A mere week had passed since Betsy Granger was unceremoniously dropped back on Earth. As she rolled over onto her stomach, lying on the bed in the room where she grew up, it struck her how time seemed to tick slowly by now that she was back. It may as well have been years by now; how was it that time could flow so sluggishly here? It was nice to see her family, of course, and the farm this time of year was a sight to behold. There were moments when it started to feel like home again, laughing and sharing stories with her family around the table and walking through the cornstalks with Addy. Yes, there was something to be said about the peace that she could find here over the chaos that always seemed to follow her across the stars…

Her stomach lurched at the thought of Excellence, silent and still in the middle of the yard. Whatever the Brotherhood had done to kill Excellence, it was efficient and seemingly permanent. Until she could find a potential energy source to charge the engine up, she was forced to stay put. Earth certainly didn’t have the supplies she needed to sustain a sophisticated piece of advanced transportation. Restless, she flips over onto her back again, sighing as she does so. Staring up at the ceiling, Betsy begins to consider her options again to fight off the oncoming despair. Perhaps time wouldn’t seem to be taking such a leisurely fucking stroll if she could just sneak off for a quick trip off-world…

“For fucks sake, Granger, get it to-fucking-gether.” There was no point moping around about what wasn’t to be. Sneak trips to the amusement parks on Neptune, or gourmet meals on Mars, were no longer an option.

Sitting up, Betsy slides into her robe and slippers and walks over to the desk she spent most of her youth at. How simple life had been when she was younger, and the only desires she had were to be the best in her class. Sitting in the same wooden chair her father had made for her, she observes what is still there. Old notebooks of her personal notes were still piled neatly in the top right corner, wild ideas she’d conceived even then of finding a way to space. She pulls the top one off the pile and flips it open, the ghost of a wry smile playing on her lips. This entry was from 2002, and it seemed like a six-year-old Betsy had been convinced she’d make it to the moon one day.

“If you only knew, kiddo,” Betsy says in a whisper as she flips more of the pages.

She mused over how neat her writing had been as a child; the flourish she added to it must have arrived in her teens. Setting down the first notebook, she picks up the next, this one from 2004. The stars had enamored eight-year-old Betsy, who had felt a connection to them in a way she couldn’t find with any of her schoolmates. Her eyes narrowed as she read some of the notes she’d scrawled about her classmates in the margins.

“The Ashleys were mean to me again today. Two of them distracted me while the third took my notes. The teacher made them return my stuff, but not before they’d shown the rest of the class. Now everyone is laughing at me.”

Shaking her head, Betsy sets this book down now and places her hands on top of the desk. The wood is cool under her fingers as she starts to trace the familiar grains of the oak, as she’d done thousands of times before. For as long as she could remember, anytime she became lost in thought, her fingers would roam the lines and cracks in the desk. Hell, she’d probably created at least one or two of them herself for as many times as she’d repeated this habit. Her mind briefly drifted to those Ashleys; what were they up to these days? Had they made anything of themselves, or was prom court the best they had? More to the point, did she care? Clearing her head, Betsy resets the pile of notebooks and lets her eyes wander around the rest of the desk.

Another pile of books, mainly textbooks about various subjects ranging from math to mythology. The spines are slightly dusty as she runs a finger down them, reading the titles. She stops dead at the book of Greek and Roman mythology, her eyes widening slightly. Why was this one nagging at her above the others? A yawn escaped her as she tugged gently to pull the book out of its spot in the pile. She was growing tired again, but her curiosity would never allow her to sleep until she at least had a peek at the book. The usual tales dominated the first half, tales of Zeus and his exploits, Hades and Persephone, Prometheus and his theft of fire for the sake of man. Nothing out of the ordinary that she didn’t already know by heart…

Flipping randomly to the end of the book, she lands in the middle chapters of the tragedy of Oedipus. He had just defeated the sphinx that had been terrorizing his city of Thebes, taking the hand of his mother Jocasta as his prize. Together, they gave birth to four children: the boys, Eteocles and Polyneices, and the daughter, Antigone and Ismene. This caught Betsy’s attention as she pulled the book closer to her face. Ismene… There was something beyond the story in the books that drew her to this name. Her eyes remained locked on the name as her brain wandered around the recesses of her memories; hadn’t she met a girl with that name during her travels?

