Butterfly Effect; Part Two

[x-psylocke.livejournal.com]

Remy, Betsy, and Maddie are brought to medlab. Moira tries to decipher what has happened while Clarice offers to help just when all hell breaks loose.



This went beyond weird to the point that the word 'weird' simply did not cut it anymore. Frustrating was definately a word that covered the situation, though. Nathan just out of the hospital, Haroun still in the MedLab and now this. Remy and Maddie both unconscious with no seeming cause and Betsy...

Moira peered down at the 'resting' telepath. Betsy looked like hell still dressed in her gown.

"Hard to believe she's a model when she looks that bad, huh?" Clarice commented, joining Moira. There wasn't much she could do beyond monitoring everyone's vitals, which she could do from any point in the medlab.

"I'm jus' blown out o' th' water o' wha's happened," she sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose in irritation. "She's got a fever but 'tis obviously nay th' spore tha' got Haroun. An' then there's Remy and Maddie...I'm assumin' their vitals are lookin' stable, aye?"

"Yup," Clarice gestured towards the monitors, "Everythings well within normal, even coma-boy over there is just hanging out," she had adopted the students nickname for Tommy, it helped to not name him. Nameless and faceless kept the emotional distance. "And as far as I know, no idea of the cause...just what it isn't."

Moira cut her a quick glance at the name. "Clarice," she warned, "please dinnae call him tha'. If he cannae call him by his name, then refer ta 'im by 'is room number. If Maddie 'ears ye call him tha', she'll 'ave yer 'ead on a platter." But that wasn't important right now. A beep suddenly caught her attention and she frowned, heading to the machine in question. "Any change in 'er condition?" She needed to watch the machine for just a bit longer...

"Ummm," Clarice bit her lip watching the machine. Everything looked normal, but everything but the normal was the norm for Xavier's, so who knew? "She's not going into cardiac arrest...."

"Tha's nay th' heart machine." Frantically, Moira read the read outs as machine suddenly went haywire. It was the machine that focused on the brain waves and they were going nuts. Turning around, she nearly hesitated as something purple seemed to...

"Clarice, get down!" Not really waiting for the girl to response, Moira lunged and brought them both down as suddenly purple...projections they had to be, flew out from Betsy and spread out of the room.

"Cool," Clarice breathed, looking up from the floor. "Pretty flutterby's...." the purple butterflies superceded any annoyance Clarice may have had about being corrected. "Um, should we try to catch them or something?"

"Psychic projections are a wee 'ard ta catch. 'ead out an' avoid contact wit' them, aye? In th' mean time..." Moira took a deep breath and opened her mind.

CHARLES!



*****

Jean finds herself within Betsy's mind, it's not all flowers and candy.



Jean blinked as her vision started to blur, then pulled off her reading glasses, rubbing at her eyes. She thought she was getting somewhere, but it was getting harder and harder to stay awake. Her eyes flickered longingly towards the medlab kitchen where she knew the coffee pot was not completely empty, but she had promised not to push herself too hard this time, and it would do Haroun and Elisabeth no good if she went too far. A nap would help, she decided, and quickly jotted herself a few notes before saving and shutting the computer off. The couch in the office would do, and no one would bother her down here...

The flares had begun again and this time with more intensity. This newly formed apparition sat an inch above Betsy's crown, rolling within itself for a moment before all hell broke loose Betsy's body began to convulse, her psychic knife flaring while at the center of her forehead, more dark purple blurs began to form and grow. And with one blinding lightshow, several purple orbs shot out in various directions, leaving a trail of bodies in its' wake.

The one that hit Jean Grey in the back did so with more force than necessary, but she was already asleep, and ready for the task at hand.

Jean's own dreams were gone in an instant as she moved from her normal REM cycle into a deeper unconsciousness. She became aware of her astral self, floating in a dreamscape which was both unfamiliar and perfectly recognizable, at least to her. Elisabeth's mind had it's own flavor to it, and while it was clear that the other telepath was not consciously controlling this event, it was equally clear that she was the source.

