Fanged Butterfly, Vol. 1: 

 Chapter 2

by Phil Hartman

DISCLAIMER: They're all Marvel's. 
No money is being made off of this. Etc.

NOTE: AU; some language, etc.

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The Earl Grey was empty again. 

#No one to blame but my bloody self,#
Lord Brian Braddock thought sardonically
as he threw out the empty box of teabags
and dug in the cupboards of Braddock
Manor's pantry. 

He'd taken to drinking the tea as a way
to dull the hurt - alcohol was right out,
of course, and while Meggan was a dear,
Brian really didn't feel like being clingy.
He wanted to support his wife as much
as he needed help handling - 

"No tea again, Braddock?"

"Wisdom," Brian muttered, not looking
the former Black Air agent in the eyes.
It was something of an irony that, for
once, the two often-diametrically
opposed men shared the need to
support their partners during a 
time of grief.

#And he is good for Kitty,# Brian
reminded himself, despite his
inherent desire to deck Pete for
the sheer ... effontry of the
Cockney man's existence as
Wisdom reached for the top
shelf of another cupboard. 

Brian tried not to think too closely 
on how elitist he sounded to himself; 
Wisdom *was* a valuable asset, and 
he was really rather loyal, despite all 
of his duplicity, arrogance and foul 
mouth. The Lord of House Braddock 
should be above petty class contempt ...

... especially now, when
Brian was the last one left,
barring Meggan suddenly
becoming pregnant.

~Well, isn't THAT somber.~

#Huh? Could've sworn I `heard' -
no, impossible,# Brian thought, 
even as he wished he wasn't having 
grief-induced auditory hallucinations.

Besides, Betsy'd been a telekinetic
when she'd died.

--------------------------------

"Here, let me reach that," Brian
offered, and Pete let His Lordship
do the reaching - bloody tall Saxon
descendant should do the reaching,
after all, given that it was *his*
pantry he'd failed to keep full.

#Behave, Wisdom. Braddock's
just lost his sister, and he *is*
halfway decent ... for a Laird,#
Pete thought. He grunted a thanks
to his host as Brian handed him
another box of teabags, and they
headed back toward the kitchen.

"Care to split a pot? I'll use my 
powers to heat the thing
so it don't take so long," Pete
suggested - sounding strange
to himself for the sheer 
generosity of the gesture.

Pryde really WAS rubbing off on
him.

Brian managed a faint smile as Pete put
two bags in the teapot on the stove.
"Thanks. I ... I'll buy some more 
after we ... after the wake," he said,
trying rather obviously not to struggle 
with the words and failing.

Pete nodded, his expression becoming 
more gentle as the fingertips of his 
right hand glowed with something less 
than "the heart of the sun," as the
media tended to play up his hotknives.
He held his hand at a safe distance from
the pot, and nodded at the young woman
in the robe who walked down out of
the ceiling.

"Good. Tea. I - YAWN - need a stimulant.
It's not herbal, is it?" Kitty Pryde
asked after she gave Pete a peck on the
cheek and patted Brian's arm. 

"Earl Grey - how late were you up? I
didn't want you to exhaust yourself;
you've been through enough lately,"
Brian asked, watching Kitty sit at
the table and be attended to by a 
worried-looking Lockheed, who'd
ridden her shoulder down from
her bedroom.

Kitty just smiled and yawned,
then rubbed at her bloodshot eyes.
"I'm not the one who just lost
a soul-twin, Brian. And I was only
up until 2 a.m.; I set myself a limit,"
she reassured him, as the teapot
started to whistle.

"Thanks, Kitty. But ... I'm not alone. 
And I don't want you to exhaust yourself
writing the eulogy for - her," Brian 
asked, his throat tightening as he tried
to say Betsy's name.

He twitched as the teapot started to
whistle, and Pete shivered. 

The sight of Captain Bloody Britain
lost in grief - looking like he was
gazing into the front door of Hell ...

... well, even a Wisdom could be
scared.

Only one answer to that -

-----------------------------

"Listen to the big man, Pryde.
I don't want you bloody falling asleep
up there on the podium when you're
supposed to be memorializing the Lady
Braddock. It'd be bloody embarassing,"
Kitty heard as she accepted a cup of
tea from her lover.

"Funny, Wisdom. I wasn't up until
3, actually giving enough of a damn
about my ties," Kitty teased as she
sipped her tea with one hand and 
scratched Lockheed's belly with
her free hand.

The dragon cooed, then sighed
contentedly, even as he gave
his Kit a worried glance. Everyone
seemed to be doing that lately,
Kitty thought; it wasn't as if
she was the one who'd been - 

- well. The e-mail from Ororo
had been frighteningly blunt. Betsy
hadn't suffered, but whoever this 
Vargas was, he was a brute.