Another yawn tells her it’s time to let her brain rest for the night, though she was undoubtedly going to pick this back up in the morning. She shuts the book and places it in the center of the desk as she rises from the chair. Rubbing her eyes, she turns and slips back into the bed, resting her hands on her stomach and staring up at the ceiling. Attempts to continue her train of thought are quickly dashed by the drowsing sleep that came on within seconds of her head hitting the pillow. As she begins to snore softly, a dream so vivid it could have been a memory starts to play out once again… Just as it had every night since she’d come home…

//

“Hey, blondie, rise and shine! There’s no time to be knocked out right now.”

Before she could open her eyes, there was a series of gentle slaps across her cheeks. Betsy pushes away the offensive hands and attempts to sit up. As she does so, a sharp pain rips through her skull, causing her to wince. The hands that had been slapping her seconds ago were now supporting her back, helping her sit upright. Betsy tries to open her eyes but is met by blinding light that causes her to blink furiously. A straw is brushed against her lips, and she wraps them around it, sipping on blessedly cool water. It was a relief against her sore, dry throat so much that she had to force her sips to remain measured. Finally, her eyes adjusted to the lights and commotion going on around her, and she was able to take in the young woman kneeling before her.

The first thing that caught her attention was the eyes; Betsy knew she’d seen these eyes somewhere else before. She didn’t have long to consider it, however, because the young woman who knelt before her was looking above them. Her expression became deadly focused, which helped Betsy snap to her senses. Fully alert now, she kept her gaze locked on the stranger as she struggled to keep her voice quiet and calm.

“What do you see?” she asked, moving her hand slowly towards her laser pistol.

“Two hostiles from the upper east corner, precisely where we need to go to get the fuck outta here.” The girls’ lips barely move as she replies.

“Plan of action?”

A smirk is Betsy’s only reply. The blue-green eyes flicker down to her face, and Betsy finds herself captivated again. They reminded her of the waters of the Mediterranean; she’d known someone who had eyes just like these, she was sure of it. Stupidly, her mind tried to focus on the face she’d seen these eyes on before… That thought was broken as quickly as it had occurred when her companion fired two well-aimed blasts from the disintegrator gun she’d had hidden inside her jacket. A grin creeps over the face of Betsy as the pretty young woman helps her to her feet. They consider each other for a moment, Betsy with admiration and her companion with curiosity. In unison, they turn to leave, the silence still hanging between them. It was finally the stranger who broke it first.

“You’re welcome, by the way. You know, for the whole rescue thing.” She says lightheartedly.

“Yeah, no, thank you for sure, you were fucking amazing,” Betsy says, unusually flustered for once. “I owe you my life… I’m Betsy. To whom do I owe my gratitude?”

“They call me Izzy out this way. Nice to meet you, Betsy.” The two bump fists as they continue walking.

//

The dream begins to fade as the morning sun creeps into her bedroom, invited in by her mother, who had opened the curtains while she slept. Elena peers over at her daughter, who has started to stir in bed, her heart full of joy at having her daughter back home. For Elena, too much time had been lost during Betsy’s absence, and they still had so much more to make up for. She feels the same old twinge of guilt as she considers the rocky history between her younger daughter and herself. Elena Granger had been a damaged woman for a long time, but she had put in the work to improve herself for the sake of her husband and daughters. Now, she hoped she could help her beloved daughter find her footing again as she adjusts to the normality of day-to-day life.

“Morning, Ma.” Betsy’s muffled voice came from the bed.

“Good morning, sweetheart. I wasn’t trying to wake you.” Elena replied warmly, only half-lying.

“It’s alright, I was just waking up anyway.” With a big yawn, Betsy sits up in bed and stretches, her feet searching for her slippers.

