Betsy and Scott, Wednesday night

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

Scott comes back from a late and restless ride on his bike to find Betsy and a bottle of gin in his suite. They revel in their mutual dysfunctionality for a bit, but then the conversation turns productive and Betsy tries a successful experiment.



He'd been gone for a little over an hour now. Blowing off steam on his bike, instead of coming to her for help. Betsy looked about Scott's quarters, trying to remember how'd she gotten here, but it didn't matter much. Her eyes had locked in on the bottle sitting across the room. Staggering over to the kitchen, Betsy's hand wrapped around the base of the bottle and she sank down unto the kitchen floor. Her skin felt tingly, alive. No more burdens to weigh her down, no one to worry after. "So much better."

When Scott finally returned, that was where he found her. Sitting on his kitchen floor, holding onto the bottle as if it were her lifeline. He stood in the doorway, watching her. He'd sensed her on his way up, sensed that something was very definitely off. But he hadn't been expecting this.

Betsy let her head rest on the wall, her eyes closed. The only sign that she was awake were her two fingers circling the rim of the bottle. ~Have a good ride?~ Betsy sent through the link.

Scott stared at her for a moment longer and then turned away for a moment, taking off his jacket and setting it down on the back of the closest chair. "Cold," he said very quietly. "It was starting to rain by the time I came back."

"Then it was a good thing you came back then." Betsy said, nonchalantly. She brought the bottle to her lips and taking two deep swallows. Her eyelids fluttered open and she smirked at the bleak expression he was giving her. "Oh, Scottie. Lighten up! No need to look so...morose."

Scott came over and leaned down, taking the bottle from her. "I'm getting tired of people telling me to lighten up," he said in that same low voice, finding the lid on the counter and putting the bottle in the fridge. "What would you have said if Sean had walked in on you?"

Betsy tried to reach out for the bottle and missed by a mile. She watched him from the fridge and scowled. "Why would you go and do that?" She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. "I wasn't bothering anyone and if Sean had seen me, he probably wouldn't have thought anything of it."

Scott closed the fridge and stood there for a moment, staring blankly at the blank surface of the door. His mind was turning the situation over and over, trying to understand, and the conclusion he was coming to...

"I'm sorry." The words slipped out, barely audible. "You... I haven't been seeing this, have I?"

"What are you apologizing for?" Betsy waved him off, focusing on the beautiful sensations, ripping down her spine. Who was I fooling? This is heaven.

Scott swallowed. He turned, crossing the short space between them and leaning down to pull her to her feet. A very long ride on his bike at very unsafe speeds had purged the restless tension that had driven him out in the first place, but doing that had left him tired and cold, and now, seeing her like this, very empty.

Betsy gasped. The sudden movement caught her completely offguard and she stumbled heavily into him. "What is wrong with you?!?"

He held onto her, oddly certain that she would have fallen if he'd let go. "Do you really want to know?" he asked, his voice still low, his tone not changing. "Really?"

"You're losing it." Betsy stammered. Futily, she tried to pull away from him. For God's sake, she needed distance "It doesn't matter--nothing matters. None of it!"

"Why?" Still not raising his voice. Not because he didn't want to, but because he didn't have the energy. Because shouting at any of it never did any good, never did anything but harm. The right sound could shatter glass, after all. "Why doesn't it matter?"

"Because no matter what I do, how I try to help..." Her words came out strangled. "You'll never come to me. I'm always the one searching you out, and I'm tired of it." Betsy pushed away from him, leaning most of her weight on the counter, only a few steps away from the fridge. "I just need something to let me forget for a while."

"Do I have the right?" His voice was hoarse, this time. "To come to you when I need help. When I didn't help you when you needed me."

"Yes," Betsy answered. She went to the cupboard and pulled out a glass. Not affording Scott a glance, she reached inside the fridge and found the gin bottle. Without hesitation, Betsy started pouring. "You've always had the right, Scott. How could you not see that?"

"Because I don't see anything." He tried to ignore her filling the glass, her movements smooth and assured despite what alcohol she'd already consumed. "I thought you would have figured that out by now. When I'm not being self-absorbed, I'm being blind."

