Author: Lucinda
story #2 in Crimson Arc Crimson Awakening
rating: pg 13
main Character: Psylocke, contains Betsy/Warren pairing.
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone from the pages of
Marvel comics. No money is being made from this story.
Distribution: please ask first. Psyknife & Luba may have it.
note :words in colons: represent telepathic contact.
Betsy opened her eyes, feeling remarkably well rested. She could
remember fighting Sabertooth, remember the feeling of his claws slashing
into her... Warren had given her something to drink, something he said would
heal her. Nothing hurt now, there was no pain anywhere in her body.
Nothing more than the slightly stiff feeling from sleeping late. Whatever
Warren had brought her had been very effective.
Her stomach growled. How long had it been since she'd eaten? How long
since.. well, how long had she been in the infirmary? She slipped out of
the bed, and made her way across the shadowy room, pressing the button that
would open the door.
Harsh light flooded in, stinging her eyes, making them water in
protest even as her arm came up, flying in front of her eyes as a feeble
shield. She felt a few tears slip from here eyes as a result of the harsh
lights in the hallway. Surely they hadn't been that bright before? It had
to simply mean that she had been in the dark, or asleep too long.
:Warren?: She reached out, finding her lover's mind. There was a
feeling of numbers dancing across his awareness, and the smell/taste of his
aftershave, and this light musky scent that was uniquely Warren.
:How long have I been asleep? I feel stiff, and hungry.: She let a
hint of the hunger she was feeling creep through the link.
He sent a feeling of relief at her recovery, and the knowledge that
he'd given her the fluid, something called the Essence of the Crimson Dawn,
almost twenty four hours ago. He would go to the kitchen and begin some
food for her, and that way she could go to her room and put on some clean
clothing.
She felt much better after going to her room and changing into some
new clothing. She had also taken a quick shower, rinsing the memory of
Sabertooth's claws and of her own spilled blood away from her skin. The
lights still seemed oddly bright. Maybe it was just a side effect of her
injury? Had the forced mind-link taken that much of a toll on her? Was this
simply from mental strain?
Deciding that the concern was not really necessary, Betsy went to
the kitchen for something to eat. She was hungry. She also thought that
Warren was planning to try to make her the strawberry pancakes that she
enjoyed so much. Strawberry pancakes... with whipped cream... Warren with
whipped cream....
Shaking her head slightly, Betsy entered the kitchen. Warren had
indeed made her a large stack of those delicious pancakes, and she dug into
them eagerly. Hmm.. perhaps it was a good thing that Warren was rich, the
pancakes flavor seemed a bit.. the closest word that she could find was
faded. As if the flavor of them had been muted somehow. She couldn't quite
manage to finish the stack, and found herself pushing them away.
Nobody had said anything about the mark over her eye. It was a red
shape, slightly stylized, and swept over her eye in a dramatic, sweeping
mark. It looked exotic, and almost primitive, yet at the same time, there
was something about it.. a hint of mystery and power. The kitchen felt to
bright as well.
It was odd, because while her stomach felt full to the point that she
was certain she would burst if she took one more bite, there was still this
odd feeling, like she was hungry. Why could she be feeling like that?
Could it be some sort of side effect of her injuries from Sabertooth? But,
everything felt healed. Maybe she could contact Hank and see if he had any
ideas on the matter.
She reached out, finding Hank's mind, like soft fur and musk and a
slightly sweet taste, like twinkies over the taste of man... she imagined
that this touch carried much the same 'flavor' that kissing him would give.
:Hank? Did Sabertooth.. was my stomach damaged? I can't seem to eat as
much as I think I should.:
She could read in his mind the extend of her injuries, and it was a
horrifying picture. Her entire middle had been slashed, opening her
stomach, her intestines, slashing through her live and one of her kidneys,
and there had been trauma and swelling along the spinal cord, as well as the
'simpler' damage to all the muscles and her skin. The images of her
bleeding body were terrible.
:Ohhh... no wonder everything hurt when I fell. I guess that explains
it. My stomach just doesn't want to eat very much. Thanks.: She let the
mental contact drop, not even thinking about the fact that she no longer
felt hungry. Or the faintest hint, like tasting a memory, of twinkie on her lips.
