Last Night --- Betsy and Scott

[x-psylocke.livejournal.com]

After Moira and Alison assure themselves that Betsy is alright, they leave. Betsy then decides to take a trip down the hall.

Thanks to Jules for socking Scott. I love her more for it.



Betsy sat at the base of her bed, her head in her hands. Letting out a hollow cry of anguish, she drunkenly reaching out for the bottle of Gin at her side. It was only a few inches away, but if felt like miles. She turned over the empty bottle, realizing that Moira had emptied it's contents in the sinks early. She angrily threw the bottle across the room.

Betsy haphazardly stood up, dragging herself to the door, and turned the knob. She walked out of her quarters, not knowing where she was going or why.

She didn't even realize where she was until she found herself knocking on his door.

Scott had just finished changing out of his workout clothes when he heard the knock on the door. "Come," he called out, hanging up the towel and putting the clothes in the hamper.

Betsy stumbled inside, trying to close the door quietly behind her, but still managing to be noisy. She looked up at Scott and gave him a silly smile. By nature, Betsy was a great deal more reserved, even more so as of late. Tonight, there wasn't any sign of the calm-demeanored woman. She raised a mischievous finger at him, waggling her eyebrows. "I've had one a helluva week, mister."

Stopping where he was, Scott blinked. Betsy was drunk. And she was here, with him. And she had that look on her face. His first instinct was to try to find out what had driven her to drink, but he waited, not wanting to push, and push her away. "Really? Come to tell me about it? Unload on another adult?" He moved toward her, thinking it might be best to guide her to a chair.

"Oh, don't give me that look." Betsy said stiffly, her old persona slipping through. "I'm not drunk," It failed when she looked back at him and fell into a fit of giggles. She pushed back on his shoulders, trying to stop him from leading her, while her hand trace his jawline. "I just missed you and wanted to say hello."

Scott looked back at her, his body language and mental overlay that of an adult dealing with a misbehaving child. "But you could only do that when you can barely see straight. You're /giggling/ Betsy." He turned her around and pushed her toward his couch, wondering if she'd keep her balance.

"Wait. Whoa!" Betsy hands reached for him, as she lost her footing and the two landed unceremoniously on the couch. She looked up at him and blinked. Betsy tried to hide the smirk on her face, but she couldn't help it. She felt ages better now than she had in weeks. "Did I ever tell you how good you look shirtless?"

He managed to fall so that he didn't hit her with an elbow or a chin, and immediately pulled back from her once they were on the couch. "Yes." He looked at her, frowning. "What happened today, Betsy?"

"Um, right." Betsy sat up, slowly. She looked up at him, trying to remember exactly what had started this."Shiro came to see me today. Wanted to know if I loved him? No, that's not right." She shook her head, trying to drudge up the memories. "I think he wanted to know f Kwannon loved him? Ha!" Betsy stood up and had a burdened look about her. "Doesn't matter. Had to let him down easy, send him on his merry way."

She made a move to walk out the door. "I really should get some more stuff from my room. If we're going to have a sleep over, we've got to do it proper."

Scott growled. He was no Logan about it, but there was a definite threat in the noise. "Stop. Now." He moved over to her in a few ground-eating steps. "I love you, Elisabeth," he said as he stepped in front of her. "Drunk or sober. I prefer sober, to be honest. Now," he said, stepping toward her with menace in his steps, forcing her back, "you got drunk, and came
here...why?"

"Please. I can't do this right now." Betsy turned her gaze to Scott, her eyes glazing over. She seemed like a chastised child, waiting for her punishment. Betsy tried to move from him, to keep herself from thinking. But he wouldn't allow it and she acquiesced. "I wanted to forget. I tried to forget it."

"Oh, Elisabeth." He pulled her in close then, dropping a kiss on her forehead, wrapping his arms around her. "When will you accept that you can't forget? You can never forget the stuff that hurts the most. It fades, in time, but it's always with you." He finished quietly, his lips brushing her hair.

She closed her eyes, trying to focus on his voice. Scott always manage to say the right things and Betsy realized sadly that she always managed to make him sad. It was the perfect relationship. "I needed to see you," she
said softly.

"Shhh..." He soothed her, stroking the nape of her neck. "You can always come see me, Elisabeth. And you don't need bottle bravery to do so."

She hadn't heard a single word he had said as she sighed and began to snore lightly on his arm. Her hands fell to her side and she cuddled closer to the sound of his voice.

Scott was torn - between rolling his eyes, laughing and waking her up, and stepping back and watching her fall to the ground. In the end, he went for none of the above. He swept her up into his arms and carried her to the
bedroom.

Fortunately, her shoes were off, and he'd already turned down the covers. He slid her in between the sheets resting her head on the pillow. Jean's side of the bed his traitorous mind thought. Watching her sleep for a
minute, he finally moved around to his side of the bed.

"If you are a snoring drunk or you hog the bed, you're going back in yours," he laughed to himself, and turning out the lights, he slipped in next to her.

Almost instinctively, Betsy turned over and laid her hand across his waist. She couldn't hear his thoughts, nor did she care to. All her thoughts were revolving around the safety behind his warm caresses. She rested her head in the crook of his neck and sighed. She seemed peaceful, lost on her were the worries she came here with. Betsy found comfort in him and that is all she needed. And all she ever wanted.