Pulse, Part Ten

by Tangerine

 "You are leaving yourself open to be killed!"  Shatterstar said as he leapt through the air onto a rock, his strong body covered in a fine film of sweat.  Bobby panted and gasped, nodding his head and taking position again.  "You do not think that you can die.  You think you are immortal."

 "I so do not," Bobby protested weakly, ashamed of how out of shape he had become.  Without Scott bearing down on him and forcing him to train until he hurt, his body had lost most of its stamina and muscle.  "But I can't remember exercising for at least seven months, and my memory is really not that good to begin with."

 "Your body looks fine to me," Shatterstar said, his gaze resting on the slender curves of Bobby's back as the Iceman crouched low to the ground, wheezing.  "It is instinct you do not have.  You have followed all your life and now you cannot see harm for yourself."

 Bobby frowned, pushing his sweaty, tawny hair from his face, the dark strands sticking between his wet fingers.  Shatterstar jumped down from the rock, landing next to Bobby.  The X-Man looked up at him, his eyes following the length of the redhead's elegant body.

 Don't.  Bobby adverted his eyes at the mental command and stood, overshadowed by the warrior and overly conscious of it.  Shatterstar looked at him curiously, trying to understand why Bobby was acting so peculiarly.

 "If you're from Mojoverse, why do you have human hands?"  Bobby asked suddenly, his eyes resting safely on the fighting hands, counting three times to make sure.  "Longshot had three fingers and a thumb.  You have four fingers."

 Shatterstar lifted his palm and looked at it, rotating his wrist to examine his hand completely.  His eyes rose under the long, russet locks of hair, the piercing grey catching hold of the blue that Bobby possessed.  "They have always looked like that.  It is not something I think about."

 "Maybe you're more human than you thought," Bobby said with a shrug, turning to return to the car then he stopped and lifted his head to the sky.  He looked to Shatterstar who was already moving and ice crept up his body.  "Apocalypse's Horsemen!"

 "I am without weapons!"  Shatterstar shouted, dodging the metal horse and its devillish rider.  He rolled onto his back, hitting his spine against a sharp rock, and he twisted into a stand, cursing himself for thinking he would be safe without his weapons for once in his life.

 "War will destroy you!"  The mutant clapped his hands over his head, and Shatterstar dropped near to the ground, outrunning the explosion that resulted.  In an admittedly stupid move, Shatterstar tried to attack the Horseman, but the metal armour was too strong.  War cast him away with a flick of his arm and Shatterstar went with the throw, twisting and arching his lean body to avoid serious injury.

 "They still talk in the third person!  That will always freak me out!"  Bobby said, his twisting column of ice sending Famine flying from her perch.  The emaciated young girl crashed to the ground.  "Do you need help?"

 "I need metal to conduct my powers!"  Shatterstar replied, running to the metal horse that lay twitching next to its master and placing his boot to the beast's rear.  He tore off the tail as Famine reached out with her thin hand and brushed his ankle.  Shatterstar looked at her and backed away but not before feeling the tiring effects of her power.  "She has touched me."

 "It's not too bad," Iceman replied, "if you can forget you're hungry."

 Shatterstar nodded and began to hum, his voice low in pitch, and Bobby looked at him, covering his eyes when the blinding flash of light threw War from his mount.  Shatterstar swallowed loudly, looking decidedly unhealthy, but hit War with another blast until the Horseman stopped moving.

 "Feel the touch of Pestilence!"

 "No, thank you!"  Bobby replied, freezing her hand before stopping in his tracks and eyeing his attacker with a puzzled look.  "Didn't you die?"

 "The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse cannot be killed!"  Pestilence screeched before Bobby froze the rest of her, depriving her of enough air to render her unconscious.  She fell in a heap on the grass, and Bobby shook his head.

 "They can't count either," he said with a smile.  "Death defected a long time ago."

 "But Death will be reborn," Famine whispered, her voice childlike and innocent, and Bobby turned to look at her, those hollow eyes making him shiver.  "If he will not go to him, the child will take his place."

 "Death is dead!"

 "Nothing dies," Famine replied sadly, touching a flower so it wilted and fell to the grass, "it only hides," another touch and the daisy straightened, coming back to life when it had been dead, "until it is awakened."

 "People die, humans die, mutants die!  We all die!"

 Famine looked at him and shook her head, glancing over her shoulder as War and Pestilence rose to their feet.  She smiled shyly like a young child and shrugged.  "Perhaps you will die."

 "Never!"  Betsy plunged her telepathic knife into the back of the girl's neck as Shatterstar took War and Pestilence down with the third and final blast from the horse's tail.  "Come now with me, into the shadows!  We are not safe!"

 Bobby backed away, shaking his head, knowing what the shadows held, but Betsy grabbed him anyway.  Her touch was cold and painful against the ice of his skin, and he screamed, feeling the slow death of the dark.

 Then it was gone.

 Bobby blinked, bringing his hand over his eyes at the sudden burst of blinding sunlight.  Beside him, Shatterstar was on his hands and knees, vomiting violently into the sand, and Bobby looked at him with worry.

 "Are you all right?"  Bobby asked with controlled alarm.

 Shatterstar nodded, retching a final time before rolling on his back and bringing his hands to his face.  "I do not use my mutant power for this very reason.  It makes me very sick, weakens me, so I am useless."

 Bobby nodded sympathetically as Shatterstar lay very still, his eyes closed and his breathing slow and steady.  Standing up, Bobby looked around, his eyes widening at the palm trees and clear water that surrounded them on all sides.  "Betsy!  Betsy, where the hell have you put us?  Where the hell are you?"

