X-Men: A Diamond in the Rough - Chapter 8
Title: A Diamond in the Rough
Author: Silk
Fandom/Pairing: AU X-Men (Comic-verse), Emma Frost/OC Femslash
Disclaimers: Marvel & its characters aren't mine. Angela is mine. Anyone who is familiar with the Marvel-verse knows there are many alternate Earths and this is my version. Beta'd by Whedonist (1shinyboat) Thank you for the kick in the ass. Ratings will go up to NC17/M. Any special disclaimers will be posted with that chapter.
Please don't forget to review. Thank you!
Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7
Chapter 8
Emma is right, it is beautiful here. My eyes catch sight of a bumblebee flying around the lid of my cup of juice and I smile. I've never had a dream so real as this before. I take a deep breath through my nose and can smell everything. The roses. The ocean. Coffee.
I can even smell Emma and the faint perfume that I know is hers.
Even my sense of her seems real, her emotions so clear to me. She’s enjoying being alive and feeling at peace as she leans her head back to enjoy the sun on her face. I've never dreamed like this before, not even during those simple nights with my siblings and I’ve definitely never a dream so beautiful as this.
As free as this.
"I was happier here than at any time or place in my life," she paused for a moment, giving me a wry look and swept a lock of hair behind her ear. "I should know better than to wallow in dreams like this one, and heaven only knows why I have imagined you within it. You're as real as this place is now; just a figment of my imagination. A fragment left over from that psychic charge between us on the plane perhaps? Or maybe you're the embodiment of the damaged part of me? The part I left behind here?"
I can see her considering that and I silently wonder myself what's going on in my dream. I know that when Emma touched me she left something. Knowledge and experience mostly. Memories as well. It's hard for me to fully understand, but I have met and worked with a lot of slaves at the command of our Masters. My own senses have felt and merged with others and had thoughts that weren't my own, so what happened is not entirely strange to me. But I think that what Emma left behind is more than a simple merging. I don’t know what it is, but as I look at this Emma that I’ve dreamed up, I wonder if she’s more than just my dream. I’ve never seen Genosha like this, nor sat in a park. I’ve never seen mutants flying or walking down the sidewalk without being collared.
Maybe… maybe this isn’t my dream.
"There are so many pretty flowers here," I finally say, not knowing what else to say still gazing at her.
Emma smiles at me sadly, her emotion echoing in me and making me feel like crying in return. It’s as if this Dream Emma understands what I’m thinking, just as I understand what she’s feeling.
She reaches up, her fingers warm from holding her coffee, and cups my cheek.
“Angelica…” Emma starts to speak and then the image of her becomes fainter and fainter until she’s gone.
I guess she was just a dream after all.
*****
The strangeness of my crèche is what wakes me up. The smell of the sheets and blankets I pulled from the bed into the closet unusual and new to me, unlike the burnt smell of the ones I usually crawl into at night.
The glow from my eyes is low, but enough to see the small space I’ve made my own for that night and glimpse the clothes that hang above me.
Then it all comes flooding back to me. Doctor Hank, the furry blue one. The fiery haired Jean whose senses always tickle when she’s around, like my hands over a small flame. Even the smelly short one, Logan. Warren, who told me he was my father.
And Emma. Remembering her brings the dream back to me, crisp and clear, along with her emotions, her bright smile and hair in the sun, and the soft scent of her perfume. The dream is still so real as if I just stepped out of the park and lay down here in my crèche only a moment ago.
I snuggle down deeper into the pile I made still half-asleep and unwilling to crawl out of my crèche yet. I’ve spent many days waking up without my siblings around me and I feel just alone now as I did then but I go through the same routine. Even as sleepy as I am I reach out with my senses and search for my brothers and sisters automatically. I have never been successful, but it’s a routine now.
But instead of the emptiness I’m used to, the tingling feel of mutants around me nudges me further awake. Some are as sleepy as me, which makes me smile, thinking how alike we are. Others are in various emotional states. I can even feel the nasty jangling feeling that I remember from yesterday when Scott Summers came to the infirmary.
There’s Jean, I note. I get the sense she notices me and sends me a warm and welcoming feeling as I pull my sense back in.
It’s so odd to feel all this. I was never free to explore my surroundings this way without my collar being turned off and being ordered to find someone. Even in the mornings, with my siblings, it was the warmth of their bodies and the soft sounds of their breathing that I took comfort from, as I was unable to sense them with the collar on. After the Cleansing I had searched every morning not only to find some bit of comfort, but also because I could.
