Settling on the grey sweatpants Betsy threatened at least twice a day to throw out, he stood at the door to his room, suddenly unsure of whether or not he was willing to meet Candy face to face. Sure, they sort of got along last night, but God knows what a new day had done to her. Maybe it had all been one really bad dream, maybe she wasn't really alive at all, maybe this was all just one really bad joke on a cosmic level.

But opening the door to see Candy on the couch as she stared at the black and white CD cover, he realised this was real, more real than he'd even let himself to believe. He had been damned again.

"Good morning," Warren said, forcing a smile so fake he put every con man that ever existed to shame.

Candy looked up, placing the CD case unto the glass table, and she looked at him apologetically. "Listen, Warren, I'm sorry about last night. I should never have expected a guy like you to remain single. I mean, you live for sex, right?" That comment hit Warren as physically as a slap in the face ever would, and he stared at her, stunned into silence. "Mr. Billionaire Playboy, that's who you are, right?"

"I can't believe you'd even think that," Warren replied angrily, wondering when exactly Candy had become so intentionally cruel.

"Oh, like you never cheated on me?" Candy retorted with a taunting smile. "Does she know just how... frivolous you are?"

Warren sputtered in anger, fighting for the right words, but try as he might, he couldn't find them. Candy laughed under her breath, shutting the music off and standing up, wearing Betsy's clothes, like she was Betsy or Betsy was her. Did she want that? Why had everything suddenly become so confused?

And Betsy appeared in the doorway to the main bedroom, and Warren refused the urge to run to her, to use her strength when his own didn't seem to be enough. He loved Betsy, he'd give his life for her, but did he not owe Candy anything? He didn't know what to think, and that confused and frightened him more.

"Good morning, Betsy," Candy said sweetly. "Warren and I were just discussing old times. Oh, and by the way, thanks for the clothes, they're swell." Candy disappeared into the guest room, and Betsy didn't stop smiling until Candy was out of sight with the door closed.

*Is she always like this?* Betsy asked telepathically, the grin gone from her face.

Warren frowned, starting up the coffee machine. *She didn't used to be.* Warren paused introspectively. *Just how much of that did you hear?*

Betsy swore softly as she nicked her finger slicing her bagel. *All of it, and I think you should just ignore what she said. I know you, and I know she's throwing it all out of proportion.*

*Maybe not,* Warren muttered mentally, watching the coffee drip slowly. *I know we haven't really talked about it, but I'm not exactly . . . innocent.*

*No more so than I anyway,* Betsy sighed, spreading a thick layer of cream cheese on her breakfast. *I'm just not as obvious about it all. Sure, I've had a lover here or there, but nobody knows it. Your relationships are always so high profile. It's everybody's business.*

*I never cheated on her.*

*And I know you'd never cheat on me. I trust you enough to know that much. She's angry because you're with me now, jealous because she can't have you back. A blind person could tell you that. Give her time, Warren, and might I suggest a trip to Westchester?*

Warren grimaced inwardly. *Seems we always end up back there, doesn't it?*

* * *

"For soothe, Warren, are you trying to suggest that the lovely Candy Southern is alive?"

"I'm not suggesting anything, Hank, I'm telling you Candy is alive. She called last night, and I brought her home. I'm thinking maybe you'd like to check her out, or something," Warren suggested weakly, "maybe prove she isn't who she says she is?"

"You fail to believe her claims?" Hank inquired, chewing on the end of an already mangled pen.

"I saw her die," Warren hissed, "twice."

"Then who is to say Ms. Southern can't be resurrected once more? Our very own Jean Grey-Summers has done it countless times. For that matter, we saw you die, yet you're here alive, are you not?"

"So everybody says," Warren commented quietly.

"As we have another task at hand, I will let that particular utterance lay as it is." Hank sat down, looking intently at one of his oldest friends. "Tell me, Warren, does she seem like another person? Has she given you reason to suspect her allegations may prove false?"

"Other than the fact she seems out to get me? Not really." Warren sighed deeply, running a blue hand through his blond hair. As he did, his wrist brushed against his face. The stubble gently scratched the sensitive flesh, and Warren inwardly hounded himself for not shaving. He didn't like looking like a mongrel; he wasn't Gambit. "It looks like her, it sounds like her, and for all intents and purposes, it's acting like an extremely upset Candy. Betts says she's angry at me for moving on and jealous because she can't have me back."

"And what our dear Elisabeth speaks is reasonable. If what you say is true, and Candy Southern is once again alive, it is indeed likely she is suffering from severe mental anxiety." Hank stood up, moving towards the door. He gestured for Warren to follow, who did so, if not rather reluctantly.

* * *

Jean paid little attention to the coffee mugs as they crashed to the ceramic, shattering instantly. She paid even less attention as the hot coffee splashed against her leg. If she felt any pain, she gave no indication. She was in shock.

"Candy?" Jean said, green eyes wide and jaw dropped.

Candy smiled warmly. "Jean, you're looking well."

Betsy rolled her eyes, wondering now if she could politely escape the orgy of falseness. She had done everything she could think of to be especially nice to Candy, which was something she found incredibly hard to do when the women was being such a witch.

