Jean and Betsy: Cinnamon and Vanilla

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Jean finds Betsy somewhere she definitely should not be. Drama ensues.


Betsy dozed in bed. She shivered as the temperature in the room cooled, burrowing deeper into the covers, and searching for a warm Haller to torment with her cold toes. Perhaps, it was a bad idea to wear this negligee to bed. Winter in Westchester deserved flannels. She shivered again, unable to find Jim, Betsy inhaled miserably.

Just then, the strong scent of something spicy, no, something cinnamon, filled her nose. It struck her as odd since Jim mostly smelled of cigarettes and musk. Her nostrils flared. Below that layer of cinnamon, was the hint of leather and motor grease that was familiar but for the wrong reason. Her eyebrows furrowed, why did it smell so familiar? A moment passed as a click was heard and a voice answered her as the bright lights from the hallway flooded the darkened room.

"What...the...hell?"

Jean had headed downstairs after discovering she was woefully low on creamer from her morning coffee in the kitchen of her suite (she still did not trust Hank's coffeemaker). One morning crisis after another happened, making a brief 10 minute trip turn into a 45 minute one. Upon her return she had sensed someone in her room. Someone who definitely should not have been there. Scott had slept over and he had to leave to go to class. And then this. Not again.

"Get. Out. He's not here," Jean said, clenching her fist so hard her nails almost drew blood. It took everything she had not to telekinetically yank her out of her bed by her hair.

To say her mind was racing with all sorts of possible scenarios was an understatement.

Betsy shot out of bed, still half-asleep, babbling. "WAIT, NO. WHAT? WHO?" She saw Jean and relaxed. Wiping sleep from her eyes, Betsy whined when she saw the clock. "Jean, It's actually criminal to wake someone up before the sun is up." Her body fell back on the bed, the covers pulled over her head. She groaned, sleepily. "Go away and tell Jim his horrible sense of retribution has to know limits." Betsy shot up again, a horrible realization sinking in. "This bed smells like Summers." She suspiciously sniffed the sheets. "Fuck all."

"Gee," Jean growled as she flicked on the lights. Oh good, she also wearing lingerie. That was fantastic. "I wonder why. Because he's slept in it!"

"Is this your idea of--" Taking a better look at Betsy, Jean did a double take. The woman was incredibly pale, and seemed more off-kilter than smug or angry at being caught.

Closing the door, Jean crossed the room and immediately went to the bed, reaching to feel of the woman's head. The doctor in her overrode the fleeting anger as she started putting pieces together.

"What's going on?"

Her skin was cold.

"It's not my fault you're part volcano." Betsy said, instinctively slapping away Jean's hand. "No, don't get too close. 'm fine, alright. Stop fretting." The first, second and third attempt to stand, left Betsy staring at her unmoving toes. Her energy completely gone. She tried again. "Dammit."

In one of the few instances where being tall was a hindrance, Jean took a knee to get on the same eye level with Betsy.

"You're not fine. Your skin is cold and white. You can barely move," Jean said. She searched Betsy's face; there was no surprise in her eyes at all.

"It's nothing new," Betsy reluctantly stated.

"This has happened before? What exactly...is this?"

Beyond Betsy's current condition the bigger question was why she was in her bed.

"I don't know," Betsy said, frustrated. A chill swept through her. "I have no idea what this is. "I think it might be some extension of Genosha or complication from what happened with Her." Betsy looked up at Jean. "Whatever it is, I know that isn't a good sign."

Subconsciously studying the woman a moment, as if doing so would garner an instant diagnosis, Jean nodded.

"Definitely not," Jean said, letting out a breath. "How long has this been happening?"

There could've been any number of possibilities. And it was sad to say that a side effect of Essex's manipulations could very well have been one of them.

"Long enough to know I needed to come home." Not an answer but the meaning was plain. "I won't let it happen again. I just wanted to be sure that I wasn't some puppet pulled by invisible strings. And if I was," Betsy hesitated a beat. "I would end it."

The look in Jean's eyes in reaction to her statement was argumentative as to Betsy's permanent plans of taking care of the situation.

"And if you are? We'll figure out how to cut the strings, like we always do," she said, rising to her feet to sit beside her on the bed. She smiled faintly, but in assurance.

"I'm debating whether to start teaching a course on brain-washing reversal after this point."

Betsy felt the corners of her mouth upturn. "Thank you." She averted her eyes, unable to look Jean as she asked her next question. "I hate to make this request but I don't want anyone to know, at least anyone outside of who is absolutely necessary, especially if whatever this is takes a turn."

Jean brushed a few stray strands behind her ear. "I'm sorry. I can't promise that. If you do turn....the more psionics we have, the better. Keeping one of the best chances we might have to try to stop you in the dark is a bad idea. This is my school. These are my children. They've been through too much already. I cannot take that risk if I don't have to," she said.

Betsy's heartbeat quickened. She felt the rush of adrenalin course through her and every part of her body tightened. Fear at being discovered, pain and betrayal, and the urge to run -- all these emotions rushed to the surface.

Finally, Jean let out a breath. "But I won't say anything--for now. I'll leave it up to you."

"All right...whatever the doctor orders, I'll abide. " Fingers clenched around her covers, Betsy's breath hitched. "What now?"

"We'll figure it out," Jean said firmly, reaching over to gently squeeze her arm. "We've got one of the most powerful telepaths in the world and a fully stocked lab with friends who have access to more equipment if we need it. You may feel like a pincushion....but we won't stop until we know."

She added, after a moment. "It's not your fault. If Charles thought it was he wouldn't let you get within a mile of the place."

"For now we're going to make a record of every occurrence of whatever this is you had. What led up to it? What did you feel? I'd also like do the standard medical tests...X-Ray, MRI, CAT scan, blood and urine....rule out any foreign contaminants."

