Arearea: Part Two

by queenB

Later that night Betsy was walking on the beach, enjoying one of many twilight strolls she had taken since they arrived on the island. She found that it soothed her thoughts before she went to sleep and after the revelations Jean had disclosed to her during the day, she found her mind a mad jumble of thoughts that needed to be addressed on a quiet stroll. As she sorted through her thoughts and what she and Jean needed to face in the next few days as Jean severed her rapport with Apocalypse, she felt a desperate telepathic voice sweep through her thoughts and send a feeling of dread straight to the pit of her stomach. She quickly realized it was Jean and she was very, very frightened.

Her mind suddenly a whir of conflicting, violent images, Betsy raced up the beachfront toward the bungalow. As the thoughts grew more urgent, she rushed into the house as Jean's telepathic voice whispered incoherently in her thoughts. Hurrying into the hall between their rooms, she heard the water running in the bathroom along with Jean's anguished sobs. Mind reeling in panic, she tried the doorknob and found it locked fast. Leaning into the door, she rattled the knob in her hand and called out Jean's name. There was no verbal response but she heard Jean's whispers grow more frantic, so she threw her full weight against the door, tearing the lock loose from the thin frame as she screamed Jean's name again.

Once inside, she found her in the bathtub, wearing a white nightgown that was soaked completely through as she scrubbed at her skin with a rough bristle-brush. She was rocking back and forth as she said, "Leave me alone," over and over in a dead voice and her eyes rolled back into her head as the water grew pink with blood and she rubbed portions of her skin raw.

Betsy grabbed the brush from her hands, but Jean continued to tear at her arms and torso with her fingernails, ignoring Betsy's presence completely. She turned off the water and grabbed Jean's hands in her own, glad that she had superior physical strength but knowing she could easily be overpowered by telekinesis if Jean chose. It was a gamble she had to take.

Continuing to rock and chant, Jean stared through Betsy with vacant eyes as she screamed at her, "Stop it, Jean! Stop!"

But it was as if she were a million miles away and could not hear a word she said. So Betsy did the only thing she could think to do. She slapped her hard across the face.

Shaken from her trance, Jean's eyes snapped open and she began to cry as she looked at Betsy. "He's here, Betsy! He's here! He's twisting my memories... he's taking Scott away from me."

Betsy could only hypothesize what Apocalypse was doing, most likely distorting Jean's memories of Scott into something more perverted, the equivalent of a mental rape. But she also guessed from her knowledge of Apocalypse that the act was unconscious on his part, that he was merely asserting power over his host's body and making it more fully his own. To him Jean was nothing. Their connection only made him weaker.

She shook Jean by the shoulders. "Scott is gone, Jean! You have to let him go."

Biting her lip, Jean's pale shoulders shook as she cried, "But I can't. I love him."

Pushing wet, red hair out of her friend's face and forcing Jean to look at her, Betsy said flatly. "This isn't love, Jean. This is masochism."

Jean clamped her jaw tightly as she stared through her. Her eyes then grew wide as she screamed and writhed in Betsy's grip, shouting once more to the entity on the other end of the rapport she once shared with her husband, "Leave me alone!"

After a few frightful seconds, Jean collapsed, leaning her head and arms over the rim of the tub. Betsy drained the water from the bath as she picked her up and placed her on the bathroom floor then started to remove her torn, soaked garments and examine her wounds. Jean's eyes fluttered open as Betsy wrapped her in a towel and asked quietly, "Is he gone?"

"For now," Jean breathed before she lost consciousness in Betsy's arms.

Betsy awoke when it was still dark outside with Jean in her arms, curled in a fetal position. She rose quietly, trying her best not to disturb the sleeping telepath and then crept into her own room. As she eased down under her covers, she heard Jean call her name and then saw her standing in the doorway, white bandages peeking out from under the sleeves of her nightshirt.

"Jean?"

She said nothing but walked quietly to the bed and got under the sheets with Betsy, turning her back to her and laying her head on the second pillow as she pulled the bedclothes under her chin. Betsy sighed as she watched her fall asleep and drifted off herself. They stayed like that until the sun rose.

In the morning when Betsy awoke, Jean was sitting in the bed watching her. She sat up and blinked as Jean's gaze shifted away from her to the floor. Stretching her arms over her head, she asked, "How are you doing?"

Jean pulled her knees to her chest and said, "I need to clear my head."

