Jean and Betsy: Insomnia (Backdated)
Oct. 12th, 2018 03:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsBetsy comes to Jean for help with insomnia.
It was a slow day in the Medlab (thank God). After updating whatever needed to be done, Jean was currently occupied with a novel and a cup of tea as she sat at her desk, tapping her foot along to the music playlist that drifted out of her computer speakers. Right now it was Tubthumping by Chumawumba. Needless to say, her music tastes were eclectic.
Betsy raised her hand to knock, then let it fall back down again. She wasn’t usually this shy, but doctors brought back bad memories, even if the music implied this one might be the laid back kind. In the end she decided knocking would not be heard over the sound anyway and peeked her head in the door instead. “I do apologise, but would it be possible to disrupt you for a few minutes?” Unerring politeness usually made people less likely to think you were being actively crazy.
Jean sensed a presence at the door just a moment before the person came into the room. It was a face and a psi-signature she didn't recognize.
"No disruption at all. It's what I'm here for," Jean said with a bright smile, reaching over to switch off the music.
She rose from her chair, closing the distance between the two of them, and extended her hand. "I'm Jean. Well...Dr. Jean Grey. People call me Dr. Jean, Doc Jean, Doc Grey, or just Jean," she said, laughing. "Your choice.”
Betsy winced slightly. Charles had not mentioned that Jean Grey was also the mansion doctor, and that would only make this more awkward. Still, needs must, so she shrugged, reaching out to accept Jean’s hand. “Ah, Dr. Grey. I'm Elizabeth Braddock, or Betsy for short. I just arrived from Muir to practice my telepathy here. I believe you’ll be one of my teachers?” She cocked her head to one side. “You wouldn’t have received my medical files from Muir, would you?”
When Betsy gave her name, Jean put two and two together. She had a feeling she was the woman she'd read about but she didn't want to presume. New people came into the mansion all the time.
"I did," Jean said, noticing the woman's apprehension about it. She motioned toward the couch behind her in her office, slipping off her reading glasses.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Betsy. And yes, I'll be one of your teachers."
"I've worked with Moira for decades. She and Charles helped me with my powers when I was a teenager. I'm glad you got to meet them."
“Thank you for not mentioning the elephant, then,” Betsy smirked and took the offered seat, hands held primly on her lap. “I’m glad I met them too though, since I doubt I’d have much quality of life otherwise. Or, you know. A future.” She sighed, then lifted her head to look at Jean and smile.
“Well, there I go being maudlin. I did actually come down here for more than to just feel sorry for myself on your sofa… I seem to be having some trouble sleeping, or staying asleep to be more precise. I assume it’s the time difference, but I haven’t exactly done a lot of international travel before so would not know for certain.” Her smile turned slightly wry. “I’m not too keen on trying any new medication though so I’m not sure if there’s much that can be done about it, but I thought I’d try and catch someone in a white coat to tell me to try some warm milk or chamomile tea.”
"I tend to avoid recommending medication if I can until we've tried other options," Jean said reassuringly, crossing to the makeshift kitchenette next to her desk.
"Jet lag is definitely a possibility. The time change can wreak havoc on your Circadian rhythm, which is how your body regulates sleep patterns. Not to mention, being in a new situation can often be stressful. It can take some time to get used to. So yes...I recommend chamomile tea, warm milk, or whatever makes you comfortable. I'd also recommend trying not to sleep during the day, even if you're tired. If you can't sleep at night, try not to do things that are stimulating like watch an action movie and instead find absolutely boring things to do. I can recommend a few books that are abysmal," Jean said with a smirk.
"Speaking of tea, would you like some?”
“In other words, I’ll just have to give it some time, and get used to waking up at two in the morning for a while, then,” the purple-haired telepath shrugged. “At least it’ll give me time to explore the mansion without running into too many people for a bit. And I hate to live up to the stereotype, but I could murder a cuppa,” Betsy admitted.
“Who else will be involved in my training, and is it one-to-one or is there a psionics class too?” She still couldn’t quite get over the idea of magic class, so anything was possible.
Jean grabbed two mugs and firing up the plug in hot plate. While she waited for it to heat, she filled up a red kettle, then set it on to boil.
"It'll probably be a combination of one on one and group work. Some of the other psis are at different levels of development, though, so there's not a lot of overlap. Still, it'll be helpful to see how other people use their powers to figure out which way works best for you. The other two who teach psionics are named David Haller and Emma Frost. Both are very knowledgeable in telepathy and telekinesis but have their own strengths that they can teach you," she said, opening up a drawer and peering in.