My senses come across Emma, close, perhaps next door or a bit further. The simple sensation of pleasure radiates from her for a moment and I bask in it, letting it fill me and sent a little bit back to her in greeting.
*Good Morning, Angela.*
I smile happily to myself and stretch in my crèche. Just being greeted like this in the morning as if I exist, as if someone else exists, makes me feel… I can’t even describe it. I send a surge of my happiness to her and I can sense her amusement.
*Don’t worry, you’ll soon get tired of all the busy minds and emotions running around here,* Emma thought to me.
I didn’t quite believe her.
*I’ll see you a bit later, dear. I need to finish taking my shower. Oh… and your father is about to knock on your door. Try to be nice to him? He can be insufferable but he’s a decent man at heart.*
~knock~~knock~
“Angela? Are you up yet? Rise and shine.”
I pull my senses instantly, but not before brushing by Warren who was close.
Hearing the door to the room they’d housed me in open, I kicked off the pile of blankets and sheets I was under and crack the closet door just enough to peek out. He stood there in the doorway, looking confused and slightly worried.
“Angela?” Warren took a step in and then started to turn around when he stiffened for a moment. “Ahh, there you are. Emma just told me you were… umm… sleeping in the closet?”
Sensing his disapproval, I let my gaze fall to my toes that are peeking up from under the long pa-jam-a bottoms I was given last night.
“No. No. None of that. There’s nothing wrong with sleeping in the closet,” he says as he steps closer and uses a finger under my chin to tilt my head back up. “I see that we’re all going to have to be more careful with our emotions around you.”
He gives me a wide bright smile and I can’t help but smile back as I feel its honesty. I’m surprised to see he’s only a tiny bit taller than me; for once I’m able to look someone almost completely eye-to-eye. I tilt my head to the side and study him, my eyes wondering over his face.
Warren seems to sense what I’m doing and stands there letting me look him over. I had been too tired yesterday to really understand what was going on when he talked to me, too tired to get a really good look at him. All I remember was the sweet treat he brought me, his wings and the almost shy way he told me he was my father.
Of course, when I cringed away from him, Emma had to come over and explain that most fathers weren’t bad. I knew then that she could see the confusion in me and that the meaning of “father” that had risen up inside me had been Emma’s, just like all the other bits and pieces that I suddenly knew. Emma’s father was different.
“Your eyes are blue.” Warren’s voice drags me back from my thoughts and I can’t help but give him a confused look.
Of course my eyes are blue.
He laughs at me softly, but not in a cruel way.
“I didn’t mean what color light shines out of them, Angela. I meant the iris,” he reaches up and circles his eye. “The blue part of mine. Your irises are blue too, like mine. Unusual for a brunette like yourself.”
I had seen myself in the mirror of the bathroom yesterday, when Jean had shown me how the shower controls worked and had given me soap, shampoo and other things to clean myself. Having rarely seen myself in a mirror, maybe once or twice in passing when out with a Master, and was shocked at what I had seen. I had hair and I didn’t have my slave markings anymore and I could look at my eyes and my body without being cuffed on the head for being lazy.
Jean had stayed with me, and held me as I traced my fingers over where they all used to be. Every other day our scalps were shaved, to better see our tattoos and numbers, and to not see them made everything…
Real.
“Well, Hank wants to do a couple small tests this morning while everyone else is at breakfast, so that you can eat in peace. You up for it?”
“Okay,” I replied, finally speaking.
“You get dressed then and I’ll wait outside your door,” Warren said as he left, shutting the door behind him.
I turned back to my hidey-hole to look over the clothes Jean had said were now mine. They weren’t many and they weren’t like the skinsuits I had worn my entire life, but they were mine.
Yet another thing I didn’t feel completely comfortable with, just as I didn’t feel comfortable being in this room alone at night.
I sighed softly to myself and picked out several pieces that looked like they’d cover me completely.
While I didn’t feel like leaving, and it did seem safe here, as Emma had told me it would be, it was still a very confusing place, filled with strange and confusing people. But at least there were people.
People.
I blinked in surprise as I considered the word I had chosen. I hadn’t said slaves, mutants or Masters.
I had said people.
*****
Emma took her fruit and coffee out onto the patio when she spotted Jean through the glass. Now would be a good time to have a little chat about Scott and another little matter she believed Jean could help her with.
