Chapter Text
“Psylocke!” Warren yelled, getting his fellow horseman’s attention. She leapt off the building, knowing he was flying overhead to catch her before she fell. Warren swooped down, grabbing her hands and tossing her onto the jet that held their targets.
Thump. Footsteps echoed on the roof of the jet. “What the hell was that?” Moira asked, but the group already knew the answer. Their time was more limited than they thought.
Jean looked between looked between Scott, Kurt, and the unconscious Charles. Then Psylocke’s psychic blades began cutting through the roof. Jean looked at Kurt again, said his name, then glanced at the rest of the group. “Everyone grab hold of Nightcrawler!”
Kurt’s eyes widened in shock, leaning down to her level, “I’ve never done it with this many people-”
”Get us out of here,” Jean ordered, cutting him off. Hank grabbed his tail, and soon Moira and Scott followed suit. Kurt gripped Charles’ arm tightly, Jean doing the same to Kurt’s. Less than a second later, the roof of the jet was torn away, and the Archangel jumped inside.
Though he wasn’t looking, Kurt could feel the jet lurch, could see how it sent the Horseman of Death tumbling backwards, could see Jean’s fingers moving in time with the motion. He glanced at her, eyes wide with fear, “What are you doing!?”
”Kurt hurry!” Jean hissed back, and he knew he had no choice but to oblige. He grasped at reality, his mind desperately clawing at escape, at where he wanted to go. The Angel righted himself, lurching forward, making the situation even more urgent. Kurt yelled from the effort, it felt like his body was on a bed of needles, like there were thousands of fire ants hidden under his skin. Brief flashes of fire or magma made their way into his vision as he phased in and out of reality, the grip on his tail feeling like a white-hot brand that spread through every part of his body. He could barely hear Jean’s voice calling out to him as he screamed from the pain, it was so hard to focus, to think, to concentrate on where he was trying to go. The Angel, now mostly used to the off-balancing of the nose diving jet, lunged forward, and the threat of his attack is what finally put Kurt over the edge. He gave the Archangel one last look, one filled with so much regret and sorrow, before he and his friends phased out of existence.
Warren met Nightcrawler’s eyes as he moved in to attack, seeing the mournful look on his face. He didn’t have time to scoff at it, before the group disappeared before his very eyes, and he was confronted with the fact that the ground was fast approaching. He tried to run, tried to open his wings to the sky, reached for the open air, but it was too late, and he fell to the earth in a cocoon of fire and metal. He looked to the sky one last time, seeing Psylocke escape, and at the very least, he could be glad that his fellow horsemen would survive even when he would not.
Kurt’s head swam as he and his friends came back into reality. That was the longest he’d ever spent in between, and he briefly wondered if that would have lasting consequences, before he remembered why they’d had to get out of there so fast in the first place.
Engel…
Kurt stumbled to his feet, nearly falling back to the ground before he caught himself. “I have to… I have to go back…” he mumbled, barely coherent.
”...What?” Jean said, less of a question and more a reprimand.
Kurt spoke again, firmer this time, “I have to go back.” He started preparing for another teleport, before Jean grabbed his arm, bringing him down to her eye level. Were he not already exhausted and woozy from the previous trip, he may have been able to stay upright, but even just that toppled him over. “Kurt, no! If you go back, you’ll be crushed! You’re already barely able to stand, you probably won’t even make it there!”
“I have to try! Just let me go!” he hissed, struggling in her grip. He knew she was right, really. It would be a fool's errand. Even if he did make it there unscathed, he didn’t think he’d be able to make the trip back in his condition, especially while carrying an injured Angel. Or a dead one--no. He didn’t want to think of that possibility. Not yet. He fizzled out of reality, just for a split second.
”Scott, help me!” Jean shouted, too focused on Charles to keep her attention on restraining Kurt. Instead, both Scott and Hank grabbed hold of Kurt, but it only served to agitate him more. "I have to help him!" he yelled, once again trying--and failing--to teleport away. "Why? He was trying to kill us, why is it so important that you go back?" Scott asked, voice pitched up with worry, "Kurt, it's not safe, you could get hurt, or worse!"
Kurt tried again to teleport away, but with how tired out the earlier trip made him, he couldn't focus on separating himself from the others. He whimpered, chest heavy with guilt. It was his fault this all was happening, his fault Angel was in this situation, his fault that Angel was now trapped in that wretched machine, and now he wasn't even able to save his life? It was too much to bear, he could already feel the tears threatening to spill, hot on his skin as he begged for mercy, "Please, I can't let him die!"
Scott shared a look with Hank, knowing they probably shouldn't let him go, but... it felt wrong to deny him. So, they sighed, and released him. Kurt looked back at them and whispered a quick, breathless thank you, before disappearing in a puff of smoke.
Warren groaned as he tried to move. The air was still, silent save for the occasional creak of metal and the sound of some kind of liquid dripping onto the floor. He couldn't see more than a few inches in front of his face, couldn't move...well, any of his limbs. In fact, even trying brought his attention to the searing pain in his stomach and his wings. And his legs. And his arms. And-Fuck, how many bones have I broken?! He tried to move, get himself out of this coffin of metal and darkness. He almost passed out again from the pain, the excruciating agony in his side now noticeably wet. His head swam, as he noticed just how difficult it was just to breathe. Am I going to die here? His head hurt, sleep tugged at his eyes, and the crushed lungs and blood loss made it hard to concentrate on whether or not he was okay with that. Whether he should even keep trying to get out of here.
Before he had time to force his mind to cooperate enough to consider it, a pop went off near him, then another, and a hint of the unfortunately familiar scent of sulfur hit his senses. He wrinkled his nose, but the action made him somehow even woozier than before. Fuck, did he have a headache.
"...Engel?" a distant voice called. He tried to turn his head towards the sound, but regretted it as soon as he tried. He called out as best he could, but his voice was little more than a whisper. He closed his eyes, hoping he could just clear his head with a bit of rest.
He vaguely caught some strange noises he couldn't identify, then... it was getting harder and harder to make out. "Do not worry, Engel, I've got you. I'll get you out." The voice sounded closer now, and sounded almost as tired as he felt. Were he paying attention, he could have recognized it, but at this point his mind and body were already too strained as it was. He was tired. So tired. Honestly, he was beginning to be at peace with letting the reaper take him. The part of him that was still awake recognized the irony of the Horseman of Death being the first to die. He'd laugh if his lungs weren't currently under approximately 69 tonnes of steel.
He could feel hands on his body now--or at least, he thought they were hands. What were unmistakably claws ran through his hair, just once, far gentler than he had expected.
"I'm going to get you out of here, I promise. I won't let you die. I have to move you now, I'm sorry if it hurts." Warren let out a quick murmur of agreement, and as the hands held him tighter, as the pressure on his body, along with the world, disappeared, he promptly passed out, no longer able to resist the tug of sleep
"Kurt!" Jean yelped as he bamfed into the room, partially out of surprise and partially out of worry. She relaxed a bit, seeing the Archangel draped over his shoulder. "You really got him..." Kurt's legs wobbled, and he mumbled something unintelligible out before crumpling to the floor, the world fading away with the unconscious Angel falling as dead weight on top of him. Jean reached into their minds for a few seconds, and breathed a sigh of relief. They were exhausted, and Angel was definitely near death, but at least for now, they were both alive. They were alive. And as soon as this was over, as soon as Apocalypse was defeated, they would be safe.
Or, as safe as they could be with a probably murderous winged mutant in their midst.