"Which kind of tea would you like? I have peppermint, Masala Chai, English breakfast, French vanilla, chamomile citrus, and yerba mate.”
“I think I only have telepathy so at least that should make it a bit easier... How many psis does the school have in total? I hope I’m not asking too many questions, but I am feeling a bit nervous about this. The training, and the telepathy. And the whole mutant thing, to be honest.” Betsy sighed. “I spent a long time with everyone around me telling me it’s all in my head, so it’s difficult to accept that it’s not. Or I may just have truly lost it this time.”
“Ah well, if I have at least it seems it’s in good company. Could I try the Chai, please?"
Jean grinned. "Good choice," she said, grabbing two tea bags.
"That's my favorite." Putting them both in the cup, she shook her head.
"And it's no trouble at all. This has all got to be a lot to let sink in. I fully expect a heavy dose of nervousness. I was too when I first came. Ask as many questions as you'd like. I'll try to answer if I know it," Jean said, working along as she put together a tea tray with sugar, honey, cream, and tea biscuits.
"As for psis...it's hard to say. Psionic powers are very broad. A lot of people have their psi powers manifested in different ways. Some get telepathy, some get telekinesis, some both. Some can only astral project. Some are empaths, and so on. I believe there are...8 counting you and I who have some form of telepathy. 9 if you count the professor when he visits.”
“Ah yes, I think the lady who showed me to my suite when I arrived said she was an empath. Topaz? Psionics seem quite common in fact, especially if we count the more subtle powers like suggestion.” Betsy recalled Darcy’s comment on her journal and smiled slightly. “I have been reliably informed that brain powers are a fuck.”
“Actually, talking about suggestion… Does it ever seem to go the other way?” The younger woman asked with feigned nonchalance. “I mean, have you found that telepaths pick up… influence? From others. Or skills or personality traits, perhaps?” She was grateful the other woman’s focus was still on the tea, although from what she’d heard from Charles she knew Jean was perfectly capable of picking up on her nervousness anyway. They can smell your fear, she thought slightly hysterically.
"Actually, yes," Jean said, tilting her head thoughtfully. "Well...sort of. When I first manifested I sometimes picked up echoes of emotions that wasn't sure if they were mine or not. They were usually only if it were a heavy emotion like...anger or happiness or...other things. Like dying," her voice became tinged with a touch of sadness.
"Charles had to teach me to learn to recognize what were my thoughts and feelings, and what were other people's."
She brought the tray over. "Are you feeling those things?" she said, with equal nonchalance. It was the specificness of the question. Jean didn't want to put her on the spot, though.
“No, nothing like that exactly.” Betsy paused for a long time. “My manifestation was rather complicated, as you can probably derive from that medical file. I’d been hearing… echoes for some time when I ended up in A&E, but the stress of that caused my telepathy to emerge fully. There was someone else there, a girl - she was badly injured. Unconscious. I think I made contact.” She pulled one knee against her chest and rested her cheek on it. “I don’t know if she ever left,” she murmured almost inaudibly.
“I don’t really know what happened after that. There’s a lot of time lost, and I was on heavy medication. Then several years later my brother found out I was a mutant after all, and there was significant rugsweeping before I was sent to Muir,” Betsy continued out loud. “There’s still a feeling of, well, unfamiliarity, sometimes. I know things I do not believe I should.” Or think things she did not want to, but that was the last thing she wanted to discuss at the moment. She was already saying more than she should, but the lack of sleep had damaged her filters.
Jean fell silent for a few moments. In the silence, a loud hiss that turned into a shriek filled the room and Jean looked over, taking the kettle off the burner.
"That's got to be very hard," she said finally, steam rising up as she poured the hot water into the cups.
"To be alone with all of those thoughts for so long. You get used to it, in a weird way."
The smell of cinnamon, clove and a touch of vanilla wafted across the office, and she picked up the mugs, bringing them over. Both mugs appeared hand made and slightly oversized. One looked like a sunrise, the other a sunset.The one Jean offered to Betsy was the sunrise mug, glittering with gold at the rim, while Jean herself had taken the sunset mug, which was dotted with silvery stars.
"It may take some time to get back into the world. And that's okay. If you ever need to escape and just go somewhere to collect your thoughts, let me know. I can recommend a few quiet places." She smiled.