“Good Morning, Emma,” Jean looked up from her paper as the patio door opened and the white clad woman came out. “I’m surprised to see you in public this soon, before your first cup of coffee even.”
“It’s my second cup actually. You know I don’t call that swill you’re drinking coffee. I don’t know who insists on brewing it for the faculty each morning, but honestly they shouldn’t bother. I brew my own in my rooms every morning.” Emma pursed her lips in disgust as she sat down and gave the cup Jean was drinking from a pointed look. “I’d offer to educate you and share mine, but I only made enough for myself this morning.”
Jean chuckled in good humor. “Tomorrow perhaps?”
“As long as your taste buds can stand up to the challenge.” Emma’s eyes twinkled lightly as she sipped from her own cup. A slight hum of enjoyment escaped her. It really was good coffee and not that store bought tripe that most people deigned to be consumable. Sycophants.
“Scott came by my office last night. He asked me out to dinner.” Emma speared a bite of cantaloupe, chewing as she waited on Jean’s reply.
The surprised look in the red-head’s eyes wasn’t a surprise, but the mild flash of jealousy that followed was.
“I told him no, of course,” Emma said calmly as if she were discussing the weather.
“I see,” Jean replied and wiped her lips on her napkin, her eyes lowered to her own breakfast plate.
One of Emma’s eyebrows lifted in curiosity. The jealousy the other woman had shown was indeed a bit of a surprise, but Emma had the notion that it wasn’t due to Scott being interested in another woman. Or at least, not only because of it.
*Jean?* the blonde reached out and gently held out her mental presence for the other woman to accept or reject.
With a little sigh, Jean lifted her gaze back up to Emma’s and completed the light telepathic connection between the two.
*It’s nothing,* she answered the unspoken question. *I’m not jealous of him.* Jean paused and rolled her eyes. *I mean, I am jealous somewhat. He was my husband. I still love him. I’m just not in love with him.*
*I see,* Emma responded calmly, repeating Jean’s own words.
*Don’t play therapist,* Jean sniped playfully.
The blonde’s eyes danced almost wickedly as she looked back. *I wouldn’t dream of it. The school doesn’t pay you enough for my rates anyhow.*
After their mirth quieted, Emma refocused the conversation.
*He came in to discuss, or rather complain about Angela, and then seemed to settle down, admitting he needed to give her a second chance. But after I turned down his offer of dinner, he became almost enraged and accused me of being prejudiced against him because of his blindness,* Emma explained as she stabbed at another piece of fruit. *I… nevermind.*
Jean reached across the table and laid her hand on top of Emma’s. *What were you going to say?*
Laying her fork down, the blonde telepath looked directly into Jean’s inquiring eyes. *I swear he was going to attack me.*
*Scott? Emma really… I don’t believe…*
*Yes, yes, you’re probably right,* Emma interrupted and pulled her hand from under Jean’s and picked up her fork again, resuming her assault on her fruit.
*Emma…*
“I plan on taking Angela shopping later. Someone has too. She needs more than a bar of soap, a trial-sized bottle of shampoo and two sets of clothes. While the donations were admirable, I do have the time after my last afternoon class. Would you like to come?” Emma asked calmly, as if the tension from the previous topic was nonexistent. “Angela feels comfortable around you and she could use one or two persons besides myself on her first trip out in public.”
Jean sat up straighter and sighed as she pulled her hand back. “Yes, I’d love to come. Perhaps we should Dani and Shan to tag along? I had planned on Dani showing Angela around the school today, thinking that she’d be one of the more open-minded of our younger faculty. And I’m sure the two of them wouldn’t mind time away from the campus.”
“Ahh, young Love. I still can’t fathom what took those two so long to realize what was between them,” Emma smirked over her coffee at Jean. “Don’t tell anyone, but I can’t help but feel positively ancient when two students, who were also members of the New Mutants, are now teachers. The same age as my Hellions were.”
Emma swerved away from the morose thought as she tried to keep the conversation on a lighter note. While the memory of her lost students still hurt, there were a lot of fond moments that she dwelled on as well.
“Well, Shan and Dani do make a good couple and a nice inspiration to our gay and lesbian students, as well,” Jean replied calmly. That period of time wasn’t as much of a pleasant one for her either, what with her basically coming back from the dead to everyone’s shock. The red-head ruthlessly shoved all those memories aside, refusing to ruin her breakfast. The topic of Scott would have to wait for another day, hopefully one where Emma wasn’t so recalcitrant about the subject. Honestly, Jean had known Scott since they were fourteen years old, who better than her to know what was going on with the man, even after they had divorced.
