AN: Okay, Normalverse. A series of inter-connected standalone where characters of the Marvel Universe are 'normal', no powers/mutations. About this story in particular, I've always felt Archangel must have had some sort of adjustment problems even before the whole 'Death' thing. I think it's hard being rich. Not that I have any personal experiance.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters and am making no money from this.
'Volant'
"Oh, Warren! You're an angel!"
I reach up and pull her arms from around my neck. "Don't say that." My voice is overly rough. She immediately pulls back and begins examining the bracelet intently. My anger deflates as I see how much I've hurt her. "I'm sorry. I'm glad you like it."
She looks up her face full of mischief, and I know I've been sincerely forgiven. "I love it darling. But you know it's way too expensive."
Ah yes, the dance begins anew. Let's end it before it picks up steam. "Gwendolyn Stacey, love and light of my life, what is the use of being a billionaire if I don't get to buy the woman I love overly expensive gifts? Besides, it pales in comparison to your beauty." That line always wins her over, but I can see she's still faltering. I grab her wrist and pull from the settee in one smooth motion. "Come we must hurry my princess, the guests await.
"Warrennnn…" She laughs as I sweep her into my arms and carry her out of my office.
It's true the guests are waiting; however they could wait a little longer. The Worthington Foundation is unveiling a new collection at one of its private showrooms tonight, but that's not until later. First there is the matter of a private dinner with the most prestigious of New York Society.
"Hey, hey, hey, War! Lookin' sharp."
And of course the necessary riff-raff. I adjust my cummerbund and give Bobby the million-dollar smile. Then I give his gorgeous wife the billion-dollar one. "Hey yourself Drake. You clean up pretty good too."
He straightens his bowtie and waggles his eyebrows. Wanda smacks him good naturedly in the arm and moves in to give me a quick hug. A little further back in the room I can see Matt touch Ororo's arm. He'd turned at the sound of my voice. She breaks off her conversation and they make their way towards us.
"Thank goodness you guys came. I was beginning to think you were going to skip the event and Ororo was going to have to eat the ice sculpture." Matt's voice is teasing as he shakes my hand. I'm glad to see he's wearing sunglasses. Matt Murdock's a great guy, and one hell of a lawyer, but his blank eyes creep me out. Ororo just draws herself up and ignores me, her blue eyes sparkling against her chocolate skin.
"Yes Gwen, I would think a capable woman like yourself would be able to get Warren to dinner events on time. Or at least get him to order flavored ice sculpture so we don't all pass out from hunger while waiting for your grand entrance. After a wonderful day of dealing with a whole new crop of New York's finest little mischief makers, Matt wrangled me into chauffeuring around one of his young charges and I didn't even get any of her welcome home cake."
"No lunch for the benevolent, 'Ro." Matt says, squeezing her gently.
"And no dinner for those who attend Mr. Worthington's dinner parties it would seem." She replies, fixing me with a mock-steely glare.
I manage what I hope is a perturbed look. "Peasants. Go find your seats while I attempt to restore order to this unruly mob." As I turn and head for the low stage I can see Gwen and Ororo laugh about some joke. Wanda joins them in exclaiming over Gwen's new bracelet while Bobby and Matt move toward one of the centre-most tables with their heads close together. Reaching the platform I hop lightly on stage.
"Hello out there." I tap the mike gently. It's more of a formality; most people have already spotted me and are moving toward their seats. "Welcome to the pre-exhibit dinner. I have arrived, just a titch more then fashionably late, so I'll let you all get down to the business of eating and not bore you with some long complex speech that I probably won't understand myself. That'll come after dinner." There's polite laughter, and a smattering of applause. As I walk over to the table where my friends are sitting I wonder why people feel the need to applaud every time someone rich says something. Hell, most of the people here are in the same tax bracket as me anyhow. Settling in between Gwen and Ororo swift silent waiters appear as if by magic to place steaming plates in front of us.
Wanda stares us all down (well, except for Matt, who simply says 'What?' as silence descends.) and we join hands as she says a quick blessing on the food. I like Wanda, but I swear, one more discussion on whether or not there's a God and I'll have to hire hit men or something. Right on cue she looks over at me with a smile and I immediately feel guilty for the thought. Bobby rolls his eyes at me from across the table, and I risk a glance at Gwen who's looking thoughtfully at my crimson cheeks. She leans in close and whispers, "Having fantasies about other men's wives? I'll cure you of that tonight." My blush deepens and I grab for some wine. Only Matt and Ororo, who's intent on devouring her salmon, miss this mini-drama. I pick at my fish for a minute.
