Chapter Text
“I think my girlfriend hates me.”
Those were the last words Warren Worthington III expected to come out of his mouth during his 2 pm therapy session. Particularly since that wasn’t what it was supposed to be about.
Three months ago, he had been in battle with a deadly villain known as Apocalypse alongside the X-Men, and Apocalypse had captured him. The ancient mutant had turned him into one of his Horsemen, a soldier who only cared about spreading war, famine, pestilence, or, in Warren’s case, death. But that had only been the beginning of the nightmare. He barely remembered his time under Apocalypse’s control. What he did recall was waking up without any wings. Apparently, his transformation, even once reversed, had spread an infection to his wings, and amputation was the only way to prevent the spread.
Considering he had had them since he was a child, Warren thought he had a fairly subdued reaction. He only knocked over one table.
No one had really gotten mad at him over this, and the director of SHIELD, Nick Fury himself, had simply handed him a card with a phone number. A private psychiatrist, provided by SHIELD. He didn’t even have to take off his mask. To everyone on the Helicarrier when he visited, he was just Angel, the (former) superhero.
And Warren had to admit, he still missed them. He missed soaring through the air, free. He missed fighting alongside his fellow mutants. He missed being a hero. He missed feeling whole. But his life didn’t feel over anymore. Even if the slim chance the doctors had predicted that they might grow back never came true, he would survive.
His troubles now were much more difficult to discern a solution to. Which was why when his psychiatrist, Psylocke, had noted “It seems something else is troubling you, Angel. Would talking about it help?” he had reluctantly given her the answer.
“That is very troubling,” Psylocke noted, brushing her purple hair off her shoulder.
“Would you like to share anything about her?”
Warren bit his lip as he turned from his spot, laid down on the couch. He wasn’t completely against the idea of letting her know his true name. At worst, she might recognize him from his father’s company. But she seemed perfectly comfortable keeping her true identity a secret to him, and he preferred them being on even footing. She could probably read his mind if she wanted to but she had taken extra care to inform him she would not do so without explicit consent, so he was taking her word she wouldn’t. So while he didn’t want to talk about Betsy by name, for his privacy and hers, that didn’t mean he couldn’t vent a little.
“She’s beautiful. And smart. And funny. I guess I’m kinda biased when it comes to those,” Angel chuckled. Psylocke smiled.
“He’s so smitten.” she thought. “I hope this girl takes good care of him, whoever she is.”
“But lately, she seems to be avoiding me,” Angel sighed, running his hand down his masked face. “She cancels our dates all the time, saying it’s work. So far, it’s always been on days where I have appointments with you anyway, but it still feels like she’s avoiding me.”
“Have you asked her what her job is?” she asked.
“She always gives me some random fake story,” Angel grumbled. “Every time I asked it was a different company than before, so eventually I stopped asking. I think wherever she works is very classified, so I get that she can’t always tell me what she does for a living. But she doesn’t have to avoid me.”
“Well, if she works for somewhere like SHIELD, then maybe she has a good reason for always having to go in for work. We don’t often get to choose our hours,” Betsy sighed.
Her mind briefly flashed to her poor boyfriend Warren, and all the dates she had cancelled with him. There had been a lot recently, with her wanting to keep on with her progress with Angel, but she suddenly wondered if maybe she was giving him the idea she didn’t want to see him, like Angel’s girlfriend had given him.
“I didn’t think of that,” Angel sat up. “Are SHIELD agents allowed to tell the people they love about their jobs?”
“Depends on what type of SHIELD agent,” Psylocke shrugged. “Someone at my clearance level probably could. But it’s still dangerous. The people in our lives could be endangered if we told them SHIELD secrets.”
"I'm not asking her to tell me SHIELD secrets,” Angel clarified. “I just want her to not lie to me. I’d honestly accept it if she just said ‘Honey, my job is classified and I can’t tell you,’ because at least it would mean she wasn’t leading me on.”
“Do you think she’s leading you on?” Psylocke asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. But I think she doesn’t care about my feelings, or at the very least can’t see them.”
“Well, not everyone can be a telepath,” Psylocke shrugged. This earned a smile from her patient.
She leaned over, glancing at the clock. They didn’t have much time left.
“Well, Angel , if you think this girl isn’t trying to lead you on, you know what I think you should do? What I would want my boyfriend to do, if me being a SHIELD agent was coming between us?”
Angel nodded.
“I would want him to tell me to my face, that I hurt his feelings. I would want him to say ‘Sweetheart, I know you aren’t being mean, but it feels like you're ignoring me. Can we please talk about why you keep avoiding me?’”
“Really?” Angel asked. “She wouldn’t get mad?”
“Well, I can’t speak for your girlfriend,” Psylocke shrugged. “But if I were in her shoes I know I’d care more about fixing it as soon as possible.”
“Okay,” he shrugged. “I’ll try it.”
“Tell me all about it next time,” she smiled. “That’s our session.”