“I’ll leave asking the darling couple up to you,” Emma broke into Jean’s train of thought. “Actually, I had something else I needed to discuss with you this morning. Something of a more professional bent.”
“Okay.” Jean set her napkin down on her own plate and sat back in her chair. “What about?”
“Angela,” Emma stated with a wry twist of her lips, “and what happened on the plane.”
Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, she reopened her end of the telepathic connection between the two, wanting the conversation to be more private.
*Is it possible for a psychic bond to be accidentally created?*
Jean’s eyebrows raised in surprise. *You mean, a bond like the one Scott and I have?*
*Yes. You’ve spoken of it a time or two. I assume it’s still there?* Emma asked even though she knew the topic was a private one.
Jean looked at the blonde a moment or two, trying to guess her interest in the subject. It wasn’t a secret, this psychic link that she had hooked up with Scott when the two were very young and very in love, but it was an intensively personal thing to talk about with someone else.
*Yes, it’s still there. I’ve… I’ve tried to remove it or shut it down, but it’s still there. The only thing I was able to do was put a block on it, so we can’t read each other’s thoughts or know where the other is. I did that after… well, when we separated. It’s not permanent, unfortunately. I have to re-strengthen it every morning.* Jean cocked her head slightly in curiosity. *But for one to be connected to someone else that way on accident? I have no idea. You mentioned Angela. Is there something you haven’t shared with Hank and I?*
Emma carefully kept her expression as calm and unconcerned as possible as she answered. *Until I know one way or another, I want this kept between you and me.*
*All right, if you’re that adamant about it. What is going on, Emma?*
*I need you to scan my mind to see if there’s any psychic residue leftover from yesterday. Or if there’s a link to Angela. I searched last night, but didn’t find anything. You would know what to look for, correct?*
Jean looked at Emma in shock. Obviously something about the incident on the plane had Emma worried, or at least leaning towards the idea. Psychic bonds were extremely rare, even amongst telepaths. Twins were more than likely to have them than anyone else. And judging how the other woman was reacting, grilling her about why she thought she might have one with Angela, wasn’t on the agenda at the moment.
*Yes. It looks different than a normal telepathic connection,* the telepath shrugged off her surprise and answered, *and it’s very hard to find. It makes sense, in a way, since a permanent psychic bond with another person is by its very nature a private thing. Let me show you before I scan you. If you're willing?*
Since Jean knew where the link was in her own mind, it took less than a minute to connect more securely with Emma and dive into her own mind. They stood at the end of a brightly lit hallway, blocked from going any further by a large door with padlocks and several bars welded in place.
*You don’t do things by halves, do you?* Emma observed with a bit of humor.
*Well, it used to look more like the gates to the Greek underworld, but I thought having flames and a huge three-headed dog named Emma instead of Cerberus guarding the entrance was a tad overkill. I wasn’t in the best of moods when I thought that one up and I was watching re-runs of Xena at the time,* Jean conceded with a small smile.
*Well, I’m glad you got rid of the dog at least. I am a bit insulted you named it after me however.* Emma reached forward and slid her hand along the outline of the door and then touched each lock. *I don’t feel anything. If you hadn’t brought me here, this door wouldn’t exist for me. I can’t sense anything. Not even any brimstone,* she added teasingly then grew serious again. *I’d like you to scan me. It’s not something I’d prefer. I am a…*
Jean touched Emma’s shoulder, the touch as real here in the psychic plain to telepaths as it would be in the real world.
*We all have secrets, Emma. What I see in your mind will be held in the strictest of confidence. I’m flattered you asked me for help actually.* Jean carefully guided them out of her mind, their eyes opening at the same time. *As for not seeing the link, I’m not surprised really. Even the Professor was unable to see it when he scanned both Scott and I. Which is why you shouldn't be surprised if I don't find anything in yours.*
Jean wasn’t in a terrible hurry to scan Emma, knowing the other woman was an extremely private person and that the experience probably wouldn’t be a pleasant one. *What makes you think there's something there at all, Emma?*
*Little things.* Emma took a moment to gaze into her, now cool, coffee. *There was a moment yesterday when the subject of her father was brought up and she said...*
*'What's a father?' I remember that.*
*You weren't looking at her at that moment, neither you nor Hank. You didn't see her face. She suddenly knew what a father was and it horrified her.*
*But... Why would that horrify her though? Warren's not that bad,* Jean snickered.
