Essex. Exams. Needles.

[x-psylocke.livejournal.com]

The lab was cold, in the way that doctor's offices always are. Beast had just disappeared up the elevator, involved in some private concern. Betsy feels his presence slowly receed from her mind, and the terrible blackness envelops her, truly making her feel blind in fact as well as concept.

"Ms Braddock." That same dry voice, his accent clipped and brisk.

Betsy tips her head in his general direction, her face stern under his gaze. "Doctor Essex." Her nostrils flare as the sterile air assaults her nose.

Betsy grimaces at the realizition, at how the smell reminded her of the hospital. She found that her dislike had started when she woke up there seven months ago. And even though, she told herself that she was still within the Academy, and in the lab with a trusted collegue. She couldn't shake the feeling that she should leave.

"If you would please. The examination table is to your left. I'd like you to lie down. Please remove an jewelry from your ears, neck and any other hearwear." Essex turned back to his terminal, typing rapidly as Betsy found the table and carefully removed her glasses and earrings. On the table was a stainless steel tray, which she dropped her earrings in with a sharp ping. She stretched out on the table, trying to get comfortable.

"How long will this take?" Her fingers flexing nervously under the table. Elisabeth feeling exposed without her glasses, her heart is slamming into her ribcage. She closes her eyes, trying desperately to slow her heart beat. This is no time to lose your nerve, she tells herself.

"I'm not really sure. It depends on how you react to the scans." Essex stood up and walked over to the table where Betsy was lying. He picked up a light pen and opened her eyes carefully, shining the light in and looking for any reaction in the damaged pupils. His hands carefully manipulated her head right and left. He walked back to the table and picked up a tray laden with items.

The inablity to cue in to someone else's sight frustrated her even more, and she frowned at the sounds she could not immediately identify. "What do you--"

"Please, Ms Braddock. I will give you my diagnosis as soon as I have one, I promise." Essex said, and bent again over her head. His touch was surprisingly delicate and immensely strong, unlike any she'd felt. He took a small syringe from the tray and injected it into the vein behind her right eye, dabbing the tiny prick with disinfectant. The gloves left the smell of latex strong in her nostrils, and a vague headache was building behind her eyes.

"Interesting." Essex muttered to him, passing a small tool over the side of her head, the microscanning diagnostic invented by McCoy the previous year. The injection caused the optic nerve to glow under the scanning tool, and Essex traced both branches from the eyeball back to the brain, examining every side of the nerve bundle with the 3D modelling system on the scanner.

"What's interesting?" One single word that irritated her to no end in its complete vagueness, yet filling her with some hope. She tried not to have faith in this.

"Just the results. Hold still." Essex kicks off the brakes on the casters for the table, and turns it towards a unit in the corner. He locks the wheels again as the first quarter of the table slides into the semi-circular unit. Carefully, he places Betsy's head on the padded rest and turned on the machine.

"You might feel a slight tingling sensation from the scan. Please, try to keep your head as still as possible." Essex says, walking over to a terminal and typing rapidly. The hum of the machine turned into a long droning buzz, and Betsy' face felt like a thousand tiny hairs were brushing the skin of her face and head. Essex sits at the terminal, watching as a picture of Betsy' brain slowly comes into creation on the machine. After an indeterminate period, Essex switches off the machine and draws Betsy out of the unit.

"Drink this." He hands over a cup of water with the faint aftertaste of a simultant. "The chemicals and the test tend to dry people out. I've mixed in something for the headache."

"The headache isn't bad," she remarks calmly. The faint throbbing at the edge of her thoughts were nothing compared to the raging migraines she'd experienced when her mutation had first manifested.

"It will be, without that."

"So, what did you examination find?"

"It is going to take several days to properly analyse the information. I also have some time committments with Mr Starsmore and Ms Pryde. However, as soon as I have a working plan for your treatments, I will let you know." Essex handed over the metal tray containing her earrings and glasses. "Patience, Ms Braddock. I will design something. I'm not used to failure and I have no intention of learning it now."

Looking a bit shaken, she says shortly. "Maybe you should." With that Elisabeth gives Essex a curt nod goodbye, content to leave him to his own devices.