Getting to her feet, Betsy looked around the room, lit brightly from the morning sun, and then asked, "Did you bring your running shoes?"

Looking up at Betsy with an inquisitive expression, Jean said, "Yes."

Betsy gathered her running shorts and a few other belongings and headed for the bathroom. "Let's go running. I know it always helps to clear my head."

Jean nodded. "Sounds like just the thing I need."

A few miles away from the bungalow, Betsy walked in brisk circles as she waited for Jean to catch up. When the red-haired telekinetic joined her, she was slightly out of breath.

"Amazing how a month of moping will get a body out of shape."

Betsy smiled as she marched in place. "You're entitled."

Jean took her pulse. "Well, I'm leaving my couch-potato ways behind me after today." She took a deep breath. "Wow, smell that air. I've got to get out here more."

Shielding her eyes with her hand as she looked out over the ocean and took her own pulse, Betsy said, "It does wonders for the body and soul."

"I should have done this earlier. There are a lot of things I should have done earlier."

"You have to cut the cord, Jean. Today."

Jean's expression grew pensive. "I know. After last night, I know that now. It was horrible, Betsy. There are memories now in my head of Scott, terrible ones. Ones I know didn't happen that way."

Tilting her head, Betsy asked, "Perhaps getting rid of the rapport might help restore some of them?"

Jean put her hands on her hips and paced, still waiting for her heart rate to slow after the run. "Maybe. But it doesn't really matter anymore. Either way, it has to be done. You'll be with me when I do it?"

Nodding, Betsy said matter-of-factly, "Of course. I wouldn't let you go through this alone."

Squinting from the morning sun, Jean looked at her. She had the expression of a woman who had come to terms with what she needed to do. She was finally looking and acting like the Jean Grey she had known for years and it helped set Betsy's mind a little at ease. "Thanks, Betsy. Right now I can't imagine going through this without you."

"Walk back to the house..." Betsy winked and smiled. "Or run?"

Jean shook her head and chuckled. "Walk. Yes, definitely walk."

"Are you ready?"

Jean closed her eyes and took a few deep, even breaths. "It's funny. I wish Charles were here."

Betsy squeezed her hand. "But he's not. And you don't need him. Him or anyone. You're strong, Jean. Just keep telling yourself that."

Keeping her eyes closed, Jean said quietly, "But I'm scared."

"Go on, Jean. I'll be here. If you want me."

Nodding her head, Jean entered a meditative trance and began to unconsciously lift herself and Betsy off the couch for a few minutes while her powers spiked and then settled. Looking around the room, Betsy noticed a few of the bungalow's decorations and trinkets moving seemingly of their own accord, rising and falling gently, manipulated by Jean's unconscious thoughts. Like Jean and herself, they soon rested gently in the spots they had originally occupied.

Turning her attention back to Jean, she saw beads of sweat forming on her forehead as a muscle in her jaw twitched. She was as still as a statue and even her breathing was scarcely noticeable. She continued like that for many minutes and Betsy was beginning to feel more reassured about the whole process when a pained expression crossed Jean's features and she began to whimper. It took every ounce of willpower she had not to reach out to Jean with her telepathy. Helping one woman wasn't worth damning the world. So she held back as she bit her bottom lip and watched in painful silence.

As Betsy sat mourning the loss of her own telepathy and her inability to help a friend in need, Jean's eyes flew open and studied her coolly. Before Betsy even had a chance to react, she grabbed her arm with surprising strength and said sadly, "I am sorry for this, Betts," as she pulled her, literally kicking and screaming, into her mindscape.

She felt as if she were drowning, memories swirling around her like a tidal flood. Even though she was a bit rusty, her instincts kicked in and she quickly donned a suit of astral armor as she steadied herself. Rising a bit above the floodwaters of Jean's tempest, she called telepathically, *Jean?! Jean? What the Hell are you doing?!*

Jean was tugging at her, pulling her where she wanted her to go. Angry images flashed past her of Cyclops as he never was, haughty and cruel, vicious and spiteful. With a thought, Betsy smashed the images with a fist and they broke like glass, fading into a cacophony of white noise. As she tried harder to get her bearings, the flecks of false, broken memory buzzed around her like a swarm of angry insects and lifted her astral form, carrying her deep into the heart of Jean's psyche.

