author: Lucinda
rating: pg 13
disclaimer: I do not own Betsy Braddock or anyone else from Marvel Comics.
Distribution: Ask first.
Most people would think that Betsy Braddock had everything that she could possibly want. Her family was wealthy, with a minor title going back more than far enough to be merely respectable. Her parents had been good to her, giving her all the things that she had needed, and many that she had simply wanted; fine clothing, sent her to one of the best private schools, jewelry and trinkets. But their support hadn't simply been financial. She had always know that her parents loved her and her twin, Brian, very much. That they had simply wanted their children to be happy. On top of that, she was intelligent and beautiful. She was actually a fairly successful model, and had dyed her hair a soft lavender to make herself look more distinctive.
What more could a person ask for that Betsy didn't have? She had things, she had family... it should have been enough. If that hadn't, then her career as a model should have satisfied her. But it hadn't been enough.
Her brother had a secret, one that she was privileged to know. Brian was Captain Britain, a real honest-to-God super hero. He could fly, he could get hit by a bus and toss it off of him without so much as a scratch on him. He had been chosen by Merlin to defend the realm of Britain, which sounded a bit pretentious, only when Brian had explained, it hadn't sounded that way at all. It had sounded amazing, and impressive, and somehow fitting. They were Braddock's, it was their solemn inherited duty to serve the realm. Except, that it was Brian's destiny, not hers.
Destiny hadn't laid out a path for her. Instead, destiny had dropped her a few things, minor gifts and tools, and left her to her own choices. She had family connections, intelligence, an excellent education. She had made near shameless use of those, and had managed to convince one of the more influential members of the Secret Service to let her in, to bring her into the service. She still thought that he had only relented because she had one special ability. Nothing nearly as impressive and bending steel, or being invulnerable, no, not like Brian. Betsy was a telepath.
Once she had convinced him that she was real, that her ability wasn't coincidence and planning, he had seen numerous possibilities. He had made a few arrangements, got her in touch with some people that had been all to willing to help her develop her abilities. They had helped her learn how to hurt people with her mind, how to make someone see something that wasn't real... She had refined her ability to sense the people around her until she could almost see them just from the patterns of their thoughts.
She had helped with numerous situations. She had found spies, prevented would be turncoats from escaping. She had assisted with questioning, able to feel the truth in what a person said, able to pluck the images of faces and building from their minds. She had made certain that important people weren't lost, and had helped keep groups coordinated while working.
It had been exhilarating. She had finally felt as if she was offering her country something of value. She could help defend and guard her country. Nobody knew... nobody outside the service knew that she was working for the Crown. Nobody inside that small circle knew why she felt such a need to prove herself, to do all that she could. She had started to feel that maybe, just maybe, she could serve her country just as well as Brian did.
Then, something happened that rocked the foundations of her life as she knew it. She didn't know why, but Brian, if a fit of anger and despair, decided that he quit. He wouldn't be Captain Britain any longer. Just like that.. he thought that he could give it up, walk away from his destiny. One of her superiors, Allen Sutcliffe, had called her into a private meeting. He had also known that her brother was Captain Britain, and now he knew that her brother had disappeared. Somehow, he had managed to convince her to take his place, to be Captain Britain 'while her brother was ill'.
She had always envied Brian his certain destiny. Always felt jealous that he didn't have to wonder what purpose his life held, that he wouldn't need to grope in the world, seeking a goal. Sutcliffe hadn't had to work very hard to convince her to step in. She had always wanted to have that, always wanted to know her fate, to have that special destiny.
It had been unlike anything that she had ever known, even at her most successful modeling shows. People had cheered at the sight of her.. at the sight of Captain Britain, even if she was a different one, not the one they were used to. The admiration and awe was amazing, so thick and powerful that she could taste it, like fine aged brandy. She had even fought some of the powerful villains, managing to defeat them.
Until SlayMaster had come. He had been horribly angry, had wanted to destroy Brian in some sort of twisted vendetta. His obsession and hate had been so thick, like a suffocating haze all around him. It had seemed a deadly insult to him that he had gone after Captain Britain, and instead, there was this.. woman in a pretty costume. His rage had been terrible.
He had captured her, tried to force her to talk, to tell him where 'the REAL Captain Britain' was, but she had refused to talk. He had beaten her, shattered her bones, broken her body in excruciatingly painful ways. That had been terrifying. Then, he had done something even more horrible, something irreversible.
He had destroyed her eyes. She had been left blind from his assault.
They had managed to salvage the orbs, enough that there was still something there in the sockets, but they were useless now. She couldn't see anything, her eyes couldn't tell if it was pitch black or searingly bright anymore. If not for some of the practice that she had put in with her telepathic abilities, she would have to finish her life as a broken woman, hobbling around with a cane. She would still be able to find her way around, could still know when there were people around her, still know who was in the room with her.
The scars from the beating had finished her modeling career. Oh, the surgeons had said that the scars would fade, that she would recover from the broken bones, the bleeding, but she had heard the truth in their minds: that they didn't think the scars would ever truly fade. She was scarred, and blinded. Her modeling career was gone. The service had sent her here to recuperate, but she had heard their thoughts as well.. they didn't think she would recover enough to be of use to them.
She was barely in her twenties, and her career was over, actually, they both were. She had no special someone, no close lover, no fiancé that would be with her to help her heal. All she had left were her memories, and a pretty costume that hadn't been enough protection.
Betsy Braddock sat there, her hands running over the mask of the costume she had so briefly worn and wondered. Was it worth it? In the end, was it really worth it? The price her courage, her dream had exacted had been terrible. If the opportunity was there, knowing how it would turn out, would she make the same choice that she had then?