Downstairs, Jean was checking in on Hank. He'd been down there,
apparently reviewing the medical information on Betsy after her latest
encounter with Sabertooth. He probably had forgotten to eat again, so she
was taking him some food, the tray floating behind her as she walked. There
were advantages to being telekinetic, after all. She opened the door to the
lab, seeing him dropping in front of his computer, head resting on one furry arm.
"Hank? Are you awake? I have some food for you..." Jean's voice was
worried. He looked as if he was falling asleep at the monitor.
"wha.. huh.. empirical data would indicate.. um, Jean. Pardon... it
seems that I was more tired than I had thought. Ahh.. food. Truly, you
are a kind wonder among women, and we are blessed to have you with us." He
took the tray, giving the food his determined attention.
"You look exhausted, Hank. What could you have possibly... actually,
never mind. I'm sure you can find all sorts of things to keep yourself busy
in here. I'd say that you should probably go get some rest." Jean's voice
was balanced between concern and humor. "And don't forget to throw away
your twinkie wrappers. Honestly, as a scientist, you should know what goes
in those. How you can continue to eat them.." With a small shudder of
exaggerated horror, Jean smiled and left, floating the empty tray behind her
and back up to the kitchen.
At least Betsy had recovered. Warren would have been devastated if she
had died. Not to say that everyone else wouldn't have been upset, wouldn't
have missed her. She was their friend, their teammate. Warren was her
lover though, and that was a connection that went beyond friend or team
mate. He would have been willing to do just about anything to save Betsy.
A vague feeling, not quite strong or defined enough to be a
premonition flowed through Jean. It was a feeling that there would be
trouble, that something bad would happen/had happened, that there would be
terrible consequences of this trouble. Something that centered on Warren and
Betsy. Maybe it was simply concern, triggered or intensified by the recent
near disaster?
Jean shivered slightly, feeling as if a cold breeze had suddenly found
it's way up her spine. There would be trouble. Hopefully, they would be
able to stop it before it was to late. Hopefully, they would spot it,
whatever it was, be able to follow it, nip it in the bud.
end Crimson Awakening.
story #2 in Crimson Arc Crimson Awakening
rating: pg 13
main Character: Psylocke, contains Betsy/Warren pairing.
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone from the pages of
Marvel comics. No money is being made from this story.
Distribution: please ask first. Psyknife & Luba may have it.
note :words in colons: represent telepathic contact.
Betsy opened her eyes, feeling remarkably well rested. She could
remember fighting Sabertooth, remember the feeling of his claws slashing
into her... Warren had given her something to drink, something he said would
heal her. Nothing hurt now, there was no pain anywhere in her body.
Nothing more than the slightly stiff feeling from sleeping late. Whatever
Warren had brought her had been very effective.
Her stomach growled. How long had it been since she'd eaten? How long
since.. well, how long had she been in the infirmary? She slipped out of
the bed, and made her way across the shadowy room, pressing the button that
would open the door.
Harsh light flooded in, stinging her eyes, making them water in
protest even as her arm came up, flying in front of her eyes as a feeble
shield. She felt a few tears slip from here eyes as a result of the harsh
lights in the hallway. Surely they hadn't been that bright before? It had
to simply mean that she had been in the dark, or asleep too long.
:Warren?: She reached out, finding her lover's mind. There was a
feeling of numbers dancing across his awareness, and the smell/taste of his
aftershave, and this light musky scent that was uniquely Warren.
:How long have I been asleep? I feel stiff, and hungry.: She let a
hint of the hunger she was feeling creep through the link.
He sent a feeling of relief at her recovery, and the knowledge that
he'd given her the fluid, something called the Essence of the Crimson Dawn,
almost twenty four hours ago. He would go to the kitchen and begin some
food for her, and that way she could go to her room and put on some clean
clothing.
She felt much better after going to her room and changing into some
new clothing. She had also taken a quick shower, rinsing the memory of
Sabertooth's claws and of her own spilled blood away from her skin. The
lights still seemed oddly bright. Maybe it was just a side effect of her
injury? Had the forced mind-link taken that much of a toll on her? Was this
simply from mental strain?