The fine wood paneling and warm earth tones of the furniture made the space welcoming enough. Though the room was placed under the harsh white light that pulsed continued to pulse.

Betsy walked purposefuly into the room, ignoring Jean altogether, and began sifting through her father's books on the far side of the wall. The white light within the room disappeared the moment Betsy appeared.

"Elisabeth?" Jean tried, although she suspected that, as with Nathan's dreams, this was a memory which would play out with herself as merely an observer.

Betsy looked up in Jean's direction and squared her eyes for a moment before a voice came from behind.

"I'm talking to you." A man entered the room, his features similar to hers yet his face was obscured by a scruffy beard. He stood in front of her, his broad arms crossed over his chest. "Betts, please. Don't do this. We have to talk."

"No," Betsy snapped. Her purple eyes glaring at him. "You left me out of it for this long, why bother bringing me along now?"

He reached out, his hand going to hers and she pulled back violently. The book in her hand falling to the floor.

Elisabeth didn't look that much younger than she was now, Jean thought. This couldn't have taken place that long ago, really. The man was clearly her brother, Brian, who Jean had met at Nathan's wedding. He needed a shave, and a good eight hours rest at least, but it was clearly him.

A hand came from behind and forced Jean to turn around. "You shouldn't be here." The owner of the voice spoke hidden behind a white mask, pulling harder at Jean's arm. "Leave. Now."

Jean was still relearning many things about powers control, but astral projection was really just a question of will power in a lot of ways. And will power Jean Grey had in spades. "No," she said, firmly, not even bothering to pull away from the person. "I did not chose to come, but I will not be forced out without explanation." She wondered if this was an aspect of Betsy's illness, but something about it felt too integral to the surroundings to be that. Which meant it was some aspect of Betsy herself.

Oddly dressed in white robes, the figure pulled out a katana blade, and circumvented Jean. It placed itself between the twins and her, purposefully protecting them.

"You were the one that didn't want to talk about them, remember?" Brian said, angrily. "They died, Betsy. They died and we're still here but that doesn't mean we have to act as if they never existed! How can I talk to you about something you won't even acknowledge? James and I thought, it'd be easier....."

"Go to hell!" Betsy exclaimed. There was a slightly dazed look to her expression and as Brian stared at her before forcibly turning his back on her, storming out of the room. Too angry to notice something was wrong, Betsy leaned against the bookshelf, keeping herself upright. A thick red trail leaked down from her nose and she wiped hastily at it.

She looked up at Jean and the intruder and blinked. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Jean?" And with a flash of light the sword came down upon the red-headed telepath and the room flashed into nothingness.



*****

While attending to Haroun, Alison finds herself in another hospital room with a scared little girl.



Leaning on the side of the observation window, Alison watched Haroun's form, still floating in the cooling gel meant to keep his temperature from spiking. They'd started treatments based on the information Terry had given the medlab, from North's phone call, but the only thing she could see right now was -

Bright blue eyes flashed open, full of fear, frantically searching out their surroundings; but it was too much. She let out a soft cry.

~Everyone was screaming.~

"We brought her in two days ago," a man said standing next to her bed. He was a stern looking man with mousy brown hair and strong jawbone. He'd been diligently writing in the clipboard he'd always carried with him. "Her brothers found her unconscious in her bedroom. As you can see from the scratches on her face, we had to restrain her."

He was talking to someone else, but she couldn't see them. Soft clicks on the linoleum floor approached, stopping as a woman approached, standing to the doctor at her side. It was an odd sensation. As she looked at the doctor, she sensed his concern, fear, and his compassion. But the woman, it'd had been if her senses had been struck deaf and dumb. The curiosity on the young, tear-stained face was evident, but the two ignored her.

"And the parents?" A female voice questioned. "Have they been found?"

The man sighed. "There's been no sign of them." He continued after consulting his chart. "It says that you'd like some samples. We had to give her heavy doses of sedative to counteract the night terrors and keep her from harming herself beyond using these restraints. Do you think they'll affect your readings?"