*Yes, well my own father was that bad, Jean,* Emma replied emotionlessly. *And I hazard to guess that the moment of ecstasy that Angela and I shared on the flight back yesterday, that you all have been tittering about constantly since then, left behind a bit more than a nice afterglow in each of us. I still remember everything I saw in her mind and little things keep popping up when I think about her. Little bits of information. How she saw things. This morning, when she woke up, she was reaching out with her empathy and I knew why without looking into her mind, Jean. I knew that putting her in that room last night was a mistake on our part. We put her in there alone.*
Jean frowned, considering what Emma had said. It could be a bond perhaps, or just the residual remnants of yesterday’s imprint between the two.
*I saw a lot about her in that moment. I was her and vice versa until I managed to separate myself. I’ve been in a lot of minds, Jean,* Emma’s eyes hardened. *For good and bad reasons both, but what happened was unusual. I think there might be more, Jean. I can feel it. I could be imagining it all of course. Lingering trauma from Genosha and all that, but I had a dream last night. Not a nightmare. A dream. Of Genosha during happier times and she was there. Angelic... Angela.*
Continuing to sit quietly, Jean listened to what Emma did and didn’t say. If there was something there, some sort of psychic link between her and their new resident, Emma wasn’t thrilled about the entire idea.
*All right. Let's have a look shall we?* Jean stood up and moved to stand behind Emma’s chair. Gracefully placing her fingers on the other woman’s temples, she also broadcasted a subtle telepathic suggestion so that anyone that might be in the faculty dining room behind them would feel the need to look elsewhere.
Minutes passed with Emma being as passive as she could be and Jean as delicate as she was able. Neither woman communicated even when Jean saw moments in Emma’s mind that caused her to flinch psychically, bringing them both pain.
*Nothing, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there. I’m sorry Emma,* Jean finally pulled away and sat back in her chair wearily. *I did see something else however.*
*My nightmares from the last few months,* Emma stated matter-of-factly. She had seen everything that Jean saw during their tour of Emma’s mind. *You think I might be part of the reason why she’s here.* Emma smirked at the other woman. *Yes, I caught that thought as you ran into Angela’s version of events in my memories. I’m not precognitive, Jean. There is no way I knew she was coming to this time.*
*No, I know you’re not a precog, but you are one of the few survivors of Genosha and the only telepathic one at that. You lost everyone you cared about there, just as Angela did. You needed healing, so what better way than your psyche finding you someone to save. Genosha generated a lot of psychic energy, Emma. I felt it from this side of the world. It left its own psychic scar on the Earth. With that many deaths, it’s not completely out of the realm of possibility that all that energy helped bring Angela forward. Combined with the residual energy from her trip through Pipeline’s teleportation tunnel after her Hunting trip, well you and I have both seen stranger things.* Jean shrugged, then brought the conversation back to the earlier topic. *However, I think we should have Hank do a scan of your brain waves.*
*You think something might show up there?*
*It never has for me, but we should cover all avenues.*
Emma stood up and gathered her plate and coffee cup. *Ahh, Jean. You just enjoy taking me to the most enjoyable places. Are you always this fun? A little breakfast with a brain scan afterwords. Is that your idea of the perfect date, Ms. Grey? Or should we just skip the first date and head right to the… physical exams?*
Jean’s reply was thick with amusement. *I promise I’ll bring flowers.*
*Well, then. By all means.*
*****
Scott gave Esme a welcoming smile and a wave for her to take a seat across from him.
"Goodmorning, Esme. I'm sorry to pull you in here during breakfast."
“It’s fine, Mr. Summers. I don’t usually eat much at breakfast anyways,” she reassured him.
"Well, let’s get to the point then. I don’t want you too late for your first class. I was wondering how close you and your sisters are lately?" he asked, his smile now gone and any expressive look hidden behind his visor.
The blonde, blue-eyed teenager before him looked as if she was a cheerleader instead of one of the strongest telepaths in the world. At least one of the strongest when her and her other sisters were all melded together in their 4-as-1 gestalt. Even without each other they were a mental force to be reckoned with. But it was this particular one Scott had heard other teachers talking about in concerned tones. It was this one he was interested in cultivating.
