author: Lucinda
Series: Eastern Butterfly Story #3 Reflection
rating: pg 13
main character: Psylocke, pairing Betsy/Logan
Disclaimer: I do not own Psylocke or any other characters from Marvel
Comics. People with more money & lawyers do.
Distribution: please ask first, Psyknife may have it if she wants it.
Betsy and Logan were dating now. The rest of the team were
having some difficulty adjusting to that idea. Logan and dating were
ideas they hadn't expected to mix, especially not with someone brought
up to style, class, and elegance. Betsy and Logan didn't seem to be
aware of that, and were having a lot of fun. They would go out for
picnics, and hiking trips, and if they occasionally returned with
leaves in their hair... nobody wanted to ask.
They had found a mutual enjoyment of nature, of the outdoors.
They would go hiking, or rock climbing... or just spent time sitting
out in the fresh air discussing various things, from sports to
politics, to food preferences, to how to choose a good weapon. It was
during one of their discussions that Betsy decided to ask Logan
something that had been on her mind since she'd first met Logan, a
small, relatively minor detail.
"Logan? Why don't you ever go swimming?"
He chuckled, a deep, comforting sound. "That has been on your
mind a while? You know I've got a metal reinforced skeleton, right?
How much do you think I weigh, Betsy?"
She had frowned, uncertain where that was going. "Of course I
know your skeleton's metal. Umm you look like you should be around a
hundred and eighty, maybe a hundred ninety pounds. What does that
have to do with swimming?"
He'd been laying on the grass, chewing absently on a blade, his
eyes peaceful. He rolled over, leaning on his elbows as he looked at
her. "That might be what a normal guy my size would weigh, but I have
metal bones. I'm the heaviest person at the mansion, damn near three
hundred pounds. I blame the beer..." He grinned, his eyes full of
humor. "Beer's fattening you know."
"Logan! You aren't.. you are not fat! Three hundred pounds...
really? Wouldn't that mean... ohh. You'd probably sink in water."
She was leaning on her stomach, her almost touching his, and she
could feel the heat of his body touching her arm, dancing over her
skin.
He just looked so perfectly in place in the small clearing, a
small finger of the lake behind them, the clear sky overhead. She
could tell that there was nobody around. They had total privacy.
Shifting slightly, she leaned over, kissing him on the lips, her tongue
brushing his lips in an invitation. She wrapped her hands around
his arms and pulled herself closer, wanting Logan... wanting to
feel his arms around her, to be surrounded by his strength.
They didn't get back to the mansion for a long time.
When they finally made their way back, meandering across the
back yard, Logan could hear a considerable commotion near the house.
There was shouting, and he could smell confusion, Scott, Rogue,
Warren, Bobby, Hank, and.. another Betsy?
"What in the hell.... We need to find out what's going on."
Logan and Betsy ran over to the pool area, wanting to know what
was happening. They arrived to see most of the people arguing, a
great deal of confusion, and standing there in a long purple cloak was
a figure with long lavender hair... Betsy Braddock.
end part 1.
Logan looked at the woman with the lavender hair, and then at he
woman at his side. Their features were different, that much was
unmistakable. But the way they held themselves, their posture and
attitude... those were the same. Inhaling, he made another unsettling
discovery. The scents of the two women were almost identical. He
would be able to tell the purple haired Betsy from the lavender haired
Betsy by scent, but.. they both smelled like Betsy Braddock to him.
"How can both of you be Betsy Braddock?" His question slipped
out, almost vanishing into the general noise and confusion.
Apparently, everyone else wanted to know that very same thing.
The cacophony of sound continued, rising in volume, emotions running
high. He managed to gather that this woman had arrived, unnoticed.
That she had claimed to be 'the real Betsy Braddock'. That nobody was
quite certain how she'd got inside.
Finally, the shouting was silenced by the Professor's mental
demand. :SILENCE!! That is enough shouting from everyone.:
The mental shout had left everyone with a ringing inside their
heads, similar to the way that a loud noise left a person's ears
ringing, with a faint echo effect. Both Betsy's looked pale,
apparently the shout had felt more unsettling to them. If they were
both telepaths, that would explain things. Betsy in the lavender
haired version had been a telepath, and he knew that the Asian Betsy
beside him was a telepath....
How would everyone react to this? Would they want to believe
their eyes and allow the lavender haired woman who looked like the
Betsy they remembered stay? Or would they be willing to trust the
psi-scan that the Professor had already done on his Betsy? He could
see the potential for trouble already.
The professor came out in his wheelchair, rubbing his temple
slightly, as if his head also hurt. Why would his head hurt? Wait,
hadn't he said something once...
"Strong emotions make a sort of mental background noise. A lot
of intense emotions, like arguments can give a telepath a headache,
especially if they can't shield it all out." Betsy's voice was a soft
murmur from his side.
"Shouting will not answer the question of who is this woman. If
she is Betsy Braddock, as she has claimed to be, then we are left to
determine the identity of the other woman using the name Betsy
Braddock. If our new arrival is not Ms. Braddock, we are left with
the question of her actual identity. Logan, do either of these women
smell like Betsy should?" The Professor's voice was slightly weary,
and sounded as if he was attempting to stay calm during this whole
confusion.
"Nice thought, Chuck." He watched as the Professor winced
slightly at the nickname. "They both smell like Betsy should. Minor
variations, but that's only to be expected. Someone's scent can vary
a little bit very easily, depending on all sorts of things.. their
mood, what they had to eat, did they color their hair.. which both of
them have done, different brands though. No easy solution there." He
put his arm around his Betsy's waist, a silent message that she had
his support, whatever happened here.
She placed her hand on his shoulder, leaning slightly on him.
Clearly, she wasn't very calm about this new Betsy either, regardless
of how she wanted to appear. Then again, if someone showed up
claiming to be the 'real Wolverine' he'd be pretty stunned.. and
angry. Most of the people were to busy watching the other Betsy to
notice that, although he could see Rogue watching with a small smile.
