will1@earthling.net Paleoumbrology by Phil Hartman DISCLAIMER: They're all Marvel's. It's all fiction. No money is being made off of this. Etc. NOTE: AU; the sequel to "Oracular Course Correction," and the latest in what's becoming a series ... NOTE 2: Some darker material than before - language, violence, imagery, some angst, etc. Also, Kwannon didn't die of Legacy here, since there was no Stryfe (since Nathan Summers never had T-O or time-traveled). Hence, Betsy has more than her own revenge to seek against Sabretooth ... more below ... -------------------------------------------- Logically, Betsy knew that the process Sage was putting her through was simple: Evaluate Betsy's DNA, look for the changes which Betsy's reincarnation had caused, and see where the Crimson Dawn had gone to. #Except that 'logic' has nothing to do with it. I was reincarnated in a duplicate of my first - British - body by Franklin Richards, and with my telepathy and precognition, not my telekinesis or my shadow-powers,# Betsy thought as she let the former Tessa root around in her mind and genome. Anyone watching the women in the physical realm would see two Caucasian women - the purple-haired Betsy and the raven-haired, paler Sage - sitting in a Sydney apartment, apparently asleep. But astrally, they were linked by flashes of blue lightning; if Betsy had been a latent mutant, the energy discharge would've triggered her powers. Instead, it was a "simple" bioscan, supplemented by Sage's released telepathy, aided by Betsy's restored telepathy, and the process was going quickly - although Betsy *was* noting flashes of her life going past her, memories both good and bad. There she was, a girl of 11 again, leaving poor Brian behind her for a wild ride in big brother Jamie's Ferrari, the forlorn Brian watching after them from one of the old Roman stone walls and Betsy laughing maniacally. And 19, wild and free, modeling, her telepathy only enhancing her joie de vrie, until that STRIKE agent tapped her on the shoulder and "politely" pointed out that maybe she should be using her gifts for Queen and Country. A little older, a little wiser - but still daring, and a bit reckless, as a familiar black-haired woman in black leather gave Lt. Braddock her first real psionic defeat, deflecting a psi-bolt and walking the dazed Betsy out of the Manhattan Hellfire Club. ~You've matured quite a bit since then,~ Sage sent, and Betsy felt a bit guilty, both for her immaturity then and her imposing on Sage now. The woman *had* just been through a degrading, dangerous psychic assault by that cow Regan Wyngarde, and Betsy was asking Sage to push herself to examine Betsy, all for the sake of the reborn psi's security ... ~You are hardly imposing. I would have demanded this anyhow. Given your reincarnation and sudden reappearance, I had to re-establish your bonafides if you were to be trusted back on the team. You just proved more agreeable and patient than I would have anticipated. And I do owe *you,* after all, even if we were not teammates - you saved me from enslavement by that impudent brat Wyngarde,~ Sage reminded Betsy, just a hint of kindness in her mental voice. ~Still, maybe I can buy you a drink after this? If only to ease both our nerves - I've been running for practically a day now, and despite the warm welcome back at Braddock Manor, I could use a night's sleep. I need to put my own thoughts in order,~ Betsy sent, watching another mnemonic chunk pass by - - darker, now as Brian's twisted cross-time self tried to rape her, and she took a life - - and then her eyes were gone, and she could hear Slaymaster cackling - - and then they were back, but they weren't HERS, and she was grinning perversely to the sound of jowls slapping against each other as Mojo celebrated her turning - - and she was alone, in the dark of an Australian shanty, crying where none of her fellow X-Men could see the Great and Terrible Armored Psylocke miss her tall and noble brother, or feel guilty for hurting him and Meggan when they'd died and been reborn ... ~The difference between you and Emma Frost. She claims not to feel guilt. I rather think that the mark of a sociopath, myself,~ Sage interjected. ~Emma *doesn't* feel guilt. Remorse, on the other hand ... she's right, at least, about guilt being a useless emotion if it cripples you. But not feeling remorse would be a true mark of socipathy. She does miss the Hellions, and I think she misses Generation X - at least they're alive,~ Betsy mused, looking inward at another set of memories - - the look of horror on Matsu'o's face as he realized that his "dear" Kwannon had *very* much left the building, and the ecstatic feeling of raw fury that shook the woman who had been shaped from his lover's body and a misplaced mind - - Jubilee's reluctant trust, when Betsy barely trusted *herself,* and Logan's steady, demanding guiding hand as they faced the Hand and the Harriers - - the Shadow King's perverse chuckle, and the terrifying rush of dark pleasure she gave in to in response, until Forge's anti-psionic chip was implanted in her neck, and her psi-blade struck the screaming Lorna Dane - - the quiet, naughty pleasure she felt, when Scott Summers' eyes strayed, at least until Rachel and Nathan walked over to the pool, and Betsy's remorse at the very *idea* of seducing a married man when he had children and a caring wife - - the irony of watching her first, true body wracked with pain, in the medlab, and the caring hands of Jean Summers comforting Betsy as she finally cried at the realization that Kwannon was going to *die,* due to Creed's hatred, and there was no hope that Betsy was going to ever *be* Betsy again - - and then other, stronger, hands holding Betsy, as she floated on the winds above Manhattan with a blue-skinned angel, finally feeling ... not safe, since that wasn't what she wanted, but ... at least at home, of a sort - - and that home coming apart, with blood and pain and a leering, chuckling Sabretooth looming over her, as she bled out - - and a rush of shadows, filling what she'd lost, as Warren and Logan reappeared with a green-robed *gnome,* of sorts, and Doctor Strange - - and those same shadows laughing from the