The shriek of the kettle had shaken Betsy out of her thoughts. She kept her gaze on Jean as the older woman crossed the room, and reached for the offered mug with her hands to tucked under the overlong sleeves of her sweater to protect them from the heat. After blowing on the tea to cool it down, she carefully took a sip.
“This is good. A bit sweet maybe, but good.” She turned the mug absently in her hands, inspecting the glazing and making the liquid swirl. “And the mugs are very pretty. Hand made, I believe?” It wasn’t the most subtle change of subject, but she decided that this had been quite enough sharing for a first meeting.
Jean nodded. "Yeah. I work with the Mutant Underground, helping to get mutants to safety. One of the women I rescued made them for me as a thank you gift. She's quite talented," she said, then laughed.
"Most of my hobbies consist of meditation and Netflix.”
“That is very decent of you, helping with the Underground,” remarked the other telepath. She was still inspecting the now half-empty mug, lifting it up with cloth-covered hands. In hindsight, trying to hold on to a glazed object with hands covered in silky fabric was not one of her better ideas. The mug slipped from her grasp, spilling the remainder of the tea on her lap and causing her to jump up and take several steps back towards the door.
“Oh! Oh no, I’m so sorry! Did I break it?” Betsy reached one hand behind her, fumbling for the door handle.
The mug hung in midair, suspended about five inches from the floor. It turned slightly before coming to settle back on the table. One of the things Jean prided herself on was a quick reaction time, one made easier with telekinesis. She quickly rose from her chair.
"No, it's okay. Everything's fine. Are you hurt? The tea had to still be hot."
“No, it’s… fine.” Betsy closed her eyes briefly, grabbed hold of the swirl of anxiety and embarrassement at the forefront of her mind, and yanked. With ease that told of long practice she let her astral form move the mass from hand to hand, compressing it until it resembled a small marble, then crammed it into a small metal lockbox that had appeared in front of her. When she opened her eyes again her mind was once more placid and opaque. “As you said, everything’s fine. I’m glad you managed to rescue the mug. I do seem to be making a habit of pouring hot liquids on myself recently though... I should probably go get changed. Thank you for the tea though, and the advice. I hope we will have a chance to talk further when I am to start my training.” She ducked out through the door and pulled it closed behind her.
It was a slow day in the Medlab (thank God). After updating whatever needed to be done, Jean was currently occupied with a novel and a cup of tea as she sat at her desk, tapping her foot along to the music playlist that drifted out of her computer speakers. Right now it was Tubthumping by Chumawumba. Needless to say, her music tastes were eclectic.
Betsy raised her hand to knock, then let it fall back down again. She wasn’t usually this shy, but doctors brought back bad memories, even if the music implied this one might be the laid back kind. In the end she decided knocking would not be heard over the sound anyway and peeked her head in the door instead. “I do apologise, but would it be possible to disrupt you for a few minutes?” Unerring politeness usually made people less likely to think you were being actively crazy.
Jean sensed a presence at the door just a moment before the person came into the room. It was a face and a psi-signature she didn't recognize.
"No disruption at all. It's what I'm here for," Jean said with a bright smile, reaching over to switch off the music.
She rose from her chair, closing the distance between the two of them, and extended her hand. "I'm Jean. Well...Dr. Jean Grey. People call me Dr. Jean, Doc Jean, Doc Grey, or just Jean," she said, laughing. "Your choice.”
Betsy winced slightly. Charles had not mentioned that Jean Grey was also the mansion doctor, and that would only make this more awkward. Still, needs must, so she shrugged, reaching out to accept Jean’s hand. “Ah, Dr. Grey. I'm Elizabeth Braddock, or Betsy for short. I just arrived from Muir to practice my telepathy here. I believe you’ll be one of my teachers?” She cocked her head to one side. “You wouldn’t have received my medical files from Muir, would you?”
When Betsy gave her name, Jean put two and two together. She had a feeling she was the woman she'd read about but she didn't want to presume. New people came into the mansion all the time.
"I did," Jean said, noticing the woman's apprehension about it. She motioned toward the couch behind her in her office, slipping off her reading glasses.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Betsy. And yes, I'll be one of your teachers."
"I've worked with Moira for decades. She and Charles helped me with my powers when I was a teenager. I'm glad you got to meet them."