The more he thought about it, the more it bothered him. One
Betsy was Asian, the other white, British if she was the 'real' Betsy.
There should be more difference in their scents. They shouldn't smell
so much alike, or stand so much the same. The behavior patterns were
a match. The scents were a match, and they shouldn't have been.
There was definitely something going on here, and he had the feeling
that the truth about the two Betsy's would have something rotten if
you dug far enough.
He suddenly remembered something else. On the trip back from
Madripor, his Betsy had mentioned a fuzzy memory of a woman with six
arms. If Spiral was involved, that almost guaranteed that there would
be something rotten. He just hoped that it wouldn't involve Mojo.
That overgrown, spineless, overbearing... well, best not to get to
worked up about Mojo until he had an idea what was going on.
Lavender haired Betsy spoke, her voice sounding calm, despite
the faint scent of fear/confusion/anger that he could smell from her.
"A simple psionic scan should verify that I am Betsy Braddock. If you
would be so kind, Professor Xavier?"
Xavier looked at her, and both he and lavender hair went very
still. After a few moments, Lavender Betsy swayed a bit, and the
Professor was frowning. "From what I saw in her mind, she is Betsy
Braddock. This is a bit of a complication, as a psi scan on our other
Betsy showed the same information. I suggest moving somewhere more
comfortable. Perhaps an in depth comparison of heir minds will clear
up the question?"
With that statement, the two Betsy's followed the Professor into
the mansion. Logan followed as well, trying to offer what support he
could to his lover. It was going to be awkward, he was certain of
that. She would want a comforting presence afterwards.
end part 2.
They ended up in the Professor's office/study. The two women
each settled into chairs in front of the Professor's desk, and their
seated posture was even the same. Their shoulders were level and
slightly back, spines erect. Their arms were slightly out, the hands
just touching at the fingertips, and each Betsy had placed her legs
out in front of her, the right foot crossed behind the left leg, toes
slightly pointed. It was actually a bit eerie.
Logan just positioned himself along the wall, slightly closer to
his Betsy, and crossed his arms, settling himself to wait. He's
watched psi scans before, there usually wasn't much for a non-telepath
to see. They would be sitting there, possibly with expressions of
concentration, or blank looks. But he still wanted to be here. His
Betsy was going through this again, someone questioning her identity,
doubting that she was who she claimed to be.
She could use a bit of emotional support. Besides, he cared for
her, far more than simply as a team mate, or as someone to casually
share the pleasures of the flesh with. He.. cared, in a nerve-
wracking sort of way that made him smile sappily at certain songs, and
pick up little things just because he knew she liked them. He might
even be falling in love with her, might have already fallen. That was
something he didn't want to think about too much. He wasn't good at
analyzing his feelings, and the idea of falling in love.. to be
honest, it terrified him. It was a factor now, frightening or not.
He cared for his Betsy, and if standing here watching them stare would
help her through it, well... he'd just.. stand here and frown at his
thoughts. He cared for her, a lot. Now, he just had to hope that
someone didn't show up and kill her, or drag her out of the
country....
He felt himself begin to fidget, wondering exactly what was
taking so long. All he had to do was look, see that his Betsy was the
real one, and break it to lavender, right? Only, it seemed to be taking
a long time. This had to be evidence of the rottenness behind things.
Someone had made trouble.
The Professor finally opened his eyes, rubbing them tiredly.
"That was... troubling. In my initial scans, both of them seemed to
be Betsy Braddock. A deeper look at this one" Here he gestured at
Logan's Betsy, the one with the dark purple hair. "I discovered
another set of memories, belonging to a woman named Kwannon. It
seemed as if our mystery were solved, except that I also found the
Kwannon memories inside the mind of our other Betsy. Both women have
complete memories of Betsy Braddock and Kwannon, and brief images of
some sort of medical facility. The memories do diverge after the
medical area, but that is more of a function of different life
experiences. I cannot determine from a psionic examination which of
them is the original Betsy Braddock, if in fact, either of them is the
original. What is apparent is that there was extensive medical and
psionic tampering done to you both in this medical facility."
Neither woman looked happy with this announcement. Logan wasn't
thrilled either, although there wasn't anything that he could do. He
didn't listen as the Professor asked them to undergo a thorough
medical examination, in hopes that that might indicate which of them
might be the original. Again, the two Betsy's were not pleased, but
agreed, their dismay and reluctance visible.
Those tests were a bit more interesting, but no more helpful.
The two women showed near identical genetic composition, and neither
one was an exact match to the previous template for Betsy Braddock.
Neither one shoed pure DNA for their apparent racial types either,
instead having DNA that seemed to be a blend of Caucasian and Asian.
As if they hadn't merely been combined in minds and memories, but as
if their very DNA had been blurred between the two of them. It
sounded to Logan as if someone had wanted to create as much confusion
as possible about the identities of these two women.
"Sounds like someone's trying to cloud the issue as much as they
can. Wanna make a bet that whoever's behind this wanted to cause us
trouble?" Logan had to offer his opinion.
The Professor looked startled and thoughtful at that suggestion.
It was as if he had been so busy contemplating the mystery of
uncovering the 'real' Betsy that he hadn't considered why. He didn't
seem pleased by the idea that someone was deliberately trying to
confuse things.
"You make a disturbingly accurate observation, Logan. I suppose
we have little choice in the matter. We shall simply have to allow
them both to stay." The Professor's observation was tinged with
exhaustion.
end part 3.
That night ended up being more awkward than people had
anticipated. Lavender Betsy had remembered the location of the room
used by Psylocke previously, and had discovered that purple haired
Betsy had redecorated, and that none of the clothing that had been
left there was still in the closets. There had been a near
argument, but Logan had dove in, saying that the old clothing had
simply been moved to storage, and he was certain that something could
be arranged for a separate room.
His Betsy had ended up spending the night in his room, something
that had turned out far less interesting that he'd imagined. She had
been trembling with an emotional overload, and he's held her in his
arms for a long time, simply comforting her that he wouldn't desert
her. That he was here for her, that she was his Betsy. He had held
her while she trembled, bitter salty tears trickling down her face and
onto his chest.