****

 Psylocke heard him though she was far away, and his words echoed in her head.  She would come back for them, but she first had to save Domino, to find someone who would make sure she was to live.  It came down to two choices, Emma or Moira, and Betsy chose the less obvious.

 "Emma," Betsy whispered, falling from the shadows into the extravagant room, and Emma Frost looked up, throwing her book atop the bed.  Betsy brought her hands to her head, trying to remember how to speak.  Why could she only recall Emma's name?  "Emma."

 "What the hell is this?"  She asked, her satin sheets falling away from her tanned, smooth thighs.  She stepped out of bed, dressed in a flimsy negligee and regretting her conscious decision to remain in bed to read.  "Psylocke, what's wrong?"

 Betsy looked at her, tears welling in her yellow eyes, and she pulled Domino from the shadows, taking the compact form in her arms and offering her to Emma.  The telepath frowned but took the body, her hand immediately applying pressure to the grievous cut.  "She is hurt."

 "I can see that!  What is wrong with you?"  Emma examined Betsy, seeing the frightened look on Psylocke's face and sensing her frustration.  "If you cannot speak, tell me telepathically instead.  Tell me!"

 "You will be hurt," Betsy said carefully, not as a threat but as a warning.

 "Then hurt me," Emma answered seriously, but Betsy recoiled, melding back into the shadows.  Emma tightened her grip on Domino, watching as the dark skin faded into black and the red tattoo, the ethereal glow of the scarlet mark, was the last fragment of Betsy to fade from existence.

****

 When Betsy toppled from the shadows, she took great pains to protect her belly and the unborn child it housed.  She fell on her back, the back of her head colliding painfully with the ground despite the sandy surface, and she lay there, staring at the sun until her eyes hurt.

 Bobby sat near to where she was, his knees bent and pulled to his chest, his arms resting on his legs and providing support for his chin.  He watched Betsy carefully, soft strands of sandy hair blowing gently across his forehead.  "I don't get it, do I?"

 Betsy lifted her head, pushing her heavy body to an upright position with her arms, but she did not say anything.  She merely looked at him sadly, her skin that bizarre shade of grey Bobby had first seen when he pulled her from the shadows himself to save her life.  He stared back, watching her change, watching the blackness fade from her face until she was back to as she had been in the beginning.

 Bobby, seeing this, thought back to what he had witnessed days ago, to the spider that he had philosophised about and how he had returned to see it crushed against the window, dead because she had decided to steal its life.  What was so wrong with her that she would do such a thing?

 "I'm a spider to you, aren't I?"  He asked, hot tears blurring his sight until her form became jagged and rough like stone.  He pushed his palms against his face, forcing the tears from his cheeks until it became painful.  "Fuck this, Betsy, fuck all of this!"

 Betsy's violet eyes fell, peering at the world through a shattered image, her view obscured by her long strands of hair, but she could not hide completely.  Bobby stared at the red tattoo, glared at it and all that it symbolised.  It wasn't fair, he realised, but it would never be fair.

 "I do not understand why you are upset," Shatterstar said stupidly, embarrassed now that he had been so sick in front of Bobby.  Weakness was not something a warrior flaunted yet he had openly admitted to it.  "She saved your life."

 "But she won't even try to save her own!"  Bobby screamed suddenly, feeling as useless and as helpless as he had months before.  "She's just like he was, just like Warren!  Warren didn't fight; Warren ran away!  Warren let himself die and now she's going to do the same fucking thing and I'm going to sit here like an asshole and let her do it!  You're giving up just like he did, Betsy, and I'll be damned if you make me watch!  Damn you!"

 "You are being irrational.  Warriors do not ..."

 "Do not what, you stupid bastard?  Don't cry?  Don't emote?  Don't fucking live!  Why would I want to be like you?  Why the hell would I want to be like you?!  You and her, you're both the same, both scared to death of living!  She's given up because the man she loved gave up too.  And you, you're afraid that one day you will wake up and be completely human and realise that now you have compassion and understanding and weakness.  God, will you wake up?!"

 Shatterstar blinked, the sting of the words harsh against his soul, and he breathed evenly, controlled, as if all that mattered was that he, the warrior born, remained calm, remained strong, remained a machine.  Words could not hurt him if he could not feel pain.

 "Or maybe I should go to sleep, too," Bobby whispered with a broken laugh and stood up, brushing the sand from his pants.  He walked without another word into the jungle of trees on the deserted island.  It was all an escape.

 "I do not understand him," Shatterstar said bitterly, "I do not understand."

 "He is afraid," Betsy said slowly, her words feeling alien on her tongue as she spoke them.  In her mind, she thought of the information she required before she would say anything more.  With every utterance she paused first as if unsure if she had made the right choice.  "He thinks he is lost."

 "But of what is there to fear?  Death?  All those who live die and those who cannot wish they could!  It is not right that he says such things to me.  I tell him things I do not tell anyone yet he twists my words and makes them insults.  That I do not understand," Shatterstar finally admitted.

 Betsy watched his young face, catching a glimpse of something she dared not name, and looked at his eyes, the subtle grey betraying worry when he thought he had none.  "He wishes you were not that way.  He wishes you saw things as he does."

 "And how does he see things?  What can I not see that is so obvious?"

 "You cannot see what is right in front of you, yet that is how he sees things, too.  You are both blind in a world governed by light but if you only opened your eyes you would see everything."  Betsy dropped her head and shook it lightly, clearing her mind of the confusion.  "And I am trapped in a world of dark.  You would not dare to be me.  It would destroy you."

 Betsy brushed her hand over her crimson brand.  "It will destroy me."

[next part]

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