It's All In Your Head: Part Four
by sevenall
The medical check-up took a lot more time than she had expected. Hank, who was very fond of details, spent half an hour poking at the cut Warren's flechette had made.
"You're extremely lucky", he said at last. "It was only a millimeter or so from cutting off a cruciate ligament, in which case I would have had to perform a knee surgery".
He taped the cut as he spoke.
"That would indeed have been disastrous", Elizabeth agreed with a straight face.
"Tell Warren to be more careful", Hank said. "I've taped you up so many times now that I recognise the cuts".
"Accidents happen".
"Wrong. Accidents kill. You're either very brave or very stupid, Betsy".
He handed her a bottle of embrocation for her bruises, then quietly disappeared into the lab.
"Do you mind sitting observer?" Bishop asked as they were entering Blackbird.
"I think I should co-pilot", Elizabeth answered drily.
"I assure you that there is no need of that".
Elizabeth sighed. This was going to be a long afternoon.
"We can do this any way you like", she said impatiently. "One, you just shut up and get in. Two, you go back and disturb the Professor, who is in deep telepathic contact with Jean, and ask him. Three, we stand her arguing until someone else decides they need the practice. Four, we do this tomorrow. That might be the best alternative".
"Is this a threat?"
Elizabeth sighed again, deeper this time, and crossed her arms.
"I'm not at all worried about you being here alone. The Professor is. I'd rather go shopping than baby-sit you. Now belt up before I change my mind".
She worried that he was going to shoot her on the spot, but he shut up and got in.
"She's all yours", she told him, settling in herself and grimacing.
The bruises were stiffening. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea. She made a mental note that Bishop seemed more than a little nervous.
"We're on auto", she reminded him, to calm him. "Nothing to worry about, you have to fight the comp really hard to crash".
"I am not worried about crashing, woman. In my time we knew how to fly. I do not need any flight computer", he growled in response.
"Neither do I. Shall we switch to manual, then?" she asked brightly.
No need for Bishop to know that it was a long time since she had flown purely on manual.
Bishop was a good pilot, he had probably more natural talent for piloting than anyone else on the team. He had still to get the feel for the ordnance, but she told him it wasn't his fault. There were glitches in the simulator. After about two hours, he was pretty confident and had stopped glancing sideways at her before pressing any button.
"Any fancy flying you would care to show me, woman?" he asked.
Elizabeth really wished he would stop calling her "woman".
"I could do that, yes", she answered, "if you're interested".
He shunted all activity to her, shut down his own interface, as she grabbed for her own controls, sticks and switches. In the first ten seconds, she put a dozen needles into the red fields as the plane rolled, dipped its nose and spiralled downwards. But she knew this plane, she knew the limits and she was counting the rate instead of minding the wildly swinging read-outs. Metal groaned, the numbers flowed past on the screens, flowed away, dammit. Don't mind the read-outs, girlie, her instructor had yelled in her ear, as long as the numbers are fine, you're fine. Long time ago, in Britain.Up again, a hard push that made her blackout for half a second, she shook her head to clear it. The numbers wavered, went back to normal.
"How about dinner?" she asked.
Bishop didn't answer. Elizabeth threw a glance at him to check that he wasn't about to be sick. He looked strange, his features frozen in what seemed to be a grimace. It took a few seconds before she realised it was a huge grin. Well. She had finally found another action-junkie.
When Elizabeth came back to her room, she found that it was filled with crimson roses. Literally. Roses in vases, roses strewn on the bed, on the floor, even some roses hanging from the ceiling.She knew there would be a new addition to her wardrobe, probably a pair of shoes, too. Warren's way of saying he was sorry. And she would gladly have given it all up to hear what his nightmare about Candy had been about. If it had been a nightmare at all.
"Betsy, I'm sorry". Warren stood in the hall, looking lost.
"It's alright", Elizabeth answered. "Come in, love".
He sat down on the bed, careful not to crush any roses.
"Hank said I could have ruined your knee",
"Of course not. I'm a ninja, remember? I can dodge anything you can throw at me".
She laughed lightly.
"Don't laugh",Warren said, but he was smiling himself, although ruefully.
"I'm not especially fond of roses", she admitted. "But it's been a hard day. I would really appreciate a backrub. And you, Mr. Worthington the third, get to do it".
**The entity was expanding. Having a limitless supply of nutrition, it could afford to produce specialised offspring. Governing the rapid growth was delegated to lesser clones. The entity began to make plans for colonisation. In time, that would be inevitable. **