She hadn't slept well, not quite waking up, but her slumber was
clearly filled with unpleasant dreams, and she thrashed and tossed in
her sleep, occasionally whimpering as well. He could smell fear, or
anger, and once a deep despair. Every time she had another nightmare,
her movements woke Logan, and all he could do was try to hold her,
hoping that his presence might somehow offer her a tiny measure of
comfort.
Logan was left feeling tense and cranky when morning finally
came, and the best thing that he could think of was to go make his
Betsy breakfast. By the time he returned, carrying a tray laden with
food, she was awake, sitting on the edge of his bed, her hair
cascading down in a tempting manner, completely natural and enticing.
"Morning, darlin'. I brought breakfast." Logan shut the door
behind him, wanting at least a few moments alone with his lady. "I
hope you feel better, I know you didn't sleep well."
She looked at him, her eyes slightly red. "How do you know I
didn't rest well? Oh! Strawberry pancakes!"
He just chuckled, enjoying her enthusiasm for the fruity
pancakes. He couldn't stand eating them himself, but if she enjoyed
them.. well, he'd just bring her the things. After all, just because
she ate them didn't mean he had to. It was always interesting to
watch her enjoy them.
She seemed a bit calmer after breakfast, and he settled on the
bed, combing out her hair. He could feel her relaxing as he gently
removed the tangles. It was something of a secret indulgence of his,
but Logan loved the feeling of a woman's hair sliding over his
fingers. It gave him a feeling of connection, and allowed him to
enjoy her scent. Occasionally, if he thought about it, he wondered if
this enjoyment was some sort of feral grooming instinct, but he
usually just decided not to worry about the why and just enjoy
himself.
His Betsy enjoyed his attentions as well, sometimes letting him
comb through her hair for hours. Occasionally, he would place braids
in her hair, ranging from the very simple, to a French braid, or
dozens of little ones, something that normally caused her to laugh,
and finger comb them back out. Neither of them had any idea where or
when Logan had learned to braid, let alone a few of the elegant styles
that he had placed her hair into for some of their more formal
outings.
Finally, when her violet hair had been combed until of fell like
silk, Logan began to plait it into an elegant French braid. He could
that she was upset by yesterday's arrival. The questioning of her
identity hadn't helped.
"Hank said that the medical testing couldn't give a definite
answer. That both of us showed 'marked similarities' to the original.
He said that neither of us were an exact match." Her voice was soft,
and revealed some of the tension that the confusion had brought in
her.
"Who could I be if I'm not Betsy? If I am Betsy, why does she
look like I did before, when I look.. different. Why would someone do
this? What could it possibly gain anyone to put my identity in
question?" She sounded worried, and as if a dark cloud of potential
despair was hovering over her.
Logan pulled her onto his lap, his arms going around her. He
tucked her head onto his shoulder, and held her close, feeling his
body tense with a desire to find the person that had caused his Betsy
so much pain and hurt them. "I don't know what anyone would gain. I
don't know why someone would want to try to change your identity. I
only know that some people are scum, and destroy lives just because
they can. And I know that.. I .. I care for you, think I could be
falling head over heels for you. I'm not about to abandon you, no
over this, not for anything."
end part 4
Logan and his Betsy had eventually gone down to the common areas
of the mansion. There was still confusion over the matter, and quiet
speculation over how there could be two Betsy's and why, or ways to
avoid confusion. Was there a polite way to indicate that you meant
the lavender haired version instead of the violet haired version?
Both of them apparently thought of themselves as Betsy Braddock, so
that meant that using the name Betsy, or even Braddock wouldn't make a
clear distinction.
Logan was listening to a quiet debate between Scott and Warren
and Rogue over that very matter, what names to use for each of the
women. It was actually interesting, and there was considerable
confusion about what to do. There had never been two of the same
person, or something similar enough to use as an example. Concerns
were brought up about housing, where would the lavender haired Betsy
stay? Would it be wise to ask them to share a room?
Of further interest was the discovery that Lavender had ended up
staying in Bobby's room last night. Bobby seemed almost embarrassed
when that had slipped out, as if he was worried that his motives would
be questioned, or that someone would accuse him of taking advantage of
the woman. Logan didn't think either one. Bobby was basically a good
kid, well, a man now. He had a sense of decency, of basic good
behavior, which was entirely, separate from the manners and etiquette
that Warren had been taught. Bobby had probably just wanted her to
have somewhere that she would feel comfortable staying, and offered
his room.
Pity there weren't more guys like that in the world.
His contemplation of the moral decay in society, accompanied by
a vague feeling that things 'used to be better when..' made him wonder
just how old he actually was. This pondering was interrupted by the
Professor's voice in his mind, asking him to please come to the study.
There was an impression with the summons that implied that the
Professor wanted to speak to him concerning the Betsys.
He went to see what the Professor wanted, despite the whispers
of a little part of him that wanted to stay with his Betsy, to make
certain nothing happened. After all, why should she need to much
protection here, in the mansion that was 'home' and 'safety' to so
many of the X-Men? Shouldn't she be as safe if not safer here than
anywhere else in the world? Logic aside, he didn't like the idea of
leaving her be, and hoped that whatever the Professor had to say went
quickly.
:Logan. Please come in, sit down. I suspect that you will not
like what I have to say.: The Professor's mental sending echoed
slightly inside Logan's mind, the 'voice' at once lacking in pitch and
tone variations and being laden far more thickly than a verbalization
with emotions.
Logan entered the study, closing the door behind him. He
carefully lowered himself into a chair, and placed one of his cigars
at his mouth, although it remained unlit. "This is about the two
Betsys, isn't it?"
