It was only her second day back with the X-Men, and while she'd been trying to delay the visit she knew would have to be made sooner or later, that time was now. Talking with Storm also helped when it came to gathering the strength to do what needed to be done.

Making her way down to the sub-basement level where the medical facilities were situated, she paused outside one of the closed doors to brace herself for what she was about to see; one step into the room proved her attempt to be prepared futile. Cautious steps took her to bedside of her comatose teammate and friend, Betsy, and closing her eyes to take it all in tears fell down her cheeks. She'd done this. When all Psylocke was trying to do was help her, because of her the purple haired telepath was hurt.

A chair was telekinetically nudged closer to the bed and after taking a seat, Jean gently took Betsy's hand in one hand, while placing her free hand lightly against her forehead. The telepath needed to know that she would be alright and that this coma was simply her brain's way of dealing with the trauma Mephisto's backlash caused; its way of healing.

"Forgive me..."

With those words she'd entered the astral plane in the hopes of finding any sign that her friend would be alright and return to them soon. She wasn't going to allow herself to think of the alternative.

Chocolate brown walls, sandy-beige rug thrown over polished hardwood floors welcomed Jean Grey into this plane. The space was studio style, the right wall displaying a larger than life portrait of Professor Charles Xavier hanging over a brick fireplace burning a warming calm into the room. Perpendicular to that, on the far side of this room was an oak wood office desk, with neatly placed papers upon it along with a phone and a computer, and a cushioned brown leather chair sitting beneath it. Behind that was a large window displaying a large cityscape, several stories high. The the left of the desk, at an angle was a comfort fouton. Upon it lay Betsy Braddock, eyes closed, as if asleep.

Something else was there too however. Over the fuschia haired psychic was a dark shadowy figure, howevering over her. Only its silhouette showed it's humanoid presence. However, as Jean Grey approached. It disappeared. Upon Jean's closing distance to her, Psylocke would open her eyes, look at Jean and smile, albeit tiredly. "I knew you'd make it... I knew you could..." she seemed comforted in the fact that her friend was there, however unable to much express it in her state with much more than a tiny, knowing smile. Only Jean and Psylocke were in this studio office space.

In the corporeal world Jean's body sat beside Betsy, who was still laying comatose on the bed, appearing to be frozen with one hand holding her friend's and the other still resting against her forehead. While on the astral plane the red head opened large doors to what appeared to be some kind of an office before slowly stepping in.

Just how breathtaking it was couldn't be fully appreciated until Jean found Betsy and knew that she would be alright. Which is why it was no surprise that upon seeing the purple haired psychic that risked her own life in an attempt to save Jean's, she hurried over to the fouton. The presence of the shadow had Jean instinctively creating a telekinetic barrier over Betsy, but then just as quickly it disappeared; needless to say the telepath was confused. What was that?

Those thoughts would have to wait however, and Betsy's voice effectively blocked them. Taking her hand in the astral realm, like she was already holding it in the corporeal world, Jean nodded and silent tears of joy fell. "I had help, how could I not?" There was a pause as she squeezed her friend's hand gently. "Now I need you to do the same for me, Betsy. Even if you can't right now...Promise me you will the second you can?"

After hearing the words, Betsy stared blankly up at Jean for an uncomfortably long moment. The hues in her eyes were a slate grey, seemingly lifeless. She suddenly seemed to snap out of her daze with a few blinks. "Jean... I can't there are things you don't know. Things I don't know..."

The air in the room suddenly seemed to become much cooler. Even with the fire still burning in the fireplace, things darked, the saturation in the vibrant colors of the room seemed to be slowly decreasing. "Listen to me..." she breathed the words out in near whispers. "I can't... I can't wake up. If I do... something terrible is going to happen. Please trust me. You should put me to sleep... permanently"

As she said that, outside, where before the beautiful dusk of a setting sun accented the horizon, there was a now a ruthless storm in it's place, crackling lightning and roaring thunder to punctuate it's severity. The room they stood in was colored in nearly nothing but charcoal grey, a shaded black and whites. Even the embers of the fires were paled. A light scentless, colorless smoke set in about them. Psylocke simply continued staring at Jean. "It's not your fault... whatever this is... has nothing to do with you..." If Jean picked up on such telepathic presences... there was no trace or trail left of Mephisto's doing, simply a nearly fully healed scar caused by the backlash. But nothing else. What was here, suffocating the scene, was an unknown presence.

Besty's sudden lapse into what appeared to be a dazed state after she asked for her to promise she'd wake up and come back to them, had Jean's eyes suddenly scanning the office. That image of the shadow from before was thrust to the forefront of her mind and the sudden change in the weather outside ensured that it would remain there.

Her telepathic barrier from before appeared once more, this time surrounding both of them as the drastic changes in the room occurred. None of this was right. And while the telepath was trying to detect the source of all of this, it was when Betsy implied that she not allow her to wake up that green eyes locked on hers. They were wide at first, but soon her brows furrowed and an unmistakable determination could be seen. "No. You're not allowed to give up. I won't let you."