Just a little bit more, she thought as she poured. Betsy reached inside the freezer for two icecubes and dropped them inside the glass. Satisfied, she kept her left hand on the counter while she downed the drink. "S'alright. I have a brand new pair for both of us to share," Betsy stated.

"What do you want, Betsy?" Scott asked tiredly, watching her. "Just... tell me, please? What you need..."

She turned around to face him, her lavendar eyes saying what she could never mention before. "What I want is to be a better X-Man." Betsy felt her right hand shake as she spoke, the strange sensations running up and down her arm. Yet, she continued to ignore it. "I want to forget about the mistakes I've made. I want to not feel fear every time I go to sleep." The tremors grew in intensity. "But most of all, I want to be what you need." All of a sudden and sharp crackle down the link and a bright purple bolt appeared and disappeared from Betsy's fisted right hand.

Scott jumped, taking an instinctive step back at the flash of the light. "Betsy," he breathed, "what--" He stopped, swallowing, and reached out to take her hand, examining it closely. No signs of burns, or anything similar.

"Oh god," she croaked. Withdrawing from him, Betsy felt her heart hammering within her chest and managing to breathe was becoming a problem. She stumbled backwards, trying to push Scott away from her. "Not....real."

"Unless we're sharing a hallucination, it was," Scott said a bit raggedly, holding onto her. "I saw you--saw her do this before, Betsy. In March."

"No," Betsy repeated. Oxygen-deprived dizziness started to sweep her, as the panic firmly set in. What's happening to me? "I could've imagined it and projected it."

"Betsy." He stepped closer, sliding a supporting arm around her. "Breathe," he said softly, his expression setting in lines of worry as he peered down at her. "Whatever it is, it's okay...."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Betsy said into his chest, her body wouldn't stop shaking. "I was scared you wouldn't come back," Betsy whispered.

"I--" His voice broke and he enfolded her gently in his arm, trying to still his own sudden shaking. "Don't... please don't," he said, almost pleading with her. "I shouldn't have--"

Betsy forced herself to find control, to fight back against the panic. "Alright," she managed to say. They stood like this for a few minutes and slowly Betsy began to feel the heaviness from all the alcohol she'd consumed. Thankfully all the adrenaline also assaulting her system helped counteract the liquor. "I don't know what's happening to me," she finally said.

"Have you talked to Charles?" Scott asked hoarsely, leading her carefully out of the kitchen and over to the couch. "He should--if this is something to do with your powers, Betsy, he could help."

"No," Betsy started. "I haven't talked to him. Maddie did run some tests and I haven't gone back for the results." She shuddered for a moment before continuing. "With everything that's been happening, I haven't had the chance to see him."

He lowered her onto the couch, keeping his arm around her shoulders. "Some things we have to make time for," he said wearily. "Please? I can't--I hate seeing you so frightened." As she looked up at him, he reached up and traced her jawline gently, trying to ignore the ache in his chest.

"I'll try to see him." She wrapped her right hand firmly within her left. Now that she had felt the psychic bolt flow through her arm, it was as if a conduit had been opened. And Betsy wasn't quite sure if she could control it. There were waves of emotions floating off of Scott and she tried to hold it together.

Scott, realizing he had to be projecting, closed his eyes for a moment, struggling to pull it together. He drew back a bit, reluctantly, but thinking that she probably needed a little space. "It's going to be okay," he said again, his voice still hoarse.

"How can it?" Betsy asked, her voice strained. Pretty little Betsy scared? She shook her head, trying to clear her head. "I should go...." Betsy made a move to get up, but Scott's body blocked her in.

"Please don't?" The words slipped out, broken-sounding, before he could stop them, and Scott's jaw clenched. "I'm sorry, Betsy," he went on, forcing the words out. "Forming this link, and then doing this... shutting you out. It's not right and it's not fair, and I'm just..." The words caught in his throat, almost choking him.