corners, calling *so* seductively, until her Angel put his restored white wings around her, and she found strength again to fight the towering ebon-skinned figure with a tattoo that matched hers - - and Warren dropping a part of his *soul* into the Ebon Vein, and Kuragari fleeing, as Gomurr became the Proctor - - and the Shadow King SCREAMING, SCREAMING, as Betsy enfolded him in herself, her telepathy collapsing into a singularity, to keep the Beast of Beasts from getting her new friends and old - - and her anger at the High Evolutionary, as she felt her powers simply fade, and the King of Shadows ran snickering at her from her mind, himself weak from imprisonment - - and the glorious restoration, but not as she'd expected, as the shadows flickered back, followed by the vibrating of her "feeling" solid matter with her mind, and her grief at her mindblindness changing to pleased surprise at her telekinesis - - and then a dusky-skinned young man, holding her hands, as Warren watched jealously from the corner, looking so *dour,* couldn't he understand that she was just welcoming Neal? - - and the moonlight, casting shadows around Warren as he flew away from the skyscraper she'd bid him farewell at, her heart sinking with her eyes as she watched her Angel fly, why couldn't she bring herself to *care* more? - - and the laughter with Neal and Ororo and Marie, and Bishop's still-hopeless attempts at humor, as Henry tossed about non-sequiturs and Sage tried not to smile on that small yacht across the Atlantic - - and Vargas' nod of respectful victory, as the blade slipped between her ribs - - and the shadows that should have claimed her, blazing away, going down a drain opened by a blond-haired boy who acted from compassion, shaping dust into flesh and breath into blood, not realizing in his innocence that the shadows had to go SOMEWHERE - - and if they no longer claimed the soul of Elizabeth Braddock, then where would they go? ~BLOODY FUCK - I'm an IDIOT!~ Betsy mentally shrieked, slapping her astral forehead as Sage finished her scan. ~Interesting response. Before you pursue whatever blinding piece of insight you pieced together from watching your life flash before your eyes, may I at least inform you of what I've found?~ Sage asked as they returned to their bodies. Betsy opened her physical eyes and nodded; if she was even half-right, whatever Sage had found was the least of their problems, but she'd better be damned well informed before she raced after - #Calm DOWN, Braddock. No bloody good will come of whipping halfway around the planet on a hunch,# she reminded herself. She met Sage's gaze, and accepted a pair of cyber-shades from her teammate. "As the heads-up display will show, you scan as a 33-year-old Caucasian female, pre-menopausal, in excellent health, and an active mutant psionic, Alpha-class telepathy, Beta- to Gamma-class precognition, with considerable telekinetic latency. All as I expected, based upon what you told me of Franklin's reincarnating you," Sage began. Betsy nodded, watching the data flicker by. She removed her glasses, then, and asked, "What about esoteric energies?" "A trace of magickal energies, a bit of faerie glamour, but given that you were in close proximity to a powerful sorceress and an alleged sidhe while visiting your relatives and Excalibur, that is to be expected," Sage said, almost dismissively. "I MEANT, Darkforce - it's basically what the bloody Crimson Dawn is, you know!" Betsy snapped - her remorse toward Sage was rapidly becoming stretched, even if she knew that the cyberpath was just doing as Betsy had asked. Sage tilted her head and raised one raven eyebrow. "Not a trace. You are, essentially, the same woman who held Katherine Pryde's psyche together all those years ago as she faced discorporation - first, on Muir Island, and later in Doomstadt, Latveria. There is no indication that you ever aged these past nine years, much less had your body swapped, or healed by the shadow energies of the Crimson Dawn," she said. Betsy nodded - she'd expected as much, given what she suspected. "Franklin did me a huge favor, reincarnating me, even turning back the clock. But the part of my soul that the Crimson Dawn made up ... he either stripped it from me or it just fell away. It's not as if I died in a state of grace, so he must have unintentionally removed it from my spirit ..." she muttered, looking into the fire crackling nearby. "Energy cannot be created or destroyed, only changed - or transferred. Therefore, given the bond between you and Warren - through the Crimson Dawn, if not telepathically anymore - the Dawn energies must logically be attracted to him," Sage answered, the finality of her words making Betsy look at her with an intent expression. "Bloody hell. No wonder he was acting so grouchy and possessive - I felt like a power-mad bitch when I let the Dawn get to me, even after we put down Kuragari. After I stopped relying on the shadows during my telekinetic days, I let myself be lost in my TK - it seemed like the perfect 'rush' to replace the darker desires ..." Betsy thought aloud. She stood, then, and stared out the open window toward the Sydney harbor, before turning back to Sage with a grim expression. "Tell Ororo I'm sorry. I can't come back yet - not until I deal with my last debt. Warren and I may never get back together, but I at least have to help him deal with the Crimson Dawn. He risked everything for me, Sage - a piece of his soul. I owe him no less," Betsy said. "I'll call - ELIZABETH!?" Sage blurted, uncharacteristic fear in her voice as the shadows around the curtains started to bubble and put forth tendrils. And Betsy turned to face them, a telepathic greatsword - European instead of the katana she'd mastered previously - forming from visible purple psi-energy in her clasped hands. "The last ride of the action junkie," she whispered, a warrior's smile curving her lips as she leapt against the dark. Then Sage was alone, silhouetted by the restored moonlight, turning her alabaster and ivory as the fire went out. "Betsy ..." Tessa whispered. "Be careful." --------------------------------------- DEFINITELY tbc ... ---------------------------------------