Thursday pretty much sucked all around--Backdated

[x-siryn.livejournal.com]

Terry follows up her fight with Alison with a run and a flirtation with dehydration. Bobby comes to her rescue.




Bobby was bruised and aching from the Danger Room scenario he'd just finished running, but his concern for Terry was stronger. Everyone had heard her that morning, but no one seemed to know where she'd gone after. He'd tried all the usual in-the-mansion haunts with no success, so he'd branched out to the grounds. So far no luck, and he was getting more worried with each empty hidey-hole he checked. He headed into the woods towards yet another spot, hoping this would be the one he'd find her in.

Terry was curled up on a fallen log. She ran until she was too tired to run more then would sit until thinking became too painful and she had to run again. She'd been running most of the morning and dirt and leaves clung to her sneakers. Her hair was damp from sweat and she was breathing hard. Only some of it was being out of breath. Dry, choking sobs accounted for the rest. Tears had long since ceased to fall.

As he drew near, Bobby heard the harsh sounds and broke into a jog, falling to his knees at Terry's side. "Hey," he said quietly, resting a hand on her back. "What's going on?"

Terry shook her head. She didn't want to talk about it. Talking about it meant thinking about it and she would just get mad all over again. She curled up more tightly. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"...You are so not fine," Bobby chided, but then he sighed and dropped it. He tugged at her shirt gently, frowning. "C'mere, sweetie."

She shook her head again, "I'm gross. I've been running." Her skin was clammy and cool to her own touch but she still felt too hot. She'd been thirsty a while back but hadn't brought anything with her. The feeling had passed. She was sure that he wouldn't want to touch her right though, sweaty as she was.

"I don't care." He rubbed her arm and his frown deepened. "Why don't we go back to the mansion, get some lunch and a shower, if you're so gross?" She wasn't looking so great.

"I'm not hungry." Just the thought made her queasy. A shower might be good, cold so that she could feel less like her skin was melting off her. She got to her feet slowly, gritting her teeth against the dizziness that had forced her to sit down this last time. "Just a shower."

Bobby grabbed her arm to steady her as she swayed a bit. "And some water," he added, rubbing her arm. He gently chilled the air around her, thinking she looked pretty hot and miserable.

Even the slight change of temperature made her shiver and she managed to summon up a smile for him. "Thanks, it's really much too hot out here." She frowned, "Why would she do this?"

"Do what?" Bobby asked gently, getting a firm grip on her arm and slowly starting back toward the school.

It was still too hot. "She told Jay. I told her not to. I begged her not to. He shouldn’t have to worry about that bastard. He shouldn't be here in the first place. He'd never do the same for any of us. He just walked away from Jay!"

Bobby halted, turning her to face him. "You don't think Jay deserves to know? If it was me...I'd want to know." He was afraid to upset her again, but really--if the guy that had done...what had been done to him was in the mansion, Bobby would sure as hell want to be informed. And then he would kill him, but that was neither here nor there.

"When you can't do anything? When they'll protect him because they don't care that he tried to kill you?" Terry said, her voice rising dangerously. She pulled away from him and stumbled back. Her dizziness was back. She pressed her hands to her head, feeling sick.

"It's better than--Terry? What's wrong?" Bobby stepped forward and reached for her again, concern overriding his argument.

"Aw hell." Bobby hit his knees next to her for the second time in five minutes, brushing her hair back from her face. "Terry?" Dehydration, it looked like. He absently formed a small cylinder of ice, rubbing it against her lips and then across her forehead. "Wake up, hon," he murmured softly. "Come on."

Her eyelashes fluttered after a moment and she groaned, feeling like she'd just awoken from a deep sleep, "What happened?" Terry licked at her lips automatically, her parched mouth greedy for the moisture.

Bobby moved the ice back to her mouth. "You fainted. What have you been doing all morning, aside from not drinking anything?"

"Went for a run." Several runs, really. "Cried some. Ran some more." She licked the ice then reached up and took it from him so she could bite off a piece to suck on. "What do you mean I fainted? I've never fainted."

"Well, you have now." Bobby shifted, pulling her head into his lap and stroking her hair. "Just suck on that for a minute, then we'll get you inside with the AC and some water."

Terry shuddered. "I heard the jet leave. Did she go?" She didn't want to go back to the mansion if Alison was there, she decided. She could stay out here all day. Bobby would bring her things.

Bobby hesitated, then nodded. It wasn't exactly classified as to who was on the 'bird when it left, right? "Yeah, she's gone."