"He managed to cause Henry severe
multiple organ injuries, Kitten, and
his sword must be paramagnetic,
since Rogue's magnetic power
failed to stop it. And Betsy ..."
Ororo had typed.

The clinical detachment of the next
paragraph was easy to sympathize with; 
Ororo didn't like to open up emotionally 
in e-mail, Kitty knew.

She was a hugger, was Ororo - smelling 
of cinnamon and more exotic spices, and 
maybe a bit of fresh potting soil under 
her fingernails, and ozone.

Kitty hated spilling her guts impersonally,
just as much as her "mother" did. But
the fear was there between the lines
of Ororo's e-mail - fear of someone
able to take on three well-trained
X-Men and kill one of them.

Maybe even good enough to catch
a certain cat of shadows between
phasing? 

A squeeze - gentle, callused - on her
shoulder made Kitty look over at where 
Pete was sitting down across from her, 
and she smiled at his gentle, embarassed 
smirk.

Then she glanced at Brian, and smiled
more as he was folded in a pair of
green-clad arms, and a cascade of 
blonde hair.

---------------------------------

He - HURT - well, less. And he
was kind enough to reach for her,
trust her enough to open up and
let her try to soothe his pain ...

"Morning, Meg," Brian whispered
in her ear, and she let him snuggle
closer. The contact was just so -
right - and it wasn't like the old
days.

Not like she *had* to be completed
by Captain Britain, being defined as
his other half. She had her own shape,
and her own name, and her own mind.

And her own feelings -

"I miss her too, so badly," Meggan 
whispered, leaning back to meet Brian's 
vague gaze, to let her eyes drill into 
his and reassure him that he wasn't alone ...

Brian's smile came back - sad, but
not that awful, mad smile he'd had
between crying sessions on their
private jet, coming back from Spain.

It'd been just them, meeting Storm's
team at the Valencia airport, to fly
Betsy's body back home. It'd gone
straight to the funeral home, the
same one that had handled Braddock
burials for more than a century.

The one whose owners knew better
than to ask too many details, including
why Brian was burying a clearly-murdered
Asian woman in Lady Betsy's grave.

The strangeness of it all had never really
sunk in to Meggan before - the computer in
the basement, the dimensional travel,
such *odd* friends she and Brian had. 

But most of it was a blessing, wasn't it?
Without their gifts, Meggan and Brian
would've likely never met, much less
found such loyal and true friends - family,
to Meggan - in Kurt and Kitty and Amanda
and Lockheed, and even Pete.

But it could be cruel, this strange life.
Betsy had been too young to die like
she did - she'd been in her 40s, granted,
but she'd aged well, and had been like
Meggan's own sister.

Well, if Meggan had been unable to save
her sister-in-law, she was going to save
Brian. Or at least help him get through his
pain.

No matter how long it took, or what strange
smells they endured - 

-----------------------------------------

"GAHK! Wagner! Can't you bloody teleport
into the foyer when we're cooking?" Pete
growled as Kurt appeared.

Excalibur's leader just raised one night-blue
eyebrow at the former spy, then mumbled a
"Danke" as Pete passed him a teacup.
"The foyer is at the other end of the house,
Pete. Besides, Amanda will take a bit longer
than she'd planned - she had a `call' from
Gateway, and it sounded important,"
Kurt said as he grabbed the teapot with his
tail and poured himself a cup.

"She'd better hurry - I hope it's not a crisis.
The wake starts in a few hours. Did Ororo's
team say if they were going to make it? Or
Warren and the others in Westchester?"
Kitty asked, looking younger than her 
28 years when she smiled at Kurt's antics.

He shook his head, letting some of his 
annoyance show in his expression. "There 
vas a crisis with Gambit, in Hong Kong, or 
that vas the message Sage left, and Hank's 
condition is still too tenuous for Jean or the 
Professor to leave Westchester. Rachel sends 
her love, though, and she's trying to find
Illyana and some of the other students
to properly represent the school," Kurt said, 
allowing himself something of a smile at the
thought of his goddaughter's compassion.

#At least Rachel and the other children seem
to *care* that Betsy died. And I know Ororo's
team is a fast-reaction squad - that they're
probably grieving themselves - but are things so
terrible that they couldn't spare a moment to
rest and mourn?# Kurt thought.

"No Wings, then?"

Everyone looked at Pete, who just shrugged
without shame and leaned back in his chair. 
"Just seems bloody cold-hearted of the
great parakeet to not get his arse over here
and shed at least one tear," Wisdom said.

