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xp_logsAfter Haller receives this email, he confronts Betsy. It does not go as planned.
She was gone.
Gone from her room in medlab, which was obvious at a glance, but also gone from his mind. She'd sensed him coming, and instead of facing him, she'd used her new power to escape.
The paper in his fist crumpled under increasing pressure. This was far from the first time Betsy had run. Unfortunately for her, he had learned how to chase.
******
Fuck.
She'd forgotten about the letter.
Betsy paced the length of her room. Flood lamps covering all angles, keeping her in light. To not trigger an episode. God, the way they made it sound, as if she was a twelve year old boy holding a notebook in front of her....
Her heart raced. Keep calm. Calm, dammit. A knock at the door. She stared at it, her heart skipped a few beats. She took a step toward the door, then stopped. It hit her in one overwhelming wave, his anger was all-encompassing. Betsy froze. They'd been fighting for so long now, she couldn't talk to him. No, she needed to think, calm down, drink water and perhaps find her center. Betsy headed for the bathroom instead. A memory of the last time Haller had been this angry came to mind, the memory carried her across the room and into the bathroom.
Bright light. Birds chirping. Betsy found herself leaning against a large rock, standing in its shadow. Looking around, she saw she was in the bloody Quarry. Only a moment ago, she was in her room and entered her bathroom. Fuck. She was gone before she could even turn on the overhead light. Being evasive for a living had its downside, an extreme aversion to confrontation was one of them. Instincts brought her here. Her feet would have to bring her back. "Fucking Flight or Fight."
A split-second later something slammed into the floor of the quarry like a sledgehammer. Hard.
"Two things--" Jack said from his landing crouch, dust and pebbles still skirling around him. "First, telepathic links go two ways, and this teleporting of yours isn't entirely subconscious. Second, being bad at flying? Doesn't mean we can't."
The lanky man straightened and closed his eyes. One breath, then two, and his eyes reopened blue-and-brown. Now back in control, Jim lifted the crumpled print-out in his hand.
"We are going to talk about this, Betsy."
"Stop," Betsy ordered, her hands out toward him, holding him at bay. "Don't come any closer."
She took a few steps away from any shadows, away from any point of egress. Finding the easiest path for her to exit the quarry without falling through a crack and ending up in Madripoor. Betsy grimaced. It wasn't such a bad hike, it'd do her some good. Clear her mind and get her away from her apparent trigger. "I cannot be around you and not set this, whatever this is, off. So just stay away from me."
The telepath's jaw tightened, but he came no further. "Fine. I'll stay over here. But we're having this talk."
He brandished the print-out, the motion short and sharp. "This is how you were going to tell me?" he demanded. "For months you thought you were dying, and you were going to let me find out from an email?"
Her head and jaw ached from how tightly she clenched her teeth. "Would it make you feel better to know I thought I was pregnant at first?" She laughed, bitter, sad.
"It was the only thing that made sense. What else would make me feel like I was dying? A baby. That was the first three months and then I spent the next six, realizing I could be dying. But this death wouldn't be quick, oh no, it would be slow and crushing. It took whatever I had left in me and grounded it into dust." She turned to face him, seeing his red eyes and nose, knowing what tears he spilled over the words he clasped in his palm. "So as long as we're clear, I wrote that letter then, believe me, not all my time was spent malingering the state of our relationship."
"You still--" Jim broke off and pressed the crumpled letter to his forehead, trying to compose himself.
Days. Days of watching her sleep, alone with the anxiety of what might be happening to her. Feeling her withdraw again when she woke, but consoling himself with that raw flash he'd caught in Jean and Scott's suite: the burden of her terror, the desperate desire for his support. The relief that she was no longer alone. A flood of emotions too intense and confused to process, and so he had grit his teeth and pushed his own feelings aside. He told himself it was nothing that couldn't wait until she was better.
Until the email had arrived.
"You didn't tell me what was going on," Jim continued. "You should have let me help. And now that I do know you shut me out, and then I get -- this?" He lowered his hand, revealing that his already-reddened eyes were wet. "Did you think it would be better that you were dead before I found out you spent months suffering in silence? That you decided, all by yourself, that I wouldn't even get a chance to say goodbye?"
"This is ridiculous," Betsy spat out without feeling. "Whatever was done to you cannot be undone and lamenting over it is redundant." She made her move towards the exit. "Just go away and leave me alone."
"We're not done." The accent changed midway through the sentence as Jack receded once more, leaving a tension that was wholly Jim's.