"You're alive?" Jean spluttered. "I saw you die!"

Candy shrugged nonchalantly. "It seems death isn't as permanent as we all thought, Jean. You should know that better than anybody."

Jean didn't even let the coldness of the comment stun her. "Yeah, I guess I do. So, what happened?"

"I haven't any idea," Candy replied, checking herself in the mirror, aware of how she did not fill out the clothes as well as dear, old Elisabeth probably did. Her face was pretty, but not exotic, her body was slim, but not voluptuous, and she was human, not mutant.

"Isn't that always how it is? Have you eaten?" Jean asked, ushering her into the kitchen. Candy shook her head, and Jean began busily working to prepare her lunch. Candy watched in amusement at Jean's innocent thrill, and a small flash of light caught her eye.

"You're married?" Candy asked, seeing the plain and delicate ring on her left hand.

Jean smiled. "Yes, I finally proposed to Scott. We've been married a bit over a year"

Candy looked around, noticing Elisabeth was gone. That heightened her spirits somewhat, but the anger was still festering in the fresh wound. "So, tell me, Jean, how close are Warren and Elisabeth?"

Jean sucked in a quick breath of air through her teeth, wondering if it was her place to say anything about that at all. But if Warren hadn't told her, and knowing him he wouldn't, did Candy not have the right to know? "I'm assuming they're pretty close. It took them a while to get settled, with all their injuries and whatnot, but they seem happy now."

"How long have they been... close, physically close?"

Jean paused before giving her answer. "It really isn't my place to say."

Candy's face dropped, and she looked at Jean with sad eyes. "Please, Jean, I have to know. You know how Warren is, he won't tell me. The man I love is with another woman. I deserve to know."

Jean sighed deeply, bringing two sandwiches to the table. "About the entire year, I guess. That part of their relationship didn't take very long." Jean had never wanted to know that, but her telepathy always dragged other people's personal lives into her own. "Don't tell him I told you please."

"I won't," Candy promised, looking up as Warren, Hank and Elisabeth entered the room. Her depressed mood returned immediately, and she looked distastefully upon them, staring darkly. An unspeakable comment or two ran through her head, and Elisabeth's head quickly shot up, catching her eye.

*You've got to be careful around telepaths, Candy,* Betsy warned calmly, protectively clamping Warren's hand in her own as a protective reflex. *You never know who's listening.*

Candy smiled dolefully, resisting the strong urge to chuckle at the woman's stupidity. Did she honestly think Candy didn't know what she did? She knew everything about dear Elisabeth, more than she could even begin to ponder. The telepathic witch would listen only to what Candy wanted her to hear.

Wary of her cold smile, Betsy moved closer to Warren, ill at ease and uncomfortable. Try as she might, she couldn't convince herself Candy was harmless. Candy was human, she presented no great threat to the telepathic ninja, but there was something about Candy that paralysed Betsy whenever they caught each other's eye. To alarm Betsy even more was the fact she read nothing from Candy's mind save for those two, harsh comments, as Candy possessed powerful shields so similar to Warren's in nature, they bothered her greatly. Candy Southern was not as she appeared to be.

Warren looked to Betsy, silently wondering why Betsy had suddenly moved so close to him. She had been the first to admit she didn't much care for public displays of affection. A kiss here or there in the public eye, hand in hand the most common act, a protective hug if she was feeling particularly romantic. Even though he knew she had hidden them both from view on the beach, the fact she even suggested they make love had been odd. So when she was pressed so tightly against him, his fingers tightly interwoven with her own, he had to wonder just what was wrong.

*Betts, hon, is there something troubling you?* He asked, struggling to initiate the mental speak. He so hated the idea of telepathy, could barely even allow himself to trust somebody that could steal everything he held sacred from him with a thought, he found it ironic he trusted Betsy so much. If the time should come when he had to let someone into his sordid memories, he would trust Betsy fully.

Betsy looked to him, her usually bright purple eyes dim and scared, the red tattoo over her eye adding to her solemn appearance. *Nothing.*

Warren winced inwardly, knowing immediately she was lying. She didn't lie often, far less than he did, but when she did, it had to be about something important. He knew this was neither the time nor the place to discuss it further, not when it was a potential fight waiting to happen, so he let it drop.

Warren tuned back in to the present to hear Hank babbling about everything that came to his mind, becoming the human dictionary they all loved. He must be excited, Warren thought with a smile, I can barely understand the words he's using.

And unprepared he was for the mental onslaught that awaited him.

*Mine!* The cry resounded in his head, and Warren stepped back, tripping over a box of recycled objects. He hit the ground, wings the first to hit the ground, twisting under his muscular body as the rest of him followed. *Mine!*

"Get out of my mind!" Warren cried in a scream, bringing his hands to cradle his pounding brain as the word kept coming, attacking him like a vicious predator. "You can't have me! I won't give myself back to you! I will never be yours again!"

And the intensity increased, tearing through his consciousness as he screamed and cried, thrashing about as his mind was raped. This was death, and he was it, and never more so in his life did he wish he truly was dead.

[next part]

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