xp_logs | LOG: [Betsy, Haller] After

Betsy and Haller met in her office. And then, the moment passed.

Soft, slowing breath against his ear. Warmth against him like a tide, the rise and fall of steady breathing. The solidness of the desk beneath his forearms, smooth wood gone warm and tacky under his skin. These were the things his senses were giving him.

He closed his eyes and breathed deep, his face bent into the heat of her hair, cheek against her temple. Fingers curling around hers, almost unconsciously. Focusing on the sensation as he came back to himself. Lilac. That was what she smelled like.

This had been a mistake.

The room seemed to echo each breath they took. For some glorious minutes, she’d been allow a respite out of the madness. A sort of sanctuary. But just as they’d given one another a form of leave from their own morbid thoughts, her presence, it seemed was no longer welcomed.

There was a slight shove as she was pushed from within their shared space and back into her own mind and thoughts. It was a cruel thing to do when all they’d wanted were a few blissful moments; a reprieve. The transition back into the fallacy that was her life would’ve been tainted by the afterglow and perhaps everything wouldn’t have seemed as harsh considering the last week.

With a shudder, she felt him pull away from her in all the ways that mattered. How could she have gotten it so wrong? Long manicured hands wrapped themselves around his sweat slick skin, indulging in the feel of muscle under her fingertips. She finally squeezed his bicep to get his attention. Still so close to her, he was already miles away. “David,” she whispered.

Jim buried his face against her skin, his breath trapped in her hair. "Betsy," he murmured, moving one hand to stroke the line of her jaw. He back in his world, and she in hers. Everything separate. Everything safe.

She pulled back, untangling her legs from around him. There was the light brush of stubble against her cheek she allowed herself before leaning back fully against her desk, eyeing him. Her hand flitted over his cheek while her eyes flicked downward before looking up into his face. “Right,” Betsy said with an exasperated sigh. “Fine.”

Jim gathered her hand in his to brush the knuckles against his lips before pulling away, the warmth between them spilled into the open air. He reorganized his clothing without so much as fumbling with the buckle, then stooped to retrieve hers. No need for panic. No need for fear. Secure in his own mind again, calm and still. He held the bundle out to her with a faint smile. "Um. You dropped these."

Betsy grabbed her slacks and top and put them on without wasting a moment. She was already standing by her desk, dark eyes fixated on the very spot, a light flush on her cheeks. She waited to see if he would say anything, acknowledge what had transpired between them. But when she realized an answer wouldn’t be forthcoming, Betsy pulled away, did an about face, and walked out the office without looking back. Her face red and her eyes splotchy, she did her best not to make a scene this late in the evening. If she was lucky, she'd spend a few hours in her quarters sleeping off whatever madness that'd got her in this ruddy situation in the first place.

And maybe, just maybe if she did it right, she wouldn’t have to remember it at all. Not likely. But one could only hope.