Scott, Logan, Pete, and Shinobi

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

[set and backdated to last Tuesday, a late follow up to this email.]



Scott waited for Pete in the front hall, their drive planned for that evening. He was busy keeping what little shields he had up, and running through the repetitive numbers and nonsense that Jean had said was good for keeping telepaths out of his head. one two three four, one two three four...

Logan had been looking for Scott, since he was obviously also having problems with Cain as well. Coming down the stairs, he saw Scoot...Scott...waiting near the door, a look of concentration on his face.

Shinobi walked in the front door, the smell of cigarette smoke lingering about him.

And the last person in what would be the Unholy Quartet, Pete Wisdom, walked in from the direction of the faculty offices.

Looking around at the convergence of people all of a sudden, Scott shook his head a little, a rueful smile on his face.

"Everyone, in the car. We need to talk. I'm buying."

Logan looked at the others and grimaced. He did /not/ want to sit in the back. Dammit. He hated being short.

"Lads night out, then?" Pete glanced round the little group. This was either going to be interesting, or a recipe for disaster. Possibly both.

"Yeah, OK." He followed the rest out the door.

Scott let them sort out the seating arrangements, but he didn't take his sports car. When he originally thought it would be just Pete and him, that would have been fine. But with the addition of Shinobi and Logan (whether by accident, chance, or design, he wasn't going to look the gift horse in the mouth this time), he needed one of the school sedans. Not as much flair, but more comfortable seating for those in back. He did wonder who would end up sitting behind him, as he did move the seat back farther than most, to accommodate his long legs.

He kept silent until they were well away from the school, more than a few miles down the road. He wasn't taking any chances. Just as he pulled into the parking lot of Dawson's Bar & Grill, he turned to Pete. The others at least had a vague idea of what Scott might be thinking, once he told Pete.

"I think whatever's currently inside Betsy is the one behind the spread of the potion. Whether it's something Essex put there, or a multiple personality disorder based on the coma, it's still not Betsy."

"That's a relief." It was Shinobi who finally decided to pipe up, peering thoughtfully at the back of Scott's head as the car rolled into a parking spot. He paused a moment, realizing how that must have sounded, and quickly added, "A relief that Betsy isn't the psychotic one, I mean, not that she's got someone else at the reigns."

Pete rolled his eyes as they got out of the car. "Not to make light of this, but has it struck anyone else how utterly fucking ridiculous our lives are? We're about to have a serious discussion about the fact that one of our friends may be mad, or possessed, or some kind of Manchurian candidate, and that she may have poisoned a chunk of the school with a love potion. I've seen this plot on Buffy..."

He paused for a second to light up.

"OK, accepting for the moment that there's something horribly wrong in Braddock's head, why would she be gunning for our poster boy for bland and inoffensive?"

"That can likely be traced back to me," Scott grimaced, guilt flushing his face. Inside the bar, he headed toward the booths on the side, away from the music and crowd enough that they could talk without shouting, and weren't likely to be overheard.

"Back when I was just starting to wonder what was going on with Betsy, I asked Doug to watch her. Nothing more than that, but with his ability to read body language, I thought he might be able to figure out what was going on with her. She was inconsistent; sometimes acting as the Betsy we knew before the surgery, other times acting differently, but close enough that I wasn't sure. She'd been through a life-changing experience. Not just the coma, but the return of her sight. I thought I might just be imagining things."

He ordered a club soda for himself when the waitress came by, and one of his indulgences, the chili-cheese fries.

"It was after Logan came to me, after their ...demonstration ... in the fencing room, that I called him off. It was probably too late by then, even though it was only a few days. And if it couldn't be traced back to me, Doug is still a good target for whatever's there. Not a lot of power to defend himself, and the ability to tell when she's possessed or whatever...even if I hadn't put him up to it, she may still have picked him out. But I'll take any fingers that need to be pointed. I fucked that up."

He looked at Shinobi. "She's also targeted Sarah. Before, the two of them had this love-hate-love relationship. Sarah's another one who might have easily noticed the change. Tell them what you told me about the bone."

After ordering himself a club sandwich and a mug of coffee ("Strong as it comes and black as night, luv."), Shinobi nodded at Scott, absentmindedly scratching at the side of his head as he frowned in thought. "It was at least a few weeks ago, maybe a month.. I'd have to ask Sarah to be sure of exactly how long ago it was, but I don't think the date matters too much." He waved off his own train of thought, shaking himself. "Sarah had a bone growing in, low on her spine. Couldn't reach it to pull it out herself. Miss Braddock took it upon herself to yank it out, despite Sarah's rather vehement request that she do no such thing. It's probably lucky she has a healing factor, or she quite possibly would have bled to death. As it was, it didn't heal up properly for a long while."

Logan had ordered a steak ("How would you like it?" "Still twitchin'.") and a beer. He listened to Shinobi's explanation of what had happened with Sarah. "Yeah, she said somethin' like that t'me, too," he admitted, "but I didn't think t'mention it when we were talkin', Scoo--Scott. Sorry."