They tore and bit into her armor as she swung at them with her fists, which were glowing with the power of her psychic knives. Finally the swarm released her and she fell to her knees with a hard impact. Absorbing the shock of her descent easily in the psychic environment, she then looked up to find Jean lying prone, crying out with a broken voice as a larger-than-life version of Scott loomed over her, pressing on her throat and chest with his boot heels.

She acted quickly, rushing on the vision from behind and pulling him away from Jean's astral-self. As he turned his attention to her, he smiled wickedly, leering at her as he reached out and grabbed her by the head with a giant hand. As he lifted her off her feet, she screamed, *See him for who he really is, Jean! That's the only way you can defeat him!*

His fingers locked around her skull in a vice-like grip and she felt her soul, her very being oozing out of her astral body when suddenly the pressure was gone. Her head buzzed with static as she looked around her and saw Apocalypse fading away from Jean's mindscape, tearing a swath of destruction as Jean severed the mindlink.

Betsy's head pounded as she reached out for Jean's astral form. *Are you okay?*

Jean nodded and got to her feet. Her armor was torn and her face was bruised. As Betsy looked around it became apparent it would take Jean time to piece her memories back together. Apparently Apocalypse had decided to have a little fun redecorating. *I'm alive and breathing, if that's what you mean. But most importantly Apocalypse is gone. Now get out of here before...*

Falling to her knees as her vision grew red, the astral plane seemed to spin around Betsy as her lips curled into a defeated smile. The last of her restraints tore away violently and an all too familiar laugh permeated her thoughts.

*It's too late. Farouk's escaped.*

Betsy felt her psyche split into a thousand fragments as the Shadow King attacked her. She was scarcely aware of what was occurring as she screamed silently, every molecule of her aware of only one thing. He had to be stopped.

Her thoughts reduced to only primal instincts, she lashed out at the darkness attempting to swallow her whole. And while she poured all of her energy into destroying the Shadow King as he fed on her like a parasite, a golden, fiery presence fueled her. Slowly, conscious thought returned to her and she knew it was Jean, pulling her back together and giving her a sense of unity. So she reached out to her blindly, allowing her full access to her powers, intertwining herself around Jean's white-hot power until they became one. As they lashed out at Farouk, Betsy could no longer tell where she ended and Jean began but at the time it scarcely mattered... because they were winning. They couldn't believe it. They were actually winning.

They mocked him, their psychic voices echoing as one, *You feed on fear and darkness, Farouk. And we are no longer afraid. This is a fight you will not win. This will be your last.*

Mere imprisonment would not do this time. No, this had to end here and now. They struck at the Shadow King with all their energy, breaking apart his psyche layer by layer. Tension rippled across the astral plane as it bent and twisted at their will. They had not known such a thing was possible, that together they could wield so much power. But it was true and they used it to shatter the psychic entity that called himself the Shadow King and disperse him into a million harmless fragments across the unlimited expanse of the astral plane.

Farouk defeated, they finally succumbed to exhaustion, clinging to each other as they drifted on the astral plane, still sharing one consciousness.

Two days later, Betsy opened her eyes as she lay on the living room floor of the bungalow in the shattered remains of the glass coffee table. Jean was curled protectively around her and Betsy felt her flinch as she awoke with a gasp. They both sat up in unison and stared at one another as the sun streamed in through the open blinds. Jean reached out to touch her face and Betsy returned the gesture, still wondering how much of her was Jean and how much of Jean was her.

She tried to reach out to her telepathically, but realized she was completely alone in her own mind, her telepathy completely gone save a general sense of empathy. But as she looked around the demolished living room and Jean held her close, every atom seemed to flicker with life as if it was speaking to her, asking her what she wanted it to be. It was unlike anything she had ever known.

Jean then spoke to her through a thin ribbon of psychic thought and she realized their bond was not completely severed. Remembering her telepathic training, Betsy clung to the golden thread of the rapport as Jean sent, *It seems our merging wasn't without its sacrifices.*

Betsy said aloud, mildly surprised when the words that emerged were actually in her own voice, "What's going on, Jean? Where is my telepathy?"

Speaking quietly, Jean smoothed Betsy's damp hair. "I'm afraid it's no longer with you."

Turning in Jean's grip, Betsy then asked, "Why do I feel so strange?"

"It's the telekinesis."

Head pounding in protest, she got to her feet as her body crackled with energy. "What did you do to me, Jean?"