"I'd rather he not show, given that they 
had ... separated ... before Betsy left with
Storm's team," Brian said in a dangerously
calm voice. Kurt looked at him with open
concern; that tone tended to presage a
rather messy round of "Brian Smash!"

#Or, it *used* to. Give the man credit,
Kurt. He's lost his twin sister, and 
senselessly, yet Brian is acting very
mature. And wouldn't you be frothing if
anything happened to T.J., or Amanda?#
Kurt thought.

#Speaking of my not-so-blushing bride -#

Then Amanda appeared in a flash of green
light, half-dressed, and yelled the words
which would go down in X-history:

"Australia - Richards - Dreamtime -"

And then the doorbell rang.

---------------------------------------

"Well, at least there aren't any ridiculous
automatic defenses trying to fry us. You
walk up to the gate at Westchester and 
there'd be all sorts of energy weapons,
tendrils, gel-bombs, etcetera, if your
genome didn't match the bioscans."

Frank Richards just nodded; he was still
taken aback by the sheer ENORMITY of
Braddock Manor, much less the size of
the estate. 

The 13-year-old wasn't used to large,
manicured lawns and sweeping houses.
He'd grown up either in a skyscraper or 
a small house (not that Belle Porte, Conn. 
had been that enjoyable), and this much
green was surprising.

#Not bad, though - FOCUS, Frank! You'll have to
explain all this to Lord Braddock - but at least
it's Excalibur, not some bunch of loons,#
the teen reminded himself as he glanced behind
him at the cloaked figure who'd accompanied
him.

"I just hope they understand, or at least
listen," Frank said, straightening his tie
and giving the woman a sheepish smile.
He turned back to the door, and smoothed his
suit; unsure what he should wear to tell
Excalibur the news, he'd materialized
a basic navy suit and khaki slacks while
in Australia, and then led the way
through Gateway's teleportal.

Then the door opened, and the appearance
of a blinking Kitty made Frank breathe a 
sigh of relief.

"Frank? Wow, this is a nice surprise. I'm
sorry I'm a little underdressed - we're getting
ready for - well, maybe you haven't heard. Betsy
Braddock was murdered the other day, and the
wake is at 11 a.m. on the east lawn, before she's
buried in the family plot," Kitty said, letting Frank
step into the foyer before giving his traveling 
companion a curious once-over.

"That's why we're here," Frank said, starting
to smile as the woman - still hooded and
cloaked - made her way up the steps. Lockheed
settled on Frank's shoulder, and nuzzled the boy,
who scratched the dragon's head before adding,
"The wake - "

"You're invited, of course, Franklin - and
thank you for coming," the teen heard. He
turned toward the living room and bowed,
unclear of how exactly to greet royalty,
toward the suit-clad Brian Braddock as he
and Meggan entered the living room.

"Lord Braddock, Lady Meggan - I -"
Frank began, noticing the rest of Excalibur
enter the room from the kitchen. Kurt
smiled kindly at the boy, while his
wife Amanda looked like she was about
to blurt something, and Pete Wisdom -

- well, Pete just nodded, so Frank didn't
feel too worried, but he *had* to say
something quickly -

"The EAST lawn? At 11? My God,
Brian, don't you remember all those
horrid teas where we sweltered while
having to listen to Father's blithering
university friends under the sun? You
could at least hold it in the west and
save us the trouble of sweating like hogs."

Frank managed another sheepish smile
as his traveling companion removed her
cloak and hood, then crossed her arms
and gave the others a mock-cross
look.

"Of course, decorum would suggest
that we simply cancel the bloody wake, 
steal the food and hire Alison to replace
those ungodly bagpipers you probably
called to do the music," Betsy Braddock - 
Caucasian, 10 years younger than she'd 
been at the time of death, and fighting an
attack of the giggles - said.

And then everything just went crazy.

------------------------------------

Later, Betsy would thank whichever
powers that were that she'd tossed in
the anecdote about her wasted childhood
hours and her parents' garden parties. 
Otherwise, Brian might've thought she
was a clone or something.

His first reaction, after his eyes had
grown to the size of saucers and his
jaw had dropped, had been, "You're
- WHITE - again."

"Well, Franklin - being a dear - caught
my astral body in Dreamtime - the last
time I try to give Bishop a tip, he's a good 
person, but useless when dealing with astral 
phenomena - and materialized me," Betsy
began, as she set her cloak on the nearest
coatstand.

"But his memories of me centered around that
awful business with Doom right after the 
Morlock Massacre, so I came back younger,
a telepath, and Caucasian. I really didn't feel
quite up to doing the whole `hullo, Ororo and
Company, guess who's back?' thing quite
yet - and I'll call them soon, I promise - 
so I thought coming home might be best."

