Requiem for a Dream---Scott and Betsy

[x-psylocke.livejournal.com]

Players: Scott and Betsy
Place: Room 313.
Time: Late Sunday afternoon

After weeks of avoidance, these two finally talk. It's a trying affair, but plays on the heartstrings.



After two hours of restless sleep, Betsy had gotten up. Antcy. She walked over to her closet and searched its contents before pulling the violin case from deep within it. She eyed the case, wearily. The dust on it was enough to tell her that it had been too long since her last practise session. Betsy wiped the dust from the case and opened it, lovingly. She sat down on her bed, her violin propped on her knee. Thinking for a moment, she placed it under her chin, placed her bow just above the bridge, and played.

Approaching her door, Scott heard the music and stopped in his tracks, something clenching in his chest as he listened. For a moment, he almost turned away, but a different impulse drew him closer, right up to the door. He didn't raise a hand to knock, but only stood there, listening.

She threw everything she had into creating the notes that made her pain fluid. And was elevated beyond it, she only focused on expressing the emptiness within. It was perfect choice really. A song made by a dying man for his funeral. A requiem for the desolate. Mozart. She played the chords louder, as if the sounds of the violin were her own voice, and she were screaming.

Scott waited until she was finished, feeling each note almost like a physical blow. Only when there was silence from within the room did he raise a hand. Instead of knocking, he laid it against the door and concentrated. Betsy? he sent quietly.

She turned her head to face the main door to her quarters and nodded expectantly. A moment. Carefully, returning her violin to its' case, she went to the door, and opened it. Betsy looked at the man she loved with a guarded expression. After a moment, she moved aside. "Come in."

Scott took a deep breath and came in, lingering a bit awkwardly just inside the door as he watched her go back over and sit down beside the violin case. "Can... we talk, Betsy?" he asked uncertainly. "I... there are things I ought to say to you." That he should have said to her weeks ago...

"Of course." She offered him a seat, opposite her. Under her eyes were dark grooves and her insomnia did nothing for her disposition. "What is it you think needs to be said?" She said, matter-of-factly.

Scott took a deep breath. "That I'm sorry," he said, his voice unsteady. "So very sorry, Betsy... I can't imagine what it took for you to put that file together. My reaction was bad enough, but to have... run from the issue like I've been doing is inexcusable." He stared at her, taking in the signs of sleeplessness and aching at them. "I wish to hell I could take that night back," he said, his voice hoarser, "but I can't. And I don't know what to do about it. Or whether you want me to do anything about it."

"You can't do anything, Scott." Betsy said, pushing a dark strand of hair away from her face. "But, I was angry at you. And somewhere deep inside, I already knew how you'd react. I only fooled myself into thinking otherwise." Betsy paused, choosing her next words carefully. "It was my mistake. I should never have asked you to look at that blasted file. And no one else will."

Scott struggled to keep his expression as level as he could, even as part of him quivered and died at Betsy's first words. You can't do anything, Scott. He rubbed at the rim of his glasses, his hand shaking slightly. "I had no business reacting the way I did," he said very softly. "And... it's your choice, Betsy, as to the file. But I..." His voice broke, but he went on, struggling with the words, unable to meet her eyes. "If you wanted to get all of that... out into the open... if me being unable to handle it stopped you, I don't..." He trailed off, shaking his head miserably. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I told you I had things to say, but I'm not being particularly coherent."

A moment. Betsy stood up and walked over to her bathroom. Scott could hear running water from the sink. She returned with a glass of water in one hand and a bottle of aspirin in another and handed them to him. "For the headache." She sat back down, a sigh escaping her lips. "I will not show the file to anyone, not now. As long as there aren't any secrets standing between us, I will not worry about the rest. My intentions were pure, Scott. But I realised that it isn't the right time. The wounds are still too fresh." She averted her eyes from him at that moment. Betsy brought her hand to his, her voice lowered. "Though none of this changes how I feel for you. I still love you."

Scott swallowed past the lump in his throat. "I love you too, Betsy," he said raggedly. Loved her, and was terrified for her...

"I've been so tired," Betsy said unexpectedly. She placed her head in her hands, looking up at him through her lavendar locks.

Setting the aspirin and water aside, Scott reached out tentatively, taking her hands in his. His were shaking, still. "Tell me what I can do to help," he begged her. "Please?" The thought of her trying to do this on her own made the fear grow even further, until it was almost dizzying and he was unable to keep it out of his voice, out of his eyes. "Anything, Betsy." And he meant it, meant it so fiercely. Whatever he had to do...

Betsy moved closer to him. She brought her hand to his face and leaned in. Brushing her lips past his, Betsy opened her mind to Scott, slowly. She exposed him to everything she had felt and did feel. Stars blinking into existence, minds linking together for the first time, it was the same awareness. Betsy found his light, Scott's awareness. His mind was pulsing in the dark and she joined it with hers. Two stars becoming one. She inhaled deeply at the sensation and close proximation. Goosebumps formed on her flesh. Oh, how she yearned for this...closeness. Betsy brought her hands down his face and deepend the kiss.

Scott was reaching up himself, pulling her closer, his own yearning mingling with her as he enfolded her gently in his arms. #Anything,# he thought, utterly at the mercy of a mixture of terror and joy as her thoughts entwined themselves with his. She was so tired, he could feel it. Tired and worn, and he wished suddenly that he could give her all of his strength. Take all of her pain away. Keep her safe. Make her happy. There was too much cold experience telling him that he couldn't, not for more than a moment at a time. But a moment could be followed by another, and another...