She then started crying as Jean got to her feet and held her in her arms as she sent soothing thoughts through their rapport. "We both did this. We had to reclaim ourselves. You lent me your telepathy to defeat the Shadow King and then we rebuilt ourselves... together. We're a part of each other now and this is just the way the cards fell. I'm no longer a telekinetic and you're no longer a telepath. Though it seems we both have a touch of the Crimson Dawn in us now. Everything was so mixed up that this was the only way to reclaim our identities."

"Well, we have to undo it."

Jean frowned. "I can't. We can't. We're stuck this way. I'm sorry, Betsy I really am. But if we tried this again, it would cause more harm than good. We would cease to be who we are."

Betsy shook her head as she sat on the torn couch and looked once more around the room. "What a mess."

Sitting next to her, Jean nodded and said quietly, "Yes. But at least it's our mess."

With a sigh, Betsy kicked a plank of splintered wood, "That it is. That it is."

During the next few days, Jean helped Betsy learn how to control her new powers. Cleaning up the mess in the living room was an excellent place to start and Betsy grew to embrace her new powers with each task she completed, marveling at how well they meshed with her thoughts and even her undercloak teleportation. And while she enjoyed the new sensations, she still mourned the loss of her telepathy. Even when she kept herself from using it during the time she held the Shadow King prisoner, it was still a comfort to her and colored the way she perceived the world around her. But now, the world seemed brand new to her. She saw life all around her, within sentient beings and inanimate objects alike. Every molecule buzzed with possibility. The experience was exhilarating and if she had to choose one word to describe the days since she had been changed on the astral plane, it would be 'sublime'.

Betsy glanced over her shoulder and smiled back at Jean as they raced toward the bungalow from the beach. They were both giddy with giggles as Betsy flung open the door and declared happily, throwing her arms up in victory as Jean stumbled in behind her, "I won! I won! You cook dinner! Yes!"

Jean laughed as she watched Betsy make a fool of herself. "One of these days I am going to beat you."

Raising an eyebrow, Betsy tossed her towel dramatically over her shoulder as she strode into the kitchen. "Not likely."

Shaking her head, Jean buried her face in her arms as she leaned on the breakfast bar that separated the living area from the kitchen and laughed once again at Betsy's pompous demeanor. "You are so full of yourself."

Draping her beach towel over her shoulders like a feather boa and tossing one end flamboyantly behind her, Betsy leered at Jean, "Yes, but I am so irrepressibly irresistible when I am like this."

A blush actually formed on Jean's cheeks as she rolled her eyes and Betsy was about to press her further when the phone rang on the wall between them and startled her so much she actually jumped. They stared at one another in shock as it rang a second time. With all that had happened in the last few days, they hadn't even spoken to anyone back home. It was as if the world had stopped spinning as they rediscovered themselves in their own secluded paradise. But as the phone rang a third time gravity tugged their feet back to earth.

Betsy took a deep breath as she picked up the receiver and said solemnly, "Hello."

It was Warren.

Staring into Jean's questioning eyes, Betsy said, "No, no. We're fine. We were just on the beach."

She mutely mouthed Warren's name and Jean nodded as she continued, trying her best to sound casual. "She's fine. Yes, doing better. We're both doing well."

Jean stood from her stool and walked to the living area, almost as if she were treading on egg shells. "Oh, you know, a little of this a little of that. They don't call this paradise for nothing."

"Home?"

Betsy saw Jean tense at the word. "Well, I'm not sure yet. We'll let you know."

She winced as her lover broached the inevitable, knowing full well Ororo told him about Jean's troubles with the remnants of her psychic rapport. "He's gone, Warren. Jean broke the bond. She's a little shaken but the worst is over. No, you don't need to worry. I promise. Right. Mmm-hmm. No, it went pretty smoothly. Yes, I understand that you were worried about her... about us. But I would have called if I didn't think it was under control."

Releasing a silent sigh, Betsy said as she massaged her forehead, "Okay. Yes, I understand. Tell everyone hello. I miss you, too. Good-bye."

She hung up the phone and walked quietly to the living room to sit on the couch next to Jean. As she dropped her head into her hands and groaned to herself, she could feel Jean's eyes on her as she asked, "So you didn't tell him?"

Shaking her head, she looked up at Jean. "No. I couldn't. It just seemed too big to say over the phone. I wasn't sure how he'd react. And well, it's like this is our little secret, you know? Like letting everyone know about it will spoil it."

Taking a deep breath, she got to her feet and shrugged her shoulders as she said, "Besides, I hardly have this straight in my own head. How can I explain it to Warren if I don't even know what's going on myself?"