"No," the enigma responded. "Retrieve the samples and have them sent to the lab. I'll need them first thing in the morning."

He coughed quite unsubtly, signaling that it was not an easy matter. "We'll need permission to release those samples to you. How do you plan on getting it? The parents have been missing for three days now and feared....." He lowered his voice. "Dead."

"Never mind that, I'll get the necessary documentation. I have very good relations with the family." The young girl felt a cool hand on her cheek, lightly touching the scratches that streaked her face. "You'll have the papers you need within the hour. And you best have those samples ready by then, Doctor Crane. Or else."

"Yes, Ms. Ross," the doctor said, hurriedly running out of the room. The cold lifted and she distinctly heard the sounds of heels following close behind him.

The room she was in - had been in - dissolved slowly, the walls replaced by the familiar gleam of the medlab furnishings, the floor no longer warm linoleum but instead cool and smooth.

But the screams of the little girl still echoed in her mind, a voice Alison knew and recognized, from the nightmares she'd had the previous year, while Betsy had tried to reach to her through Kwannon's control.

"Betsy…"



*****

Jubilee finds herself on the other end of a focused psionic projection and doesn't win. At a wake and far from home, she is the only protection against one creepy woman.



Jubilee dragged the towel through her hair, combing it out with her fingers as she did so. She'd put a brush through it in a second but she wanted to make sure it was dry enough to not drip everywhere first. The training session had been gruelling, but they usually were, she'd even noticed a completely new set of muscles hurting when she woke up yesterday.

God, what she wouldn't give for a nice hot cup of green tea right now.

She still had to get out of this towel though and into something resembling clothing before she could wander off to the kitchen, however. At least, she did if she didn't want people looking at her strangely.

A flash of light traveled four levels up from medlab and hovered in the main hallway of the student landing. Up and down, it glided in the air, turning 360 degrees. It was searching for something, someone. Finding its' mark, the purple apparition zipped down the hall and passed through the oak doors.

Jubilee had managed to get one foot into a shoe and was now reaching down for the other when she saw the light burst through the doors and hang in mid-air for a second. She blinked, wondered what the hell was going on and then screamed as it headed straight for her. This was so not cool!

It was a brief second before the purple light that resembled a butterfly, careened down toward her, turned the corner that lead to her room and came into contact with Jubilee's back. She found herself in a room of light before everything faded.

The halls were not that dissimilar from Xaviers but one look out the window and it was a different story entirely. There were stone steps that lead to a fountain and then a vast maze-like garden under the protective watch of oak, walnut, and beech trees. It was a stunning site so close to dusk with the fountain glistened in the setting sun's light, a cascading rainbow under water.

Within the Manor, there were people inhabiting the main floor, all of whom were dressed in black and engaged in deep discussion.

"Children never recover from such a thing. Tragic. Utterly tragic."

"It's such a burden to bear. Poor James. He had his whole life ahead of him. Now, it's gone."

In the center of the storm stood a young boy and girl. Twins. They were about ten years old both blonde with blue eyes and their hands were intertwined. They were oddly oblivious to all those talking around them. Instead, their gaze remained fixed ahead, unmoving.

Jubilee wondered where the hell she was, and why she was here. Still, maybe talking to the twins would help things along. She certainly wouldn't get anywhere by standing around. She walked toward them through the crowd, either unnoticed or unremarked upon. She couldn't say which would be the more disturbing.

"Hello." she said, reaching them. "My name's Jubilee."

The young girl let go of her brother's hand and walked through Jubilee. She squared her gaze at the onlooking crowd, though difficult at her height; her chin set stubbornly in the air. Like Jubilee, the adults didn't pay any mind to the twins, even as Betsy walked toward the two closed caskets within the sitting room.

"Betsy," the young boy hissed. He seemed to know what his sister was planning, he inched closer to her, but still kept a safe distance back. "Don't do it."

The young girl was standing in between two mahogony caskets, looking precariously up at them.

