Scott and Betsy, Friday

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After this log, Scott is alerted to a very distraught Betsy and follows her before she can try of his tricks (like driving while distraught). It's not such a great conversation for either of them, and is definitely surreal in patches.


Betsy scrabbled back toward the door and away from the fire. From his voice, screaming for her to. "get out." Her face felt hot to the touch. Hot as streaks of tears ran messily down her cheeks. With her face turned downward, Betsy wiped angrily at them, while trying to put as much space between her and medlab. From them. She had to go.... Oh god. Stopping dead in her tracks, Betsy fought back a wave of nausea. She'd called Jim, Jamie. With a harsh, anguished cry, Betsy took off at a faster pace, her head tipped farther down, as she reached the main hallway and out of medlab.

"Betsy!" Scott came down the hall after her, having been alerted to the situation by a coldly indignant Amelia. "Betsy, wait," he said, picking up the pace to catch up with her. "Betsy! Just stop for a second, all right?"

Bracing her left hand out, Betsy felt her world shift slightly before finding purchase on a extremely solid piece of wall. The force of Haller's ejection had unhinged her. She needed time to focus, to collect her thoughts, and find her center again. Betsy kept moving still but if she pushed her pace any faster, she'd pitch forward. As if her mind had finally caught up with what had happened, Betsy shivered, replaying the events over and over again with everything else in the periphery. Shock had a funny way of appearing, especially when least expected.

"Betsy!" Scott caught up with her, his jaw clenching at the unfocused look on her face. He took her by the arms, forcing her to stop. "Are you hurt? Betsy, look at me."

Betsy flinched, her mind rearing up in self-protected haze. "Let go of me," she screamed, pulling away from him. She felt her hands come up and beating down on his chest with so little force. What little energy she had left in her. "Don't touch me. Don't come near me." Her head still facing downward, Betsy stilled at the hands on her. "Don't...."

"Once I know you're not hurt." Scott gave a short bark of laughter. "You're lucky it wasn't Amelia coming after you for disturbing one of her patients... Betsy, what happened?" She didn't look hurt. Her hair looked a little singed in places, but despite that and the smell of smoke, there weren't any visible burns. Scott's eyes narrowed as Charles was suddenly there in his mind, filling him in... what? He barely managed to cover the shock, and by then, Betsy was turning on him.

She looked up, purple eyes shining brightly against the fluorescent lights. "A TSUNAMI!" Betsy found her focus and pushed against Scott's hold. "You sent them out to be killed but they lived. They only came back broken!" Her voice kept rising, close to hysterics. "A win for all those concerned, right? What's a cracked brain between old friends?"

"I did not send them out to be killed," Scott said, his voice clipped. He didn't let go of her. No way was he letting her make a mad run for the garage or something and drive in this state of mind. Her and Jim? Damn. So much for my reputation as the one who knows everything... He shook his head, focusing on the conversation at hand. "I asked them to do what had to be done if thousands of people were going to live." Her words stung more than he was willing to admit. Jean might have come through the tsunami largely intact, but Nathan had given them a hell of a scare, and the consequences of Jim's choice were heartbreaking. "And I was right there on the beach with them."

"Right there?" Before she knew it, Betsy raised her hand and felt the hard sting as it connected satisfyingly to his face. "Behind the telekinetic shield, I'm sure." And then the balance tipped and Betsy lost all control over her faculties. She found herself falling forward, tears falling unhindered down her devastated face.

Scott, mostly because it all happened too fast, but partially because his jaw now fucking hurt, let her fall. "Behind the telekinetic shield, yes," he muttered, rubbing at his jaw. "Along with the rest of San Diego. Don't talk like I gave them the order and then ran for higher ground, Betsy. Jean was on that beach, remember?" And if they hadn't held, he wasn't going to have been anywhere else but with her.

She fell onto her knees, her head spinning. Nothing remaining still for long. Betsy sidled up against the wall, resting her head against it, facing down the empty hallway with empty eyes looking at nothing. "Just go," she managed to croak out. "Leave me."

"Like hell." Scott sighed and sat down beside her. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment, almost inaudibly. "That this happened. When someone does something like what Jim did on that beach, they're supposed to be able to walk away. To feel good about themselves for what they did, all the lives they saved." This was just the tiniest bit bizarre. He'd never imagined himself counseling Betsy on... something like this.

"I didn't realize..." Betsy started, closing her eyes and exhaling loudly. "It all starts out slowly enough. Too slow. So you're not even aware of how far things have progressed until...." She turned her head part way to look at Scott's before placing her head firmly against the wall. It was like she was talking about them from Before. "...it's taken away from you."

"'It' doesn't announce itself, no," Scott said quietly. "That's part of 'its' charm." He watched for a moment. Clearly, it had progressed quite some distance. "Nothing's been taken away from you," he went on, just as softly. "He's hurt, not dead. He can recover. You'd damned well better believe that all of us are going to do what we can to make that happen."

"You didn't..." Betsy started, voice choked up. Her hands tightened over her knees, keeping them from shaking. Lips upturning in a forced smile, she continued. "'It' is over. Probably for the best, considering."

"You always did give up too easily. I think it's one of your defining traits," Scott said, very levelly.

"Of course, it is," Betsy muttered to herself, squaring her gaze, and seemingly coming back to herself. "If I fought any harder...." If they were going to talk about the thing that shouldn't be talked about. She'd lay it all out there. "Nate would've been kibble on the faculty lounge floor." Her eyes locked around the wedding band on his left hand and turned away. "Right," she whispered. Decidedly, Betsy braced herself against the wall and shakily stood up.

"And you would have been fighting out of regret, Betsy. For something you'd already let slip through your fingers." If they were being honest, well... "Don't do that here," he urged her quietly, not moving from the floor. "You haven't lost him. He'd stick it out with you, if the positions were reversed." He smiled a bit tiredly. "Take it from the man who sat beside your bed for an hour every day during your comas."

Looking down at him, Betsy closed her eyes more to steady herself than out of weariness. "I called him Jamie," she said darkly, turning away and not waiting for Scott to clue in. "In some way," she said over her shoulder, moving away from him. "To me, David is already gone."

Scott finally got up, shaking his head. At least she seemed calmer. "Don't be a coward, Betsy," he said. "You've lost too much in your life, reacting out of fear. If you love him, fight for him, damn it."

"Maybe that's just it," she whispered to herself. I never did love him, did I? Making her way out of the hall and to the connecting staircase, Betsy walked out of the lower levels without saying a word to anyone or anything.