The Professor nodded, looking worried, smelling of concern and
dread, and a hint of fear/suspicion. "I found memory fragments of a
lab in the minds of both of them. They also possess matching memory
sets for both Betsy and Kwannon. There is deviation after Kwannon's
accident and Betsy's passage through the Seige. As near as I can
figure, something happened to the two women, Kwannon and Betsy after
those occurrences, and then Spiral intervened. I know far to little
about Spiral, and nothing that I know gives me any confidence as
regards her motives or ethics. I fear that there may be some sort
of.. either an implanted or inbuilt trap, or some manipulative desire
to cause confusion simply by ... It is as if the two minds were
copied over, giving them both two full working sets of memory and
personality and motivation."
"Was the genetic tampering to mess with us as well, or some sort
of side effect of the memory transfer?" Logan was not happy. The
slight hint of growl under his words made that entirely clear.
The Professor shuffled a set of papers, crisp, the ink maybe
fourteen hours old, the lab tests straight from Hank's hand to the
Professor. "Unfortunately, there is no way for us to determine that
from here... what are those two doing?" Xavier's voice trailed away,
his eyes widening in shock and worry.
Logan was out of his seat, the chair spinning, tilting as Logan
rushed out the door. It had to be the Betsy's, his lady and the
lavender one. There was no doubt in his mind. He knew that he
shouldn't have left her.
He went down, somehow certain that they would be in the danger
room, that this was trouble, dangerous and certain to lead to no good.
He pushed Cyclops out of his way, and simply dropped over the side of
the stairwell downwards, feeling the need to hurry, scenting the
women's anger/aggression in the air. He could also smell steel, and
the oil used on their swords... The harsh jarring through his feet
and legs as he landed was inconsequential.
He charged down the hall, a murky, choking dread flooding his
system, and he extended the claws, slashing through the door tot he
danger room, something inside him whispering :now danger danger the
sword, light glittering on steel, exhaustion, balanced opponent
fear/exhaustion/frustration, almost have the strike...:
"What in the Hell are you two doing!?!" Logan's voice bellowed
the question even as he flung himself between the two women, both
dressed in close fitting garments, each looking intent on killing the
other.
His Betsy, with her violet braid pulled short her strike, her
sword tip just prickling against his skin, and he could smell her
fear, her shock that she had nearly run her sword through him to
strike at the other.... "Logan...."
The other's sword thrust continued, slowed a small fraction
from the shock of seeing him there, between herself and her rival,
shock/surprise and satisfaction warring in her scent. The blade slid
neatly between his ribs, just over his heart, and the force pushed him
back, enough to cause his Betsy's sword to part his skin slightly.
That hurt. A lot... impaled on a sword.. damn.
end part 5.
Logan woke up, finding himself still in the danger room, hearing
loud arguments echoing through the room. The shouting made his ears
ring, and his chest hurt, like someone had ran something sharp... oh,
right, someone had run him through with a sword.
"...bloodthirsty assassin!" 'didn't mean to kill Logan!' 'how is
that going to make anything...' "She ran him through!" 'Why hasn't
someone called a doctor?!?' "I don't think a band-aid will help that"
'I don't think this is a sign of agreement' "Who let the two of them
in here!?!" 'Where did that sword even come from..' "Definitely
showing some differences now!"
Logan rolled slightly, wincing at the pain the motion caused.
Carefully, he pushed his torso up, and made it to a sitting position.
His Betsy came over, her face tear streaked, eyes bright with hope,
and knelt down, her arms wrapping around him.
"Logan? I was worried... She ran you through with her sword..."
His Betsy's voice was sweet in Logan's ears, even with the slight
tremor from fear/concern/hope warring within her.
"I've felt better. Let me take a stand and say I sure as hell
see a few differences now. You wouldn't run me through, she did in
hopes that it would get you , or maybe she just didn't care enough to
stop." Logan insisted on getting to his feet, far to stubborn to stay
on the ground near someone that had skewered him any longer than
absolutely necessary.
He took a few steps towards the assembled people, some of whom
had noticed that he was no longer on the floor bleeding. His eyes
were focused on the lavender haired woman. When he spoke, his words
were almost a growl. "Betsy Braddock is now and was before an X-Man.
X-Men don't skewer their teammates because they don't like the person
behind them. I don't care if Chuck says you remember being Betsy,
because you sure as hell don't act like her, not in the big things.
Pick another name, go by just a code name if you want, it works for
Rogue. If I catch you trying to call yourself Betsy again, you'll be
the one skewered."
Now that he was the center of everyone's attention, Logan had
the feeling that his words hadn't been particularly tactful, or
peaceful, but he didn't feel peaceful. His lung hurt, so did the
muscles of his chest. Being skewered made him cranky.
"Aren't you over reacting just a bit, Wolverine?" Scott's
question was not loud, but it was one that he could see echoed in the
eyes of many of the others.
"They both started their swings at the same time. If my Betsy
could stop, she could have stopped her blade as well. How about this,
anyone else gets skewered by someone claiming to be an X-Man, then
they can say I'm over-reacting. She's not Betsy." There was definite
growl. Logan glared at the assembly, and then he and his Betsy walked
out of the danger room, and out into one of the gardens.
"How did that start, Betsy?" His voice was low, and most of the
growl was gone, but it was with relief that he sat on one of the stone
benches.
"She.. she was being snippy, and I was snippy back. Somehow, the
implication? challenge? insinuation? was made that I couldn't fight,
that I was afraid of her because I knew that I wasn't the real Betsy.
Then, we were in the danger room, and fighting.. what was most
frustrating about that was that we had the same style, the same
skills, the same tactics. Every move she made, I knew how to counter,
every move I made, she countered. It was as if.. maybe the Professor
was right.. the exact same pool of knowledge for us both." Her voice
was quiet, slightly uneven from emotions.
She looked at him, her dark eyes glittering with unshed tears.
"My temper almost got you killed. Logan, I'm so sorry..."
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him. "Shhh
not all you, my butterfly. She helped. It's not all your fault, and
I'll be just fine by tomorrow, day after at the latest. You didn't
hurt me. We got each other, and I don't give up. I found you, and
I'm keeping you."
They sat in the garden for a long time, simply holding each other.
It had taken them too long and too much to find each other to let go
now.
end part 6.
