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PART 10
"Flying"
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Betsy Braddock stirred, slowly beginning to open her eyes. The world as she saw it as she laid on her back was a blur of white and grey. She began to turn her head, but regretted it when her left cheek touched the surface of whatever she was laying on as pain shot through her battered face. She let out a soft whimper, trying to remember everything that had happened. She had been beaten to a bloody pulp by the Friends of Humanity thugs... then she remembered an apparition, a man with blonde hair and immense wings. An angel? Was she dead? If she was, then why did her face feel like it had been hit by an 18-wheeler? She moved her hand up to touch her forehead, feeling a bandage there that extended down over her left eye, that would explain the blur of white she saw intermingled with the now-clear visions of a well-furnished apartment. She began to sit up, but cried out in pain and laid back down the instant she did so.

"That's probably not a good idea," a man's voice said from behind her, "those neanderthals cracked a couple of your ribs."

"Wh-who are you?" Betsy stammered, her jaw not cooperating with her.

"Just think of me as a guardian angel," he said, walking into her view. It was the handsome face she had seen just before she blacked out. His jaw was set firm, a grim look on his face. His short blonde hair was meticulously styled, his blue eyes kind. "You're lucky that I came when I did, otherwise I probably would have had to taken you to a hospital."

"I feel like I should be there now," she grumbled.

"If they found out the reason you'd been beaten the way you were, they probably wouldn't have treated you. Or have you been living under a rock these past few weeks? We muties aren't exactly on the list of Who's Who. Well, not most of us, anyway," he let out an unamused chuckle, "I'm Warren Worthington III."

"Ah," she said, recognizing the name Worthington as a family of old money, who were still raking in the cash as lucrative businessmen, as well as from the files at the Xavier Institute. "Betsy Braddock."

"I find that hard to believe," he replied, "I know Brian Braddock, and you don't look like the pictures that I've seen of his sister."

"It's a long story," Betsy said with a sad sigh.

"I have time," Warren replied, sitting in a chair where she could see him clearly from where she lay. She saw once again the immense, beautiful wings that she had thought the sign that she was dying and heading towards heaven.

"You have lovely wings," she said, "it must be quite a wonderful thing to fly... I envy you."

"It is very nice to be able to fly, looking down on the world from heights that it seems only natural for a bird to see from, not a man. Unfortunately, it has also been a curse, it's quite difficult to constantly keep them hidden. But you're changing the subject now."

Betsy took a deep breath and began her long tale, starting with her coming to the Xavier Institute, and ending with her return to the ruins of the school. "And that's how I ended up here, I suppose," she said, wiping a tear from her bruised cheek, "I've not seen a sign of my friends since, and I fear the worst."

"Well, according to the news that day, the explosion at the mansion occured at the same time as the Sentinel battle in New York, so it's likely that at least some of your friends survived and have gone into hiding," Warren said, trying to reassure her, not telling her about the capture of some of the X-Men.

Psylocke's face brightened, if only by the smallest fraction. Could some of the X-Men still be alive? She could only hope that she would recover soon and be able to get back on her way to search them out.

"Thank you," Betsy said, "for saving my life, and providing me with such care and hospitality."

"I wouldn't be much of an Angel if I didn't take care of those who needed it most, now would I?" He smiled at her, "Now, you need to get more rest if those wounds are going to heal properly. Just call me if you need anything." He stood and walked out of the room.

Betsy watched him leave, a small smile on her lips. She closed her eyes and slowly drifted off in a peaceful dream... she was flying high above the city, not for any particular purpose, just to soar. She no longer had any worries, not about her friends, they were all safe, not about being rejected for being a mutant, the world was at peace. Elizabeth Braddock was, for those precious hours of sleep, completely free.

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TO BE CONTINUED
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