Jean sat quietly on the couch and nodded, obviously deep in thought and Betsy said nonchalantly, "Well, I'm taking a shower. I can angst about this some other time."

She grinned at Jean as she waved her hand in front of her face and pulled her out of her reverie. "And once I'm out, you, my dear friend, are making me dinner."

Shaking her head, Jean grinned. "You are a brave woman, Betsy."

She winked at her as she left the room, a smile on her face. "The bravest."

Betsy awoke with a start from a nightmare, her skin slick with sweat and her breath short. Strange and shadowy figures had chased her through her dreamscape, trapping her on a dark cliff and tearing at her skin with cold, dead hands. She had tripped over her own feet as she tried to fight off their advances and plummeted off the dreary outcropping and into an endless abyss below. As she got to her feet and sipped water from the glass on her nightstand, she still felt the sensation of falling.

As she sat back on her bed, she whispered to herself, "It's just a nightmare, Betsy. Stop being stupid."

She got back under the sheets, but every time she tried to close her eyes, she felt as if she were falling again, clutching with desperate hands for something to hold onto and only finding black emptiness. Throwing away the bedclothes kicking her feet free from the bed, she rushed from the room and stood in the hall. She was being childish, she knew, but the vertigo of falling seemed so real and terrifying she wasn't sure if she could face it again. She took a deep breath as she said silently to herself, 'You are Elizabeth Braddock, Psylocke of the X-Men. You've defeated countless super-villains, stood your own against forces who have tried to devour your very soul. You are not afraid of one ridiculous nightmare.'

As she gave herself a mental pep talk, she didn't notice Jean emerge from her room and stand in the doorway with a concerned expression on her face. "What's wrong, Betsy?"

Calming herself, Betsy said quietly, "It's nothing. A silly nightmare."

Jean folded her arms over her chest as she tilted her head and studied Betsy, "Oh. Do you think it's related to..."

Betsy shrugged, "I don't know. Probably not. Don't worry, I'm fine."

Nodding as she turned her back to Betsy and walked back to her bed, Jean said, "Okay. Let me know if you need anything."

Betsy watched her go and thought how odd it sounded to hear Jean say that after all they had been through in the last month. It seemed after their time on the astral plane, not only had they exchanged powers, but also roles. Jean was still grieving, to be sure, but she no longer needed Betsy's help and Betsy desperately wanted hers. She stepped toward her room, intent on returning to her own bed, but then hesitated and walked into the doorway of Jean's instead as she hugged her arms tightly against herself.

"What is it?"

"Can I stay in here with you?"

Jean lifted the bedclothes and made room for her. "Of course."

The bed creaked slightly under her weight as she made herself comfortable and pulled the bed's quilt against her face. She no longer felt as if she were falling, but a different discomfort overcame her as she concentrated on her breathing, trying to will herself to sleep. Soon she realized it was panic, that Warren's phone call had disturbed her more than she wished to admit. The clash with the outside world had jarred her greatly and she wasn't exactly sure why. All she knew is that she didn't want to face it, not now. Not yet.

She straightened her legs and rolled over as the sheets clung to her skin. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw Jean watching her. Apparently neither one of them could sleep.

The telepath propped her head on her hand and stared hard at Betsy as she asked, "What's bothering you?"

Betsy took a deep breath and bit her lip as she looked away from Jean and stared at the ceiling. "I'm not sure. It's difficult to explain."

"Why don't you try?"

She could feel Jean's gaze cutting into her soul like a hot knife. She knew she couldn't hide from her or herself any longer. She took a deep breath and turned to face Jean, the woman who in a matter of days had become her friend and so much more. "What are we doing here, Jean?"

Jean narrowed her eyes. "You know why we came to Tahiti."

Betsy sat up and shook her head, "No, no. I know that. I mean what are we doing? What is going on? Why are we so afraid to face the outside world?"

Jean sat up herself and crossed her legs indian-style as she faced Betsy. "I'm not sure that afraid is the word."

Betsy released a deep breath and leaned back into the headboard. "You're right. It's not exactly fear. But we are definitely hiding."

"Maybe it's because we feel so safe here, just the two of us. Like letting other people in will destroy what we've built."

She blinked. "And what have we 'built,' Jean? Please tell me because I have no idea."

