It's All In Your Head: Part One
by sevenall
"Mommy, look! The lady has purple hair!"
The little girl jumped up and down in her seat, excited with her discovery, while her mother tried to quiet her down. One did not have to be a telepath to see that she felt embarrassed. Elizabeth Braddock, both a telepath and a natural purple, turned her head and smiled politely, to defuse the mother's anxiety. It was good to go home again, although she still felt sad after leaving her brother. Her life was with the X-Men, his with Excalibur and most of the time she wasn't conscious of how much she missed him. Every time they said goodbye, though, she realised it. She didn't know if Brian felt the same way and was reluctant to ask. If he did, he'd never admit it. The thought made her smile again, a real smile this time. She had bought some magazines at the airport, but she was too sleepy to read them. They'd had a real party the night before she left Muir Island and now she felt tired as well as slightly hung-over. The chairs were comfortable, the upholstery warm. With an effort, she shut out all sounds, all the random thoughts from her fellow passengers. As the plane reached cruising altitude, Elizabeth Braddock slept in herchair.
And woke up as a plastic tray was put in front of her. The light was very intense. Her temples throbbed and she put her hand to her fore-head to cool it. Then hot pain sliced through her head, blocking out all other sensations. She wasn't aware of screaming.
"Are you alright, miss?"
The stewardess' voice was concerned. The pain was ebbing, subsiding. Elizabeth became aware of the little girl, her mother and another stewardess, all hovering over her. She forced a smile.
"It's just a headache", she said. <As all telepaths experience from time to time.> "I'm sorry".
"There are Tylenols if you want them", the stewardess said, her voice bored again.
She moved along the aisle, apparently writing off the incident as just another drunk passenger. The little girl kept staring, however.
"Your hair", she said admiringly. "It's wonderful".
Elizabeth sighed inwardly and braced herself. <What do you talk to a seven year old about, anyway? Barbie?>
Warren met her at the airport, just as she'd known he would. He took her in his arms and kissed her, not caring that people stared at them. There was indeed reason to stare. Not only because of the kiss, which was spectacular, but there was also the fact that he was a blue-skinned angel with organic steel wings lightly brushing her. Which meant that he had been in such a hurry that he'd forgotten the image-inducer he normally carried. Warren, the organizer. She was touched. He opened his mind to her, letting her read his thoughts and memories and she responded the same way. He caught her suitcase, as it came by the seond time and they started to walk to his car.
"God, I've missed you", Warren said aloud.
"How much?" she teased him.
"So much I've made some small arrangements for tonight", he said, smiling down at her.
"What arrangements?"
The headache was back. Elizabeth resisted the urge to rub her forehead and tried to sound encouraging.
"Well, I thought we'd have dinner and then meet some friends of mine. They are really excited to meet you".
He looked so earnest and hopeful that her heart sank. Dinner with Warren meant violins at the table and live bands. She shuddered.
"Warren, I don't want to be ungrateful, really, and I'd normally love to go out with you, but..."
The great wings drooped beside her even if Warren's face didn't betray any emotions. She tried again.
"I got an awful headache during the flight. You know what jet-lag is like. I've got to get some sleep".
Silence, in which the wings dropped even further. He was disappointed and tried not to be. And not many men could make her feel so guilty for that. He asked so little of her that it was shameful to deny him what he did ask.
"It's alright then", he finally said. "You aren't looking very well".
It annoyed her that he gave way so easily.
"You make me feel so guilty", she complained.
They had reached the car and he took his time putting her suitcase in the backseat before answering."I'm not making you do anything. Get in". She got in. He got in after her, turned the key and music filled the car. Paganini, his favourite."Shut it off!"
Elizabeth didn't realise she had yelled until she met Warren's reproachful glance. He shut it off, started the car and then he put his hand on hers. She shook it off."Leave me alone!"
To her dismay, she found hot tears rising in her eyes. She put her head in her hands, wishing herself thousand miles away."Betsy?"