The little girl had gone right through her, how was that possible? Everything had seemed perfectly solid till just that moment. And the dreams she'd shared with both Nathan and Amanda had all bee solid, although she'd been asleep for those.

Maybe waking dreams were different in some way, if this was a dream. Wait...the little boy had said something, a name. Betsy? It couldn't have been. Jubilee stared at the little girl, trying to find the adult she knew now in the features of the child. She did look a little like Betsy had before the entire Kwannon thing.

So, this then must be her brother, but whose funeral was it?

Jubilee walked up to stand in front of Betsy, to try again to reach the little girl. She noticed the little girl's face were covered in red streaks. Deep scratches in the process of healing.

"Hey, did you need some help?" she asked.

That was what you were meant to do in these situations, right? Find some way of ending the dream, usually through doing whatever task you'd been dragged in to it to complete.

"They're not dead," she whispered to herself. "They're not dead." There were tears in her eyes and they fell silently down her face. She ran her flat palm along the side of one casket, holding onto something solid. She scrunched her face right as Jubilee reached for her. The young girl needed to see them. To know. A close casket wouldn't give her confirmation. She moved back and away from Jubilee's outstretched hands, digging in where she stood, and began pushing up at the lid of the casket, trying to open the bin for all her worth. "Help me...."

He stood unmoving and then forcefully shook his head. He stared dumbfoundly at her and then as if struck with an idea, turned around, and searched for any adults that could derail the endeavor before it started.

"Brian," Betsy implored. "Come on."

Charged into action, Brian went to her side and the two began pushing up on the coffin. The casket cracked open for the brieftest of seconds before a hand came slamming down with such force that it pushed the two children fell back.

"What do you two think you are doing?" A cool, crisp voice questioned with barely restrained anger.

The twins looked up from their positions on the floor to come face to face with a tall, blonde woman. She wore a pressed black pant suit. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun and her black-rimmed glasses seemed as if they were holding on for dear life at the edge of her nose. Cold air swirled off her frigid exterior and Betsy shivered.

'Not a nice woman' Jubilee thought, noticing Betsy's shiver.

She'd finally conceded that there was no way she could currently affect her environment, and the people around her were happily ignoring everything she did.

Maybe she was simply here to witness something. If that were the case, she better pay attention as it must be important to whoever sent her here.

She truly didn't like the look of that woman. Jubilee stepped between her and Betsy, wondering if it would make a difference at all, or be like every other time she'd tried to effect something here.

"Now, children," the woman said, icily. "It is ill-advised that you do such things. Your parents went through an ordeal and I think it best if the dead stay buried. Don't you?"

Bringing her hand to Brian's cheek, she tenderly rubbed her thumb along his chin. Brian flushed bright red while Betsy squared her eyes at the woman. There was something about her, something familiar, but then a sharp pain made her think otherwise. She winced. "Ow."

"Are you alright, dear?"

"Yes, ma'am." Betsy said, instinctively looking away, massaging her temple as the pain subsided slowly. "I'm fine."

"My name is Courtney Ross," the woman said, standing up. "I was a friend of your parents. We worked together at the lab." Betsy kept her head submissively downwards while Brian looked up, starstruck. "Come now, we should look for your brother." She smiled down at them as she ushered the two away from the caskets. "The future is indeed looking bright."

With the three walking away from Jubilee, she moved to follow them, but the scene rippled and Jubilee was pulled back before she could even take the first step.



*****

The journey continues, as Jean finds herself talking to Betsy, or better yet, a representation of her.



Jean jerked back from the flash of light, and found herself standing beside a small gazebo. A small gravel path moved up the side of a hill towards what looked, for all the world, like a monastery set in the middle of a grove of bamboo. Actually, given what little Jean knew about Elisabeth's past, that might be very well what it was.

Footsteps could be heard walking up the gravel path behind Jean. Constant, unrelenting steps. Beside her, stood Betsy in white robes, looking at the same gazebo with a deep-seeded wariness. Her dark purple hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, her expression equally tight as she studied Jean. "You should not be here. Why have you come to this place?"

