Day Zero: Betsy and Haller (Reunion)

[x-psylocke.livejournal.com]

Returning to the Mansion via the Blackbird, Jim finds Betsy.



The footfalls on the Blackbird's ramp were soft, but held the briskness of barely restrained tension. A pause at the top as the walker searched, and then a swift resumption as the object that was sought was spotted at the back of the plane.

Covered in blankets, she felt the soft landing of the Blackbird as it touched down on the school grounds but couldn't be bothered to move. She remembered voices trying to keep her awake. Words like 'head trauma' and 'concussion' were thrown around. Perhaps, she would stay here in the back of the plane, listening to the hum of conversation as the excitement ratcheted up, everyone realizing they were alive and safe. Betsy burrowed deeper under the covers, if she could only stay asleep a little bit longer.

Then a weight settled on the side of the cot, warm and close, and she felt a hand brush the top of her head.

Betsy turned towards the sensation and her eyes fluttered open at the familiar touch. Her gaze not quite reaching his face, she smiled. "Jim," Betsy said sleepily. "Hi."

The darkness in front of her eyes offered nothing but the silence of every bruise and cut being absorbed into memory. No words, no movement. Hardly even an indrawn breath.

Then the weight on the cot shifted, and hands were pulling her into a sitting position, then forward into an embrace that fought not to hold too tightly, and failed. And with the embrace came a flood of emotion: worry, and frustration, and then relief -- relief so great all else was washed away.

Momentarily confused, she clumsily wrapped her hands around his neck. She placed her head on his shoulder and tightened her hold. This felt good, safe, for now. Assuring his torrent of emotions with a telepathic caress, Betsy noticed that the plane had gone quiet but kept her focus on grounding him. Her head started to ache and she winced as the pain intensified. She started to feel weak, the last few days beating down on her and she released her hold on Haller.

Jim pulled back, though his hands remained resting lightly on her arms. The telepathic contact dampened, but the steady ebb of relief and affection didn't disappear. When he finally spoke his voice was heavy with a smile.

"You've definitely looked better, babe."

"I'm glad your sense of humor hasn't run out during these trying times," Betsy threw back at him. "Did you hear?" A pause. "I tried to stay but Pete had already sent her to Moira." Her face paled and she look on the verge of being sick. "I think I broke her."

"Hey." There was no question who she was talking about. Jim shook his head and rubbed Betsy's arms slowly, like someone warming a victim of hypothermia. "Don't worry about Alison. You know her. You did what you had to do, and don't think she would do anything less than thank you for it. Moira will take good care of her." He leaned forward just enough to brush his forehead to hers, the edge of his mouth quirked in a wry smile. "Besides, you know Alison would kick your ass if she found out you were neglecting yourself to take care of her. Recover first. Then you can self-flagellate."

"I'm not upset." Her eyebrows furrowed. "Not really. It's just that...." Betsy went silent, her eyes closing and opening a few times. She tilted her head up at him and smiled dreamily. "Hi Jim."

"Hi yourself, Betts." The words were emphasized with a kiss on the cheek. "Your head is killing you," Jim said, voice strong with the surety of the telepathic. He slid one arm beneath her armpits and the other under her legs, blanket and all. "Come on. Let's get you inside."

Betsy pulled up from resting her head on his shoulder. "Wait, what are you doing?"

"Carrying you." He lifted her from the cot and shifted her into a comfortable position, the blanket trapping her legs. "You don't get a choice."

"All right," she let her head rest back on his shoulder, her eyes slipping shut and grasping his shirt tightly. Her thoughts felt jumbled, foggy. Betsy kept trying to focus and make sense but the adrenaline from the last few days had long left her body. "Did you see Pete? I think I lost him. He was here, somewhere."

"He's here -- he's all right. You can hunt him down after you get fixed up, assuming he doesn't find you first. For now, just rest."


Jim leaned forward, touching his lips to the top of her head.

"You've been searching long enough."