Scott and Betsy

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Only fair to do this on her ground, Scott thought, pausing in front of Betsy's office door for a moment before he took a deep breath and knocked. And he only hoped this was the right thing to do - he doubted that she didn't know already, however careful Jean had been to limit her projecting, but he knew her well enough to know that him not saying anything would be taken badly. And he owed her this much, maybe. Closure?

"Enter," Betsy called out. Searching for a particular report, Betsy was standing at her filing cabinet behind her desk. The door opened with a practiced creak and Betsy looked up to see Scott at her door. "Was wondering when you'd show up."

Scott smiled very faintly. "Well," he pointed out, closing the door softly behind him, "I am still within the twenty-four hour window. It was something of a debate. Deciding whether to show up. When to show up. What to say when I did."

Betsy closed the filing cabinet and shook her head at him. "You see, I gave you till this afternoon to figure out your game plan and all evening to decided whether you'd execute it at all. And there was this business of trying out trial simulations to find the best-suited approach. So you see, Scott, I hadn't expected to see your face till early next week."

"I've been working on this whole 'not planning non-team things to death' concept lately. I'm not sure how well it's going." Scott didn't sit down. She hadn't invited him to do so, and he leaned back against the closed door, watching her. "I knew you'd know already," he said quietly. "Unless I showed up five minutes after walking in the door, which I'd already decided was out for various reasons."

"Considering you're ninety-six hours ahead of schedule, I'd say you were doing reasonably well, there." Betsy squared her gaze, giving him her undivided attention. He was uncomfortable with the situation, that much she could tell, and she wasn't helping matters by keeping him at a distance. Watching him this way, Betsy's internal struggle seemed decided for her. With some trepidation, Betsy relinquished her hold on that flame that ceased to die. Well, then, she thought to herself. Funny how things work out.

Motioning for Scott to have a seat, Betsy took a buoyant step toward her desk and also sat down. "I'm glad you came," she admitted. She exhaled loudly. "So, when's the day?"

Scott hesitated, then moved forward and sat down. "Not a clue," he admitted freely. "One of the problems with this whole spontanaeity thing. You do something, and you don't have the next year planned out in exhaustive detail. It's kind of unnerving."

"Well," Betsy started. "If I'm to be brutally honest, why not continue with that streak of spontaneity? There's no real point to the wedding, really. It's only consummating a relationship that would remain sound without the inherent titles of man and wife. And for that matter, both of us here know that waiting would only delay the inevitable. Topping all that off, your lifestyle is not wholly safe and the likelihood of something happening in the interim....." Betsy grimaced. "Never mind that, all I'm saying is that don't wait another lifetime for something you've wanted from the beginning?"

Inevitable... Scott gazed at her for a long moment, aware of a lingering wistfulness that was, all things considered, far preferable to the wrenching guilt he would have felt a few months ago. But even so... "I'll remember that," he said quietly. "Give it some thought."

"You should," Betsy replied, looking away from his penetrating stare. She wasn't that brave, not quite. "It's sound advice from one friend to another."