Pulse, Part Seven

by Tangerine

Betsy breathed in deeply then exhaled slowly, focussing on the motion, letting her thoughts rest on solely on the sound of her own lungs. The hot summer sun beat down upon her, coating her flesh in a fine screen of sweat, but she paid it no mind. The soft, cool breeze was enough to ensure she was comfortable.

"Slug! Slug!" Bobby cried out, flinging the creature across the garden, and he shuddered deeply, a look of utter disgust on his young face. "Oh, man, I feel tainted. It touched me! I feel faint..."

"It's only a gastropod, Bobby, completely harmless. It will not hurt you," Betsy murmured quietly, continuing with her yoga exercises as she sat straight with her legs crossed in way Bobby guessed could never be comfortable, yet she seemed at ease with her position. "Just like the worm and the snail before it were no threat to you."

Bobby grinned sarcastically hearing her lightly laugh at the situation, appearing to be a small bit self-righteous as if he felt he had to defend his manhood because it was being threatened. "Says you! They're disgusting, vile creatures. I bet Ms Braddock has never even laid a finger in dirt, yet alone some of this world's most unloved creations."

Betsy chuckled, opening her eyes and staring at him, amused. "Then you would be betting wrong, Mr Drake. I've tended to gardens numerous times, and the creatures I found below the surface never fazed me."

"Seriously?"

"Am I ever anything but?" She returned calmly, waving him over with a low level of urgency. "Be a gentleman and help me to my feet?"

"Now she needs me," he mumbled, brushing the dirt from his bare legs and grabbing her below the armpits, pulling her gently to her feet. "Do you need help up the stairs?"

She eyed the back patio steps for a moment before shaking her head, convinced she could make the journey successfully. "I will be okay, but thank you for the offer, Bobby. I'll call if I need your assistance."

Betsy waddled off slowly, already unbuckling the straps of her overalls as she went, knowing the more time she cut down from the pre-washroom ritual, the better it would be for all involved. Bobby chuckled, shaking his head at the sight. Never in a million years could he have pictured Betsy pregnant, it was plausible certainly but unimaginable, but now here she was, carrying the child of their dead teammate.

Bobby laid back on the grass, letting the warmth beat down upon his golden, slender frame. Sometimes it just felt so good to simply relax, especially with the weight of the world bearing down on his shoulders.

He had begun to contemplate what would happen if there was an international emergency and the X-Men were needed. He hardly constituted the team, and even if he could find Remy, there was still little hope they'd be of any help. Betsy was in no condition to fight, and that left them with a team of two and very little manpower. It was a situation he hoped did not come to light.

Inside the house, Betsy proceeded slowly to the main floor bathrooms, pushing the door open with on hand as the other began peeling the huge overalls from her body. They were very flattering to her form, but the tedious quest of undressing herself had begun to convince herself overalls were not the fashion statement to make when one was pregnant.

Once on the seat and undressed, she relaxed, glad to be off her feet thought the trip was barely sixty metres and she had been sitting all afternoon. The baby moved slightly, kicking the spot it loved to hit right below her ribs, and she grabbed the foot, tickling the sensitive flesh before it moved away from her. She smiled gently, kissing her fingers and resting them on her large belly.

"Where would we be without Bobby, luv?" Betsy asked her unborn child, stroking her flesh in long circles since she had noticed the baby loved it and was soothed by the motion. "Or rather, though I shall never admit it to another living person, Sinister himself? His meddling is unwelcome, but if it keeps you alive and healthy, then I would give my soul to him if he asked for it."

"Can you hear me?" She whispered, feeling a flicker of thought from the life within her, and she touched the child's mind with her own for an instant, capturing something, something innocent and pure. It was love.

Betsy eyes welled with tears, and she grabbed a handful of tissues the moment before she burst into tears. The child reacted to her sobs, entangling its foot in her ribs once more, and with one hand, she returned to the rhythmic caresses.

"Shh, luv, hush now," and the baby, as if on cue, calmed its motion. The thoughts had vanished again, disappearing into the mind of a child born of love, but Betsy's soul elated with the knowledge of the brief experience. She had never thought that a baby was born with not just the capacity to love but with the knowledge of it, and what she had felt was beautiful.

Slowly, Betsy eased herself from the seat, grasping the supports built for the Professor tightly as she hefted her weighty body into an upright position, panting softly, for it was indeed an overly strenuous activity.