He looked at Scott for permission of a sort, then started talking. "She don't smell the same, anymore. Used t'be, when I first came back, she smelled diff'rent just sometimes, but now it's all th'time. An' her dominant hand's changed, or did when we were sparrin' that time." He sighed, glaring at the waitress' back. "She didn't useta fight that good, either." He looked at Scott. "She was good. But not that good. I thought it was the surgery or somethin', 'cause I been gone an' shit happens, but..."

Pete toyed with the scotch in front of him. "So, we're all happy to go with the idea that it was Braddock, or whatever this extra personality is called, then? I mean, I've got fuck all in the way of other suspects, and either way, I think we can agree that Xavier's can do without actual MPD cases on the teaching staff, so we need to do something. Question is what, though? I mean, if she is fucking with people on that scale, I can't see her copping to it and holding our her wrists..."

"I've talked to Xavier, but he hasn't found anything, or anything concrete. He's still looking."

Scott looked at Pete, frowning. "You still talk to Essex? Think you could get him to admit to anything?"

"I can get hold of him, yeah, but I'm probably not the best person to do it though - he likes MacTaggart a lot more than he likes me, and she's a fellow medical professional, so he can probably tell her things he can't tell me. I think if she called him up, and made the case that Braddock's gone really fucking weird, and may be a danger to the students, he'd probably listen to her. I'd lay good odds that if he knows what's going on, his solution will involve her having to go see him again, though. Are you OK with that possibility?"

"Am I okay with it? Hell no," Scott gripped his glass, knuckles whitening, then settled a bit as the food arrived. "But as the lady said, her decision to have the surgery in the first place was not up to me. If Betsy is still in there, I don't think she'd like what she's become. But can she rationally make that decision? What if the new Betsy decides she likes herself as she is? Hell, what if Essex prefers her this way?"

He ate a few of the fries, offering them to anyone who might want some.

"I am certain she put some sort of telepathic suggestion on Doug. He was visibly distressed when I asked him if he still watched Ms. Braddock. He couldn't talk about it, but it was plain he wanted to. One of the reasons I sent Doug to see the Professor.

"Logan," he turned to the shorter man. "Do you think Rogue's capable of helping with this? If the Professor can't get into Betsy's mind through telepathy, then Rogue's abilities might be the key." He used her team name without thought. This wasn't a personal question, it was a team question. "But after the potion, I'm not sure she's got enough of herself back to risk it."

Logan took a swig of beer, then leaned back and stared at Scott for a long moment. "I don't like whatcher askin' an' I think she's been through enough in th'past month..." He frowned. "But that's not whatcher askin'. Yeah. She could do it." Logan glanced at Shinobi and Pete, wishing he and Scott were alone, before saying, "Think she'd need me there, though. T'bring 'er back t'herself after." Because Angelo's paranoia would be nothing compared to what she'd draw off Betsy, with whatever was wrong with her.

Scott nodded at Logan. "A last resort. Or at least, next to last resort. I don't know what effect Miles might have," he smiled at that thought, recalling yesterday morning's sunrise experience. He couldn't help smiling when he thought of the boy, but he recalled himself to the task at hand with some effort. "And we'd need to talk to Alison about it first. She had a link with Betsy at one time, before the surgery. Accidental, but they were psychically connected for a time."

He looked around the group. "What other options are there? Emma? Manuel?"

"Depending on the nature of the possession," Shinobi chimed in after a long moment spent thinking, and another one to eat the last of his sandwich, "Miles might actually be our best bet, but I'm not sure how willing Alison would be to use him for such a thing." He managed to keep any shadows of lingering guilt off of his face, giving himself a silent shake and reaching for his coffee. "Manuel might not think it worth his time, unless we could 'sweeten the deal' for him, just at a guess. Offer him an out from Lorna's remedial cooking classes, though, or maybe regular trips out of the mansion if you don't mind driving him and putting up with him for that long, and he might consider it. Emma, though.. I think she'd be willing to help however she can. They were rather close, weren't they?"

"Yes, they were. Emma noticed Betsy's oddness right after the surgery, but hasn't commented to me further. I suppose she thought she was leaving it up to me to figure out what was going on with her. And I'd prefer not to bring any others into this mess." Scott sipped his water. "As for Manuel - I simply don't trust him. Not unless Emma's there, and has some control over him, at least."

"For now, we can't do anything by ourselves. We still need more proof. I gave everything I had to Charles, he was going to look. We can ask Emma to see if she can find anything out, present our evidence, such as it is. Rogue is a possibility, but if this is a split personality, that will likely cause more problems than it's worth. She's not absorbed another woman, as far as I know." Scott looked at Logan for confirmation. "And as our last resort, we ask Alison to use Miles, to see if we can weaken this other person or thing. That may weaken Betsy too, which is another reason it should be a last resort."

Scott thought quietly to himself for a moment. He'd have to tell Alison what was going on, if only to make sure Miles stayed away from Betsy as best as he was able. Wouldn't want him to find out the hard way he could affect one and not the other."

Fishing out his wallet, he threw some bills on the table. "That work for everyone, for now?"

When all was said and done, he drove the group back to the mansion. She would know as soon as they got back, but at least there was four of them now. And not just one person with paranoid suspicions.