"So Bobby," I lean over conspiratorially. "Am I broke yet? How are things in going up in the glass tower?" Bobby snorts and points to his mouth, he's busy chewing. Matt looks up thoughtfully. "I thought you were supposed to be the one living in the glass tower Warren." I shake my head, and realize it's a wasted gesture. "No, I keep my feet on the ground."
"Warren doesn't really like heights" Gwen volunteers.
I grimace slightly. "It's not that I'm afraid, I just don't see why they're so necessary. If there's no particular reason to suspend oneself high above the good solid earth…"
She rolls her eyes. "Yes, that's you all over Warren, only the necessities, never excessive…"
Wanda rests her hand on Matt's arm. "You should see the office building where Bobby works. It's one of the tallest in the city, and almost completely made of glass. That is, he works there when he's not off gallivanting around the country."
"I'm in town more then three weeks out of every month, on average." Bobby says reasonably. I know Bobby likes his job specifically because he gets to get out of the office. "But the office building is enough to make you go blind. No pun intended. It's actually a pretty fun place to work. Would be better if I could get a bit more support staff." He's looking pointedly at me now.
"Hey, is it my fault you drove Mr. Ruez into early retirement?" We both laugh a bit at that. The man was practically eighty. He would have kept working 'til he died if his wife hadn't came into the office one day and dragged him out by his ear, saying something about a cruise.
"Nah," Bobby chuckles a bit more. "He was a good old guy. Honestly though, me and Cal are getting a little bogged down."
"Never fear! Warren is here!" I do my best knight in shining armor pose.
Gwen pulls me back into my chair. "Yes sweetie, you're here all right."
"Anyway, I just got you a new man, hired him personally." Eyebrows are raised.
"You're going to make me break in a newbie?" Bobby's voice takes on a groaning quality.
"It's not that bad." I can feel my forehead furrowing. "He's a recent Xavier graduate. Top marks, very capable." Ororo stops, her fork halfway to her mouth.
"Won't someone think it's unfair, you putting all the Xavier alumni together? Not to get personal, but don't you receive a rather high salary Robert?"
I've thought of this myself, but wasn't sure anyone else would pick up on it. "It's like this: I pay Bobby more because he's the best. So when I'm looking for people to add to his team, I pick the best. Can I help it if the best happen to come from my alma mater?"
No one disagrees, but Gwen won't meet my eyes.
"So only the best will do for you huh, Warren?" She speaks quietly and flips her hair back off her shoulder.
Sometimes I forget she didn't go to school with the rest of us. "Gwen…" I really don't know what to say. There's a short, uncomfortable silence. Everyone likes Gwen, but it's true, she's not really one of us. But I really do think I love her. I remember the first time I saw her. Ororo had brought her to a function just like this one, all long blonde hair and wide blue eyes. The two of them had been sharing an office at the downtown Family Services building, and strangely hitting it off even though they're almost complete opposites. Gwen so warm and caring, and Ororo so regal and distant, but they both have an air of fragility. Extremely deceptive, that air. They're both incredibly passionate about their work. I've met mama bears with less claws and fury.
Dinner talk resumes politely, the topics drift around: happenings in the world, in the city, with the Drake children. As we get into the main course Ororo finally slows enough to get involved in the conversation.
"Gwen, you said you had a girl you wanted to transfer over to me?" She glances around the table, "that is, if you don't mind talking shop here."
Gwen holds out a glass for a passing waiter to refill. "It didn't stop the boys. Yes, she's been in a group home for about a week. I should just move her to foster, she's barely sixteen, but I just had a feeling about her. I somehow got her to write the XGC test a few more times and low and behold, when she actually put some effort into it she's damn well amazing. I'll send you her files sometime tomorrow. Now all I've got to worry about is what to do with the six year old." She tacks the last part on in a low grumble, but it carries around the table.
"Okay, now you've got to tell us." I put my arm around her and play with her hair a bit.
"She had a little cousin living with her in this dingy basement apartment. The kid's a sweetie, but he's really attached to her. I've got to find some foster family that'll take him in and still allow visitation from a teenage streetwalker.
"She's not a street kid anymore. She's in government custody now." Ororo says this with a bit of an edge to her voice. Gwen nods in agreement and swirls her wine around in her glass. Watching the burgundy liquid she completely misses the exchange of looks going on between Wanda and Bobby. Wanda tilts her head to one side; Bobby nods. She raises her eyebrows and leans forward a bit. Bobby nods more emphatically.