She didn't know.
end.
rating: pg 13
disclaimer: I do not own Betsy Braddock or anyone else from Marvel Comics.
Distribution: Ask first.
Most people would think that Betsy Braddock had everything that she could possibly want. Her family was wealthy, with a minor title going back more than far enough to be merely respectable. Her parents had been good to her, giving her all the things that she had needed, and many that she had simply wanted; fine clothing, sent her to one of the best private schools, jewelry and trinkets. But their support hadn't simply been financial. She had always know that her parents loved her and her twin, Brian, very much. That they had simply wanted their children to be happy. On top of that, she was intelligent and beautiful. She was actually a fairly successful model, and had dyed her hair a soft lavender to make herself look more distinctive.
What more could a person ask for that Betsy didn't have? She had things, she had family... it should have been enough. If that hadn't, then her career as a model should have satisfied her. But it hadn't been enough.
Her brother had a secret, one that she was privileged to know. Brian was Captain Britain, a real honest-to-God super hero. He could fly, he could get hit by a bus and toss it off of him without so much as a scratch on him. He had been chosen by Merlin to defend the realm of Britain, which sounded a bit pretentious, only when Brian had explained, it hadn't sounded that way at all. It had sounded amazing, and impressive, and somehow fitting. They were Braddock's, it was their solemn inherited duty to serve the realm. Except, that it was Brian's destiny, not hers.
Destiny hadn't laid out a path for her. Instead, destiny had dropped her a few things, minor gifts and tools, and left her to her own choices. She had family connections, intelligence, an excellent education. She had made near shameless use of those, and had managed to convince one of the more influential members of the Secret Service to let her in, to bring her into the service. She still thought that he had only relented because she had one special ability. Nothing nearly as impressive and bending steel, or being invulnerable, no, not like Brian. Betsy was a telepath.
Once she had convinced him that she was real, that her ability wasn't coincidence and planning, he had seen numerous possibilities. He had made a few arrangements, got her in touch with some people that had been all to willing to help her develop her abilities. They had helped her learn how to hurt people with her mind, how to make someone see something that wasn't real... She had refined her ability to sense the people around her until she could almost see them just from the patterns of their thoughts.
She had helped with numerous situations. She had found spies, prevented would be turncoats from escaping. She had assisted with questioning, able to feel the truth in what a person said, able to pluck the images of faces and building from their minds. She had made certain that important people weren't lost, and had helped keep groups coordinated while working.
It had been exhilarating. She had finally felt as if she was offering her country something of value. She could help defend and guard her country. Nobody knew... nobody outside the service knew that she was working for the Crown. Nobody inside that small circle knew why she felt such a need to prove herself, to do all that she could. She had started to feel that maybe, just maybe, she could serve her country just as well as Brian did.
Then, something happened that rocked the foundations of her life as she knew it. She didn't know why, but Brian, if a fit of anger and despair, decided that he quit. He wouldn't be Captain Britain any longer. Just like that.. he thought that he could give it up, walk away from his destiny. One of her superiors, Allen Sutcliffe, had called her into a private meeting. He had also known that her brother was Captain Britain, and now he knew that her brother had disappeared. Somehow, he had managed to convince her to take his place, to be Captain Britain 'while her brother was ill'.
She had always envied Brian his certain destiny. Always felt jealous that he didn't have to wonder what purpose his life held, that he wouldn't need to grope in the world, seeking a goal. Sutcliffe hadn't had to work very hard to convince her to step in. She had always wanted to have that, always wanted to know her fate, to have that special destiny.
It had been unlike anything that she had ever known, even at her most successful modeling shows. People had cheered at the sight of her.. at the sight of Captain Britain, even if she was a different one, not the one they were used to. The admiration and awe was amazing, so thick and powerful that she could taste it, like fine aged brandy. She had even fought some of the powerful villains, managing to defeat them.
Until SlayMaster had come. He had been horribly angry, had wanted to destroy Brian in some sort of twisted vendetta. His obsession and hate had been so thick, like a suffocating haze all around him. It had seemed a deadly insult to him that he had gone after Captain Britain, and instead, there was this.. woman in a pretty costume. His rage had been terrible.
He had captured her, tried to force her to talk, to tell him where 'the REAL Captain Britain' was, but she had refused to talk. He had beaten her, shattered her bones, broken her body in excruciatingly painful ways. That had been terrifying. Then, he had done something even more horrible, something irreversible.
He had destroyed her eyes. She had been left blind from his assault.
They had managed to salvage the orbs, enough that there was still something there in the sockets, but they were useless now. She couldn't see anything, her eyes couldn't tell if it was pitch black or searingly bright anymore. If not for some of the practice that she had put in with her telepathic abilities, she would have to finish her life as a broken woman, hobbling around with a cane. She would still be able to find her way around, could still know when there were people around her, still know who was in the room with her.
The scars from the beating had finished her modeling career. Oh, the surgeons had said that the scars would fade, that she would recover from the broken bones, the bleeding, but she had heard the truth in their minds: that they didn't think the scars would ever truly fade. She was scarred, and blinded. Her modeling career was gone. The service had sent her here to recuperate, but she had heard their thoughts as well.. they didn't think she would recover enough to be of use to them.
She was barely in her twenties, and her career was over, actually, they both were. She had no special someone, no close lover, no fiancé that would be with her to help her heal. All she had left were her memories, and a pretty costume that hadn't been enough protection.
Betsy Braddock sat there, her hands running over the mask of the costume she had so briefly worn and wondered. Was it worth it? In the end, was it really worth it? The price her courage, her dream had exacted had been terrible. If the opportunity was there, knowing how it would turn out, would she make the same choice that she had then?
She didn't know.
end.