Jean looked down at her hands in her lap and then back at Betsy. "I'm not sure either. But I know that we're a part of one another now, for better or worse. What happened back there with the Shadow King changed us. I'd like to think it made us stronger."

Furrowing her brow, Betsy stared at Jean and she met her gaze without blinking. "I don't want to be your crutch, Jean."

Jean nodded. "And I don't want to be yours."

Without thinking, Betsy reached out and took Jean's hand. She studied it as the moonlight filtered in through the window and she was struck with how familiar and real it seemed. "So where does that leave us?"

Jean took her other hand. "I don't know. But I can't let you go, not completely. I don't want to."

"And I don't want you to, either."

Letting go of Betsy's hands, Jean sat next to her and put her head on her shoulder. "Then we won't."

Betsy ran her hand through Jean's hair and kissed her forehead. "Okay. We won't."

Jean smiled and looked up at Betsy. "So what are we then? Friends? Soulmates... lovers?"

She laughed and tickled Jean as the red-haired telepath giggled shrilly and retreated from her shoulder. Shrugging her shoulders, Jean smiled mischievously. "Well, you can't fault a girl for trying."

Betsy rolled her eyes and tossed a pillow at Jean telekinetically. "You are incorrigible!"

Grinning, Jean tossed the pillow aside and leaned over Betsy as she mock-pouted. "Admit it. I'm adorable when I'm like this."

Betsy giggled. "You're always adorable, Jean. And you know it."

She tossed the pillow back at Betsy and said nonchalantly, "Can't help what you're born with."

Shaking her head, Betsy said, "Like I said. Incorrigible."

"Good night, Elizabeth."

She grinned. "Good night, John Boy."

Before she could blink, Jean had pounced on her and held her flat on the bed as she pinned her by her wrists. "And just who are you calling a boy?"

She knew Jean was expecting her to resist and push her away. But at the moment, Betsy didn't feel like moving a muscle. Jean's smile faded as she studied her and she spoke her name, concern apparent in her tone. "Betsy?"

Craning her neck to meet Jean's face, Betsy closed her eyes and kissed Jean's lips. When Jean didn't move away, she let her mouth linger, allowing the sensation to wash over her thoughts. It didn't seem as strange as she thought it would and by the reaction she felt over their rapport, Jean was just as pleasantly surprised.

When Jean finally pulled away, she lay beside Betsy and draped her arm around her shoulders, squeezing her with a barely perceivable pressure. Tilting her head to let her cheek rest against Jean's chest, she listened to the steady rhythm of her heart and the sound lulled her to sleep as she whispered, "No labels, Jean. Please, no labels."

The next day, Betsy decided to take Paul up his offer of a water tour of the islands and she and Jean arrived early on the dock of Island Cruises and Ski. As they stood waiting with a small group of fellow tourists, Betsy nudged Jean and pointed at a placard. "Look. They have parasailing."

Jean laughed and shook her head. "Always the action junkie, no?"

Betsy grinned. "You know me. But I was thinking you could try it."

"Me? No, no. I don't have a built-in safety net anymore. It would probably scare the hell out of me."

Betsy winked. "Don't worry, I'd be there to catch you."

Shaking her head again and chuckling quietly, Jean said, "Of course you would."

Before Betsy could push the matter any more, she saw Paul bounding across the dock as he waved at them exuberantly. "Mademoiselle Braddock!"

She smiled as he reached them and said cheerily, "Paul. So glad we could finally make it."

"So am I, Mademoiselle."

Betsy watched in amusement as his attention turned from her to Jean and it was obvious he was smitten with her. Unable to tune out his thoughts as she was still adjusting to her increased telepathy, Jean blushed and Betsy cleared her throat before she spoke. "Paul, this is Jean. The friend I mentioned to you earlier."

Paul grinned as he extended his hand to take Jean's. "Yes, we have not been formally introduced, Mademoiselle..."

"Madame Summers."

Betsy raised an eyebrow and studied Jean who simply smirked and gathered her bag. *Oh, don't worry, Betsy. Just thought it was the easiest way to get him to leave us alone. Couldn't have the boy fumbling around the decks all day like a lovesick puppy. It could be hazardous to his health.*

Before Betsy could chide Jean, Paul had grabbed a clipboard and asked, "So what will it be today, ladies? Snorkeling, parasailing, jet-ski?"

Quickly standing between Betsy and Paul, Jean peered down at the clipboard and asked, "How about just an island tour?"