Wanda turns to Gwen. "We'll take him."
Gwen nearly spills her wine. "You two?"
"Sure, why not? We've had foster kids before." Bobby says this matter-of-factly, as if he's not the guy who ties a bonsai tree to his head every April in order to 'Welcome the Spring'.
"You've had one foster child, and that was over a year ago. You just had a new baby yourselves. Are you certain you want to add this extra burden?" Ororo's making sense to me. Not to Wanda I guess.
"Children are only a burden if you choose to think of them as such. We'll be fine." She waves a hand dismissively.
Gwen shrugs her shoulders. "Okay, call me tomorrow if you're serious. I said he's a sweetie, and he is, but he's also a handful. It's been a while since he had a proper family environment."
"And if he moves in with the Drakes he may never get one." Matt's dry observation breaks up the tension around the table.
I look at my watch. "Well, it's about time we started to get this cleaned up. It's show time." The unflappable waiters sail effortlessly around the room, removing plates, pouring a few last drinks. Then I get to go back up to the small stage and make a long speech that even I can't remember after it's finished. I am however, grateful when Wanda shifts her chair to block out Bobby, who's slowly making cross-eyed faces at me. When I finish the wide wooden doors behind me are swung open and people begin streaming through. I wait for Gwen to catch up with me before going in. We leave the Drakes to wander around with Ororo, describing every detail they can to Matt. We make a circuit of the room, absorbing all we can in a quick broad sweep, civilly acknowledging the enthusiastic congratulations of others.
When we get back to the doors and Gwen takes my hand in hers and gives it a squeeze. "It's a lovely exhibit, you did a great job."
I raise my eyebrows and affect a solemn tone. "Yes, well it's been through the hard work and dedication of several individuals, not through any particular opposition but through many hours of eye-straining shipping coordination and-"
I'm cut off mid-sentence as she turns and throws her arms around my neck. "Oh Warren, it's absolutely gorgeous."
I kiss her on the nose and glance around the room again, a small show of what will soon be unveiled at one of my buildings that I've had remodeled just for this display. Angels of every kind: paintings, sculptures, porcelain casts, it's one of the largest exhibits in the world. "Yes Warren. It's most… uplifting." Emma Frost, the ever-present cynicism is still in her voice, but it's toned down a notch. Could she be sincere?
"Thank you Emma." I nod to her as Gwen untangles herself from me.
"Ms. Frost, what a pleasure to see you again. I was wondering if you had a moment to talk about the fundraiser that the city shelters are putting on next week?" The two women slowly move away from me, talking in hushed voices as they begin another circuit of the collection. Gwen turns back for a second to flash me a smile that's as warm and open as a summer's day. Emma also turns, saluting me a short farewell with a lift of her champagne glass. I lean against the wall, relieved beyond belief to finally have a moment to myself, and look upon what I have wrought.
For an instant every cherubic little angel-face reminds me of myself as a child, of my life before I knew what rich meant, and later what alone meant. Every sweet-faced smiling seraph is my mother, hovering, guarding. The warriors with their flaming swords bare my father's face. I recall a rare family dinner, just the three of us, when I was very young. I don't know where I'd picked up the phrase but I asked my father if he was a corporate shark. Dad laughed and seemed almost embarrassed but mother had smiled calmly. She reached for my father's hand and said that like I was her angel-boy, Daddy was her angel. The archangel of his company, he tried to always to do his best, for the good of everyone. I can still taste the awe I felt for my father at that moment, the awe I still carry in the secret part of my heart, more than any childhood memory of the food. And I felt so loved. Never since that day that I lost them have I ever felt so deserving of love.
My avoidance of heights is not fear. Not fear of falling. It's fear of the elation that I feel being so high up. As if I belong there and if I were to stay too long I might never come down. My bones are too heavy; I've become what everyone else expects of me, what they see me as, but I've lost my true self, my original potential has been stripped from me. I've become…tainted.
What would I give if someone, some genius, some madman, some monster, offered me a chance to recapture that feeling from my past, a chance to feel that purity, that lightness of being just one more time? I would give my soul. And in that very act I would once again be damned. Warren Worthington can be a good man, a fair employer, an honest businessman and a true friend. I can love Gwen and build a life with her. But I am under no illusions that I'm an angel.