She emerged from the washroom to find Bobby inside, gulping down a huge glass of ice water and wiping the thin sheet of sweat from his toned body. He had long ago discarded with shirt and was only clad in ragged, old jean-shorts, which looked as thought they would fall apart if he breathed too deeply.

"Hungry, Betts?" Bobby asked, wiping the excess water from his lips with his forearm. She nodded, sitting at the table and picking up the local newspaper. "What for? We have leftover chicken wings from Monday, pizza from Tuesday, Chinese from Wednesday and lasagne from yesterday."

"Bring it all out, I'm famished," Betsy murmured, flipping through the business section, secretly pleased Worthington-Braddock stocks had risen once again. Brian was faring well in overseeing the massive company, a merger of resources between Warren's family enterprise and her own. Her brother had not wanted the responsibility or the power, yet he seemed at ease with his position, as if he had always been meant for the role.

"I see your brother would be making Warren proud. I haven't seen my dad this irritated with the takeovers since before Warren and I formed the Champions." Bobby laughed, placing an array of cold food before her and sitting across from her, crossing his arms over his chest. "I swear, Betsy, it's almost funny to see the old fart go on about it all."

Betsy smiled deeply, her eyes lighting up. "Ah, yes, Warren had recounted many a tale of what he had to endure whenever he agreed to dinner with your family. In fact, if I recall correctly, he paid Hank a couple times to attend with him."

"I can think of several things Warren would pay Hank to do. Laundry, his share of the cooking, his essays, his reports, his trips to town, unless of course they served his purposes and they rarely did," Bobby explained, listing each mishap on his fingers, "his share of physical labour, which was always a no-no in Warren's book, most of his household chores, save for the bathrooms because he always seemed to time it so that he smacked into Jean innocently as she emerged from her shower. I could list many more things he paid Hank to do, but the list is too long, and I'm beginning to wonder just how much money Hank really has."

"What was he like in those first years?" Betsy asked quietly, eating her chicken slowly and with her fingers, undeniably the improper way to go about consuming her meal. "He would not often speak of them, even when I asked. He didn't like the past, I realise now, or rather, he feared it."

"And he had good reason to fear it," Bobby said slowly, leaning back in his chair. "It's hard to explain how he was without being there. Warren, there was always two sides to him; the cocky, young brat who loved the girls yet favoured himself so much you'd begin to wonder why he didn't just date himself. He could be a real jerk sometimes, a real idiot. He caused a lot of problems for the Professor, a lot of grief because Warren had problems with authority and those who tried to control him. He didn't like it, and his relationship with the Prof was tedious and thick with tension. They never got along, not really, despite Warren really beginning to try later on, but they were just too different."

"Really? I knew he held no great love for the Professor, no where near the level of Scott's devotion, but I hadn't guessed the animosity ran that deep between them."

"You'd be surprised. But still, despite all of that, Warren could be a great guy, one of the best I've ever had the pleasure to know. Sure, he ragged on me a lot, every chance he got, but then, I wasn't exactly innocent. I antagonised him as much as I could. It was one of those love/hate things, but I grew to appreciate him, and I hope he did me."

Betsy nodded her head gently, munching on a slice of pizza. "He thought very highly of you, have no doubts about that. He considered you to be one of his closest friends, which reminds me, tonight, I have something for you I've been meaning to give since I returned to America."

"Oh, a surprise." Bobby laughed quietly, letting the sound brew deep in his throat. "But anyway, yeah, Warren could be a real pain in the . . . uh... behind." He would keep his language clean for the sake of this child if it killed him. "But deep down, once you got to know him and realised he wasn't the hellion everybody thought he was, he was a wounded child, hurt and scarred beyond belief. I shouldn't even know half the things I do about him, but due to one rather unfortunate experience with a bottle of vodka and a very radical experience between us, I know too much."

Betsy raised an eyebrow at Bobby's blush. "Oh really, Mr Drake? Dare I even ask?"

Drake pursed his lips and shook his head woodenly. "No, really, I insist, don't."

"Very well." Betsy smiled, stirring her iced tea with delicate fingers. "Bobby, could you talk a bit more about him? I like to hear you speak about him, when he was young and free-spirited. I loved him when he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, but I would have liked to see him smile more."