Terry sucked on the ice as she nodded. "Okay." She sat up with his help and carefully stood. She was ravenously thirsty again, probably running all morning hadn't been the best idea. It hadn't blunted her anger any, in any case.

Bobby steadied her, then slipped an arm around her waist, heading for the house slowly. He bit his lip, wanting to talk to Terry more about this morning, but not wanting to start a fight. Or make her faint again.

The cold from the ice was beginning to hurt her fingertips by the time they reached the kitchen but she was feeling a little cooler and steadier. No one was in the room for which Terry was profoundly grateful. She sat down at the table and slumped down, resting her head on her hand.

Bobby nabbed a bottled water from the fridge and brought it to Terry, sinking into the chair next to her and placing a hand at the back of her neck, gently chilling it. "You need to take care of yourself, hon," he chided gently, concerned at seeing her let herself get like this.

She shivered and grabbed the water, twisting it open and downing it in a few long swallows without even pausing to breathe. "I'm fine. Just thirsty is all," she said as though she hadn't just pushed herself to near heatstroke because of a temper tantrum. "I'll be okay now."

"Uh huh." Bobby tucked a bit of hair behind her ear tenderly, then went to fetch her two more bottles of water. "Take this one a bit slower," he recommended, setting it in front of her. He wasn't going to push her to talk--just sit here and be, really.

She opened the new bottle with less urgency than before, taking judicious sips from it rather than guzzling it. As she cooled off, she was feeling more and more stupid. Not only had she disobeyed Jean's direct order but she'd run off without going to check on Jay first and see how he was doing. "What is going on?"

"What do you mean?" If she was referring to the mission, he'd try to tell her as much as he could without getting himself in trouble, and he was already mentally reviewing the post about it, picking out the bits that might be safe to mention.

"At all. I haven't been in the mansion since yelling at Alison. Have you seen Jay? Is he all right?" She'd already finished her second water though she hadn't even noticed that she'd been drinking it. She didn't open the last right away.

"I have no idea--I've been in the Danger Room all morning, being heaped with abuse for my little piece of art on the lawn yesterday." Bobby grinned faintly, unable to help it. That sculpture had been one of his best yet. "Do you want to go find him?" She was definitely looking better.

She shook her head. "I want a shower right now. I'll find him after." Or so she was going to tell herself. In truth she had no idea if she had the courage to face anyone right now. She definitely lacked the inclination.

Bobby nodded, squeezing her shoulder before standing, grabbing her empty water bottles to toss into the recycling bin. "I'm gonna go talk to Paige for a bit, then." He frowned slightly, turning to face her. "...Have you told her about us?" He was fairly sure the answer was 'no', and...Paige wasn't going to like this.

Terry shook her head mutely and a totally different reason to be miserable asserted itself. She knew Paige and Bobby were close and Paige had never been Bobby's little sister. "I haven't seen her much. She stays downstairs." Terry stood and collected her last water bottle, trying to ignore the new knot of sick dread in her stomach. "I'm going up to my room. You can..." she stopped and shrugged, "I'll see you later."

Yup. Definitely not going to like this, being left out of the loop for so long. Especially with her brother already knowing about it. "Okay. Maybe I'll come find you later. You should probably rest a bit after your shower." He crossed to her, glancing at the door to the kitchen before leaning in to kiss her cheek.

Might? And a peck on the cheek? He was thinking about Paige already, she knew it.. "I might, yeah." Terry agreed and fled the kitchen.



Thursday night finds Terry coping in a time honored fashion, one that Betsy knows a bit about.




The bottle was empty. Terry lowered it from her mouth and stared at it for a moment. She'd swiped a full bottle from the liquor cabinet but the pain was barely blotted and her thoughts were still too sharp. Angrily she hurled it away and shattered it with a short tightly controlled scream. Glass rained over the moonlit lawn away from the shade of the tree Terry had tucked herself under. She groped for the second bottle, determined not to think tonight.

Betsy quickly dodged the bits of flying glass as they broke by her foot. She'd gone for a quiet walk on the grounds, only to find herself following the trail of anguish, as if following breadcrumbs to its source. A restrained cry caused her to look up and see Terry at the base of the tree, wrestling with the top of a very large, very potent bottle of whiskey. "I'd be amazed if you could finish that off all by yourself," she looked down at her feet and shrugged. "Though it looks like you're a pro at this."