"I don't know, Elisabeth," Jean said, holding her hands out at her sides. "I think you would have to tell me. What is this place?"

Voices drew their attention toward the gazebo. Betsy looked on from Jean, her eyes set toward the small wooden structure. In the distance, two silhouettes could be seen, one standing over the other. A flash of metal could be seen from overhead. "This is not the place where it began, nor where it ended...."

There was a deafening silence as the glint of metal swooped down, cutting through air and flesh, and the sickening sound of something falling free and landing crushingly to the ground. The second silhouette seemed shorter, somehow, as it slumped to the floor. "It is simply where the truth is hidden."

Jean knew more than enough about physiology to understand what had just happened in the shadows, but it was what Elisabeth was saying that held more of her attention. She was unsure if this was a proper memory or some aspect of the other telepath's nightmares or her illness which had created the astral scene. "What truth, Elisabeth? What are you showing me?" And why?

Looking on the scene, this Betsy shook her head disapprovingly. "You do not yet understand and I cannot tell you." As if coming to a decision, Betsy took a step back. "You are not ready to listen."

"I'm willing to try," Jean offered, but even as she said it there was another flash of light and the scene dissolved around her.



*****

Forge is not immune to what is occuring at the school. And it would seem, he is meant to see something.



Hushed voices traveled the dark hallway, a room with light cascading out past the doorway, a beacon, calling him forth. The voices grew louder and a man could be heard, sounding exhausted and on edge.

"Elizabeth," the man said with barely restrained anger. "Don't question me and my dedication to them. This is the only way we could've kept them safe!"

Flattening himself against the wall, Forge peered around curiously. This was obviously not the mansion, that much was certain. It was definitely *a* mansion, just not Xavier's.

Brushing his hand against the wall, he did a double-take, looking down in surprise at two hands of flesh and blood. Holding his left hand up to his face, he pinched it experimentally. No sensation. With a disappointed look, Forge shrugged. The odd perspective, the idealized self-image, the lack of tactile sensation - everything added up to the conclusion that he was asleep and dreaming.

"Elizabeth!" The scolding voice was louder, harsh and forceful, jarring Forge out of his distraction. But if he was aware he was dreaming, then he should wake up - unless this dream wasn't his.

Curiouser and curiouser.

"Kept them safe?" Elizabeth's voice answered with a sarcastic, defeated tone to it. "They've spent most of their lives in that bloody lab of yours! Unknowingly taking test over blooming test! For pity sake, you can't do this to them, Jim! You don't know if it'll even work..."

The house around him seemed to shake and reverberate with each word, adding to the odd sense of unreality that Forge found himself in. Shrugging in mute acceptance, Forge slid forward along the wall, curiosity drawing him close to the arguing voices.

Pausing at the edge of the wide doorway, fingers brushing the moulding, he listened carefully. His was a deep baritone, cultured English slurred by either alcohol or anger, Forge couldn't be sure which. And the woman's voice was almost familiar, but not one he could place.

Something at the edge of his vision caught his eye. From the transom above the door, a beam of moonlight cut a swath of illumination onto the staircase facing the den. Between two cherry-wood slats, a pair of blue eyes looked out from the darkness, pale face framed in the blonde hair of a young girl.

Cocking his head, Forge opened his mouth to speak, but fell silent as the argument behind him resumed.

There was a loud bang as Jim Braddock slammed a stack of journals down onto his desk. "Everything in here tells me what I need to know," he said. "Mutations in their genetic code and not one caused by environmental agents. Lizzy, we both know that science is making vast breakthroughs on mapping the genetic code and with these published journals, it tells that where these mutations occur within our children." He grew silent, a grave pall overshadowing the room. Simply shaking his head, he sat down heavily on the armchair, resting his head in his hands. "All the signs are here. New allele formations. Genetic recombination. Mutations occuring at the base level, affecting their genome, changing them. We've already seen it in Jamie. My dear, what we are witnessing.....it is evolution."

