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xp_logsIt's been almost a month since he's talked to her. And after finding out she's awake, Scott makes a trip down to the medlabs to check in on the recently revived telepath. But, Mr. Summers gets quite the shock.
She tried unsuccessfully to walk out of the medlab the moment she woke up. After a few more graceless attempts, Betsy decided to accept her fate. Unless Hank would kindly offer her Charles's wheelchair for her getaway. She was stuck here.
His hands were shaking. Scott stopped at the doorway of her room, taking a deep breath before he knocked hesitantly. He was out of breath, too, having run down here as soon as Hank had sent him word that Betsy was awake.
Sensing the rapidly approaching presence, Betsy's eyes shot up to the door. Her dark colored eyes narrowed. Scott Summers. Their was a certain level of urgency to him, yet he was afraid. Betsy registered the density of emotions coming from just beyond the door, yet they felt two-dimensional. Unreal. She turned away from the door, a small grimace on her face.
"Come in."
Scott stepped in, taking a deep, somewhat shaky breath at the sight of her sitting up, watching him. "Hey," he said a bit weakly, trying to smile. "Or maybe that should be good morning...?"
"Good morning." Betsy stared placidly up at him. "Have you been well?"
The already wobbly smile wobbed a little further. "I--things have been really busy," he said a little hesitantly,
approaching and sitting down in the chair beside her bed. "How are you feeling?"
"All right," she added coolly. "A little headache is not much to complain about. Though, it's been a bit hard to move about."
Scott opened his mouth, then closed it again, watching her worriedly for a moment. She had been in a coma for nearly a month, he told himself. Just because she was awake didn't mean she'd recovered. "You've been... asleep for a while," he said, his voice unsteady.
"So, I've gathered." Betsy clasped her hands together, looking up expectantly at him.
"I--I'm so glad you're awake." Scott took another deep breath, trying to compose himself. "Alison is... doing better. Her powers were in overload, that's what knocked you out, but she's recovering."
"So am I. To be awake, that is. I don't much care to spend time down here, if I can help it." She nodded her head to
herself. "Good thing about Alison. I'm sure she's fairly well."
Something was definitely off. Scott reached out tentatively down the link, but that didn't feel right, either. "She--she'll be happy to see you up and around too?" he offered helplessly.
She hadn't expected that. Within seconds, there were walls erected around her mind, protecting her. On the outside, Betsy winced at the odd sensations, but kept herself from sending back a psychic bolt to Mr. Summers.
Betsy was almost certain that would border on being rude. "I'm sure she would."
Scott felt the block swiftly erected on the link and withdraw sharply. "I'm sorry," he said immediately. "I--I didn't mean..." Stop stammering, Summers. "I... should have asked," he went on, much more quietly.
"No need to apologise." Betsy unclasped her hands and shrugged. "You didn't know. But at the moment, I would rather keep away from such entanglements."
Keep away from... Scott stopped the train of thought right there. Her mind was healing. Of course she wanted... needed space. "I understand." The words actually came out relatively level.
"Glad that you could." Betsy gave him a polite smile and a tap on the knee. There was nothing behind the expression. Her eyes lacked her natural warmth they'd possessed and her smile was dry, forced. She might as well been a two-dimensional cut-out for all it mattered.
Control. Scott took a deep breath. "Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked, hating himself for being so stiff, so... formal, when all he wanted to do was to reach out and... no. This wasn't about what he wanted. He crushed his own emotional reaction down as hard as he could. "Anything you need... anyone you want to see?"
"Not really," Betsy shrugged again. He was a peculiar fellow. Always on the brink of a breakdown, a crying fit. Really, what did she ever see in him? "Right, I'm feeling loads better than I did earlier. So, there's no need for you to trouble yourself. Just go do what you were doing. I'm sure that's where you'd rather be, isn't it?"
Scott stared at her for a moment. "I'll--let you get some rest," he said slowly, rising. "I--if you need anything..."
"Good to hear." Betsy chimed, rather hollowly. "I'm sure I'll see you around." She waved him off and went back to staring at a particular spot in the wall. It was obviously much more interesting than Mr. Scott Summers, who for some reason, was still gaping at her.
She tried unsuccessfully to walk out of the medlab the moment she woke up. After a few more graceless attempts, Betsy decided to accept her fate. Unless Hank would kindly offer her Charles's wheelchair for her getaway. She was stuck here.
His hands were shaking. Scott stopped at the doorway of her room, taking a deep breath before he knocked hesitantly. He was out of breath, too, having run down here as soon as Hank had sent him word that Betsy was awake.
