Fanged Butterfly, Vol. 1: Chapter 1 by Phil Hartman DISCLAIMER: They're all Marvel's. No money is being made off of this. Etc. NOTE: AU; A slight rewrite of an old series of Betsy stories ... no new material, but a few things are tweaked here and there. An all-new Vol. 2 is in the works, also :) Luba, this is a rewrite of the Betsy arc I had last year, so if you don't archive this, it's totally understandable ... NOTE 2: Some language, etc. ------------------------------------------- "It wouldn't do to blot my copybook on the first day of forever. One last thing, tell Neal -!" "Psylocke, behind you !" Betsy Braddock felt the astral hand - gentle, tentative, but hiding surprising strength - pull her through Gateway's portal. Compared to the shock she'd felt upon dying, it was positively pleasant. #And so, I come face to face with the Eternal,# Betsy thought, starting to turn around to see - - well, the Outback. Again. And a very blushing teenaged boy, wearing cutoffs and sandals, who pulled his hand away from her before he gulped. "Ohmygod. Oh, no ..." the teen stammered, watching as Betsy shielded her eyes against the sudden, harsh sunlight of the astral Outback. "Well, this is definitely not what I expected. No pearly gates, no halos, and that silly little village of the Reavers - and you're not quite as developed an angel as I'd thought," Betsy quipped as she looked at the boy. The teen managed to blush even more deeply, then pushed a shock of blond bangs out of his blue eyes as Gateway's astral form appeared. The Aborigine smiled, nodding politely at Betsy, before he sat on a rock, and the teleportal Betsy had been pulled through closed. "Ms. Braddock, I'm *so* sorry - I was studying with Gateway, working on honing my dream powers - I didn't foresee your death, or pulling your astral form here," the teen blurted, trying not to look directly at her. Betsy cocked her head, then raised one amethyst eyebrow and asked, "Franklin? Is that YOU? You've gotten ... older - but it has been a while since Latveria, hasn't it?" "Er - yeah. I wonder if maybe the psychic link I had with you and Kitty back then had something to do with this. But I swear, I didn't mean to - well, keep you from going into the light, I guess," Franklin Richards insisted. Betsy laughed a bit at that, then crossed her arms and regarded her "rescuer." He had to be about 13 or 14, with a physique he must've honed with exercise of some kind, and his astral form was as tanned as she'd remembered her own body had become under the Australian sun, years earlier. #Of course, that wasn't quite the same body as *this* one, thank you very bloody much, Matsu'o,# Betsy thought. She shook her hair out of her purple eyes, then looked around before giving Frank a wry smile - he looked so much like Doug Ramsey that it was a little scary. "Good thing Rachel isn't here, or that cow Frost. I'd be having to deal with accusations of an addiction to younger blonds," Betsy tried to joke. Frank blushed again, but this time, also cleared his throat. "We've got to figure out what to do about your presence here. You should be free to move on," he insisted, trying to return his color to normal. "Well, I'm hardly complaining. I would like to have flesh and blood, and since there aren't any angry archangels with flaming swords, I suppose anything you could do to reincarnate me would be a nice bonus," Betsy said, walking with Frank toward the shadow projected by a nearby outcropping. They sat beneath the rock - and the surprisingly cool nature of the shade made Betsy raise an eyebrow as she sat cross-legged beside Frank. "I wonder if this is a metaphysical issue, or if Dreamtime really is a reflection of the physical realm," she pondered, accepting a bottle of water from the teen as he dug in a duffle bag that he'd found - or made, Betsy wondered? "I am manipulating the local environment a little, but Dreamtime has its own rules - I don't know why it's sunny here and night in the material world. I followed Gateway into Dreamtime when we both felt some kind of psionic shockwave, but he told me to stay here and wait for a sign. Then, I saw your glove coming through the portal, and I thought it was someone in trouble," Frank said between sips of water. "Truer words ..." Betsy said, trailing off as she telekinetically opened her bottle and took a deep swig. "Not that I want to be rude, but if you're ready ..." "I'll probably have to materialize you near my physical form, in the Outback," Frank warned as he closed his eyes and started to concentrate. Betsy just nodded; Gateway could send her to wherever she needed to go, anyway, or maybe she'd take a mini-vacation in the Outback. #Lord knows I deserve it. It's not every day one dies and gets resurrected, after all,# she thought, before her consciousness started to - - well, spiral, like water down a drain, she thought, as the Outback heat and the shadow of the rock gave way to - ------------------------------------- She coughed, sensation crossing her skin, as she took in the cool night air of the Outback. "Ms. Braddock - oh God, what've I done NOW!?" Frank's tenor groan, undercut by the almost-stereotypical vocal break of a teenage boy, cut through the haze in Betsy's head. "Well, I'm not an anteater or male, so I can hardly complain," Betsy said, freezing as she took stock of herself. And the fact that her sleeves were gauzelike purple silk, billowing down from the light purple spandex costume she was wearing. And her hands were awfully ... pale. "I didn't focus enough - the body I made for you was based off of my memories of you from 10 years ago, when you held Kitty's mind together after the Morlock Massacre!" Frank exclaimed as Betsy looked up at him. She sat up, then accepted a hand mirror which Frank materialized, and absently patted the fretting teen's hand as he knelt beside her. "Fascinating ... I honestly never thought I'd see this body ever again," Betsy said, starting to smile as she sat up. She gazed down at her original - British - body and costume, then telepathically added, ~Everything old is new again, hmm?~