More from the Summers camp

[x-psylocke.livejournal.com]

Here it is, an order of Summers angest and pane.



Scott is thinking about practice, and how many bank shots he can do today. Thinking of some new angles to try, and the force needed to produce them.

He is not aware Betsy is following him, so he's lost in his plans.

Betsy walked the halls, running a list of things she should do to a certain Doctor when her mind isolated a single voice amongst the background noise. Scott. She stopped shortly and focused in on his location. Well, he did make an offer. She turned around and started walking down an adjacent hallway.

He just finished training with Alison and was thinking of some activities in the Danger Room. Betsy smiled openly while she made her way to the Danger Room, attracting a few stares from students walking the opposite way.

Scott checked the control room first, making sure no one was in it and the settings were right for what he wanted. Nothing major, just a few things to be blown up as he practiced his ricochets.

Ever the careful, Scott. Betsy mused. She shouldn't have been listening in, but he did leave the option up to her, to find him.

Leaving the control room, he caught sight of her in the hallway, and it surprised a smile out of him. "Betsy. I was just going to do a few exercises."

She walked over to him, her hands behind her back. "I know." Betsy looked up at him with another smile. “I got your email and thought that since I was in the general vicinity. And that I would pop in and say hello before your training session."

"Ah. Well, I didn't want to wear your gift on the 4th. I'm certain it would have been spilled on or messed up in some way." His eyebrows raised. "Peeking, or was I broadcasting? I must admit, when I'm thinking about training, I get rather ... involved, and don't think about keeping my thoughts to myself."

"No, you weren't broadcasting." She paused. "I need to learn how not to let my mind wander so much. And, it's alright about the shirt. It's yours, you don't have to worry about me."

Scott reached out to touch her arm. "I don't have to worry, but I do. Part of the job. That, and I just can't help it."

Her face dropped, "Really? I just thought...with everything that happened. And you haven't really gone out of your way to find me, I just thought." She stopped, not sure how to continue.

He put his other hand on her arm. "Elisabeth, I didn't want to force you. We ... well, you didn't seem quite ready for what I was asking of you. I pushed you, or thought I did. I wanted to make sure you were ready. I'm sorry if I didn't make that clear." He squeezed her arms, and pulled her slightly closer before stopping himself.

She kept herself from taking too deep a breath. How quickly had their positions changed. She stammered, "I...I was ill, Scott. And I should've told you earlier how much so. But, I'm better now, not falling over myself anymore.” She leaned in, whispering into his ear. “Thank you for telling me."

Her earlier words overrode her latter ones, and he pushed her away from him at arm's length, getting a look at her, concerned. "What you said before, or something else?”

She murmured, "something else." Betsy turned her head away from his inspection. "But, I'm alright. Don't worry."

Frowning, he moved one hand to her chin to move her face back toward his. "Not going to happen. I'm sorry, but that's a part of me. It worries about people I care about." His thumb stroked her lower lip before he dropped it and stepped back from her. "I trust that you know your own limits, and that you'd tell me if there was something wrong. But don't ask me not to worry. I can't make that promise."

Betsy nodded her head. Something inside her heart tightened, as she realized just how betrayed Scott would feel about what she was planning with Essex. She tried to forget the tingling sensation that ran across her lip and smiled up at him without appearing too guilty. "But, I do seem fine now. Intact." From her expression, he could see she was probing him for a response on both levels.

"Good," he smiled back at her, the one that came from deep inside him that so few had gotten to see. Not that she could see it, but she could no doubt feel it through him. "Want to watch? I wasn't planning a long session, just some ricochet work. Then I can ... let you...experience your gift."

A grin spread across her face, as she nodded her head. "Good." She coughed loudly at some errant images that ran through her thoughts. "Ahem, yes Danger Room. If you don't mind the company."

"Not at all." He offered his arm to her, and led her to the entrance. "Not a lot of environment on this program. Just sit near me, and you should be fine. Unless you want to stay outside?"

"No. " Betsy couldn't help smiling at him now. She took his offered arm and before entering, she leaned him in against him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "You are....something else."

"Is that good?" He joked as he moved them to the middle of the room, maneuvering her around a few crates until he stopped. "Just to your right and a little down. That should be good." Moving into the practice mindset, he began focusing his own energies and thoughts, examining the room in a single sweep.

Then, one hand reached to the side of his visor, and he began opening and closing the visor, letting his optic blasts out at a rapid pace at first, sort of like "clearing the air." A warm-up.

He cleared his throat, tried hard not to glance at Betsy, didn't succeed, and began ricocheting a beam around the room, ending by blasting to bits one of the crates set around on the floor.

Betsy pushed back from her crate, scowling. "What are you doing? You said you were going to train, not that you were going to use me for target practice."

"Trust me," he smiled at her, and bounced another one again, still nowhere near where she was, but it must have ricocheted about 7 times before it smashed a crate.

Standing unphased by the crates being obliterated, Betsy shook her head, her purple hair falling in front of her face. "Oh, if I don't have this much faith in the Vatican, I don't think I can trust you not to have fun at my expense."

Scott stopped, and turned to look at Betsy in shock and surprise. "I..." he frowned. "You really think I would do that." It wasn't a question. Then, he shook his head shortly, as if to clear it. "Do you need help exiting?"

Betsy let out a sigh, "No, I don't." She walked around the boxes, avoiding the shattered pieces. She paused for a moment without turning around. "I didn't mean it like that and I know I tend to come off a bit harsh. I'm sorry for that." Betsy decidedly headed for the entrance.

He can't help it, he thinks it, it's there. If she was still listening in his mind, she heard it, and he wasn't sure it wasn't a good thing. //good thing we haven't been called to any missions lately, if her trust in my control is so weak.//
Then he turned back to focus, concentration, and ricocheting the blasts once she was out the door.

As soon as the doors closed, Betsy leaned against it. She closed her eyes, hearing his projected thoughts. I trust you, I just don't trust myself when I'm around you. She pushed off the door and walked down the corridor, this was for the best. He was better off without her anyway.