“Thank you for not mentioning the elephant, then,” Betsy smirked and took the offered seat, hands held primly on her lap. “I’m glad I met them too though, since I doubt I’d have much quality of life otherwise. Or, you know. A future.” She sighed, then lifted her head to look at Jean and smile.
“Well, there I go being maudlin. I did actually come down here for more than to just feel sorry for myself on your sofa… I seem to be having some trouble sleeping, or staying asleep to be more precise. I assume it’s the time difference, but I haven’t exactly done a lot of international travel before so would not know for certain.” Her smile turned slightly wry. “I’m not too keen on trying any new medication though so I’m not sure if there’s much that can be done about it, but I thought I’d try and catch someone in a white coat to tell me to try some warm milk or chamomile tea.”
"I tend to avoid recommending medication if I can until we've tried other options," Jean said reassuringly, crossing to the makeshift kitchenette next to her desk.
"Jet lag is definitely a possibility. The time change can wreak havoc on your Circadian rhythm, which is how your body regulates sleep patterns. Not to mention, being in a new situation can often be stressful. It can take some time to get used to. So yes...I recommend chamomile tea, warm milk, or whatever makes you comfortable. I'd also recommend trying not to sleep during the day, even if you're tired. If you can't sleep at night, try not to do things that are stimulating like watch an action movie and instead find absolutely boring things to do. I can recommend a few books that are abysmal," Jean said with a smirk.
"Speaking of tea, would you like some?”
“In other words, I’ll just have to give it some time, and get used to waking up at two in the morning for a while, then,” the purple-haired telepath shrugged. “At least it’ll give me time to explore the mansion without running into too many people for a bit. And I hate to live up to the stereotype, but I could murder a cuppa,” Betsy admitted.
“Who else will be involved in my training, and is it one-to-one or is there a psionics class too?” She still couldn’t quite get over the idea of magic class, so anything was possible.
Jean grabbed two mugs and firing up the plug in hot plate. While she waited for it to heat, she filled up a red kettle, then set it on to boil.
"It'll probably be a combination of one on one and group work. Some of the other psis are at different levels of development, though, so there's not a lot of overlap. Still, it'll be helpful to see how other people use their powers to figure out which way works best for you. The other two who teach psionics are named David Haller and Emma Frost. Both are very knowledgeable in telepathy and telekinesis but have their own strengths that they can teach you," she said, opening up a drawer and peering in.
"Which kind of tea would you like? I have peppermint, Masala Chai, English breakfast, French vanilla, chamomile citrus, and yerba mate.”
“I think I only have telepathy so at least that should make it a bit easier... How many psis does the school have in total? I hope I’m not asking too many questions, but I am feeling a bit nervous about this. The training, and the telepathy. And the whole mutant thing, to be honest.” Betsy sighed. “I spent a long time with everyone around me telling me it’s all in my head, so it’s difficult to accept that it’s not. Or I may just have truly lost it this time.”
“Ah well, if I have at least it seems it’s in good company. Could I try the Chai, please?"
Jean grinned. "Good choice," she said, grabbing two tea bags.
"That's my favorite." Putting them both in the cup, she shook her head.
"And it's no trouble at all. This has all got to be a lot to let sink in. I fully expect a heavy dose of nervousness. I was too when I first came. Ask as many questions as you'd like. I'll try to answer if I know it," Jean said, working along as she put together a tea tray with sugar, honey, cream, and tea biscuits.
"As for psis...it's hard to say. Psionic powers are very broad. A lot of people have their psi powers manifested in different ways. Some get telepathy, some get telekinesis, some both. Some can only astral project. Some are empaths, and so on. I believe there are...8 counting you and I who have some form of telepathy. 9 if you count the professor when he visits.”
“Ah yes, I think the lady who showed me to my suite when I arrived said she was an empath. Topaz? Psionics seem quite common in fact, especially if we count the more subtle powers like suggestion.” Betsy recalled Darcy’s comment on her journal and smiled slightly. “I have been reliably informed that brain powers are a fuck.”
“Actually, talking about suggestion… Does it ever seem to go the other way?” The younger woman asked with feigned nonchalance. “I mean, have you found that telepaths pick up… influence? From others. Or skills or personality traits, perhaps?” She was grateful the other woman’s focus was still on the tea, although from what she’d heard from Charles she knew Jean was perfectly capable of picking up on her nervousness anyway. They can smell your fear, she thought slightly hysterically.
