xp_logs | Betsy and Nathan, late Monday night/early Tuesday morning

Nathan dreams. Betsy dreams. Sharing dreams, especially for these two telepaths, is no fun at all.

He had finally fallen asleep. But the part of him that was aware that he was asleep and dreaming would have preferred to still be lying awake staring bleakly at the ceiling. Because he knew these halls, these long, featureless corridors. It was the main Mistra facility, and he didn't want to be here, really didn't want to be here. He started to walk faster and faster, searching for some way out, some door that was different than the others. There were footsteps behind him, matching his, and although he tried to ignore them they grew closer and closer, until panic took over and he broke into a run. He ran, ran, until there were a set of double doors in front of him, and by then he couldn't stop. He crashed through them. And was somewhere else.

It always ended here for her. She felt the cold walls at first and opened her eyes to see the door that haunted her, that had kept her from the outside. She pressed her body up against the glass, praying that someone would save her from this madness. But no one ever came. Blow after blow, she attacked the metal that imprisoned her, watching as the hinges buckled against her fury. But, the echo of fast retreating footsteps reached her ears and her fist stopped midair. The once dark outside was slowly consumed by a blinding light approaching her door. And, it wasn't a moment later when the footsteps faded, the door opened and she let herself be consumed.

The walls shattered around him and Nathan fell, hard onto the rough barren ground of the desert. Pushing himself up on his elbows, he looked around wildly, recognizing the mesas. "No," he muttered in hopeless protest. He was still here, he was just outside...

He sensed, rather than heard someone approaching him, and rolled back to his feet, lashing out with his telekinesis in the same moment. "Get away from me!" he snarled as the someone was slammed back through the air and into the ground with close to lethal force. "I'm not yours anymore, LEAVE ME ALONE!"

She found herself in the desert, wearing nothing but her black pajamas, walking barefoot on the cool sand. The desert sun had begun to retreat below the horizon. As she focused her thoughts, Betsy used her hand to block out the sun from her eyes, moving closer to a figure on the ground. When she heard it screaming, Betsy quirked her head at the curious being, trying to figure out what this weird manifestation in her dreams meant. But, she didn't have a moment to think on it, when she found herself being dragged through the dirt.

She cried out in pain. "No!"

It wasn't a voice he knew - or was it? Confused, Nathan released his pursuer, swaying a little as he started over to see who they had sent after him. Morgan, maybe, or Felice - they were the only two who could really stand up to him one-on-one...

But it wasn't either. "Betsy?" he said uncertainly at the purple-haired woman lying on the ground. "Betsy, I--I'm sorry, I didn't know--" He reached her side, reaching out to take her hand and pull her to her feet, but as soon as they made contact the desert disappeared in a flash and they were somewhere else, standing face-to-face. An office? Nathan thought uncertainly, letting go of her hand.

"Nathan?" Betsy asked, her voice belying her confusion. "I'm sure you didn't," she said, after registering his apology. "If I'd known I'd be entertaining, well. I would've dressed for the occasion." Betsy gave Nathan an unsure smile, trying to gauge his reactive state. Being in such close quarters with another telepath, she couldn't help but feel the surge of unstable emotions, coursing through him. "I think I have all my bits still attached. How bout you?"

Nathan looked down at himself. He was wearing the gray tracksuit with navy piping, the in-house 'uniform' of Mistra trainees, and his stomach twisted at the realization. "Do I... do I look younger?" he asked hoarsely, looking at Betsy, wondering if she was seeing his younger self.

"Devilish good looks, same smile, a few lines missing. Yes, I'd say you do. But, you're only projecting an image, your current state of mind, so to speak." She traced her hands down his chest. "Being creatures of the psyche. We tend to remain the same, fixed in a specific time, but we can also manipulate that image by our will alone." With that, Betsy's pajamas disappeared and she donned a black top, that hung off one shoulder and a pair of form-fitting jeans. The darkness around her eyes disappeared and her face had lightened without the obvious signs of sleep deprivation.

"Whatever this Mistra may be," she said, giving him an encouraging look. "It is not who you are now."

He gave a hollow laugh, thinking of the picture, those two neatly typed words. This past weekend and the holes in his memory. "It is," he said slowly, trying to concentrate on changing his clothes, as she had. It took a long moment, but the tracksuit changed into jeans and a sweater. "Or at least, it wants to be. I never really got away from it."