Elena looks over at her daughter fondly, mildly taken aback by the amount of love she feels for this girl she’d considered a misfit for so long. Perhaps she was, Elena thought, but in the best sort of way. When she considered her daughter’s intelligence and grace, she was always in awe that her genetics could have produced something so special. This feeling was extended to her older daughter, Adelaide, as well; her girls were as different as night and day, but both had made something of themselves despite her toxic ways of raising them. Thank goodness for their father, the anchor that still holds this family together to this day. Joel had never given up on her or their children; his love had guided her to rehabilitation and growth.

“Are you okay, Mom?” Betsy was on her feet, standing before her mother. “You ran off to LaLa land for a second.”

“I’m afraid to take my eyes off of you, I suppose,” Elena answers honestly. “I always knew in my heart you were alive and well, but I was always afraid I’d never get to see you again…” Her voice trails off as her voice quivers with emotion. She recovers quickly and beams at her daughter.

A lump begins to form in Betsy’s throat as Elena willingly exposes herself; it still took Betsy by surprise at how much her mother seemed determined to make up for her terrible parenting. “Mom, I…” but now her voice trails off. As if sharing a mind, they close the gap between them and embrace tightly.

Elena runs her fingers through Betsy’s hair, closing her eyes and letting a tear fall down her cheek. They remain like this for a long time, until Addy pops her head in, looking for them. “Hey, ladies, I-“ She stops when she sees the emotional embrace. “Oh shit, I didn’t know it was hugging hour.” She says and wraps her arms around both women.

Betsy lets out a laugh and wiggles her way out of the family hug. “Alright, before this shindig turns into a sob fest, how about we keep Papa company at the table for breakfast?”

The ladies made their way down the stairs one by one and were all greeted with Joel Granger’s warm smile. Set out on the table were bacon, pancakes, sliced fruits, eggs, and orange juice. Coffee was on the burner, calling Betsy’s name. She went straight for the cupboard for a mug and poured herself a cup, the bitter taste exploding over her taste buds. Still sipping, she sits down at the table and allows her mother to fill her plate with a little bit of everything. Shifting the mug to one hand, she picks up a piece of bacon and takes an appreciative bite out of it. Cooked to perfection. In all of time and space, nothing hit quite the way bacon could.

“How did my girls sleep last night?” Joel asks, leaning back in his chair, his own cup of coffee between his hands.

“Like the dead,” Addy said. “I forgot how effective fresh-air poisoning could be for the insomnia.”

“I tell you girls, buy yourself a farm, you won’t regret it,” Joel says jovially. “Ah, but my Addy-Patty will always be a beach bum, won’t she?”

“I’ve got sand and saltwater in my DNA at this point,” Addy replies good-naturedly.

“How about you, Bets?  How did you sleep?” Joel asks, shifting his eyes over.

“Okay, I guess.” Betsy lies; her mind still wrapped around the eyes she saw in her dream. “Still getting used to being back.”

“Speaking of which, I have something that may help with that,” Elena says between bites of fresh apples. “After breakfast, remind me.”

Betsy nods to indicate her agreement as she stuffs a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth. The rest of the meal is spent listening to Addy and Elena plan activities for the family to do together. Betsy couldn’t help but feel amused by the timing the Brotherhood had chosen for her. Addy was visiting between modeling jobs and writing health articles, having acquired lucrative positions with a fast-rising high-end fashion magazine and Sports Illustrated. As much as she wanted to take extra time off, neither could afford for her to be away for long, Addy had explained excitedly, causing Betsy to smile. She’d never seen Adelaide this excited for a career move, and it warmed her heart to see her sister finally flourish on her own.

Excusing herself from the table after finishing her full plate of food, Betsy retreats to the bathroom to start getting herself pulled together for the day. She sneaks back to her room after brushing her hair and teeth, and quickly changes into blue jeans, a black baby tee, and a baggy Invader Zim hoodie. She turns to head back out to the living room, where her mother was waiting, but the book in the middle of her desk catches her eye. She vaguely remembered flipping through it and being caught up in one of the stories. She clicks her tongue against the top of her mouth as she turns on her heel and heads down to her Mom. Elena is sitting on the couch waiting for her, several scrapbooks set out on the coffee table in front of her.

Amused, Betsy takes a seat next to her and grabs the oldest-looking one. “What’s all this, Mama Bear?”