Series: Eastern Butterfly Story #3 Reflection
rating: pg 13
main character: Psylocke, pairing Betsy/Logan
Disclaimer: I do not own Psylocke or any other characters from Marvel
Comics. People with more money & lawyers do.
Distribution: please ask first, Psyknife may have it if she wants it.
Betsy and Logan were dating now. The rest of the team were
having some difficulty adjusting to that idea. Logan and dating were
ideas they hadn't expected to mix, especially not with someone brought
up to style, class, and elegance. Betsy and Logan didn't seem to be
aware of that, and were having a lot of fun. They would go out for
picnics, and hiking trips, and if they occasionally returned with
leaves in their hair... nobody wanted to ask.
They had found a mutual enjoyment of nature, of the outdoors.
They would go hiking, or rock climbing... or just spent time sitting
out in the fresh air discussing various things, from sports to
politics, to food preferences, to how to choose a good weapon. It was
during one of their discussions that Betsy decided to ask Logan
something that had been on her mind since she'd first met Logan, a
small, relatively minor detail.
"Logan? Why don't you ever go swimming?"
He chuckled, a deep, comforting sound. "That has been on your
mind a while? You know I've got a metal reinforced skeleton, right?
How much do you think I weigh, Betsy?"
She had frowned, uncertain where that was going. "Of course I
know your skeleton's metal. Umm you look like you should be around a
hundred and eighty, maybe a hundred ninety pounds. What does that
have to do with swimming?"
He'd been laying on the grass, chewing absently on a blade, his
eyes peaceful. He rolled over, leaning on his elbows as he looked at
her. "That might be what a normal guy my size would weigh, but I have
metal bones. I'm the heaviest person at the mansion, damn near three
hundred pounds. I blame the beer..." He grinned, his eyes full of
humor. "Beer's fattening you know."
"Logan! You aren't.. you are not fat! Three hundred pounds...
really? Wouldn't that mean... ohh. You'd probably sink in water."
She was leaning on her stomach, her almost touching his, and she
could feel the heat of his body touching her arm, dancing over her
skin.
He just looked so perfectly in place in the small clearing, a
small finger of the lake behind them, the clear sky overhead. She
could tell that there was nobody around. They had total privacy.
Shifting slightly, she leaned over, kissing him on the lips, her tongue
brushing his lips in an invitation. She wrapped her hands around
his arms and pulled herself closer, wanting Logan... wanting to
feel his arms around her, to be surrounded by his strength.
They didn't get back to the mansion for a long time.
When they finally made their way back, meandering across the
back yard, Logan could hear a considerable commotion near the house.
There was shouting, and he could smell confusion, Scott, Rogue,
Warren, Bobby, Hank, and.. another Betsy?
"What in the hell.... We need to find out what's going on."
Logan and Betsy ran over to the pool area, wanting to know what
was happening. They arrived to see most of the people arguing, a
great deal of confusion, and standing there in a long purple cloak was
a figure with long lavender hair... Betsy Braddock.
end part 1.
Logan looked at the woman with the lavender hair, and then at he
woman at his side. Their features were different, that much was
unmistakable. But the way they held themselves, their posture and
attitude... those were the same. Inhaling, he made another unsettling
discovery. The scents of the two women were almost identical. He
would be able to tell the purple haired Betsy from the lavender haired
Betsy by scent, but.. they both smelled like Betsy Braddock to him.
"How can both of you be Betsy Braddock?" His question slipped
out, almost vanishing into the general noise and confusion.
Apparently, everyone else wanted to know that very same thing.
The cacophony of sound continued, rising in volume, emotions running
high. He managed to gather that this woman had arrived, unnoticed.
That she had claimed to be 'the real Betsy Braddock'. That nobody was
quite certain how she'd got inside.
Finally, the shouting was silenced by the Professor's mental
demand. :SILENCE!! That is enough shouting from everyone.:
The mental shout had left everyone with a ringing inside their
heads, similar to the way that a loud noise left a person's ears
ringing, with a faint echo effect. Both Betsy's looked pale,
apparently the shout had felt more unsettling to them. If they were
both telepaths, that would explain things. Betsy in the lavender
haired version had been a telepath, and he knew that the Asian Betsy
beside him was a telepath....
How would everyone react to this? Would they want to believe
their eyes and allow the lavender haired woman who looked like the
Betsy they remembered stay? Or would they be willing to trust the
psi-scan that the Professor had already done on his Betsy? He could
see the potential for trouble already.
The professor came out in his wheelchair, rubbing his temple
slightly, as if his head also hurt. Why would his head hurt? Wait,
hadn't he said something once...
"Strong emotions make a sort of mental background noise. A lot
of intense emotions, like arguments can give a telepath a headache,
especially if they can't shield it all out." Betsy's voice was a soft
murmur from his side.
"Shouting will not answer the question of who is this woman. If
she is Betsy Braddock, as she has claimed to be, then we are left to
determine the identity of the other woman using the name Betsy
Braddock. If our new arrival is not Ms. Braddock, we are left with
the question of her actual identity. Logan, do either of these women
smell like Betsy should?" The Professor's voice was slightly weary,
and sounded as if he was attempting to stay calm during this whole
confusion.
"Nice thought, Chuck." He watched as the Professor winced
slightly at the nickname. "They both smell like Betsy should. Minor
variations, but that's only to be expected. Someone's scent can vary
a little bit very easily, depending on all sorts of things.. their
mood, what they had to eat, did they color their hair.. which both of
them have done, different brands though. No easy solution there." He
put his arm around his Betsy's waist, a silent message that she had
his support, whatever happened here.
She placed her hand on his shoulder, leaning slightly on him.
Clearly, she wasn't very calm about this new Betsy either, regardless
of how she wanted to appear. Then again, if someone showed up
claiming to be the 'real Wolverine' he'd be pretty stunned.. and
angry. Most of the people were to busy watching the other Betsy to
notice that, although he could see Rogue watching with a small smile.