Bobby sighed deeply, eying a rogue slice of pizza and wondering if he had the gall to risk death for food. "I'm sure he only smiled to show off his teeth back in the day. I can't really remember him ever smiling for the sheer pleasure of it. Women seemed drawn to his teeth. I'm sure he used that as an advantage."

"He did have nice teeth," Betsy said with a gentle smile, and Bobby laughed loudly, leaning back on his chair. "I keep thinking about what we're going to say to the others when they return, if they return. I do not want to thrust the news on them, but I cannot see any other way to do it. What if they don't come back? They've been gone for months now."

"If they don't come back," Bobby began slowly, "then is it our duty to continue the dream. Warren, through all the crap, through everything life gave him, he never doubted the validity of that hope. Neither did the others. We owe it to them."

"You and me, and Remy if he ever decides to grace us with his presence again, but who else is left? Emma, Sean and the kids perhaps, but I have no desire to force them into this life so soon. X-Factor disbanded, and X-Force has vanished from the earth once more. Excalibur, maybe. I have not talked to my brother in some time."

"I'll send out a general call, at any rate, and hope we get a few people." Bobby snatched away a piece of pizza and stuffed it in his mouth before Betsy could protest. She smirked and pulled the plate nearer to her, protecting the slices. "I miss him a lot, Betts. He was a bit rough around the edges, but I could always count on him for support."

"He was a gentle soul," Betsy agreed softly, smiling upon remembrance of his actions, his subtle way of telling her he loved her with everything that he did. "He thought sometimes he was a monster, but his heart had not the capacity to be one."

"He had a lot of problems, but I think he coped with them the best he could. I know I never had to deal with half the things he did. I guess I was lucky that way, being so naive and all to the world. Can you believe I've never smoked once in my life? I haven't touched drugs, and I've never woken up to find a strange woman in my bed. Does that make me strange?"

Shaking her head lightly, Betsy looked intently into his dark blue eyes and smiled at the innocence held within them. How she envied Bobby, how she would give anything to be in his shoes instead of her own. "It just makes you."

"I think, sometimes, I've missed out on the normal experiences. Not that those are normal, mind you," he corrected quickly, "but my experience with people my own age, even as a kid, there's not much of it. I don't think I'm screwed up. Do you?"

"No," Betsy said soothingly, placing a hand on his in comfort, "not in the least bit."

"What was it like for you growing up, Betsy?"

Betsy pursed her lips tightly then trailed her tongue across them, moistening them slightly, and she appeared thoughtful, pensive and a bit unsure of whether or not this was a road she wanted to go down. She had never been as open about her past as people like Scott or Bobby or Hank, even Ororo or Logan. She was a mystery to them, and though that often bred distrust, it was a position she was comfortable in.

"A chore," Betsy confessed finally, "a pain that had to been endured until adulthood became possible. I had a lot of things happen to me that I wish I could forget. The world I lived in, the wealth and the riches, it warped many people and how we went about living. I was not innocent from that, and I did many things I wish I could take back. I used my sexuality as a toy, and I paid very little mind to other people's concerns. In fact, I doubt I'd be the woman I am today if not for Brian keeping me out from most of the places Warren was lost in."

"That's so sad," Bobby finally said, laying his head against his fist as it kept him propped up off the table. "It seems almost every single one of the X-Men have had some sort of troubled pasts. I think Hank's the only one who had a good childhood."

"You did."

Bobby snorted loudly, with a bitter grin juxtaposing his normal carefree expression. "Save for the fact my father was a bigot, of course." Betsy gave him a sharp look, and Bobby frowned slightly before nodding in concession. "Okay, maybe my house was pretty stable, but there were things wrong."

"I never said there wasn't," Betsy amended quickly, and an uncomfortable silence lapsed between them, keeping them apart, separate. Bobby stood up and walked over to the sink, rinsing the dirty dishes that sat there, and his attention rested on the window before him.

"You ever wonder what spiders think?"

"No. Why?" Betsy asked quietly, watching Bobby as he stared intently at a Daddy-long-legs as it walking cautiously across the window pane.

Bobby shrugged, turning toward her and placing his hands in his short pockets. "Consider this a crisis, Betts. I've just realised how many spiders I've senselessly slaughtered through the years. What if they had families? Or loved ones? And I just carelessly plucked off their legs! It just makes me think." Bobby plopped down on the chair beside her. "Did you ever think of how lucky we are to have been born human?"

"Do you consider yourself human?"