Betsy snorted. "And if that doesn't work, next you'll say hypnosis. None of the doctors I've gone to could find anything wrong. All the tests came back normal." Betsy's hand covered Jean's and squeezed, showing her gratitude. "What if you can't find anything?"

Jean smiled. "Then we try something else. There's always an answer. Sometimes you have to dig for it," she said, then tilted her head.

"Speaking of digging...hypnosis may be a possibility if the other tests don't work out." She still wanted to do her own, call it making sure. Most doctors didn't have her area of specialization, coupled with a dash of telepathy and telekinesis to help guide them.

"Ever the optimist," Betsy added, darkly. "Alright but I draw the line at Runes and tea leaves. I'd like to walk away from this experience with some dignity." She released Jean's hand and bowed her head again, thoughtful. "Does it make me a bad person that I'm hiding it from him?" The purple haired telepath brushed away a few strands of hair. "I know there could be something horribly wrong with me, but all I can think about is how rough it's been on him as of late and that I don't add to his burden."

"You don't want him to worry too. To dote. To treat you with kid-gloves like you might break," Jean said, her voice seeming to hold a certain recognition. She let out a breath.

"I was a pessimist for a little awhile...It got exhausting. I'm giving a try for optimism to see how it goes."

"At least one of us is..." Betsy exhaled shakily. "....thank you, Jean. For everything. I don't know what I'd do...." Betsy stuttered, the burden on her shoulders lifting for the first time in months. "It's good to be home."

Jean would admit...it was still a little jarring, this new chapter in she and Betsy's relationship. To not be fighting every time they saw one another. It wasn't bad. It was just...a change.

"You're welcome," Jean said finally, with a soft smile. "I know what it feels like to not be in control and how helpless it makes you feel."

Betsy wiped errant tears from her face. "God, think it's all catching up to me. All these years of waiting for the other shoe to drop just when things were going so well. I knew this would happen, yet here I am, sobbing like a bloody damsel." She laughed brokenly. "I think if Jim were here, he wouldn't know what to do with this and that says everything, doesn't it?"

It was amazing how similar the two of them were at times and Jean was almost startled at how she hadn't noticed it before. She shook her head.

"How do you know what he'll do until you tell him? It's easy to presume. And sometimes you're right. And sometimes you're wrong."

Betsy stopped wiping at her face. "You have met the man, yes?"

"I've met all five of him," Jean said quietly. "I just think you should give him the benefit of the doubt. I've....kept things from the man I love and it tore us apart for months."

"Keeping things from him is a bit different than 'love, the reason I look like death warmed over is because death is not far behind." She shook her head as the scenario played out in her mind. "And if this is nothing, I would've worried him for nothing. Jean, when I say, he's had a rough time of late. I am being kind. And with all that's happened, They.... He has not handled the stress well."

Jean propped her elbows on her knees, her hands coming together like they were clasped in prayer.

"I know," she said, then glanced over. "But if he were going through the same thing wouldn't you want to know instead of being kept in the dark? Wouldn't you want to be there for him?"

"Of course, I would." Betsy stated, matter-of-factly. "But he's not nearly as good at hiding what troubles him so it wouldn't be an issue."

Jean rubbed her forehead, suppressing a faint, tired laugh. Two stubborn people in a room together. Unstoppable force meets immovable object.

"Obviously this isn't going to be solved today. I can get you some clothes. I'd like to run some tests just in case anything residual may be in your system from....whatever this is."

"If you can get the room to stop spinning," Betsy said. "I'm all yours."

"I'll see what I can do," Jean said with a smirk. "Be right back."

And true to her word she returned, only a lot sooner than she had imagined. "Your door's locked and I didn't want to break it down for obvious reasons. We may have to improvise by your using some of my clothes....which I am getting back by the way," she warned.

"Small miracles. Jim is still sleeping. First thing, I'll make a request for temporary quarters." Betsy laid back down on her bed, letting out a soft sigh of relief. "Don't worry, I'll bring them back, dry cleaned. Wouldn't want that smell of Grey/Summers to stick." She offered Jean a small smile. "You both have a nasty habit of getting under one's skin."

"That means I'm doing something right," Jean said with a smile back as she headed into her closet and pulled out a t-shirt, jeans, a Columbia hoodie and a pair of house shoes. She knew they weren't the same size in shoes.

Betsy let out a huff of laughter. "Touche." Her hand traveled down to her stomach, a calming gesture as her insides tumbled and twisted.

"So what will the reason you'll tell him for moving out?" Jean said.

"Funny thing, I don't have to tell him anything. It was his suggestion only a few weeks ago. I'm simply taking his advice, for once."

"That's handy," Jean said. She peered at her a moment. She looked a little green. "I'll be in the bathroom so you don't have to move very far to change."

A wastebasket slid beside her, coming into place beside her feet.

"Subtle," Betsy rose slowly and changed out of her clothes and into the pieces Jean left for her. When she got the hoodie on, Betsy visibly shuddered. The heat returning to her limbs a welcomed respite from the eternal cold. "I refuse to have you see me upchuck again. Once was enough for this liftetime." Checking herself in the mirror, she called out. "Done."

"I'm not terribly thrilled about that either," Jean said. A few moments later she stepped out and glanced her over. Yep. Still green. She didn't care how much green and purple were complementary colors, she didn't want it to be in her room.

"Can you walk or do you want me to help you?"

A moment of self-evaluation, then Betsy shook her head. "I can manage." She relaxed her features, even managing a smile. "Time to go down the rabbit hole and find out whats on the other side."

"Alright then. Curiouser and curiouser," Jean said with her own smile as the door opened.

"Shall we?"