She didn't suppose she could go in to work on her first day wearing nothing but a black bra and torn dark skinny jeans. But, Beth stood in front of her walk-in closet that was filled with clothing--mostly her own--and couldn't think of a single thing she wanted to wear. She was good with the jeans, but she hadn't decided how casual she wanted to be. It was getting chilly outside, so none of the sleeveless numbers she'd gotten herself used to wearing. But nothing too heavy either. She took a few steps inside her closet, her fingertips running along the blouses that were hung up, grouped by colour. Of course, she reached her purples--the largest colour group of all--and she stopped. It was hard to say no to anything purple anymore. Especially... Well. She didn't want to think about it. Her fingers felt the soft material of a jumper, and she plucked it out. The weather had been threatening to get colder than comfort, so maybe a heavy sweater was what she needed.

Betsy. She huffed at the name. It had been a handful of days since that part of her brain had been unclouded, when she hadn't even realised it was clouded in the first place. Like a wall had been broken down to unveil a hidden room, her brain felt the same...but roomier. More cluttered. It left her confused about who she was, while at the same moment knowing just precisely who she was. Things had started to fall into place in her mind, at least in chunks--the bloke in the bar, he'd called her Betsy. That somehow hadn't triggered anything; but the flash she'd had in her brain of bone claws would've given her a moment of de ja vu roughly ten minutes later, and it was seeing them for herself that made her recall a whole extra life she hadn't known she had. She didn't remember having it, not in the lifetime she'd been living as Elizabeth Bradford, but memories raining down upon her brain of X-Men. Betsy Braddock, Psylocke, she was. Was she? It'd thrown her for a loop, and as she spoke to the man with the claws, she remembered who he was...or was he?

Some memories had begun to fill your head...not just of yourself, but of the other X-Men. Of Logan. Their close friendship, times where they'd fought side by side, back to back, and even against each other. Watching him transform in front of her eyes without physically changing at all was a trip in her mind... Like he was a brand new person, without changing a single facial feature. He mentioned a mansion. The mansion, only parts of it. But why only certain parts? Of course, the same could've been said about herself, and her memories--why only certain parts? She'd begun to realise she had but one power thus far, one that she'd had in another life: precognition. It was what was giving her premonition about things. It's what made her approach Ryan about becoming the business manager for his shop. It's what had warned her about the bone claws emerging from James--Logan. It's what gave her a strange feeling that her very own husband wasn't just one person, either. She knew he was special...but had no idea who he was.

It's what was warning her about what was to come. What was coming? She had no idea. Betsy had been feeling a strange feeling for days, essentially since she'd unlocked that new part of her brain again. She tried to chalk it up to feeling her whole life get thrown upside down at the idea that maybe she wasn't herself after all. But as she started to roll with the punches, as it were, the way her mum and dad would've wanted her to... She'd begun to accept her life for how it was, no matter how bizarre it felt. She'd learnt to adapt, to go with it. She already knew what breakfast Ryan wanted Beth to bring, without even asking, because she had a feeling he'd tell her it was his favourite. The little things were nice, but it was the dark cloud in her mind that just kept looming...like something was about to happen.

Nothing she could do about it, she figured. No powers, other than seeing the future, and she couldn't see it completely and clearly. For fuck's sake, she'd dreamt her husband was a space pirate, and she couldn't piece that one together to save her life--like a locked character in a video game, Pete's mystery was a black shadowy outline in her head with a question mark in it. And Pete? He wasn't talking to her much anyhow. So, no fighting this strange dark cloud in her head...she just pushed onward, pulling her purple jumper over her head that she'd plucked from the closet just the moment prior. It went fabulously with her dark jeans, the ones that were practically leggings, and purple was always a beautiful colour against her tan skin. Maybe it was why she loved it so much. That's all she wanted to worry about that day... what she wore, what to buy for breakfast, and how to take over things for Ryan to make things easier on him. But...she already knew. She couldn't tell him that, of course, but she already knew what he was going to say.

How do you tell your close friend, your business partner, that you've got two lives in your head? That you know what he gets you for lunch, that you know one of his artists is going to show up late for their shift again? That you have a strange feeling about him as well, and can't put your finger on it? How do you say there's something dangerous coming, that you can't quite explain, to the man that's just a few weeks shy of welcoming his child into the world? How do you manage all of that whilst keeping yourself out of the loony bin?

You don't.