kiragecko's X-Men
Shards
by kiragecko

No jokes this intro. Here's a few pieces of a character's psyche.

The hall was empty except for the image in the mirror. She watched it silently, the minute shifting as muscles stretched and relaxed, the smooth, blank face, the eyes…

She wasn't sure about the eyes. Not that it was important. She had come here for a reason - she wanted to see herself. She wanted to remind herself of what to come back to.

The eyes didn't close but they stopped seeing. They searched for a butterfly with pink wings.

There were only shards. Shards of broken rose glass spreading before her. She reached down to touch one and gasped as it slit her skin. She was bleeding. She tried again, a new gash. They were too sharp to touch, cutting into her without hesitation. The remains of who she had been.

She would not lose this fight, she did not lose fights. She stared at the splinters, weighing options. She was a telepath, a telekinetic, a warrior, a woman. A telekinetic, that was the one. She looked at the pieces and willed the largest one to rise.

Betsy had grown up in the English countryside, in a house bearing the family name. So many pieces, where to start? She climbed trees when she was young, higher then her brother and faster, as well. She fell when she was six, broke her arm. That one. It will do. Brian ran to get help. When the cast was off she climbed the same tree, even higher, knowing she had to beat it. He cried out from its base, screamed when the branch she was on broke. Tiny shards, but those ones will do, they're the right shape. Another break, another wait, the tree filling her mind. She…. What happened then, where is the piece?

A new thought then.

When she was nine she climbed a cliff near her boarding school. She fell and hurt her ankle, knew she would get in trouble if they found out. Managed to walk without a limp for three days, until the weekend. Brian told on her and the doctor said it was badly sprained. He made her use crutches. The piece is large, four years of the school and its restrictive unif...

"Betsy?"

uniform. It is difficult to lift into pla...

"Betsy, what are you doing?"

It didn't break. Lift it again.

"Please talk to me. Why are you staring at the mirror?"

Try again...

"Betsy!"

The young woman turned on silent feet, facing the one who had interrupted her.

"Yes, Ororo? Do you have a reason for speaking to me?"

The other faltered for a moment and before she could collect her thoughts she was alone.

"Please have a reason next time."

Betsy first felt the brush of his mind when she was thirteen. He tried to pass by but she caught him, demanded to know why he invaded her space. Introductions followed. A little piece, not important. He tried to bypass her again when forming his team but she did not lose fights. She would be friend or enemy, nothing in between. She had fifteen years of stubborn pride behind her. A center piece. It has been broken in half but will stay together when this is whole. Her parents were no problem, but Brian… She said goodbye, did not cry, watched the light in his eyes die. A bit of poetry, she thought. It slides in here…

Bleeding again. Got too close.

"Betsy, look at me. Do you even see me?"

"Why do you ask, Scott?"

"…"

"Goodbye, Scott."

"No!"

He mumbles, "I'm no good at talking."

He had turned beat red when she kissed him at their first meeting. It looks like it would fit easily into a person's palm. She swept past him, demanded a tour. Alex glared at her, tried to say no. It wasn't his choice. The tour, the first sight of the mansion, it fits into the center as well.

"Look, we're worried about you. You're so distant."

She had flirted with him constantly, a prize to be won. She had flirted with all the males, excepting Bobby, who was only thirteen, and the Professor, who was too old. All unimportant, something else. New dresses were bought, smaller, sexier, but he never noticed. Only when she touched him, brushed against him, whispered to him. Alex tried to be between them at all times, his first impressions crystallizing quickly into hate. She simply smiled and blew kisses to him as well. An important piece is close, but where? Ororo had been annoyed by her actions. Dressed in a strange mixture of flowing fabric and black leather, the Kenyan New Yorker had almost settled on hate as well. Trips to the mall were disastrous. At least until they took Kitty. I can not lift this piece, there is too much rubble. Relationships. Clothing. Girly stuff. Is this important? Kitty was so impossible they forgot their differences to instruct her.

"We need to talk, Betsy. What's happened to you?"

Leave the relationships for now. Perhaps it is not important that such things are remembered and understood.

She had designed her costume with a harem influence - baggy sleeves and legs gathered at wrists and feet, slender, bare stomach framed by bands at her waist and below her chest. The team colours were red, black, and gold and so her costume had been as red as blood. So many shards at the thought of blood. A kaleidoscope of colour and shape. It had been sensual without showing a lot of skin. Now her costume was black. A tight bodysuit that covered her to her neck, sleeveless and rising sharply to show a lot of leg. Tall boots and opera gloves were also black. The only colour was the badge. That's important, the badge. Slide it into place, alongside the blood from when Kurt hurt himself and Alex's gaze when she first modelled the new costume. Now, more blood.

On her final mission they had fought Magneto's pawns. Sabertooth and Wolverine had squared off and she had gone after Toad. She hadn't heard Sabertooth break away, didn't notice his leap. The claws had passed through her without pain, only a sound. Stop. There had been blood. Her costume wasn't the colour of blood, for it had changed as liquid soaked it, gotten darker. Stop. Wolverine had come, attacking Sabertooth, who rolled off of her. She had been picked up by tiny hands, a pale face looking down at her. Stop. That was Majik. She was the enemy. The enemy had handed her to Spiral and she had tried to get away but they weren't fighting anymore. There wasn't anywhere to fight. Pick up the pieces. The rubble. Put it together. Make a whole. Majik had told Spiral to save her life. She hadn't said how. She hadn't said 'be kind'. Spiral didn't know what kindness was. Spiral saved her life. The broken body was cast aside, a new one was found. The mind was taken from its home and placed in its new one. The mind requires a gentle touch. It shattered. So much dust. So many pieces that will never be.

There had been tears. Why? They had stared at her. There is no need to pick up these pieces, leave them.

Why?

Kitty had cried when she got her present. Leave it.

Why?

Brian had cried when she left. Leave it.

No.

Brian had cried as she left and she had laughed at him so she wouldn't cry as well. Why? She hadn't called him after she left, not wanting the feelings his voice would bring. What feelings? Had sent him letters instead. Pieces. Smaller now. The major pieces are in place.

She had laughed with Ororo when Kitty asked them why cargo pants weren't acceptable for a date. Why? She had laughed with Kitty when the chain on 'Ro's belt got caught on a tree and she'd been tethered there like a kite. Why? She had run after Bobby, laughing, when he filled her bed with ice cubes and called it a water bed. Why? She had laughed until she cried - Why?

Leave them.

No. I want to know why.

Brian had always been there for her and she had been jealous, watching Alex and Scott. Why? Logan and Jubilee reminded her of her father and that made her sad. Why? Scott made her angry when he bossed her around. WHY? She felt such joy as she leapt through the air, sword raised in attack. Pieces, so many pieces, where do they go? Why do I want to leave them? Why do I want to hide?

She - There. There. Over there. Pick these up. And those go there. And make sure the dust doesn't get lost, it will fit somewhere as well.

Elizabeth Braddock dropped to her knees, tears spilling down her face. She leaned against the mirror, needing its support. She cried the months of silent pain into her hands. She cried the broken soul that would never entirely heal. She cried for the self she had lost.

Then she dried her eyes and went to the phone. She needed to talk to her brother.