She smiled back at Betsy, "I think a four hour tour around the islands would be beautiful."

Betsy smiled and shrugged as Paul scribbled on his clipboard and pointed to a thirty-foot pleasure craft at the end of the dock. "Island tour it is. My cousin, Martin, has a boat leaving in ten minutes."

Jean beamed as she pulled Betsy's arm toward the small yacht. "Perfect."

Once aboard, Jean and Betsy staked out a spot at the rear of the boat and sat quietly as the rest of the passengers boarded and the boat moved away from the shore. Jean then propped her feet up and put her hands behind her head as she said with satisfaction, "Ah. This is the life."

Next to her, Betsy pouted, "Snorkeling might have been nice."

"Maybe later. Today, this is just my speed."

"You're getting soft in your old age, Jean."

Jean waved a hand at Betsy, "Shush. You know I like a romp on the wild side as much as the next girl. I just didn't feel up to it today. And besides... technically, you're older than me."

While the body she now inhabited was close to the same age as Jean and the first class of X-Men, Elizabeth Braddock was born some years earlier. Her age had been something she chose not to dwell too much on as it tended to make her mind spin and if it wasn't for her twin, Brian, she might have given up celebrating birthdays all together. So she dismissed the comment and joined Jean at staring up at the clear, blue sky. "I would still like to try parasailing. They say it's almost like flying."

Her thoughts then turned to her days as Captain Britain and how incredibly enrapturing it was to fly of her own power. It was the one thing she missed the most from that time. It was a gift Warren has been able to give back to her in part as he took her flying, bundled tightly in his arms. But it wasn't the same. Nice, but not as wonderful as soaring above the countryside under her own control.

Snapped from her reverie by the pressure of Jean's hand on her own, she heard her say, "You know you can fly again."

Betsy narrowed her eyes as Jean continued. "With your telekinesis, you can fly."

Amazed that the thought hadn't crossed her mind, Betsy smiled at the possibility. "Will you show me how?"

"Of course. We can try it when we get back."

Betsy released a contented sigh and turned her attention back to the sky as a solitary bird crossed her field of vision. She smiled as excitement fluttered happily across her thoughts. Flying under her own power again. What a glorious gift! Suddenly, thoughts of home no longer seemed so unattractive and she realized she couldn't wait to show Warren.

For the rest of the week, Jean patiently helped Betsy learn more about her telekinesis as she worked to further hone her own increased telepathy. They found a deserted part of the island where Betsy could practice levitation and she quickly learned how to guide herself through the air and could barely contain her enthusiasm. If it wasn't for Jean shielding her presence from prying eyes, no doubt she would have shocked quite a few villagers as she streaked through the sky, whooping and laughing despite herself.

While Betsy was on the ground, the two were inseparable, spending their days experimenting with their powers and their nights in quiet solitude. And while both admitted to feeling more content than they had in ages, Betsy could sense a longing in Jean, a need to get on with her life. They both began to realize their time together could not last forever.

One morning as they sat in the kitchen eating breakfast, Betsy felt Jean's eyes on her, she knew it would end sooner than later. Peering at her companion over her magazine, she furrowed her brow. "What?"

Shaking her head, Jean turned her gaze back to her cereal as she said quietly, "Nothing. It's nothing."

Betsy raised an eyebrow. "Jean?"

Dabbing her mouth with a cloth napkin, Jean then folded it on the table and released a deep sigh. "Do you still love him?"

For a brief second, Betsy wished she still had her telepathy. "Who?"

"Warren."

Betsy had been dreading this conversation. She put down her magazine and chose her stance cautiously. "Do you still love Scott?"

Her expression slightly agitated, Jean responded, "Of course I do. What's your point?"

"What's yours?"

Jean played with her napkin ring. "I just want to know if this will change things."

Betsy didn't back down, they had decided complete honesty was the best way to deal with one another. And with their bond, there was really no point in hiding the truth. "Of course it does. This changes everything. Everything about anything in my life."

"I guess I just don't want to see him hurt on account of me. He is one of my oldest and dearest friends, after all. And he loves you, Betsy, very much. I have always been able to see it when he looks at you and now that I know you, I am able to see your mental perception of him. You know how much you mean to him and how much he means to you?"

Betsy nodded. "I wasn't planning on leaving him, Jean. Not for you if that's what you're implying."