There was a crack, and a chunk of the quarry wall collapsed a few yards away, blocking her path. With the sun directly above them the shadow cast by the barrier was almost nonexistent.
"I'll freeze you in place if I have to. I don't want to, but I will. I don't give a shit which of me you talk to but it's happening, because this" Jim hurled the wad of paper to the ground "is what happens when I back off and back off and back off, when I just sit back and play the understanding boyfriend who takes all your crap and gives you your space, and I'm done with it."
His breathing was rapid and shallow; it felt like someone had poured boiling water over his brain. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this angry. Not as himself.
"You're done with it? You?" Betsy threw back, incredulous. "Let's remember, you don't do assertive and that's part of the problem, love. Put me in a force hold, squeeze harder than you think is necessary. Ooh, use that tremor in your voice with a little vibrato." She looked him up and down, assessing, taking a few steps backwards toward the other exit. As she did, Betsy added the last words with a scoff. "I would love to see what you'd do to make me stay."
This time Jim moved to physically block her egress. Normally his 6'4" frame was too lanky to be truly imposing. That didn't mean it couldn't be.
"Nice try," he said. "This isn't something I should have to 'make' you do. I'm sorry everything with the Court and the demon scared you, but did you really think training me day and night while you kept me in the dark about this was going to protect me? Or did you just think I was too unstable to handle the truth?"
"Scared me?" Betsy fumed and gritted her teeth. You got hurt. Her mind screamed. You almost died. Twice. But he couldn't hear her, maybe he didn't want to anymore. She stared firmly at the ground as he talked and after a few moments, Betsy finally responded, the bile in her throat felt like battery acid. "I did...I still do." She shut her mouth, tapping down on her anger, keeping it from speaking for her more than necessary.
Jim stared at her for a moment. "Of course you did," he said quietly. "I bet I know just how it went. David doesn't need to know. David's fragile. There's nothing he can do so at least he'll be happy for a while, right?"
The telepath pressed fisted hands over his eyes, trying to breathe. Finally he found the words to continue. "Fine. You're right. You, that fucking demon, everyone. I'm not stable. But did you ever stop to think what would have happened if you'd just died?" He lowered his hands, revealing eyes blue and angry. "Losing my aunt and uncle is what started the dissociation. Losing my guardian, killing those people -- it took years to get even this much of me back together. Losing people is what broke David, and every time I do it's into smaller and smaller pieces. You know that. And you weren't going to warn me."
Betsy hesitated at the sight of his blue eyes. She knew she was scrambling him but she couldn't think straight let alone answer him. But she knew her answer. No, she wouldn't have told him.
Adding insult to injury, Betsy continued to remain silent, obstinately so. But the answer was clear. No, she wouldn't have warned him. Not even knowing what she did now. Not for a second.
Jim returned her silence. The expression on her face was answer enough. Cold, closed. Just like her mind.
"I'm not a child," he said at last, "and you don't get to decide what's best for me. You were just making things easier for you. You got to be a martyr and avoid your boyfriend's obvious defection. Best of both worlds, huh?"
"I love this revisionist history thing you have going," Betsy commented, biting her bottom lip in annoyance. "As if you haven't done exactly as I have. How long did you hide your stress, the triggers events, your fugue states from me? You would completely shut down, unable to process anything from anyone and I knew nothing." She crossed her arms, defiantly. "How long, Jim? Our entire relationship based on lies. I kept quiet for months. You did it for years. YEARS!" She shoved him, her fists connecting with his chest with a resounding thud. "How dare you take the high ground with me as if I don't know better. I know better than most."
Jim rocked under the blow, then immediately advanced to reclaim the lost ground. "I didn't think I was dying!" he yelled. "I hid the severity, but I didn't pretend it didn't exist! I didn't spend an entire year lying to you when I knew one day I might just not be there anymore!"
"But you made the choice to keep it a secret. Why?" Betsy asked, quietly. Her anger grew, but this fire in her grew cooler, cut at her edges, freezing all her emotions. If she wasn't so fixated on Haller, she might've noticed. "Was it because you didn't want me to treat you differently, to taint our relationship with your burden. Why is that, I wonder? Was it because you wanted to cherish what we have because to you, it was precious and all that mattered. Dying or not, you are still a pot despite what you think of this kettle."
A muscle jumped in Jim's jaw. "Yeah," he agreed, "Yeah, I'm selfish. But at least I didn't pretend it was for your own good. You -- you're just trying to run away like you always do."