The more he thought about it, the more it bothered him. One
Betsy was Asian, the other white, British if she was the 'real' Betsy.
There should be more difference in their scents. They shouldn't smell
so much alike, or stand so much the same. The behavior patterns were
a match. The scents were a match, and they shouldn't have been.
There was definitely something going on here, and he had the feeling
that the truth about the two Betsy's would have something rotten if
you dug far enough.
He suddenly remembered something else. On the trip back from
Madripor, his Betsy had mentioned a fuzzy memory of a woman with six
arms. If Spiral was involved, that almost guaranteed that there would
be something rotten. He just hoped that it wouldn't involve Mojo.
That overgrown, spineless, overbearing... well, best not to get to
worked up about Mojo until he had an idea what was going on.
Lavender haired Betsy spoke, her voice sounding calm, despite
the faint scent of fear/confusion/anger that he could smell from her.
"A simple psionic scan should verify that I am Betsy Braddock. If you
would be so kind, Professor Xavier?"
Xavier looked at her, and both he and lavender hair went very
still. After a few moments, Lavender Betsy swayed a bit, and the
Professor was frowning. "From what I saw in her mind, she is Betsy
Braddock. This is a bit of a complication, as a psi scan on our other
Betsy showed the same information. I suggest moving somewhere more
comfortable. Perhaps an in depth comparison of heir minds will clear
up the question?"
With that statement, the two Betsy's followed the Professor into
the mansion. Logan followed as well, trying to offer what support he
could to his lover. It was going to be awkward, he was certain of
that. She would want a comforting presence afterwards.
end part 2.
They ended up in the Professor's office/study. The two women
each settled into chairs in front of the Professor's desk, and their
seated posture was even the same. Their shoulders were level and
slightly back, spines erect. Their arms were slightly out, the hands
just touching at the fingertips, and each Betsy had placed her legs
out in front of her, the right foot crossed behind the left leg, toes
slightly pointed. It was actually a bit eerie.
Logan just positioned himself along the wall, slightly closer to
his Betsy, and crossed his arms, settling himself to wait. He's
watched psi scans before, there usually wasn't much for a non-telepath
to see. They would be sitting there, possibly with expressions of
concentration, or blank looks. But he still wanted to be here. His
Betsy was going through this again, someone questioning her identity,
doubting that she was who she claimed to be.
She could use a bit of emotional support. Besides, he cared for
her, far more than simply as a team mate, or as someone to casually
share the pleasures of the flesh with. He.. cared, in a nerve-
wracking sort of way that made him smile sappily at certain songs, and
pick up little things just because he knew she liked them. He might
even be falling in love with her, might have already fallen. That was
something he didn't want to think about too much. He wasn't good at
analyzing his feelings, and the idea of falling in love.. to be
honest, it terrified him. It was a factor now, frightening or not.
He cared for his Betsy, and if standing here watching them stare would
help her through it, well... he'd just.. stand here and frown at his
thoughts. He cared for her, a lot. Now, he just had to hope that
someone didn't show up and kill her, or drag her out of the
country....
He felt himself begin to fidget, wondering exactly what was
taking so long. All he had to do was look, see that his Betsy was the
real one, and break it to lavender, right? Only, it seemed to be taking
a long time. This had to be evidence of the rottenness behind things.
Someone had made trouble.
The Professor finally opened his eyes, rubbing them tiredly.
"That was... troubling. In my initial scans, both of them seemed to
be Betsy Braddock. A deeper look at this one" Here he gestured at
Logan's Betsy, the one with the dark purple hair. "I discovered
another set of memories, belonging to a woman named Kwannon. It
seemed as if our mystery were solved, except that I also found the
Kwannon memories inside the mind of our other Betsy. Both women have
complete memories of Betsy Braddock and Kwannon, and brief images of
some sort of medical facility. The memories do diverge after the
medical area, but that is more of a function of different life
experiences. I cannot determine from a psionic examination which of
them is the original Betsy Braddock, if in fact, either of them is the
original. What is apparent is that there was extensive medical and
psionic tampering done to you both in this medical facility."
Neither woman looked happy with this announcement. Logan wasn't
thrilled either, although there wasn't anything that he could do. He
didn't listen as the Professor asked them to undergo a thorough
medical examination, in hopes that that might indicate which of them
might be the original. Again, the two Betsy's were not pleased, but
agreed, their dismay and reluctance visible.
Those tests were a bit more interesting, but no more helpful.
The two women showed near identical genetic composition, and neither
one was an exact match to the previous template for Betsy Braddock.
Neither one shoed pure DNA for their apparent racial types either,
instead having DNA that seemed to be a blend of Caucasian and Asian.
As if they hadn't merely been combined in minds and memories, but as
if their very DNA had been blurred between the two of them. It
sounded to Logan as if someone had wanted to create as much confusion
as possible about the identities of these two women.
"Sounds like someone's trying to cloud the issue as much as they
can. Wanna make a bet that whoever's behind this wanted to cause us
trouble?" Logan had to offer his opinion.
The Professor looked startled and thoughtful at that suggestion.
It was as if he had been so busy contemplating the mystery of
uncovering the 'real' Betsy that he hadn't considered why. He didn't
seem pleased by the idea that someone was deliberately trying to
confuse things.
"You make a disturbingly accurate observation, Logan. I suppose
we have little choice in the matter. We shall simply have to allow
them both to stay." The Professor's observation was tinged with
exhaustion.
end part 3.
That night ended up being more awkward than people had
anticipated. Lavender Betsy had remembered the location of the room
used by Psylocke previously, and had discovered that purple haired
Betsy had redecorated, and that none of the clothing that had been
left there was still in the closets. There had been a near
argument, but Logan had dove in, saying that the old clothing had
simply been moved to storage, and he was certain that something could
be arranged for a separate room.
His Betsy had ended up spending the night in his room, something
that had turned out far less interesting that he'd imagined. She had
been trembling with an emotional overload, and he's held her in his
arms for a long time, simply comforting her that he wouldn't desert
her. That he was here for her, that she was his Betsy. He had held
her while she trembled, bitter salty tears trickling down her face and
onto his chest.