"Don't say that." Betsy said, her head falling back on the couch. "You didn't do this, I did. It's always been me." She brought her hand to his heart, trying to emphasize the point. Bringing her hand back to her chest, Betsy sighed. Her right hand clenching and closing, as she spoke. "What am I going to do?"

Focus, he told himself, fighting past the renewed turbulence of his own emotions. "Talk to Charles," he said, his voice barely audible. "Maybe Moira too... they're the experts. They'll help you figure it out."

"Might have to hold off any conversations until I sober up," Betsy reminded, another spasm running through her right arm.. "You know, I'd be incredibly drunk at the moment, if it weren't for all this angst." She looked up at him, a smirk playing on her lips.

He gave her a ghost of a smile in return. "So this isn't a one-time thing," he said, still almost in a whisper. "Not just because I ran off to see if I could wrap the bike around a tree..."

Her eyes remained on his for a moment before looking away. "No, definitely not the first time," Betsy said, admitting her habit for the first time to herself as well to him. "Though, if I'd decided to pick up a habit, tonight would have been as good a time as any."

Scott took a deep, shaky breath, his gaze locked on her profile as she stared off into the dimness of the living room. "Is it--is it the link? What you're sensing from me... or am I just making it worse?

"I do sense that you don't want to be disturbed and you want to get away from all of us." Betsy inhaled deeply, thinking for a moment. "I can't help but useless when you find comfort in everyone but me....." She looked back up at him, trying to give him some reassurement. Her right hand trailing down his temple. "And I know you dread our sessions together, so I don't force the issue. I've been trying to give you what you need..."

"You think I want to--" He stopped, laughed a bit raggedly. "I suppose I do, on some levels. I was... I almost kept going, tonight. But it was just an impulse. I didn't follow through on it." So long as he squelched those impulses, he'd managed. "And our sessions..." he went on more softly. "If the headaches weren't affecting you, too, I'd tell you to leave it alone."

"I know...." Betsy hesitated, blinking up at him. "But, I'm glad you find this somewhat funny." She carefully leaned forward and gave Scott a tentative kiss. "Would you let me suffer, if you could do something about it, Scott?"

"No," he said immediately, not even having to stop and think about it. "I wouldn't," he went on more softly.

"My point exactly," Betsy beamed. She let her head fall back with a relaxed grin on her face. "Neither can I." Betsy visibly grimaced as she clenched her right hand again, trying to work through the another series of spasms. "I really don't need this right now."

Scott reached out tentatively and took her right hand, feeling the muscles twitch and spasm - and an odd tingle that made him flinch. "We don't ever need our mutations to act oddly," he said quietly. "That rarely stops them."

Betsy remained quiet. She closed her eyes, focusing on the sensations, circulating up her right arm. All the while, finding calm in the little ministrations Scott committed to her hand. Small strokes that managed to ease the spasms away. "Hmm, better." She smiled up at him. She knew part of him wanted to run and the other part wanted.....to keep her safe. Betsy tried to figure out which was best for the both of them.

"I'm glad," he said, his voice very low, and managed a wan smile in return. "Sleep might help, you know. Did you... do you want to stay here tonight?"

"It might be best if I leave " Betsy said, already making a move to get up. "Besides, I have an early day tomorrow."

She was almost to the door before he found his voice again. "Please don't?" Scott whispered shakily.

"Alright," Betsy muttered. She was standing in the middle of the room, her back to him. She felt defeated in a way, Betsy had hoped to get away before he asked her to do otherwise. "I'm such a fuckup," she sighed, her hands shakily going to her face.

Scott was silent for a long moment. Then he got up off the couch, crossing the distance between them and turning her to face him. "We make a hell of a pair, you know," he said, his voice barely audible.

"Not in the good way, Scott" Betsy muttered. "Not in the good way." She looked down at her arm, feeling the psychic energy building again. She pulled back from him, giving distance in case her arm felt the need to exercise its' new gift. "I'm not sure if I can keep this in control."

Scott stared down at her hand. "Why not stop fighting it?" he suggested softly. "See what happens."

~Scared.~ Betsy thought to herself. She looked up, realizing that she'd reflexively sent the thought to Scott. She laughed nervously. "Would it be wrong to admit that that was actually the last thing on my mind."