Forge half-heard the conversation, focusing on the little girl watching the adults - her parents? - argue. If what they were saying was true about their children and mutations... Forge's mind reeled, trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle. English, obviously. Published journals cataloguing the emergence of mutations, that would mean close to twenty years ago, give or take. Mentally adding decades to the girl's age, Forge's eyes grew wide.

"Miss Braddock?" he whispered towards the stairwell.

"Do you understand what this means," he continued, raising his head and looking at his wife with crestfallen blue eyes. The decision had been made. "If we don't do something to hide what we've found, our children will be spending much more time in a lab. I'd rather they die by my hands then let them spend the remainder of their lives as biological anamolies to be poked, prodded, and dissected. These are our children, Lizzy. There is no other choice."

"God," Elizabeth Braddock said, falling to her knees, her hand covering her mouth as she fought back the tears. "Forgive us. Forgive us for what we are about to do." James moved to his wife's side and held her as she cried.

It was then blue eyes locked on the young man, staring down intently at him. For a moment, they seem to flicker amethyst, but he didn't have any time to process what he thought he'd seen as the scene rippled and dissipated before his very eyes.



*****

Finally breaking through the block, we see what really happened the night Betsy's parent's died.



A young girl sat up,breathing heavily. Startled awake by a nightmare that lingered and failed to fade into the place where dastardly dreams often go.

She kept the duvet close to her as her eyes searched out the darkness, blue eyes reflecting a deep-seeded fear. An unspoken fear. Her voice cracked against the void. "Mum? Dad?"

Betsy rose slowly from her bed, walking out of her room, and made her way down the grand staircase in her pajamas.

There was a sharp pain and Betsy held her head protectively. There was a flash and her mind felt as if it were ripped apart then being knit back together. She stared at the mirror hanging at the base of the stairs and it was there, finding clarity within the pain, Betsy saw them. Her parents bound and gagged together, their backs to one another. The young girl blinked at the images projected on the smooth surface.

Men crowded their small forms. Her father looked bruised and beaten. His head hung to the side and her mother looked hysterical, calling out his name. The men moved closer to them and Betsy backed away from the mirror, her back banging into the banister.

"Mummy," Betsy sobbed. Her hands cradling her head still. The pain intensified, as her mother looked up, hearing her child call for her.

"Betsy!" Her mother cried. "No, God."

"Mum," Betsy managed as she slid to the floor. With one last look up at the scene, it faded, and Betsy was left with her tear-stained face staring back at her.

It was some time before the pain subsided, but when it did, her mind searched out logical reasons for what she saw. Satisfied that she'd suffer from some walking nightmare, Betsy remained seated until a noise emanating from her father's study brought her out of her reverie. She stood up, wiping hastily at her face. Running full speed, she stopped in the doorway, looking curiously at the woman standing at her father's desk.

"Who are you? What are you doing?" The eleven-year old said, as she stepped cautiously into the room. "This is my father's office."

"I work for your father, Betsy." The blonde woman responded curtly, looking to the right of Betsy at the opposing wall. "Your father is tied up at the moment and asked that I retrieve some files for him."

She turned to run away, but hands gripped her from behind, turning her back around. A man had materialized out of thin air, suddenly appearing at her side. Where had he come from? Pulling her close to him, she came face to face with a dark man with striking eyes. Brown on blue like rings around a celestial body. He peered down curiously at her, his white teeth contrasting to his complexion.

"Pretty little thing." The man cooed. "What should we do with her?"

The blonde woman appeared at her side, lovingly caressing her face like a cherished doll. "What else? Give her a nightmare and make sure she doesn't remember us."

This time the pain returned with such blinding force, Betsy couldn't breath. She looked up, the man with celestial eyes staring intently at her, sending soothing words though he did not speak them. The last thing she remembered was a high whine, a soft chuckle from the woman still caressing her, and then her strangled screams following her into the black.

It was there the nightmare started again. This time, she didn't see any ghostly apparitions or listen to the prophecy of a strange oracle. She didn't even remember the man that resembled the infinite night, threatening to swallow her whole.



*****