She hadn't slept well, not quite waking up, but her slumber was
clearly filled with unpleasant dreams, and she thrashed and tossed in
her sleep, occasionally whimpering as well. He could smell fear, or
anger, and once a deep despair. Every time she had another nightmare,
her movements woke Logan, and all he could do was try to hold her,
hoping that his presence might somehow offer her a tiny measure of
comfort.
Logan was left feeling tense and cranky when morning finally
came, and the best thing that he could think of was to go make his
Betsy breakfast. By the time he returned, carrying a tray laden with
food, she was awake, sitting on the edge of his bed, her hair
cascading down in a tempting manner, completely natural and enticing.
"Morning, darlin'. I brought breakfast." Logan shut the door
behind him, wanting at least a few moments alone with his lady. "I
hope you feel better, I know you didn't sleep well."
She looked at him, her eyes slightly red. "How do you know I
didn't rest well? Oh! Strawberry pancakes!"
He just chuckled, enjoying her enthusiasm for the fruity
pancakes. He couldn't stand eating them himself, but if she enjoyed
them.. well, he'd just bring her the things. After all, just because
she ate them didn't mean he had to. It was always interesting to
watch her enjoy them.
She seemed a bit calmer after breakfast, and he settled on the
bed, combing out her hair. He could feel her relaxing as he gently
removed the tangles. It was something of a secret indulgence of his,
but Logan loved the feeling of a woman's hair sliding over his
fingers. It gave him a feeling of connection, and allowed him to
enjoy her scent. Occasionally, if he thought about it, he wondered if
this enjoyment was some sort of feral grooming instinct, but he
usually just decided not to worry about the why and just enjoy
himself.
His Betsy enjoyed his attentions as well, sometimes letting him
comb through her hair for hours. Occasionally, he would place braids
in her hair, ranging from the very simple, to a French braid, or
dozens of little ones, something that normally caused her to laugh,
and finger comb them back out. Neither of them had any idea where or
when Logan had learned to braid, let alone a few of the elegant styles
that he had placed her hair into for some of their more formal
outings.
Finally, when her violet hair had been combed until of fell like
silk, Logan began to plait it into an elegant French braid. He could
that she was upset by yesterday's arrival. The questioning of her
identity hadn't helped.
"Hank said that the medical testing couldn't give a definite
answer. That both of us showed 'marked similarities' to the original.
He said that neither of us were an exact match." Her voice was soft,
and revealed some of the tension that the confusion had brought in
her.
"Who could I be if I'm not Betsy? If I am Betsy, why does she
look like I did before, when I look.. different. Why would someone do
this? What could it possibly gain anyone to put my identity in
question?" She sounded worried, and as if a dark cloud of potential
despair was hovering over her.
Logan pulled her onto his lap, his arms going around her. He
tucked her head onto his shoulder, and held her close, feeling his
body tense with a desire to find the person that had caused his Betsy
so much pain and hurt them. "I don't know what anyone would gain. I
don't know why someone would want to try to change your identity. I
only know that some people are scum, and destroy lives just because
they can. And I know that.. I .. I care for you, think I could be
falling head over heels for you. I'm not about to abandon you, no
over this, not for anything."
end part 4
Logan and his Betsy had eventually gone down to the common areas
of the mansion. There was still confusion over the matter, and quiet
speculation over how there could be two Betsy's and why, or ways to
avoid confusion. Was there a polite way to indicate that you meant
the lavender haired version instead of the violet haired version?
Both of them apparently thought of themselves as Betsy Braddock, so
that meant that using the name Betsy, or even Braddock wouldn't make a
clear distinction.
Logan was listening to a quiet debate between Scott and Warren
and Rogue over that very matter, what names to use for each of the
women. It was actually interesting, and there was considerable
confusion about what to do. There had never been two of the same
person, or something similar enough to use as an example. Concerns
were brought up about housing, where would the lavender haired Betsy
stay? Would it be wise to ask them to share a room?
Of further interest was the discovery that Lavender had ended up
staying in Bobby's room last night. Bobby seemed almost embarrassed
when that had slipped out, as if he was worried that his motives would
be questioned, or that someone would accuse him of taking advantage of
the woman. Logan didn't think either one. Bobby was basically a good
kid, well, a man now. He had a sense of decency, of basic good
behavior, which was entirely, separate from the manners and etiquette
that Warren had been taught. Bobby had probably just wanted her to
have somewhere that she would feel comfortable staying, and offered
his room.
Pity there weren't more guys like that in the world.
His contemplation of the moral decay in society, accompanied by
a vague feeling that things 'used to be better when..' made him wonder
just how old he actually was. This pondering was interrupted by the
Professor's voice in his mind, asking him to please come to the study.
There was an impression with the summons that implied that the
Professor wanted to speak to him concerning the Betsys.
He went to see what the Professor wanted, despite the whispers
of a little part of him that wanted to stay with his Betsy, to make
certain nothing happened. After all, why should she need to much
protection here, in the mansion that was 'home' and 'safety' to so
many of the X-Men? Shouldn't she be as safe if not safer here than
anywhere else in the world? Logic aside, he didn't like the idea of
leaving her be, and hoped that whatever the Professor had to say went
quickly.
:Logan. Please come in, sit down. I suspect that you will not
like what I have to say.: The Professor's mental sending echoed
slightly inside Logan's mind, the 'voice' at once lacking in pitch and
tone variations and being laden far more thickly than a verbalization
with emotions.
Logan entered the study, closing the door behind him. He
carefully lowered himself into a chair, and placed one of his cigars
at his mouth, although it remained unlit. "This is about the two
Betsys, isn't it?"