“Most of them are family memories; I was feeling nostalgic for a while and decided to pull them out again,” Elena replies, watching her daughter flip through the book with all the old, yellowing photos of older generations. “Those aren’t what I wanted to show you, however.” She gently takes the book from Betsy and places another one in her hands.

An eyebrow flies upward as Betsy looks at the title of this book: “Betsy’s Wrestling Career”. She glances up at her mother, who nods, motioning for her to open the book. Heart pounding and stomach twisting, Betsy flips open the cover and is immediately confronted with the past she tried to leave behind. James Ravens' smug smile mocks her from the page, alongside Shawn Warstein’s usual expressionless face. She was in between them, an arm thrown around both their shoulders, a broad, happy smile plastered on her face. She didn’t realize she had started crying until a teardrop fell upon the picture, distorting Shawn’s face. Elena silently hands Betsy a tissue and waits patiently for her daughter to compose herself.

“That’s one of my favorite pictures of you, you know.” She said suddenly. Betsy looks at her, surprised as she blows her nose. Elena nods. “You never smile like that often; in fact, I could safely say that was the first and last time I’ve seen a smile like that on your face.”

Betsy carefully dabs at the teardrop before it can harm the photo. She turns the page, and there’s a photo of her and Atara after their first tag match together. A deep mixture of anger, hurt, and love war within her as she studies the picture for a long time. She and Atty had always had a tumultuous friendship at best; how close could two women get when one was blatant about wanting the other’s man as much as Atty had been? Even during relationships with others within the business, Atara had always made herself clear: the end game for her was always going to be James Raven. And at the first chance she had, the first crack she could fit through, she had got precisely what she wanted. Bitterness turned to bile in her stomach and crept into her throat, making her gag for a moment. Hatred took over for a minute as Betsy took the picture from its protective cover and held it up to her face.

What she saw almost made her drop the photo. Those eyes… Those Aegean blue eyes that Atara was always so proud of. That she used to command a room or pull in whoever she wanted; eyes that could see right through the soul of a person and call them out on their bullshit as she continued to stir her own. Those eyes had glittered with victory when James publicly declared himself Atara’s man for the first time. She remembered the last time she’d really looked at Atara’s face. Atara had been pregnant with James Raven's daughter after a month, maybe two, together. In a move that shocked the world, Atara had named Betsy the godmother of her daughter.

In response, Betsy had crashed the baby shower and touched Atara’s belly, leaving behind some of the same universal energy that flowed through her own veins. She didn’t know why it felt right at the time, but it was the ultimate badge of protection she could think of to give to the baby girl. If nothing else, it would serve as a beacon of sorts: if Ismini Raven ever found herself in danger or in need of someone, the connection would call out to Betsy, and she could be there.

Ismini.  The child would be three years old now and becoming her own little person. Despite herself, Betsy couldn’t help but wonder what kind of being the spawn of Atara Themis and James Raven would grow up to be. She had a flash of a young woman with wavy hair the same shade as her father's, with eyes just like her mother’s… This thought causes Betsy to bolt up from the couch.

“Holy fuck, it can’t be!” Betsy exclaims out loud, suddenly picturing the girl from her dream.

Elena jumps at the sudden flurry of movement from her daughter and clutches her chest for a moment. “Goodness gracious, honey, what was that?!”

Betsy turns towards her mother’s voice, but she’s blind to everything outside the thoughts in her head. “Sorry, Ma, a lot is going on that I need to work out, and you may have just unwittingly shown me the first step.” Before Elena could formulate a reply, Betsy set down the scrapbook, planted a kiss on her mother’s cheek, and dashed out of the room, still clutching the picture of her and Atara.

Running first to her bedroom, she grabs the book of Greek and Roman mythology from the center of her desk and carries it with her outside. Rushing to Excellence, she swings open the doors and steps inside, her heart twisting for a moment at the cold stillness. She had avoided coming in here since she’d arrived home, knowing that it would only lead to a yearning she couldn’t fulfill. For the first time, she finally had a purpose, a mystery to keep her mind occupied. None of what was happening to her right now was an accident; the Brotherhood was sending her home, and that had been a choice made by them. Decisions decreed by the Brotherhood couldn’t be contested or disobeyed; this was a universal fact for those in the know. Most humans would call them fate, the simplicity of which they found to be a constant source of humor.