"Ah. But, I think you have." Looking about her office, she knew she had brought them here. It was her safe zone of order and control. Perhaps, it would be a place of solace for the two travelers. Betsy walked over to the window, relishing the view. "Nathan, I won't lie to you and say that we actually move past certain events within our lives. But, the man you were just a few moments ago, wouldn't have been able to accomplished what you've done these few short months. Even my.....," she paused, glancing over at him. "Counterpart noticed as much."

"But he's still here with me," Nathan said, watching her. The instincts and perceptions Charles were honing in him were still raw and new, but he was listening to them now. "Just like she's still here with you, isn't she?"

"I know," she whispered solemnly. Betsy's hands clasped around the window sill. A ripple moved through the office, causing a book to fall to the floor. For a moment, the ripple swept over Betsy and there appeared to be two of her. As she held onto her control, she felt Nathan tense behind her. The two images merged and Betsy sucked in a deep breath. She kept her back to him. "Dangerous things to say when dealing within the mind of the deranged, Nate."

"You're right. They're always here, ever vigilant, waiting for their moment to break free." She sighed, bowing her head. "But we mustn't let them, if only out of spite."

Nathan looked around at the office, his eyes narrowing. "I'm not used to this," he said. "You'd think I would be, with how much I rely on visualization, but when it's happening in my head..." He stopped, giving her a sharp look. "Is this my head, or yours? Just where the hell are we?" Something slammed against the door from outside and he jumped, backing away instinctively.

"I've brought you here within my mind, to my apparent safe zone." Betsy looked to the outside door, she felt rather uneasy having Nathan here, but for now, there was no harm. She stared up at the ceiling, but to be more exact, she was seeing the connections between the two minds, converging on this one spot. "I distinctly remember having a very disagreeable dream and then waking up in the desert, which from what I can gather is your spot of choice. I brought us back here to help us refocus, to realize we'd sleepwalked into each other's dreams." She pinched the bridge of her nose amazed at the utter mess they've managed to make.

"I'm sorry," Nathan muttered, flinching again as the thing outside crashed against the door. "I'm not usually the type to intrude..." Another crash, and he gave the door a worried look. "What the hell is that?"

"A manifestation, a repressed psychic urge, bill collectors....I haven't a clue." Betsy lied, as her eyes darted to the opposing door. She felt the growing pressure between the two of them. Their joined consciousness rolling together in a symphony of control and chaos. Perhaps it was her fear that was behind the door, she knew it was strong enough. Almost stronger than her. "I think..."

Betsy felt the landscape shimmer again, she watched Nathan as her control slipped through her fingers. "Nathan...."

Darkness, but lit by... things, like ghosts that he couldn't quite focus on. He wanted the office back, Nathan thought a bit wildly, his head whipping from side to side as he tried to figure out what he was seeing. "Betsy?" he called out, disoriented. Starting to panic again, as much as he didn't want to admit it. He had no experience with this, and he was suddenly remembering why he generally hated his telepathy so much... "Betsy!"

Betsy's head shot up. She had heard a voice calling for her. Someone was here. Scott? No, it couldn't be him. Oh, wow. Did she have a serious headache. Betsy wobbled for a moment, as she felt the dizziness subside. Looking about her surroundings, she felt the feeling of dread grow as she heard the voice getting closer. Betsy forced herself up, screaming. "No, Nathan. Don't!"

Nathan heard someone shouting in the distance, but he couldn't tell what direction it was coming from. "Betsy?" he called more uncertainly, picking a direction and walking. There was some sort of ground beneath his feet, at least, even if he couldn't see it. The ghosts were fluttering around him and he found that he really didn't want to focus on any of them. Didn't want to see.

"Hello, Nathan," a voice called from behind him.

"Don't look so surprised." She placed her hand on his shoulder, urging him to turn around. "You knew I'd be here, somewhere in this place."

Nathan stared hard at the tall Asian woman, taking in the sais on her belt, the confidence in her stance. "You're her," he said slowly. "Kwannon." She nodded, and he broke her grip on his shoulder in one practiced move - she wasn't trying particularly hard to hold on - and backed up. "I thought you were gone," he said grimly.