The Professor nodded, looking worried, smelling of concern and
dread, and a hint of fear/suspicion. "I found memory fragments of a
lab in the minds of both of them. They also possess matching memory
sets for both Betsy and Kwannon. There is deviation after Kwannon's
accident and Betsy's passage through the Seige. As near as I can
figure, something happened to the two women, Kwannon and Betsy after
those occurrences, and then Spiral intervened. I know far to little
about Spiral, and nothing that I know gives me any confidence as
regards her motives or ethics. I fear that there may be some sort
of.. either an implanted or inbuilt trap, or some manipulative desire
to cause confusion simply by ... It is as if the two minds were
copied over, giving them both two full working sets of memory and
personality and motivation."
"Was the genetic tampering to mess with us as well, or some sort
of side effect of the memory transfer?" Logan was not happy. The
slight hint of growl under his words made that entirely clear.
The Professor shuffled a set of papers, crisp, the ink maybe
fourteen hours old, the lab tests straight from Hank's hand to the
Professor. "Unfortunately, there is no way for us to determine that
from here... what are those two doing?" Xavier's voice trailed away,
his eyes widening in shock and worry.
Logan was out of his seat, the chair spinning, tilting as Logan
rushed out the door. It had to be the Betsy's, his lady and the
lavender one. There was no doubt in his mind. He knew that he
shouldn't have left her.
He went down, somehow certain that they would be in the danger
room, that this was trouble, dangerous and certain to lead to no good.
He pushed Cyclops out of his way, and simply dropped over the side of
the stairwell downwards, feeling the need to hurry, scenting the
women's anger/aggression in the air. He could also smell steel, and
the oil used on their swords... The harsh jarring through his feet
and legs as he landed was inconsequential.
He charged down the hall, a murky, choking dread flooding his
system, and he extended the claws, slashing through the door tot he
danger room, something inside him whispering :now danger danger the
sword, light glittering on steel, exhaustion, balanced opponent
fear/exhaustion/frustration, almost have the strike...:
"What in the Hell are you two doing!?!" Logan's voice bellowed
the question even as he flung himself between the two women, both
dressed in close fitting garments, each looking intent on killing the
other.
His Betsy, with her violet braid pulled short her strike, her
sword tip just prickling against his skin, and he could smell her
fear, her shock that she had nearly run her sword through him to
strike at the other.... "Logan...."
The other's sword thrust continued, slowed a small fraction
from the shock of seeing him there, between herself and her rival,
shock/surprise and satisfaction warring in her scent. The blade slid
neatly between his ribs, just over his heart, and the force pushed him
back, enough to cause his Betsy's sword to part his skin slightly.
That hurt. A lot... impaled on a sword.. damn.
end part 5.
Logan woke up, finding himself still in the danger room, hearing
loud arguments echoing through the room. The shouting made his ears
ring, and his chest hurt, like someone had ran something sharp... oh,
right, someone had run him through with a sword.
"...bloodthirsty assassin!" 'didn't mean to kill Logan!' 'how is
that going to make anything...' "She ran him through!" 'Why hasn't
someone called a doctor?!?' "I don't think a band-aid will help that"
'I don't think this is a sign of agreement' "Who let the two of them
in here!?!" 'Where did that sword even come from..' "Definitely
showing some differences now!"
Logan rolled slightly, wincing at the pain the motion caused.
Carefully, he pushed his torso up, and made it to a sitting position.
His Betsy came over, her face tear streaked, eyes bright with hope,
and knelt down, her arms wrapping around him.
"Logan? I was worried... She ran you through with her sword..."
His Betsy's voice was sweet in Logan's ears, even with the slight
tremor from fear/concern/hope warring within her.
"I've felt better. Let me take a stand and say I sure as hell
see a few differences now. You wouldn't run me through, she did in
hopes that it would get you , or maybe she just didn't care enough to
stop." Logan insisted on getting to his feet, far to stubborn to stay
on the ground near someone that had skewered him any longer than
absolutely necessary.
He took a few steps towards the assembled people, some of whom
had noticed that he was no longer on the floor bleeding. His eyes
were focused on the lavender haired woman. When he spoke, his words
were almost a growl. "Betsy Braddock is now and was before an X-Man.
X-Men don't skewer their teammates because they don't like the person
behind them. I don't care if Chuck says you remember being Betsy,
because you sure as hell don't act like her, not in the big things.
Pick another name, go by just a code name if you want, it works for
Rogue. If I catch you trying to call yourself Betsy again, you'll be
the one skewered."
Now that he was the center of everyone's attention, Logan had
the feeling that his words hadn't been particularly tactful, or
peaceful, but he didn't feel peaceful. His lung hurt, so did the
muscles of his chest. Being skewered made him cranky.
"Aren't you over reacting just a bit, Wolverine?" Scott's
question was not loud, but it was one that he could see echoed in the
eyes of many of the others.
"They both started their swings at the same time. If my Betsy
could stop, she could have stopped her blade as well. How about this,
anyone else gets skewered by someone claiming to be an X-Man, then
they can say I'm over-reacting. She's not Betsy." There was definite
growl. Logan glared at the assembly, and then he and his Betsy walked
out of the danger room, and out into one of the gardens.
"How did that start, Betsy?" His voice was low, and most of the
growl was gone, but it was with relief that he sat on one of the stone
benches.
"She.. she was being snippy, and I was snippy back. Somehow, the
implication? challenge? insinuation? was made that I couldn't fight,
that I was afraid of her because I knew that I wasn't the real Betsy.
Then, we were in the danger room, and fighting.. what was most
frustrating about that was that we had the same style, the same
skills, the same tactics. Every move she made, I knew how to counter,
every move I made, she countered. It was as if.. maybe the Professor
was right.. the exact same pool of knowledge for us both." Her voice
was quiet, slightly uneven from emotions.
She looked at him, her dark eyes glittering with unshed tears.
"My temper almost got you killed. Logan, I'm so sorry..."
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him. "Shhh
not all you, my butterfly. She helped. It's not all your fault, and
I'll be just fine by tomorrow, day after at the latest. You didn't
hurt me. We got each other, and I don't give up. I found you, and
I'm keeping you."
They sat in the garden for a long time, simply holding each other.
It had taken them too long and too much to find each other to let go
now.
end part 6.