She smiled, then, when Kitty walked to her
and held out a hand, and Betsy took it before
hugging her younger friend. "I actually have
you to thank. It seems the psi-link we had
back then may have left some residue in
Franklin's mind, and that helped him to
get hold of me. You look well, Kit," Betsy 
said.

"Betsy - YESYESYESYESYES!!!" was
Kitty's only reply, before she started to
giggle, jump up and down and nearly
squeeze the air out of Betsy's lungs.

"Kitty - dear - ACK - ribcage -"
Betsy wheezed; she was starting to
think that maybe her armor would've
been a better choice - 

"Oh, I'm sorry - FRANK! You excellent little 
goober!! You SO rock!!! And Pete, if you snark 
about me talking like I'm a teenager again, I'll 
kick your ass!" Kitty raved, after releasing
Betsy and bear-hugging the now-blushing
Frank.

"Fine, whatever. Welcome back, your 
Purple-haired-ness," Pete said, a 
suspicious twinkle in his eyes belying
the ennui in his voice.

"Thank you, Wisdom - Lockheed,
good to see you," Betsy said, smiling 
when the dragon left Frank's shoulder and
lighted around her neck. She let Lockheed 
nuzzle her cheek, then laughed merrily
when a blonde and green blur enfolded her.

"BETSY!!!! This is so wonderful - Brian,
it's Betsy!!!!! EEEEE! - sorry, it's just so
wonderful, I have to shriek JUST a little,
decorum is so horrid at times like this," 
Meggan gushed, as Betsy returned her hug.

"I totally agree, Meg. And it's so
wonderful to see you again," Betsy said - 
things were going better than she'd
expected, given what she remembered
of the finality of her death.

THEN it came - 

"BETSY!!!!!!"

The bellow - joyous, thankfully - and 
the bear-hug, and Meggan's laughing, as 
Brian swept them both into his arms and 
off the floor for a moment, before setting 
them down gently. He released Meggan
after she gave him a peck on the cheek,
then stood back from Betsy and smiled,
amazed-looking.

"You look well," Betsy said, unable
to fight back tears - she'd known she
was going to miss Brian, and now to
have him back - 

"As do you - Franklin! I owe you more 
than words can say - and, dare I be flippant
at such a wonderful time, dear sister, what 
is it with you being saved from certain 
doom by young blond men?" Brian managed 
to tease, as he put an arm around Frank's 
shoulders and carefully clapped the blushing
boy on the back after Kitty released him.

"Be nice, Brian. I do have my telepathy back,
after all - I could replay that time at the beach
in Cornwall for Wisdom to torment you with,"
Betsy teased back. Brian blanched, while
Wisdom and Meggan looked curious, and
Betsy laughed as she walked over to the 
still-stunned Kurt.

"Unglaublich - Elizabeth, this is - welcome
back," Kurt finally said, laughing as he 
hugged Betsy. She returned the gesture, 
briefly nuzzling his furred cheek with hers 
and feeling just a *bit* guilty for the 
contact - she couldn't help but be jealous 
of Amanda. The fur always was a nice touch - 

"Danke, Kurt. I'm glad you're doing 
well - heard from Talia lately?" Betsy
asked as she released her friend and
smiled at where Amanda was magicking
her Daytripper costume on in place of
her mussed robes.

"She's doing well - the Exiles are being
well-received in Chicago. I still worry 
about her - Calvin's a good man, but Purity's
attacks are getting worse ..." Kurt said,
trailing off as he watched Betsy return
Amanda's hug.

"Gateway called and told me, but I 
almost couldn't believe it. And then you
came here ... and Franklin! Wow - nice
work," Amanda said, releasing Betsy
and giving the still-blushing Frank a
thumbs-up.

"Thanks, Mrs. Wagner. I hope I didn't 
tick off Death or something - I'm glad 
I could help Lady Braddock, but I didn't
mean to interfere," Frank said, as
Brian nodded for him to follow Excalibur 
back into the kitchen.

"Trust me, lad, this kind of interference
is most welcome. Although how I'm going
to explain how you look so young, Betsy,
is beyond me - I look old now!" Brian
fussed, beaming when Meggan took
his left arm and Betsy took his right.

"Stop pretending to be vain, little
brother. Now, seriously - what's this 
communal mental gripe about being low
on Earl Grey? Being a telepath was never
this annoying when I was staying in 
Australia," Betsy sniffed.

"And ... thanks for the welcome."

----------------------------------------
tbc ...