They weren’t malevolent or unjust, they just were. Yes, they had mocked her when they kidnapped her and brought her back to Earth, but nothing they’d pointed out had been wrong. Maybe she had been getting just a bit too big for her britches, putting aside her humanity to avoid feeling her feelings wasn’t the healthiest coping mechanism. It fascinated her how entities with such an emotionless, pragmatic view of the universe could still understand the need for one Betsy Granger to keep her humanity. They may not have told her what the task at hand was verbatim, but she knew that nothing they did was an accident.

Plopping down in the center of the console room, Betsy sets the picture of her and Atara down in front of her. The Brotherhood may have turned Excellence into a silent sentinel, but this room was still the place where Betsy could do her best thinking. It was funny, yesterday she had started considering what she could do for work now that she was back. In her heart, she knew that’s why Elena had wanted her to look through the scrapbook; when she was stationary here, she always found her way back to the ring. And when she did that, she began to experience a taste of success, but it was not like her last time. Though it was deep into 2025 here, time had run differently for Betsy out there; it always caught her off guard to see or hear the year. If you asked her, it was still early 2022.

She’d been unable to swallow this the entire week she’d had to stew over this. So much so that she avoided watching TV, looking at social media, the whole nine. The need to isolate had been all-encompassing, and she let it happen. Now, for the first time since being home, she felt the need to have a look at the world outside this little farm in Iowa. Addy had rattled on a bit about it, filling her in on some of the horrors that had transpired. Trump was president again, gross. Betsy couldn’t hide the disgust on her face when Addy had chattered about that, but she was surprised when Addy started telling her who the different Cabinet members were. When did Addy become so well-informed?

Her sister had also warned her that Elon Musk had bought out Twitter and it was now called X, and that he and Trump had almost gotten married before falling out hard. This had made Betsy laugh; now she wondered about the spectacle and how much of it was for the public. Not that it mattered for the time being, but she’d be keeping a close eye on that as well. For now, she had to focus on getting her old job back, which she put her mind back on as she looked at the picture of Atara before her. The young girl in her dreams over the last week had Atara’s eyes; there was no mistaking that. Grasping at what she could remember, Betsy closed her eyes and tried to envision the girl more clearly. There was no point; besides the eyes, the rest of the girl’s face was a blur. It hadn’t seemed important to remember her features, for hadn’t she met a thousand faces along her numerous adventures?

Pulling her phone from her hoodie pocket, she opens the screen and looks around in the app store, searching for X. A wave of nausea hits her as she hits install, remembering how toxic the environment had been when she bowed out the last time. Had it changed, and if so, was it for the better? Unlikely, given the current state of the world. Still, she knew that it had to be done if she was going to get her foot back in the door. Besides, there were those she was looking forward to reconnecting with, if they felt the desire to bother with her after all these years. In all fairness, she’d left without a text or call of warning to anyone, including her own family. If people decided she wasn’t worth the time, she’d completely understand.

A millisecond of anxiety cripples her, like an elephant sitting on her chest as she goes through the process of signing back up. Hesitation stops her from hitting the button to complete the process, fully aware that once she made her presence known, there would be a floodgate one way or another. A lot of eyes were going to fall on her, and expectations would follow, big ones. Then a thought breaks through, one so simple yet profound, it steadies her breathing and takes the weight from her lungs.

It didn’t matter who loved or who hated her in that industry; all of them knew she was a threat in between those ropes. And yet… Her reason for wanting to return had nothing to do with chasing accolades and titles.

A new determination flooded through her, and she hit the button to complete the process of signing up. Going to the search bar first, she looked up the names she could remember straight away and followed them, officially signaling her return. As she did that, a mischievous little grin spread across her face, and she sent out her first tweet in nearly four years.

“Peekaboo…”

A smile tugging at the corner of her lips, Betsy sat back against the cool metal wall of Excellence and closed the screen on her phone. Her eyes slid shut as she contemplated what impact that little tweet would have on her future…