"It's funny you mention that...." Betsy cut her eyes away from his accusing glare. She took in their surroundings and realized the only way out was through. Pushing past Haller, she headed for the nearest exit with every intent of burning this exchange from her memory. "As you know, I'm not one for breaking tradition so I'll be on my way."
Her body froze, every muscle straight-jacketed by an invisible force.
"We told you," said Jack as he slowly paced towards her "you're talking to one of us or the other." He turned her so she had to face him, stopping so close she could feel the heat off his body. He tilted his head forward til their noses almost touched.
"Seem to recall someone complained about a lack of assertiveness," said the alter. "Happy?"
"No, I'm not happy. I'm not anything. You asked your questions. You have your answers. What more do you want from me?" Her words were without heat. Indifferent. Almost heartless. "If we're being honest, I should tell you for a while there, I actually felt guilty for how much I lusted after Jack. Then I realized, I was only attracted to how assertive you were. Made me all weak in the knees. I almost couldn't cope, couldn't talk to you, felt all this guilt. How could I want Jack more than Jim? Now, I just know it's because the rest of the time, you're more of a wet tissue...so yes Assertive Jack gets me very happy."
The man in front of her blinked, and for a split-second hung suspended in uncertainty: the inability to process not only what had been said, but even who he was. She wants -- but we--
This wasn't Betsy. At her angriest she'd never talked to him like that, not about his disorder -- but everything he could see, even the faintest hint he was beginning to sense again, told him it was the truth.
Jim took one heavy, speechless step back, and the telekinetic grip on her disappeared.
She dropped the short distance to the ground. Unfazed, she leaned in, close, her lips just above Haller's ear and whispered. "I guess that means we're done."
Betsy pushed past Haller without a look back. Once out of sight and on the other side of a stone wall, she braced her hand against the rock face and fell to her knees. Her body shook as she cried, making sure to keep silent while she broke. But then, overhead, a large cloud covered up the sun's light and Betsy felt the pull of her new abilities.
With tears falling down her face, she crawled to the only patch of ground still touched by the sun. And there, with her body forced into the fetal position, she remained long after Haller departed, unable to move and unwilling to cry out for help.
She was gone.
Gone from her room in medlab, which was obvious at a glance, but also gone from his mind. She'd sensed him coming, and instead of facing him, she'd used her new power to escape.
The paper in his fist crumpled under increasing pressure. This was far from the first time Betsy had run. Unfortunately for her, he had learned how to chase.
******
Fuck.
She'd forgotten about the letter.
Betsy paced the length of her room. Flood lamps covering all angles, keeping her in light. To not trigger an episode. God, the way they made it sound, as if she was a twelve year old boy holding a notebook in front of her....
Her heart raced. Keep calm. Calm, dammit. A knock at the door. She stared at it, her heart skipped a few beats. She took a step toward the door, then stopped. It hit her in one overwhelming wave, his anger was all-encompassing. Betsy froze. They'd been fighting for so long now, she couldn't talk to him. No, she needed to think, calm down, drink water and perhaps find her center. Betsy headed for the bathroom instead. A memory of the last time Haller had been this angry came to mind, the memory carried her across the room and into the bathroom.
Bright light. Birds chirping. Betsy found herself leaning against a large rock, standing in its shadow. Looking around, she saw she was in the bloody Quarry. Only a moment ago, she was in her room and entered her bathroom. Fuck. She was gone before she could even turn on the overhead light. Being evasive for a living had its downside, an extreme aversion to confrontation was one of them. Instincts brought her here. Her feet would have to bring her back. "Fucking Flight or Fight."
A split-second later something slammed into the floor of the quarry like a sledgehammer. Hard.
"Two things--" Jack said from his landing crouch, dust and pebbles still skirling around him. "First, telepathic links go two ways, and this teleporting of yours isn't entirely subconscious. Second, being bad at flying? Doesn't mean we can't."
The lanky man straightened and closed his eyes. One breath, then two, and his eyes reopened blue-and-brown. Now back in control, Jim lifted the crumpled print-out in his hand.
"We are going to talk about this, Betsy."
"Stop," Betsy ordered, her hands out toward him, holding him at bay. "Don't come any closer."
She took a few steps away from any shadows, away from any point of egress. Finding the easiest path for her to exit the quarry without falling through a crack and ending up in Madripoor. Betsy grimaced. It wasn't such a bad hike, it'd do her some good. Clear her mind and get her away from her apparent trigger. "I cannot be around you and not set this, whatever this is, off. So just stay away from me."