"Actually, yes," Jean said, tilting her head thoughtfully. "Well...sort of. When I first manifested I sometimes picked up echoes of emotions that wasn't sure if they were mine or not. They were usually only if it were a heavy emotion like...anger or happiness or...other things. Like dying," her voice became tinged with a touch of sadness.
"Charles had to teach me to learn to recognize what were my thoughts and feelings, and what were other people's."
She brought the tray over. "Are you feeling those things?" she said, with equal nonchalance. It was the specificness of the question. Jean didn't want to put her on the spot, though.
“No, nothing like that exactly.” Betsy paused for a long time. “My manifestation was rather complicated, as you can probably derive from that medical file. I’d been hearing… echoes for some time when I ended up in A&E, but the stress of that caused my telepathy to emerge fully. There was someone else there, a girl - she was badly injured. Unconscious. I think I made contact.” She pulled one knee against her chest and rested her cheek on it. “I don’t know if she ever left,” she murmured almost inaudibly.
“I don’t really know what happened after that. There’s a lot of time lost, and I was on heavy medication. Then several years later my brother found out I was a mutant after all, and there was significant rugsweeping before I was sent to Muir,” Betsy continued out loud. “There’s still a feeling of, well, unfamiliarity, sometimes. I know things I do not believe I should.” Or think things she did not want to, but that was the last thing she wanted to discuss at the moment. She was already saying more than she should, but the lack of sleep had damaged her filters.
Jean fell silent for a few moments. In the silence, a loud hiss that turned into a shriek filled the room and Jean looked over, taking the kettle off the burner.
"That's got to be very hard," she said finally, steam rising up as she poured the hot water into the cups.
"To be alone with all of those thoughts for so long. You get used to it, in a weird way."
The smell of cinnamon, clove and a touch of vanilla wafted across the office, and she picked up the mugs, bringing them over. Both mugs appeared hand made and slightly oversized. One looked like a sunrise, the other a sunset.The one Jean offered to Betsy was the sunrise mug, glittering with gold at the rim, while Jean herself had taken the sunset mug, which was dotted with silvery stars.
"It may take some time to get back into the world. And that's okay. If you ever need to escape and just go somewhere to collect your thoughts, let me know. I can recommend a few quiet places." She smiled.
The shriek of the kettle had shaken Betsy out of her thoughts. She kept her gaze on Jean as the older woman crossed the room, and reached for the offered mug with her hands to tucked under the overlong sleeves of her sweater to protect them from the heat. After blowing on the tea to cool it down, she carefully took a sip.
“This is good. A bit sweet maybe, but good.” She turned the mug absently in her hands, inspecting the glazing and making the liquid swirl. “And the mugs are very pretty. Hand made, I believe?” It wasn’t the most subtle change of subject, but she decided that this had been quite enough sharing for a first meeting.
Jean nodded. "Yeah. I work with the Mutant Underground, helping to get mutants to safety. One of the women I rescued made them for me as a thank you gift. She's quite talented," she said, then laughed.
"Most of my hobbies consist of meditation and Netflix.”
“That is very decent of you, helping with the Underground,” remarked the other telepath. She was still inspecting the now half-empty mug, lifting it up with cloth-covered hands. In hindsight, trying to hold on to a glazed object with hands covered in silky fabric was not one of her better ideas. The mug slipped from her grasp, spilling the remainder of the tea on her lap and causing her to jump up and take several steps back towards the door.
“Oh! Oh no, I’m so sorry! Did I break it?” Betsy reached one hand behind her, fumbling for the door handle.
The mug hung in midair, suspended about five inches from the floor. It turned slightly before coming to settle back on the table. One of the things Jean prided herself on was a quick reaction time, one made easier with telekinesis. She quickly rose from her chair.
"No, it's okay. Everything's fine. Are you hurt? The tea had to still be hot."
“No, it’s… fine.” Betsy closed her eyes briefly, grabbed hold of the swirl of anxiety and embarrassement at the forefront of her mind, and yanked. With ease that told of long practice she let her astral form move the mass from hand to hand, compressing it until it resembled a small marble, then crammed it into a small metal lockbox that had appeared in front of her. When she opened her eyes again her mind was once more placid and opaque. “As you said, everything’s fine. I’m glad you managed to rescue the mug. I do seem to be making a habit of pouring hot liquids on myself recently though... I should probably go get changed. Thank you for the tea though, and the advice. I hope we will have a chance to talk further when I am to start my training.” She ducked out through the door and pulled it closed behind her.