It was an odd sensation, feeling her arm travel his spine. Never had she exposed herself to anyone so fully and the experience was enriching. Betsy danced on the fringes of his memories and went forward. The doors opened wider and thought and feeling swirled together. Betsy saw images of a younger Scott before his mutation developed. Bright blue eyes. The loneliness coming off him in waves, Betsy tempered the memory with a soft caress down the link. #Anything.#

She felt his mind reinforce itself around their link, and she felt a jolt of energy. Feeling her exhaustion seep back, Betsy suddenly pulled back. #Where...where did you learn that?#

Scott closed his eyes, flinching inwardly. But there was no way to lie to her, no way to hide the truth. Not when their minds were this close. He offered the memory hesitantly, the fear taking over for a moment.

Betsy sat there, motionless, reliving the memory. For a non-telepath to learn a trick like that takes practise and patience. She turned over his memories of Jean in her mind. Learning everything about the woman, witnessing their best experiences and even smiled at a particular silly episode with a fedora. She remained quiet even after reliving Jean's death, as Scott had. She shut her eyes tightly.

#Betsy?# No answer. Scott swallowed, trying to force his own thoughts back to a calm state, to keep projecting support and love at her.

#Still here.# She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. #She was a good woman and someone worthy of you.# Betsy turned her head away from him, suddenly feeling shameful under his gaze. There were no feelings of betrayal for his loving the memory of a great woman. Instead, she feared the disarray within her own mind. There were shadows and shrouded memories. She was in such disarray. Her love for him was evident, but everything else was chaos.

#Isn't that enough?# he sent, an unabashed plea as he felt her withdrawing a little. #Something to hold onto, something to build on... please, Betsy, don't shut me out?#

#Yes, it is.# Betsy took a shaky breath and looked up at him. Tears welled up in her eyes and she wiped a hand hastily across her face. "Scott," she whispered. #Help me.#

Scott shifted towards her, pulling her back into his arms, gently but insistently. His eyes were stinging and he closed them again, holding onto the link as tightly as he could. "I'm here," he said unsteadily. "Whatever you need. Anything."

Betsy visibly relaxed in his arms, it'd been an upward battle this past week. Her lack of sleep had only compounded the issue. These past few days, she chose to wander the halls, checking in on the remaining students, and wondering if Scott was alright. Betsy tensed at that last thought and felt him sense it through the link.

It was true that any free moment, she had she would search his presence out of the masses and feel comfort in knowing he was safe. Last night, it was worry that sent her barreling to the garage to ensure his safety. It was a confession of sorts. "I'm scared for you and what's still within me."

"Don't be afraid for me. We'll face it together, Betsy, I promise..." He drew back a little, mustering a shaky smile. "No more running. I swear."

#Alright, together.# She laughed sadly, nuzzling against his chest. "What an interesting pair we make?" Betsy blinked, feeling the psychic charge wearing off and her deliriousness getting the best of her. She continued to chuckle into the curve of his neck, wrapping her arms around him. Betsy closed her eyes and opened them again slowly. It was hard for her mind to grasp anything at the moment. "So tired," she yawned.

"You and me both," Scott said with a subdued chuckle of his own. "Although I did sleep like the dead last night..." He settled himself into a more comfortable position, not letting go of her. "I can stay as long as you want," he said, even more softly. "If me being here helps."

#It does, so much. Please stay.# She sensed his weariness and wanted to ease it as much as he wanted to heal hers. Well, she could do something about that. Betsy pulled Scott from his chair, so they could both lay on her bed together. She repositioned herself, her head in the crook of his neck again. Her hand committing slight ministrations on his chest, while she slowly eased his mind of any tension or worry. Calm. "Speaking of last night, you know," she said, breathing in the scent of him. "You were so horribly cute. Manly, even."

Scott laughed softly, then breathed out on a sigh. "Now you're being charitable," he said, his arms tightening around her protectively. #And if you keep doing that,# he sent back somewhat dimly, #I'm going to doze off.#

"Never that," Betsy said coyly. If he refused to take the aspirin, she thought. And he would, she'd have to try other methods. #But that's the point, luv.# she said, the playfulness evident. Betsy continued the ministrations on his chest and slowly relieved him of the gnawing thumming in his head. She felt the muscles in his body relax. #That's it, Scott. Rest.#

#You, too,# he sent insistently, holding on tightly to the link. #Need it as badly as I do...# He imagined his thoughts wrapping around hers like a warm blanket, smiling a little at the image.

"Alright, alright." Betsy said, looking up at him. #You win.# Her hand went tentatively to his bruised jaw, studying it. "I'll sleep only if you'll join me."

"Well," he said, opening his eyes and meeting hers, "that was the general idea." She kept fingering his jaw, very delicately, and he chuckled. "Horse," he confessed.

#Mum said I was born stubborn,# she sent jokingly down the link. "I know about the horse," she said, hiding her smile from him. "I don't think she liked you very much." Betsy yawned again.

"Left me stumbling around blind in the woods," Scott murmured, raising a hand and stroking the hair back from her face. "Never let it be said that I can't recognize a metaphor when I have my nose rubbed in it."

"Hmmm, I'm sure the powers that be only meant to knock some sense into you." she mumbled, leaning into his touch. "I was already on my way when Paige found you. There's nothing worse than being in the dark and feeling helpless."

He kissed her forehead and then closed his eyes again, losing himself on the link with something close to wonder. #I love you,# he sent softly.

"I'm starting to gather that," she said, smiling. "I love you too." #Always.#

Betsy looked up at him, her dark purple eyes set on him for a moment. #Follow me.# She rested her head back down on his chest and closed her eyes. Betsy found Scott through their newfound link and walked him along the path. The path of fitful dreams and pleasant memories. A few moments later, Scott and Betsy were both breathing deeply and enjoying the sleep of the deserved.