Terry looked up at Betsy, eyes red-rimmed and face blotchy from tears. "What do yeh want?" she asked sullenly, lowering the bottle protectively. She didn't care right now that she was probably going to be in a lot of trouble. But if Betsy tried to take her drink there'd be hell to pay.

"Easy, easy," Betsy said, crouching down where she stood and holding her hands up in mock surrender. She tipped her head toward the bottle. "You can hold onto that for now. No one else is here to take that away from you." Waiting a moment, until Terry calmed. "Mind telling me what's got you out here with that?"

"Yeh didn't hear?" Terry wrenched to bottle open and dropped the top listlessly, "Everyone else did. S'fuckin' the right thing. Tellin' everyone. Apparently." She put the bottle to her lips and took a long swallow, ignoring the burn. "My fuckin' ex is in the medlab."

"I tend to avoid the general population at all costs," Betsy said, jokingly though there was some truth to her words. "I do recall that there was some uproar earlier but your ex being in medlab shouldn't cause you to drink." Betsy paused, shaking her head at that. "Though, I shouldn't be one to talk."

"He's a fuckin' bigot. His friend is that one that hit me at the fair." Terry sniffled and took another mouthful of whiskey, "He's in the medlab. He's a mutant now or something."

Betsy sighed, ripping the grass from the ground and cupped it in her hands . "You know, that kind of reminds me of a quote my father use to tell me. The supreme irony of life is that hardly anyone gets out of it alive." She wore a somber mask as she continued. "Seems the gods found it necessary to teach him a lesson. But I doubt they intended for you to wallow out here under the stink of cheap whiskey, either."

"S'very expensive whiskey," Terry muttered, "S'Irish. Yeah, s'karma. He gets what he gave. But why the fuck do we have to have him here? Does that seem right? After what he's done?" She gave Betsy an inquiring look. "He's not dying. They should get rid of him."

"Right, right. How could I have thought such a thing." Betsy stated, nonchalantly. "But on the point of your ex, he was at quite ill at one point, which is why the doctors are ensuring that he's stable before anything else is decided. I'm not quite sure they've figured out what they're going to do with him exactly. It's a bit early to say, I think."

Terry muttered something in Irish and tipped the bottle back again, then offered it somewhat absently to Betsy. "Dr McCoy said he was stable. Dr Grey, too," She pointed out resentfully. "S'not right. Havin' him here. Hurtin' people."

Betsy wiped her hands on her pants and reached for the bottle. "I'm not particularly pleased with his presence here either." She stood up, tucked it under her arm, and offered her other hand to Terry. "Come on, time to get you sobered up and it's not going to be much fun. So, best to get it out of the way now."

The world swam alarmingly as Betsy pulled Terry to her feet and the girl nearly collapsed. The whiskey had been lying in wait, Terry determined, just waiting for the right moment to strike. Treacherous drink. "Don't want to. Hurts."

Ready for this, Betsy braced herself against the young redhead as she made a dive for the ground. Holding her up with both arms, Betsy tipped Terry's head back and with a quick internal snap, pulled her from the haze that she'd entrenched herself within. "Mind you, you're still right smashed. But I'm saving you the slopping parts where I'd have to drag you in with the whole-school looking-on." Betsy offered her hand to Terry as they started back to the school. "A temporary fix until we get you situated.."

"Not enough," Terry complained, her thoughts much too clear for her liking. "I don't want to go back there." She went along with Betsy without fighting her, the beginnings of a headache pounding behind her eyes. "There's not anyone in there I want to see."

"Can't say the same for those inside," Betsy carried on, repositioning the Whiskey under her other arm, as they continued their trek back. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Betsy thought on the day's events with almost numb recollection. Only this morning had she overheard the argument between Terry and Alison, privately grumbling about the
situation. And only a few hours ago, she'd been hilt deep in Maverick's brain. Perspective was a clever bitch. "I could go let everyone know you're alright and we can head elsewhere," Betsy asked.

"They can go see Tommy if they want to know where I am. Anywhere he's not." Terry glared at the whiskey now out of her reach. She hadn't meant for Betsy to take it. "They need to get rid of him. Send him any place that isn't here where he's hurt people."

"Then let's get you back and you can be far from him for now and be with friends who're missing you." Betsy kept the bottle just out of reach, as she looked up at the looming landscape of the school. "And it looks like they'll be happy to hear from you." She nudged Terry. "Come on then. You'll have a long night ahead of you and it's best we get you to bed."