From: "Lucinda Siverling" To: X-Fiction@yahoogroups.com Subject: [x-fiction] fic: Eastern Butterfly: Reflection (Psylocke) Date: Sun, 08 Sep 2002 13:51:20 +0000 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 and Luba may have it if they want 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.