Betsy and Manuel, Late Thursday Afternoon

[x-psylocke.livejournal.com]

A two days after this encounter. Manuel searches for Betsy and confronts her about her hypocrisy, regarding Nathan.



Betsy stared at the computer screen, a grim set to her lips. Once she left her quarters and anyone got a look at her, they'd know. They'd know that she was at the butt of Nathan and their 'argument' as Xavier carefully put it.

She looked at the ugly discoloration on her torso. She'd live and she couldn't think about eating. So that at least gave her a few days more to be holed up in her room. Until, Scott came looking. And from the type of responses she saw on the journals, she'd rather save herself from the waiting accusations.

Manuel stalked the hallways, a grim determining fueling his new, hard-won psi-shields. He was scanning as far as his empathic senses could reach, looking for one in particular. A faintly familiar trace that was underneath all of the Kwannon.

Betsy.

He came to her door, and knocked, loudly, once.

Manuel.

Even before he'd knocked on her door, the small hairs at the back of her neck stood up on end and Betsy rose slowly from her desk. She couldn't help the taste of bile threatening to send her running to the toilet. She had to get him away and fast, dampener or not, she wasn't in a state to deal with the ramblings of a wronged empath. At least not right now.

"Go away," she sound from behind the door.

"I don't think so. Open the door. I would speak with you - Kwannon." he said coldly through the door, keeping his mind buttoned up as tightly as he dared. Kwannon knew the old ways into and out of his mind, but those should have been blocked by his mindscreen.

Should be.

Piss off. Betsy bit back her response. Instead, she turned the lock and carefully opened thedoor. For a moment, she stared blankly at Manuel,before she wrapped her arms around her torso and grimaced. Her room was all but dark, but one could make out the welts disappearing into the lines of her shirt. And while, her loose-fitting pair of linen pants and black tank top, managed to cover the major signs of Tuesday's entanglement. The complimentary cuts and bruises that lined her arms and face were not so easy to hide. It was not a pretty picture, but it required no more than some first-aid attention.

"You wished to speak about what exactly?" Her voice belying her irritation. And with her mind already guarded against him, she waited for the litany of curses to begin.

Manuel took a step inside of her room, so she couldn't slam the door in his face. "I wanted to talk about your altercation with Nathan. And then we will discuss apologies and maybe, if you're very convincing, forgiveness." he said with a hard look on his face. His mind too was buttoned up tight, a wall of screaming fear between his mind and hers.

Betsy's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "How very kind of you, Mr. de la Rocha. But, what happens between Nathan and I is of no concern to you. And as to apologies, I'll keep that in mind. Now, if you please." She placed her hand on the door, indicating that the conversation was indeed over.

Manny smiled cruelly. "It's not quite that simple." he said with a nasty smile. "I got a brainfull of the feelings between you two, and I am _not_impressed. You should be the _last_ person pressing other people on how they deal with difficulties. Or need I remind you of your own problems with yourself of late? Now, I think that you need a dose of your own medicine." he said, stepping around the British telepath to take a seat in one of her chairs. "We can do this the nice way or the hard way. It's your choice."

"My choice?" She seethed. "It has never been my choice!" Behind her psychic walls, Betsy felt the emotions welling up within her. Anger, mistrust, and hatred grew in waves, followed by degrees of panic and fear. She felt the stirring of memories reaching for the surface, scrambling to break free. Betsy closed her eyes, trying to quell what threatened to drown her. "Get out!"

"Just like you gave me no choice when you used me to play with Remy and Marie-Ange. Just like you put the blocks into my head so that I wouldn't remember. Like that sort of no choice? Please, as you put it, start dealing with it." he said politely, sensing her chaotic emotions and privately enjoying them. His eyes remained crystal-clear.

"That was not me," she grounded out slowly, making sure he understood every word. Betsy closed the door, slowly, collecting her thoughts. She reached for the light panel and flipped the switch. The faster you answer the brat's questions, the faster you can kick him out on his arse.

She turned around and took a seat on the sofa, her legs crossed. Betsy continued speaking, her voice losing none of its' edge. "Deal, of course. Well, if you would recall, I was the imprisoned spirit you helpfully kept under lock and key for a time. Without force. And while I believe you still hope to be reunited with the incarnation of Kwannon, so you can resume whatever sordid relationship you had. You will have to realise that she is gone, I am here now. And I owe none of that to you."

"So, Mr de la Rocha, I have dealt with it. The question is, have you?"

Manuel laughed. Loudly. "You turn the loveliest shade of yellow and black when you say that. Do you remember what those colors mean?" he asked sarcastically. "And while I wouldn't mind coming into contact with you again, it would be so I could rip your mind into shreds and dance on the tatters, not to continue my enslavement to her wants." he spit out.

"You say it wasn't you. I don't believe you. Not one bit. I think it was you, and you just can't own up to that fact. I don't even know who this person is who sits in front of me and hates with such ferocity. So no, you have not dealt with it, or with me, and I demand satisfaction. One way or another, I intend to get it."

"If killing me will make your pitiful existence all the brighter. Then by all means, disengage that leash and help yourself." Betsy said coolly.

Manuel smirked and leaned back in his chair. "Kill you? I have no desire to harm a single hair on your head. You misunderstand. I just want, at the very least, a sincere apology from you for what you did to me, and to others."

"Can't you see that I cannot help you!" Betsy growled. She rose from her seat and walked over to the window. He was right, her anger was getting the best of her. Black and Yellow. The perfect shade for a monster. "I can't give you what isn't mine to give, Manuel."

"If you can't, then who will? Who answers for what happened to me? To Doug? To Shiro? I answer for my own actions - I continue to answer for them to this day. I lost possibly the only two friends I _had_ here until Amanda came along because of you. I take responsibility, because even if I was being controlled I entered into the compact with you. All I want is a scrap of consideration - would it BREAK you to consider _our_ feelings? You claim it wasn't you. I say it was. And since Xavier has guaranteed that we'll never know, the only one who can take responsibility for what Kwannon has said and done is you."

He paused for a second to get his own emotions under control, and to wipe at the liquid in his eyes. "And _that_ is what angers me so about your conversation with Nathan. You have NO RIGHT to throw responsibility for the actions of so-called others at him when you_yourself_ are just as guilty of the very same flaw!"

"I did not throw accusations." She spat out, slowly. "I helped him when no one else would."

She turned back on Manuel with understanding. Closure. "But, you are right. I must pay for my previous transgressions. I must right what was done." Betsy's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "But will that ever be enough?"

Manuel smiled a very black smile. "You're asking me?" he said. "I have my own demons. You just happen to be one of them. You should ask Jamie, he apparently knows how much penance you have to do before you are forgiven, how much progress you have to make before the distrust and the fear will stop." he said bitterly.

"We should have tea, the two of us." he said as he stood up off the couch. "Talk some more - about repentence, about forgiveness, and about striving through the blackness towards the light."

"I'm sure he thinks he's entitled as well." Betsy said, reminding herself again that Manuel needed this more than she needed her peace of mind. Betsy nodded. "Whenever you're up to it."

She led him to the door and wished him a good day. Betsy waited a few minutes. She made sure Manuel was no longer within the vicinity or able to scan her thoughts, before she ran to the toilet, and heaved. She sat back and pushed her stray hairs from her face. It was a moment before she started crying and it was a long time before she stopped.