"That's not what I'm implying!" Jean threw up her hands and sighed before she continued, "Look, I think we both know I need more time to grieve, away from the X-Men. I still have a lot of healing to do. I spoke with Nathan yesterday. He wants to meet me in Europe next week. And you... you need to go home."

She stared at Jean and pursed her lips. So this is how she was going to be, pushing her away just when things started getting uncomfortable.

Jean got to her feet. "I'm not pushing you way, Betsy. I could never do that. Not after all we've been through. You have seen and felt, hell... been... the best and worst parts of me. I just think if I don't take a step back from this now, I could lose myself again."

Betsy got to her feet and put her arms around her as she held her close and Jean's thoughts came clear to her. "Just when you found yourself again. I couldn't do that to you. I won't do that to you."

Tears fell from Jean's eyes and she smiled at Betsy as she wiped them away with a nervous laugh. "I know. And that's one of the reasons I love you so much."

Putting a hand to her face, Betsy smiled. "I know, Jean. I do."

Jean laughed nervously as she stepped away from Betsy. "So what do we do now?"

Betsy shrugged as walked out on the veranda. "I guess we start packing."

Following her outside, Jean said, "You make that sound so final."

Leaning against the railing, Betsy sighed as she said, "Well, perhaps it is." She smiled reassuringly at Jean as she continued, "Besides, we'll always have Tahiti."

She felt Jean wrap her arms around her from behind and the pressure of her chin on her shoulder as they stared out at the water together for a long while in silence before Jean finally asked, "So what will you do?"

"Go back to New York. Become an X-Man again."

She could sense Jean's concern through the rapport they shared as she asked, "Is that what you want?"

Betsy thought for a long while before she answered, "Yes. I think it is. In fact I think I want it more now than ever before. You've made me see that I can make a difference, Jean. That I am important. It's a gift I need to share."

She turned to look at Jean who was smiling at her as she said, "I'm proud of you, Betsy. For the first time since I've known you, you seem whole. Complete."

Betsy closed her eyes as Jean kissed her forehead. "And I thank you for helping me find my way."

Jean grinned and smoothed a lock of purple hair away from her face. "No. Thank you."

They stood again in silence, the island wind whipping around their bodies when Jean finally spoke. "You never answered my question. What about Warren? Do you still love him?"

Betsy nodded slowly. "Yes. I do. And I've thought about him a lot since I've been here. Sometimes I can't wait to get back and show him what I've learned and sometimes the thought of it scares me to no end. I guess I've just needed this time to be selfish, you know? To just think about me."

"And now it's time to start thinking about the bigger picture again?"

"Yes. I think so. And hopefully, he'll want to be a part of it."

Jean grinned as she stepped away from Betsy and headed back toward the door. "I think I already know the answer to that one. He'd do anything for you, Betts."

Following her inside, Betsy said, "I know. I just need to figure out if I'd do the same."

"Seeing him will make all the difference. You'll realize how much you've missed him."

Betsy sighed as she closed the door behind them. "I just hope you're right, Jean."

Disappearing into her room, Betsy heard Jean rummaging through her closet to retrieve her suitcase. "I am. Trust me."

And she did... totally and completely. Trust. Perhaps that was the true gift Jean had given her since she had been in Tahiti... the ability to trust herself to those she loved.

Betsy fumbled with her carry-on bag as she exited the terminal gate and grinned to herself as she realized she needn't worry about heavy bags ever again. She reached out with her telekinesis and let her powers carry most of her burden as the satchel appeared to hang naturally at her side. It seemed every day she was discovering a new use for her telekinesis and she felt like the proverbial child in a candy shop.

As she filed past the stewardesses and throngs of waiting family and friends, all complete strangers to her now closed mind, she saw a familiar face waiting for her at the back of the crowd. Removed as he always was, a few steps away from the claustrophobic trappings of the herd, reserved but never haughty, merely protecting his own space and the feathered appendages that hung from his back.

"Warren." Her heart actually leapt in her throat at the sight of him. She hadn't thought she would miss him as much as she did. She hadn't thought seeing him after two months would bring her such joy. As it turned out, Jean was right after all.

He held his arms open and she rushed into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face against his chest. She thought to herself as he smiled down at her and spun her in his arms, 'Yes, Jean. I do love him. And because of you, I now know how much love there is in me to give.'

She heard Jean's telepathic voice whisper faintly across her thoughts before it disappeared into a thin, shimmering thread in the back of her mind. *It is as wide as the deep blue sea, my friend. It is endless.*

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