The telepath's jaw tightened, but he came no further. "Fine. I'll stay over here. But we're having this talk."
He brandished the print-out, the motion short and sharp. "This is how you were going to tell me?" he demanded. "For months you thought you were dying, and you were going to let me find out from an email?"
Her head and jaw ached from how tightly she clenched her teeth. "Would it make you feel better to know I thought I was pregnant at first?" She laughed, bitter, sad.
"It was the only thing that made sense. What else would make me feel like I was dying? A baby. That was the first three months and then I spent the next six, realizing I could be dying. But this death wouldn't be quick, oh no, it would be slow and crushing. It took whatever I had left in me and grounded it into dust." She turned to face him, seeing his red eyes and nose, knowing what tears he spilled over the words he clasped in his palm. "So as long as we're clear, I wrote that letter then, believe me, not all my time was spent malingering the state of our relationship."
"You still--" Jim broke off and pressed the crumpled letter to his forehead, trying to compose himself.
Days. Days of watching her sleep, alone with the anxiety of what might be happening to her. Feeling her withdraw again when she woke, but consoling himself with that raw flash he'd caught in Jean and Scott's suite: the burden of her terror, the desperate desire for his support. The relief that she was no longer alone. A flood of emotions too intense and confused to process, and so he had grit his teeth and pushed his own feelings aside. He told himself it was nothing that couldn't wait until she was better.
Until the email had arrived.
"You didn't tell me what was going on," Jim continued. "You should have let me help. And now that I do know you shut me out, and then I get -- this?" He lowered his hand, revealing that his already-reddened eyes were wet. "Did you think it would be better that you were dead before I found out you spent months suffering in silence? That you decided, all by yourself, that I wouldn't even get a chance to say goodbye?"
"This is ridiculous," Betsy spat out without feeling. "Whatever was done to you cannot be undone and lamenting over it is redundant." She made her move towards the exit. "Just go away and leave me alone."
"We're not done." The accent changed midway through the sentence as Jack receded once more, leaving a tension that was wholly Jim's.
There was a crack, and a chunk of the quarry wall collapsed a few yards away, blocking her path. With the sun directly above them the shadow cast by the barrier was almost nonexistent.
"I'll freeze you in place if I have to. I don't want to, but I will. I don't give a shit which of me you talk to but it's happening, because this" Jim hurled the wad of paper to the ground "is what happens when I back off and back off and back off, when I just sit back and play the understanding boyfriend who takes all your crap and gives you your space, and I'm done with it."
His breathing was rapid and shallow; it felt like someone had poured boiling water over his brain. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this angry. Not as himself.
"You're done with it? You?" Betsy threw back, incredulous. "Let's remember, you don't do assertive and that's part of the problem, love. Put me in a force hold, squeeze harder than you think is necessary. Ooh, use that tremor in your voice with a little vibrato." She looked him up and down, assessing, taking a few steps backwards toward the other exit. As she did, Betsy added the last words with a scoff. "I would love to see what you'd do to make me stay."
This time Jim moved to physically block her egress. Normally his 6'4" frame was too lanky to be truly imposing. That didn't mean it couldn't be.
"Nice try," he said. "This isn't something I should have to 'make' you do. I'm sorry everything with the Court and the demon scared you, but did you really think training me day and night while you kept me in the dark about this was going to protect me? Or did you just think I was too unstable to handle the truth?"
"Scared me?" Betsy fumed and gritted her teeth. You got hurt. Her mind screamed. You almost died. Twice. But he couldn't hear her, maybe he didn't want to anymore. She stared firmly at the ground as he talked and after a few moments, Betsy finally responded, the bile in her throat felt like battery acid. "I did...I still do." She shut her mouth, tapping down on her anger, keeping it from speaking for her more than necessary.
Jim stared at her for a moment. "Of course you did," he said quietly. "I bet I know just how it went. David doesn't need to know. David's fragile. There's nothing he can do so at least he'll be happy for a while, right?"
The telepath pressed fisted hands over his eyes, trying to breathe. Finally he found the words to continue. "Fine. You're right. You, that fucking demon, everyone. I'm not stable. But did you ever stop to think what would have happened if you'd just died?" He lowered his hands, revealing eyes blue and angry. "Losing my aunt and uncle is what started the dissociation. Losing my guardian, killing those people -- it took years to get even this much of me back together. Losing people is what broke David, and every time I do it's into smaller and smaller pieces. You know that. And you weren't going to warn me."