Deciding that the concern was not really necessary, Betsy went to
the kitchen for something to eat. She was hungry. She also thought that
Warren was planning to try to make her the strawberry pancakes that she
enjoyed so much. Strawberry pancakes... with whipped cream... Warren with
whipped cream....
Shaking her head slightly, Betsy entered the kitchen. Warren had
indeed made her a large stack of those delicious pancakes, and she dug into
them eagerly. Hmm.. perhaps it was a good thing that Warren was rich, the
pancakes flavor seemed a bit.. the closest word that she could find was
faded. As if the flavor of them had been muted somehow. She couldn't quite
manage to finish the stack, and found herself pushing them away.
Nobody had said anything about the mark over her eye. It was a red
shape, slightly stylized, and swept over her eye in a dramatic, sweeping
mark. It looked exotic, and almost primitive, yet at the same time, there
was something about it.. a hint of mystery and power. The kitchen felt to
bright as well.
It was odd, because while her stomach felt full to the point that she
was certain she would burst if she took one more bite, there was still this
odd feeling, like she was hungry. Why could she be feeling like that?
Could it be some sort of side effect of her injuries from Sabertooth? But,
everything felt healed. Maybe she could contact Hank and see if he had any
ideas on the matter.
She reached out, finding Hank's mind, like soft fur and musk and a
slightly sweet taste, like twinkies over the taste of man... she imagined
that this touch carried much the same 'flavor' that kissing him would give.
:Hank? Did Sabertooth.. was my stomach damaged? I can't seem to eat as
much as I think I should.:
She could read in his mind the extend of her injuries, and it was a
horrifying picture. Her entire middle had been slashed, opening her
stomach, her intestines, slashing through her live and one of her kidneys,
and there had been trauma and swelling along the spinal cord, as well as the
'simpler' damage to all the muscles and her skin. The images of her
bleeding body were terrible.
:Ohhh... no wonder everything hurt when I fell. I guess that explains
it. My stomach just doesn't want to eat very much. Thanks.: She let the
mental contact drop, not even thinking about the fact that she no longer
felt hungry. Or the faintest hint, like tasting a memory, of twinkie on her lips.
Downstairs, Jean was checking in on Hank. He'd been down there,
apparently reviewing the medical information on Betsy after her latest
encounter with Sabertooth. He probably had forgotten to eat again, so she
was taking him some food, the tray floating behind her as she walked. There
were advantages to being telekinetic, after all. She opened the door to the
lab, seeing him dropping in front of his computer, head resting on one furry arm.
"Hank? Are you awake? I have some food for you..." Jean's voice was
worried. He looked as if he was falling asleep at the monitor.
"wha.. huh.. empirical data would indicate.. um, Jean. Pardon... it
seems that I was more tired than I had thought. Ahh.. food. Truly, you
are a kind wonder among women, and we are blessed to have you with us." He
took the tray, giving the food his determined attention.
"You look exhausted, Hank. What could you have possibly... actually,
never mind. I'm sure you can find all sorts of things to keep yourself busy
in here. I'd say that you should probably go get some rest." Jean's voice
was balanced between concern and humor. "And don't forget to throw away
your twinkie wrappers. Honestly, as a scientist, you should know what goes
in those. How you can continue to eat them.." With a small shudder of
exaggerated horror, Jean smiled and left, floating the empty tray behind her
and back up to the kitchen.
At least Betsy had recovered. Warren would have been devastated if she
had died. Not to say that everyone else wouldn't have been upset, wouldn't
have missed her. She was their friend, their teammate. Warren was her
lover though, and that was a connection that went beyond friend or team
mate. He would have been willing to do just about anything to save Betsy.
A vague feeling, not quite strong or defined enough to be a
premonition flowed through Jean. It was a feeling that there would be
trouble, that something bad would happen/had happened, that there would be
terrible consequences of this trouble. Something that centered on Warren and
Betsy. Maybe it was simply concern, triggered or intensified by the recent
near disaster?
Jean shivered slightly, feeling as if a cold breeze had suddenly found
it's way up her spine. There would be trouble. Hopefully, they would be
able to stop it before it was to late. Hopefully, they would spot it,
whatever it was, be able to follow it, nip it in the bud.
end Crimson Awakening.