xp_logs | Scott and Betsy, Saturday night

x-cyclops.livejournal.com posting in

Scott and Betsy go for a drive in the snow, and find an ending.

Scott brought the car to a stop at the side of the road, turning off the engine. The silence that fell was total, as if he was alone in the car, the only person in the world. But he didn't fall for the illusion. He was almost painfully aware of the woman sitting so stiffly in the passenger's seat. Even if she had barely looked at him since he'd shown up at her door and asked her to come for a drive.

"Pretty night," he said softly, staring out at the snow. The sky had been absolutely clear when they'd first set out, but the clouds had come rolling in. The snow was falling heavily now, and he could feel the cold radiating through the glass of the window. "Are you warm enough?" he thought to ask.

"Yes, fine," Betsy replied curtly. Her eyes were hooded, as she gazed out the window. It was a moment before she turned to face him. "I thought we were going for a drive?"

Scott smiled very faintly. "We drove," he said softly. "I figured we'd stop for a while. Easier to talk when I'm not driving..." He trailed off, staring back out at the new blanket of snow. It all looked so clean, the thought occurred to him. "One last awkward conversation, and then I'll stop putting you through them. I promise."

"Alright." Betsy eyes trailed back to watch the flakes land on the windshield. It wasn't a daunting task to wonder where each crystal would land. "You know," she started, her voice far away. "We could've talked inside...like we always do. I have a rather nasty craving for some cocoa."

"I thought we needed a little space. Away from everyone else." Scott fell silent again for a long moment. "We can get some cocoa on the way home, though. I know a place..." He trailed off, shaking his head a little. "On the way home," he said again. "Cocoa. Right now, though..." He looked sideways at her, saw the way she was staring at the snow falling on the windshield.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, his voice low and calm and tired, no edge to it or to the words. "I know I've been pushing you lately. Not aloud, but... I know you've still been feeling it. As much as I've told myself I was giving you space, it wasn't really true."

A soft sigh escaped from her parted lips. Somewhere within her, she realized that Scott Summers needed her to focus. Yes. To pay attention. So, Betsy leaned back into her seat, deep thoughtful eyes locked in on him. "Well, there's no need to pussyfoot around. Come on, out with it."

He met her eyes without hesitation, without the wrenching unhappiness that he might have felt if he'd been having this conversation two weeks ago. Just regret, and a certain sadness. "I think it's time that I admitted to myself that this isn't going to work," he said very quietly. "Time I respected the fact that you want your space, not an illusion of space while I hang on to the idea that it's all going to work out in the end."

"Illusions are only walls we've managed to break through." Her lips upturned slightly at the thought. She looked down thoughtfully for a moment, as if thinking about how to move forward. "I won't let it hurt, not like before."

Scott nodded slowly. "You've been through so much," he murmured. "Hardly had a chance to catch your breath. You need time, Betsy - time to find yourself again, to find your life again." He smiled, a very small, pained smile. "I'm just getting in the way of that."

"Perhaps, in time, I will find what you have found." Betsy offered with a small shrug of the shoulders. She brought her index and forefinger together, bracing them against his temple and hesitated. "Nothing is lost that is borne of the heart," Betsy whispered before she took back what she once gave freely. Three. Two. One. "Contact."

Scott closed his eyes, his jaw trembling for a moment before he clenched it hard. The link had been blocked since she'd woken from her coma, of course, but it had still been there. He'd been able to feel it.

But where there had been a certain sense of weight, even with the blockage, an impression of light shining out from behind closed curtains... there was suddenly nothing. Just an echo, fading. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the immediate reaction to the sudden emptiness come and go, rolling over him like a wave.

"I still love you," he said, and if there was a bit of a tremor in his voice, he hoped she could forgive him. "I don't think I can lose that. And if you need me... I'm here. I... wanted to make sure you knew that." He took a deep breath, opening his eyes and managing that very slight smile again.

It was a few brief seconds before Betsy pulled back her hand. She eyed her palm, waiting for the slight thrumming to dissipate in her head. It was uncomfortable feeling, to reign her mind back within herself. It felt as if her body were fighting it's most natural need to connect, to bridge the gap between them. A very odd sensation to the newly revived Betsy and she'd remember the emotion soon enough.

"I know." Betsy managed, quietly. After a moment, she continued. "I am sorry, if I've caused you any suffering...."

Scott shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry I couldn't... stop any of what happened." His throat was tight, but he kept eye contact, unwaveringly. "I wish so much that I'd been able to make you happy. You deserve to be." He took another deep breath, unsteadier this time. "I know there's no going back to the time before, Elisabeth. But if you can find a way forward... that's what I want most for you. However it comes about." Even if it was a way she had to walk alone.

"No, you are wrong." Betsy's eyebrows furrowed. She inhaled deeply, trying to wrack her brain for the right words. The right meaning. "...I mean, you underestimate the influence your presence has provided in the past. When thinking of you, she, no....I have the brightest reflections of cherished times whenever you were near. It is something you shouldn't regret."

She pulled herself back and let her gaze fall back to the windshield. More snow had accumulated by now. "Soon, we will all find our way."

"I hope so." His voice was hushed, as much in response to the dream-like winterscape around them as to the conversation. "I really do." Past and present and future seemed so hopelessly entangled sometimes. It would be good to see clearly.

They sat there for a few more minutes in silence, before Scott realized just how cold it was getting. He stirred, breathing out on what was almost a sigh. "We should be getting back," he said quietly, reaching for the keys in the ignition. "Before the snow gets any worse."