The overwhelming presence that now filled the room couldn't be ignored, even within her barrier. Nonetheless her hold on Betsy's hand couldn't be firmer. If this wasn't a result of Mephisto's backlash, then what? "Whatever this is, I need you to fight it. You won't be alone." Closing her eyes briefly, the flames in the fireplace flared up briefly and then Jean opened her eyes with a small smile. The astral plane was a telepath's playground in every sense of the word and she was ready to 'play'.

Could the same be said for Betsy?

Psylocke looked up into Jeans eye's, as the shield made fortress around them. "I want to fight it... I've tried. But... it isn't human." The spoke outside their protective bubble formed into a shadowy figure, indiscernible by the human eye... but then again they were in the Astral Plane... the human eye didn't mean nearly as much as that of the mind's. And so Jean would recognize the meaning of the Shadow as an overbearing force, capable of enslaving even the most powerful of mind's, not through, power, strength, telepathy, or magic... but through Science. It was untouchable by telepathy, but yielded full reign over it. Tears crawled down the side of Betsy's eyes. "Please... you have to... just end me now..." she shut her eyes at the pain of even saying the words.

The pain of her plea affected Jean deeply, because she remembered uttering similar words while fighting to remain in control of the Phoenix Force. She remembered that feeling of complete defeat and how for her to even say those words, it was because she knew without a doubt that the alternative would be far worse. But she refused to believe that there was no alternative for Betsy, because the reality was, "I can't and won't do that. You know that..." Her eyes shifted from her friend to the shadowy figure now hovering beside them and giving Betsy's hand a reassuring squeeze, she stepped out of the barrier that remained strong around her friend.

Focusing on it an attempt was made to bring it into the light, but when nothing happened Jean's brows creased. White eyes were staring into its darkness. "What are you? What do you want with her?

Betsy remained silent. She knew what Jean's answer would be before she'd even made the request. The figure outside however seemed to tilt it's gaseous head. It's response was... elecrical frequency, an eletrical frequency that made the Betsy in the Corporeal world jolt violently. Something nasty was shooting through her body, though the Betsy in the astral plane, protected by Jean, was safe. The smoking figure continued sending eletrical dictations for the next few moments, and then suddenly, just, stopped. The next noises were something resembling a cackle, and just as soon as it came, it faded away. Color returned to the room, and the storm outside ceased. All was calm, except Betsy herself.

She looked up at Jean, her mind as tranquil as the real her might appear in the midst of trouble. "When you leave it's just going to return... it's going to return and whisper things I don't understand, and I"m going listen to it... because there's nothing I can do about it... It knows something that I don't. It knows something, and what it knows, scares me." she looked into Jean's eyes, hoping she understood what she'd been going through. Hers never wavered once. The tears streamed the sides of her face, but her expression liked the emotion usually indicative of crying. "I'm scared, Jean."

While the jolting in the Corporeal world was undetected in the Astral plane, with Jean's physical form holding her friend's hand in the mansion's med room, the telepath felt that jolt as she looked into the mass of smoke. "Whatever your intention is, whatever you are, know that she isn't alone." The storm outside ceased, causing Jean to shift her gaze briefly, but returning her attention to where the dark mass previously was revealed its absence.

The barrier around Besty fell with Jean's return to her side and as much as she wanted to smile and tell her friend that everything would be alright, the telepath wasn't even sure just what it was they were facing here. One thing was certain though, and it was the same thing that she conveyed to the presence before its departure. "You're not going to face it alone. That much I can promise you." Was Jean scared? Yes; a fear of the unknown was normal. Closing her eyes briefly, a single purple butterfly materialized. It circled around the red head at first and then went to hover over Betsy. She needed to remember her own strength.

Even with tears still on the edgesof her face, when she saw the butterfly she smiled. The symbol of her own power, her own being. Her banner of strength. She momentarily felt what it was like to be in control again. The battle against the Dark Phoenix, the strength she wielded like a might sword to slay the enemy. She remembered who she was. Funny, that something so great could be reduced to this state. "I know... Jean..." She rose a lithe hand, as if to poke at the butterfly. "I will fight it... just promise me, that when the time comes, you and the X-men do the right thing..." her eyes fell on the red head, serious as a heart attack. "I mean it."She wasn't in control. Something else was... and until they could find out what, she had to protect her friends from herself. This task she left by the way of Jean Grey. She knew that she could trust her.

The butterfly landed on Betsy's hand, where it remained still with her lithe movements. Occasionally there was subtle fluttering of its wings, but even then it couldn't be more peaceful than it was at the moment. Jean was frowning at the words her friend said, especially the promise she wanted her to make. She knew that look in her eyes meant she'd made up her mind, as much as the red head didn't want to hear it.

"If by the 'right thing' you mean: save your life, then I promise. Anything contrary however, I refuse to make that promise. There has to be another way." Perhaps Cerebro could help? It was a gamble she was willing to try. If only the Professor was there...Sighing softly her eyes went to the butterfly that was the perfect image of peace and hope as it remained in its spot on Betsy's hand.