Betsy hesitated at the sight of his blue eyes. She knew she was scrambling him but she couldn't think straight let alone answer him. But she knew her answer. No, she wouldn't have told him.
Adding insult to injury, Betsy continued to remain silent, obstinately so. But the answer was clear. No, she wouldn't have warned him. Not even knowing what she did now. Not for a second.
Jim returned her silence. The expression on her face was answer enough. Cold, closed. Just like her mind.
"I'm not a child," he said at last, "and you don't get to decide what's best for me. You were just making things easier for you. You got to be a martyr and avoid your boyfriend's obvious defection. Best of both worlds, huh?"
"I love this revisionist history thing you have going," Betsy commented, biting her bottom lip in annoyance. "As if you haven't done exactly as I have. How long did you hide your stress, the triggers events, your fugue states from me? You would completely shut down, unable to process anything from anyone and I knew nothing." She crossed her arms, defiantly. "How long, Jim? Our entire relationship based on lies. I kept quiet for months. You did it for years. YEARS!" She shoved him, her fists connecting with his chest with a resounding thud. "How dare you take the high ground with me as if I don't know better. I know better than most."
Jim rocked under the blow, then immediately advanced to reclaim the lost ground. "I didn't think I was dying!" he yelled. "I hid the severity, but I didn't pretend it didn't exist! I didn't spend an entire year lying to you when I knew one day I might just not be there anymore!"
"But you made the choice to keep it a secret. Why?" Betsy asked, quietly. Her anger grew, but this fire in her grew cooler, cut at her edges, freezing all her emotions. If she wasn't so fixated on Haller, she might've noticed. "Was it because you didn't want me to treat you differently, to taint our relationship with your burden. Why is that, I wonder? Was it because you wanted to cherish what we have because to you, it was precious and all that mattered. Dying or not, you are still a pot despite what you think of this kettle."
A muscle jumped in Jim's jaw. "Yeah," he agreed, "Yeah, I'm selfish. But at least I didn't pretend it was for your own good. You -- you're just trying to run away like you always do."
"It's funny you mention that...." Betsy cut her eyes away from his accusing glare. She took in their surroundings and realized the only way out was through. Pushing past Haller, she headed for the nearest exit with every intent of burning this exchange from her memory. "As you know, I'm not one for breaking tradition so I'll be on my way."
Her body froze, every muscle straight-jacketed by an invisible force.
"We told you," said Jack as he slowly paced towards her "you're talking to one of us or the other." He turned her so she had to face him, stopping so close she could feel the heat off his body. He tilted his head forward til their noses almost touched.
"Seem to recall someone complained about a lack of assertiveness," said the alter. "Happy?"
"No, I'm not happy. I'm not anything. You asked your questions. You have your answers. What more do you want from me?" Her words were without heat. Indifferent. Almost heartless. "If we're being honest, I should tell you for a while there, I actually felt guilty for how much I lusted after Jack. Then I realized, I was only attracted to how assertive you were. Made me all weak in the knees. I almost couldn't cope, couldn't talk to you, felt all this guilt. How could I want Jack more than Jim? Now, I just know it's because the rest of the time, you're more of a wet tissue...so yes Assertive Jack gets me very happy."
The man in front of her blinked, and for a split-second hung suspended in uncertainty: the inability to process not only what had been said, but even who he was. She wants -- but we--
This wasn't Betsy. At her angriest she'd never talked to him like that, not about his disorder -- but everything he could see, even the faintest hint he was beginning to sense again, told him it was the truth.
Jim took one heavy, speechless step back, and the telekinetic grip on her disappeared.
She dropped the short distance to the ground. Unfazed, she leaned in, close, her lips just above Haller's ear and whispered. "I guess that means we're done."
Betsy pushed past Haller without a look back. Once out of sight and on the other side of a stone wall, she braced her hand against the rock face and fell to her knees. Her body shook as she cried, making sure to keep silent while she broke. But then, overhead, a large cloud covered up the sun's light and Betsy felt the pull of her new abilities.
With tears falling down her face, she crawled to the only patch of ground still touched by the sun. And there, with her body forced into the fetal position, she remained long after Haller departed, unable to move and unwilling to cry out for help.
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Date: 2013-08-01 04:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-01 07:35 pm (UTC)He's absolutley right though - lying messes up everything.
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Date: 2013-08-01 09:19 pm (UTC)