"You're afraid that it makes you like her somehow," Scott said after a long moment, listening to the link. "Betsy... it's you. Your mutation. You shouldn't--" He stopped, sighing as he took her hand again. "You shouldn't be afraid of it."

"I am." Betsy whispered. "I hear her voice some days more than most and I've only just gotten it under control." She closed her fist, gathering her strength. "But, I'll try...." If you stay here with me.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said softly. "Try?"

~Thank you.~ Betsy inhaled deeply, letting her eyelids close while she concentrated on the growing psychic energy building within her. It was an intense sensation, like her hand had been exposed to a live wire and she was only along for the ride. Indeed, her mind had opened up and her telepathy seemed to extend to something more tangible. It was the stirrings of awareness beyond her plane of existence and it wanted release. A shock of energy stemmed from her mind down her spine and into her hand. "Ah," Betsy moaned.

Her right hand clenched suddenly as the energy manifested into a sword. A katana. Betsy opened her eyes, staring at the creation formed in front of her. "It's purple," Betsy gaped.

"It's... really something," Scott said, his eyes wide behind his glasses. "How do you feel?" His gaze shifted back to her face, intent and worried. He didn't sense pain on the link any longer.

"Whole," Betsy answered softly. The muscles within her arm relaxed visibly . "I'm fine, really. Better than I expected."

Scott tilted his head, regarding the glowing sword for a long moment. A faint smile played on his lips suddenly. "It's beautiful."

"It is." With a rueful smile, Betsy concentrated for a moment and the psychic sword slowly retreated. "I never thought I'd agree with you." Betsy said, moving closer to him, her hand cupping his face. "Thank you."

He smiled a bit in return. "Might be something useful," he said quietly. "For when you're back on active duty with the team. You'll have to experiment, see what it can do."

"I don't think anyone would like to experiment with this." Betsy raised her hand up in the air and sighed. "Excuse me, would you all mind if I try and stab you with this sword. Really, it won't hurt." Betsy shook her head. "It won't work." Betsy tried to make her way over to the sofa. But her feet had other ideas and so, she stumbled forward into the chair.

Scott winced at the way she stumbled. "I think you need to sleep," he murmured. "Please stay? So I can keep an eye on you?" He smiled a bit lamely. "You know how I worry."

Defeated is how she felt. That and horribly, horribly inebriated. With her shoulders feeling unbelievably heavy, she leaned heavily onto the chair. Her hand pushed away the hair falling in front of her face. "I need a lot of things." Betsy's hand reached out for him behind her.

Scott reached out and took her hand, squeezing it tightly. "You ought to make me a list," he said very softly, stepping closer. "I do well with lists."

"Hmm," Betsy muttered. She pulled on him to come up behind her, as she leaned into him. Her head falling into the groove of his neck. "Maybe in the morning?"

He wrapped her arms around her, carefully yet tightly. "Definitely in the morning," he murmured, almost in her ear. "Should I be overdramatic and carry you to bed?"

"No, I can manage." Her words coming out garbled making him believe otherwise. Eyes already close, Betsy sighed. "Though, I wouldn't be opposed to staying like this for awhile."

"Funny," Scott said, his voice a little hoarse at the aching tenderness that swept over him. "Don't seem to have much of anywhere else to be at the moment..."

"Love you," Betsy said, quietly. She felt warm and safe, the contentment that always evaded her. Odd that she found it in this moment, standing in the dark with the man that she loved.

"Love you too," Scott whispered back, meaning it with every fibre of his being, despite all the worries and tension waiting to swallow him again the moment he let it. She needed him right now. Had needed him for a while, he suspected a bit desolately, but he wasn't going to throw away now for all that should have been.

She couldn't deny the fact that she felt his insecurities through the lifeline that connected them, that she wasn't the one to make him forget. That one singular thought was enough to break her, if she let it. Betsy grimaced for a moment, keeping the expression from Scott and when she had composed herself, she pulled away from him. She had spent enough time daydreaming. "C'mon, it's getting late."