Even Later Tuesday Night, Training rooms

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Betsy and Lorna hit things. Betsy tries to be helpful. Lorna isn't open to the advice.



Lorna had diced about as much as she could get away with. The fridge was full of vegetable confetti and she was still upset. She finally gave up and ran downstairs. There must be something to the whole hitting things as therapy right? Though her outfit was hardly suited to working out, she didn’t think the punching bag would mind. Muttering to herself, she didn’t hear the noise already coming from the training room. She stopped dead when she realised there was someone else there. “Fuck.”

She'd been at it for hours, but she couldn't stop. Her hands throbbed, she looked down to see red smeared across them. But, Betsy's fist connected with the punching bag again, screaming again at an unknown assailant. And it helped. She wanted to feel pain, everything felt more lucid with pain.

“Does that help as much as it looks like it does?” Lorna asked flatly, kicking off her heels and moving behind the bag to brace it.

She hadn't stopped pummelling the punching bag when she sensed Lorna enter the room. Actually, she hit harder. "It helps alright," Betsy huffed in-between jabs. She switched her stance and gave the top portion of the bag a strong kick. "When the time calls for it."

“Good.” Lorna let go of the bag and moved on to the next one down, “That’s what I was hoping. This about that damn Scott thing?” she asked conversationally as she began to take carefully placed punches on the bag.

Betsy stopped mid-kick, looking at Lorna in bewilderment. "I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind." She rubbed her hands, self-consciously.

Lorna nodded, “Sorry. I talk when I’m upset. It’s a thing. A California thing.” She shut her mouth with an audible click and concentrated on the bag instead.

Betsy stepped back from the punching bag, her head bowed. She reflected for a moment and looked up at Lorna as she began her workout. "Your stance is wrong," Betsy said flatly. She moved over to Lorna's punching bag. "And you need to be leaning on this foot and punching with this hand. You won't be effective, otherwise."

Lorna sighed and set herself properly, “I know. I’ve gone through the training. This was more about the hitting than the effectiveness.” Still, doing it right meant that she got that much more power behind each hit to the little mental image she’d superimposed on the bag.

Betsy dropped her hands and took a step back. "Right. I'm sure you did." Briefly, she looked back at the punching bag wondering if she should continued her session, but found that the mood to inflict some damage had left her. Instead, she walked over to the chair and picked up her towel from the seat. Wiping the sweat off her brow, Betsy turned back to watch Lorna. "You said you were upset? If you don't mind me asking, about what, exactly?"

“Guess.” Lorna muttered. She hadn’t done this nearly often enough. It was just as helpful as she’d thought it would be.

"Alex." Betsy afforded herself a smirk. "For two people supposedly moving on, you two do seem to keep up with one another."

“What right does he have to question me about where I was?” She pounded on the bag silently for several moments, feeling her hands beginning to sting. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

"Probably none," Betsy said wryly. "But, old habits are hard to break. I'm sure you can understand."

“He was waiting for me. He doesn’t fucking want me around but it’s okay for him to try to rule my life?” She wasn’t handling this well and knew it. Samson would have hmmed at her by now and she’d have totally had to take it. “It’s none of his business who I was with.”

"Hmm," Betsy said, taking in the stress apparent in Lorna's voice. "And yet, he felt it necessary to make it his business. I wonder why that is?"

“His jealousy is his own problem and he can nurse it somewhere where I’m not.” Temper was fuelling her words as well as her actions. “I told him I love him. I begged for his forgiveness. I did my best and it didn’t work. What the hell more can I do?”

"It doesn't seem like much, does it?" It helped to be thinking about something else besides her life. "Unless you don't believe in taking no for an answer. If you think you're Alex is worth fighting for, then you wouldn't give up so easily. There was a mistake made, but that's all it was. I'm sure if we lived by our mistakes without hope of making things right, they'd be no point to it, really."

“He’s worth it. Trouble is, I can’t push him on this. Pushing him is what got us into this mess.” Lorna shook her head, “I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

"Wrong," Betsy insisted. "You need to push. If you lay down and accept this, there won't be room to go back. The boy needs you, Lorna. No matter how much the two of you believe otherwise."

“I can’t! I’m hurt. He’s hurt. We’re ripping each other up and you’re saying we should keep on doing it? Hell, we only worked out so long because we didn’t talk to each other!” Lorna upped her tempo and strength rather than raising her voice. “I’d do anything for him but I won’t keep hurting him.”

"Alright, whatever you think is best." Betsy said, resignedly. "I'm not going to argue with you about this. I just don't think you should sit on it either. But that's my opinion. Who cares about that, anyway?" Betsy turned her back to Lorna and went to collect her things. Her mood had significantly worsened.

“Anyone with any sense. Spare me the dramatic ‘unloved little me’ routine.” Lorna retorted, happily taking Betsy’s throw away self-deprecation and using it as a topic change. “Just because I don’t take your advice doesn’t mean I’m not listening. I don’t always listen to Samson either.”

"Right." Betsy said, her voice going cold. She turned back to face Lorna, her face flushed. Her eyes shining bright. "You know what, Lorna. You don't listen when it's obviously the only thing you should be doing. I wonder why that is? But, it doesn't matter. Nothing matters. I'll just be on my way, alright?" Betsy's expression told there was no room for argument.

"Fine. Go fix things up with your own Summers and then you have every right to tell me how to deal with mine." Lorna gave Betsy a glare, "Because then, I'll have to acknowledge your expertise. Right now, you're as much of a fuck up as I am."

"Of course, I am." Betsy said. She didn't say another word, instead she finished packing her things and walked out of the training room. Her shoulders were slumped, but who would notice anyway.