Sensing the rapidly approaching presence, Betsy's eyes shot up to the door. Her dark colored eyes narrowed. Scott Summers. Their was a certain level of urgency to him, yet he was afraid. Betsy registered the density of emotions coming from just beyond the door, yet they felt two-dimensional. Unreal. She turned away from the door, a small grimace on her face.
"Come in."
Scott stepped in, taking a deep, somewhat shaky breath at the sight of her sitting up, watching him. "Hey," he said a bit weakly, trying to smile. "Or maybe that should be good morning...?"
"Good morning." Betsy stared placidly up at him. "Have you been well?"
The already wobbly smile wobbed a little further. "I--things have been really busy," he said a little hesitantly,
approaching and sitting down in the chair beside her bed. "How are you feeling?"
"All right," she added coolly. "A little headache is not much to complain about. Though, it's been a bit hard to move about."
Scott opened his mouth, then closed it again, watching her worriedly for a moment. She had been in a coma for nearly a month, he told himself. Just because she was awake didn't mean she'd recovered. "You've been... asleep for a while," he said, his voice unsteady.
"So, I've gathered." Betsy clasped her hands together, looking up expectantly at him.
"I--I'm so glad you're awake." Scott took another deep breath, trying to compose himself. "Alison is... doing better. Her powers were in overload, that's what knocked you out, but she's recovering."
"So am I. To be awake, that is. I don't much care to spend time down here, if I can help it." She nodded her head to
herself. "Good thing about Alison. I'm sure she's fairly well."
Something was definitely off. Scott reached out tentatively down the link, but that didn't feel right, either. "She--she'll be happy to see you up and around too?" he offered helplessly.
She hadn't expected that. Within seconds, there were walls erected around her mind, protecting her. On the outside, Betsy winced at the odd sensations, but kept herself from sending back a psychic bolt to Mr. Summers.
Betsy was almost certain that would border on being rude. "I'm sure she would."
Scott felt the block swiftly erected on the link and withdraw sharply. "I'm sorry," he said immediately. "I--I didn't mean..." Stop stammering, Summers. "I... should have asked," he went on, much more quietly.
"No need to apologise." Betsy unclasped her hands and shrugged. "You didn't know. But at the moment, I would rather keep away from such entanglements."
Keep away from... Scott stopped the train of thought right there. Her mind was healing. Of course she wanted... needed space. "I understand." The words actually came out relatively level.
"Glad that you could." Betsy gave him a polite smile and a tap on the knee. There was nothing behind the expression. Her eyes lacked her natural warmth they'd possessed and her smile was dry, forced. She might as well been a two-dimensional cut-out for all it mattered.
Control. Scott took a deep breath. "Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked, hating himself for being so stiff, so... formal, when all he wanted to do was to reach out and... no. This wasn't about what he wanted. He crushed his own emotional reaction down as hard as he could. "Anything you need... anyone you want to see?"
"Not really," Betsy shrugged again. He was a peculiar fellow. Always on the brink of a breakdown, a crying fit. Really, what did she ever see in him? "Right, I'm feeling loads better than I did earlier. So, there's no need for you to trouble yourself. Just go do what you were doing. I'm sure that's where you'd rather be, isn't it?"
Scott stared at her for a moment. "I'll--let you get some rest," he said slowly, rising. "I--if you need anything..."
"Good to hear." Betsy chimed, rather hollowly. "I'm sure I'll see you around." She waved him off and went back to staring at a particular spot in the wall. It was obviously much more interesting than Mr. Scott Summers, who for some reason, was still gaping at her.
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Date: 2004-11-27 06:52 pm (UTC)Paige + Betsy + knowledge of this interaction = SO MUCH DEATH. SO MUCH! GALLONS!
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Date: 2004-11-27 06:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-27 06:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-27 07:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-27 07:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-27 07:08 pm (UTC)(Even if they're proportionately oversized and out of style.)
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Date: 2004-11-27 07:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-27 07:16 pm (UTC)a) Innuit
b) living in a place with snow
c) I think that's enough reasons right there
Then again, you're obviously an idiot, so I suppose I could understand the fact that you'd have terribly bad taste.
Of course, if they're pink ugg boots, all bets are off.
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Date: 2004-11-28 12:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-28 08:14 am (UTC)Of course, it's entirely possible that I'm wrong, but we were taught to spell it both ways.
The question is, is this all because you have pink ugg boots? ;)