"You thought wrong." Kwannon's left hand went to her hip, her fingers dancing lazily over her sais. "Xavier tried, but failed. I remain ever powerful and will win over this host. It is only a matter of time." She eyed Nathan curiously. "Why have you come here?"

"By accident," he said roughly, eyeing her. "And I wouldn't be quite so cocky about Charles. He's faced down worse than you."

"So all of his worshippers say." Kwannon circled Nathan, taking in his stance and uneasiness. "It is interesting that you are here now, by accident, and he is nowhere to be found." Kwannon stopped in front of Nathan, amused. "And Braddock, hiding amidst the shadows. How typical."

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" Nathan asked, feeling a little more at ease, strangely. This at least was familiar ground, although he had to repress the urge to look around for Betsy.

"Not a threat." She moved in closer to Nathan. There was the possibility that she could... "It is only a simple query." Her hand reached out to touch Nathan's arm once again. It was then she felt the searing pain flash across her temple. Kwannon stumbled back and bit back a cry of pain. She looked up at Nathan's confused face and lunged for him. "No," she gasped.

From the shadows, a determined Betsy walked out. Her face was filled with an uncontrollable rage and she lashed out at the woman on the floor. "Don't you dare go near him!"

Nathan took another step back from Kwannon, eyeing Betsy. "Is she real?" he demanded, not sure why that had only occurred to him now.

"She is as real as I am. And some days I question my sanity because of it." Betsy watched the crumpled form on the floor and her shoulders slumped. Her voice was hoarse with weary, barely above a whisper. "She is a manifestation of my mind. Kwannon had been in control and here for so long, that it's hard not to hear her voice in everything I do."

"The real Kwannon is...." She fell back slightly at the thought. "Here. Somewhere."

"The fact that we have more than one person with dead people in their head around here should be profoundly disturbing," Nathan murmured, staring at Kwannon for a moment before he looked back at Betsy. "This is your mind still, then."

"It should be, but this is a strange and sad world in which we live. And yes," Betsy scoffed, motioning to the surroundings. "I thought you could tell from the decor?"

"I have a beach," Nathan said slowly, staring around at the darkness and the ghosts. Images, he thought. Memories? "It has mirrors floating in the air now. Windows into other people's souls."

Betsy closed her eyes, trying to focus her straying thoughts. "You had visions, devastating visions.." Betsy shivered as memories started rolling over her from Nathan's subconscious. "Nathan, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry for me," he murmured, closing his eyes and trying to concentrate, to keep the memories locked away so that they didn't slip free and join her ghosts. "Be sorry for them."

Betsy's hand went to Nathan's. Trying to support him through human contact, Betsy nudge Nathan with her shoulder. "No. I think I had it right the first time."

She looked around the surroundings, a growing headache forming as their connection grew. "Have you had enough of this?"

"Yes," he said a bit hoarsely, staring down at Kwannon, feeling the darkness pressing in on him as if it had a life of its own. Which it probably did. He raised his eyes to Betsy's, managing a faint smile. "I think we both have."

Betsy looked nervously away from him, instead leading Nathan from the darkness. They turned their back away from demons that should've remained buried. Betsy took one glance at her companion and couldn't help but feel worried. Nathan had seen more than she would've liked. Would it be her downfall? Betsy forced out her next set of words, trying to keep her worry from him. "Just click your heels, Dorothy and we'll be home in no time."

He opened his mouth to say something about having forgotten his ruby slippers, but then he was opening his eyes and staring up at the ceiling of the bedroom. Moira was sound asleep beside him, curled against him, one hand tangled in his as if she was unwilling to let go. The dream, if he wanted to call it that, was still so vivid in his mind, every detail crystal-clear, as if it had been etched into his memory.

Across the hall, Betsy's eyes opened. She felt her stomach drop and her mouth go dry. She looked around her bedroom, her heart beating faster. It wasn't a dream, Betsy felt Nathan on the other side, groggily coming to. And it was at that exact moment, she realized she was going to be sick. Betsy sat up quickly and launched herself to the bathroom. She haplessly swiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

Feeling Nathan's curiousity pique, Betsy spent a few more minutes, paying homage to the porcelain deity. All the while thinking, What a fine mess you've gotten yourself into this time, Braddock.