Bobby appeared a bit shocked by the question but nodded slowly. "I like to think of myself as a mutated human. I mean, I got all the parts, right? I think. I feel. Why if you prick me, do I not bleed?" Bobby pulled back, shaking his head slightly. "Whoa, flashbacks to English class, sorry. But do you get what I'm saying? We could have been spiders!"

"Aren't we in a way?" Betsy asked, slowly rising to her feet, painfully careful of every stressful movement she could make and avoiding it. "How are we any different from a spider? We have people like Sinister or Apocalypse taking parts of us away until we finally die. They pluck our legs away, crippling us before life gives up, too."

"Like Warren?"

"Like so many others. Warren's only one among a sea of sufferers, but his pain has ended now, hasn't it? And he's gone. I know that. I've accepted that, yet still, I wake up each morn and expect to find him lying beside me, one wing draped gently over my body to protect me from the cold and the monsters. I just want to feel whole again."

Bobby stood up and hugged her tightly, with one arms around her shoulders and laying his chin atop her bent head. "It'll come in time. You have to be patient, things like that just can't be rushed, Betsy. Some day, you're gonna wake up and you're gonna remember who he was, not just his death. Think of how blessed you've been, Betts, you got the know Warren Worthington, and you got to love him. Someday, when you open your beautiful eyes to that warm morning sun, you're going to scream out to the world that you remember him for him!"

"But what if I don't make it to then?"

"But you're going to, Betsy, I know you are. If it was me, nah, it would never happen, but you, you're strong and you have an incredibly powerful soul that doesn't take all the shit... crud life unloads and gets buried by it. Someday, that soul's gonna know it's mourned enough and you're gonna make it, Betts, you're gonna beat it."

"Why do you believe so strongly in this?"

"Warren told me once of all the things he admired in you it was your perseverance, your fighting spirit. He would have let the depression he was in consume him if your strength hadn't been so contagious. He never told you that, did he?"

Betsy shook her head. "No, but I knew, I knew."

Bobby smiled softly as he felt her arms tighten around him. Inside, he felt like his soul was drowning in sadness, but she couldn't know that. The time had come in his life where he had to be the strong one, the fighter, the leader, and he knew it.

And for the first time in months, Betsy's soul was tranquil and at peace, and she remembered Warren's smile, how it'd attract envious glares from all the women in the room when she was with him. She remembered how proudly he'd walk with her on his arm, whispering silly comments in her ears. He'd flash that grin at everybody, drawing their attention then letting it fall on her, knowing how she loved the public notice, knowing the thrill her soul thrived on.

But his smile was more beautiful when it was real, when his full lips were dark and blue, and even more gorgeous when it was his kiss to where that the smile lead, that tender, sensuous touch of his lips to hers. It was always so warm and enveloping; it was almost like making love with a mere touch.

"Betsy."

The voice shocked her out the fantasy, and she looked to Bobby, who was staring at her in utter surprise. She looked to where her hands lay on him, too near to a part of him that was as sensitive and forbidden as her heart, and she pulled her body away, knocking him to the floor with the sheer force.

"I'm sorry," she apologised frantically, holding her arms out, in part to help him up, but more to keep him away. Her stomach cramped, a pain she would have passed off as harmless sent her into a more harried frenzy.

"Betsy," Bobby said firmly, grabbing her tightly as he sensed the erratic movements to be a sign of her distress, and he held her arms down tightly. "Calm down, I know you didn't mean anything by it. You forgot, it happens to the best of us. No worries, okay?"

Betsy stared deeply into his naive, young eyes, and nodded reluctantly, hoping he fell for her bluff, and he did to Betsy's utter relief. "What don't we go outside again? You can work on the garden, and I can watch. It sounds like fabulous fun!"

"Okay," Bobby agreed with a sharp nod, striding quickly out of the kitchen into the vast backyard beyond, heading straight for the weedy mess of plants and soil then stopping suddenly when he realised Betsy wasn't following.

Betsy stared at that spider while it worked furiously to create a web for a brief moment as Bobby stared intently, wondering what had distracted her, but Betsy seemed not to notice his inquisitive eyes. She was captivated by the spider. Did it know she was watching?

Finally, Bobby moved closer to her, gesturing she go before him like a proper gentleman would, and looking in the place she had been glaring, he could faintly make out the body of a spider, dead with its life having been crushed out of it by a being more powerful than it.

[next part]

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