"What's the matter with you?" she snapped. "Do I have to take a cab to get home?"
Elizabeth woke up at five in her own room at the Mansion. It had been quite late when they'd arrived, but the Professor had waited up for them anyway, Jean Grey by his side. Both being telepaths, they had surely detected the tension between her and Warren, but neither had said anything. The Professor shouldn't have waited up for them, she thought. He worked far too much and slept too little as it was and he had looked increasingly fragile during the last months. Still, he was the most powerful telepath on Earth, so outer appearances were misgiving. As was her own. She had an European mind in an Asian body, who had belonged to another person. It was a nice body, she thought, stretching and yawning, very supple and strong. Good skin, nice eyes. It wouldn't qualify her for "Britain's most beautiful woman" as her own body had, and her Asian face would never make it to Vogue or Elle, but it had other uses. No need to get emotional about it. She tucked away the sentimental thoughts ! and put on her gi, then went to the big safe in the hallway and took out her katanas. Swords in hand, she padded downstairs and out in the garden. There was an apple orchard where she usually practiced. "Don't damage the trees", the Professor had cautioned her, but she never did. She drew a couple of deep breaths and raised the katanas over her head. For a moment she stood that way, concentrating, the rose light kept to a minimum to save mental energy. Then she brought the swords down in great gleaming arcs.
She knew what it was supposed to feel like. She even had a lingering memory of it. Time and place should stop being. Only the flow, unhurried, effortless should remain. Logan had told her she was concentrating too much and on the wrong things. She didn't expect him to understand. Part of her had to be devoted to examining herself, to look for impulses and movements not quite her own. As a result, she never reached that state of mind necessary to complete the kata. She hadn't been able to do it all since she was herself again. The body remembered. The mind didn't. That made all the difference. And the swords were of a sudden to heavy to raise another time. She was aware of the apple orchard again, of having interrupted the kata somewhere in the middle and she felt a presence.
"Warren?"
"I didn't want to disturb you", he said."You didn't. I'm ready now".
Elizabeth sheathed her swords without looking at him. She knew she'd have to apologise. She had been wrong, from the first outburst to thelast.
"Sorry about yesterday".
"No, I should have asked you if you wanted to go out. I'd have known you wouldn't, if I'd thought about it".
He was going easy on her, but she knew that pettiness and childishness vexed him. It was feelings too small for him to understand.
"Look, Warren, I'm sorry I've been so difficult when it comes to meeting your friends. I know it's important to you, both personally and business-wise".
"They are old friends of my father, gentlemen and ladies I've respected all my life. They are also significant connections".
Elizabeth had hoped for a bit more understanding. The times she had met his friends she had felt bored, and worse, humiliated. Warren's friends were all over sixty, properly dressed, quiet men accompanied by elegant wives. She had to sit with the wives and listen to their tales of children and hairdresser's, subjects that mostly excluded her. They talked about "dear Warren" and looked chillingly at her. They obviously disliked both the fact that she wasn't married to him and the fact that she one day might be. Or so she interpreted it.
"I think it would be easier if I had my English face", she finally said. "This body and this me, I don't like it. I don't expect anyone else to".
She had to stop there. There was a lump in her throat. Warren came up closer to her, but she turned away and refused to meet his eyes.
"They wouldn't care. They have many acquaintances in Hong Kong".
"That isn't what I meant"."So what exactly did you mean?"
"Can we talk about it later? I'm starving. I hope they've left us some breakfast".
"When I saw you in the morning light, you looked like... I don't know what, exactly. A fairy perhaps? Something out of myth or song. It isn't just the way you look, it's the way you move, the way you hold your head", Warren said as they were strolling towards the porch. "I'll never stop marvelling at how beautiful you are ".
"Were", she corrected him.
"Are", he said firmly. "I'll keep telling you".
"At least the purple hair is for real now", she said.