"Not as close as we once were," Esme Cuckoo admitted frankly and without sounding as if she regretted the state of things between herself and the other three.
"And how much can you keep from them, if I need you too," Scott asked her, giving her a wry smile when she winced at him. "I'm well protected psychically, Esme. All you'll do is give yourself a headache."
"Yes, Mr. summers, I see that. And to answer your question, I can keep anything I wish from them, and I have."
"Ahh. Like the fact that you experiment with that mutant-enhancement drug, Kick?" Scott sat back and waved his hand through the air dismissively. "I could care less about a little drug experimentation, Esme. I just wanted you to be aware that I know of your little fun and while I can't condone it, I do understand it. Believe it or not, I was once your age and not that long ago either. However, if you want to continue living here, you'll have to stop."
Esme's stunned look slowly melted away into a more thoughtful look. "So, so if you're not kicking me out Mr. Summers, what is it you want?"
Scott gave her a smile, inwardly pleased how easy this all was. "Nothing much really. I just need you to keep an eye out on a new resident of ours. I need her tested, Esme. I need to see what she's made of. Subtly make things more difficult for her. I'm sure you can think of ways. She's older than you, but not socially adept. Then report back to me, and only me, every day or so. Be sure to keep this between us. No sharing with your sisters or anyone else."
Esme’s smile eerily echoed the Headmaster's. "Gotcha Mr. Summers."
TBC
Author: Silk
Fandom/Pairing: AU X-Men (Comic-verse), Emma Frost/OC Femslash
Disclaimers: Marvel & its characters aren't mine. Angela is mine. Anyone who is familiar with the Marvel-verse knows there are many alternate Earths and this is my version. Beta'd by Whedonist (1shinyboat) Thank you for the kick in the ass. Ratings will go up to NC17/M. Any special disclaimers will be posted with that chapter.
Please don't forget to review. Thank you!
Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7
Chapter 8
Emma is right, it is beautiful here. My eyes catch sight of a bumblebee flying around the lid of my cup of juice and I smile. I've never had a dream so real as this before. I take a deep breath through my nose and can smell everything. The roses. The ocean. Coffee.
I can even smell Emma and the faint perfume that I know is hers.
Even my sense of her seems real, her emotions so clear to me. She’s enjoying being alive and feeling at peace as she leans her head back to enjoy the sun on her face. I've never dreamed like this before, not even during those simple nights with my siblings and I’ve definitely never a dream so beautiful as this.
As free as this.
"I was happier here than at any time or place in my life," she paused for a moment, giving me a wry look and swept a lock of hair behind her ear. "I should know better than to wallow in dreams like this one, and heaven only knows why I have imagined you within it. You're as real as this place is now; just a figment of my imagination. A fragment left over from that psychic charge between us on the plane perhaps? Or maybe you're the embodiment of the damaged part of me? The part I left behind here?"
I can see her considering that and I silently wonder myself what's going on in my dream. I know that when Emma touched me she left something. Knowledge and experience mostly. Memories as well. It's hard for me to fully understand, but I have met and worked with a lot of slaves at the command of our Masters. My own senses have felt and merged with others and had thoughts that weren't my own, so what happened is not entirely strange to me. But I think that what Emma left behind is more than a simple merging. I don’t know what it is, but as I look at this Emma that I’ve dreamed up, I wonder if she’s more than just my dream. I’ve never seen Genosha like this, nor sat in a park. I’ve never seen mutants flying or walking down the sidewalk without being collared.
Maybe… maybe this isn’t my dream.
"There are so many pretty flowers here," I finally say, not knowing what else to say still gazing at her.
Emma smiles at me sadly, her emotion echoing in me and making me feel like crying in return. It’s as if this Dream Emma understands what I’m thinking, just as I understand what she’s feeling.
She reaches up, her fingers warm from holding her coffee, and cups my cheek.
“Angelica…” Emma starts to speak and then the image of her becomes fainter and fainter until she’s gone.
I guess she was just a dream after all.
*****
The strangeness of my crèche is what wakes me up. The smell of the sheets and blankets I pulled from the bed into the closet unusual and new to me, unlike the burnt smell of the ones I usually crawl into at night.
The glow from my eyes is low, but enough to see the small space I’ve made my own for that night and glimpse the clothes that hang above me.
Then it all comes flooding back to me. Doctor Hank, the furry blue one. The fiery haired Jean whose senses always tickle when she’s around, like my hands over a small flame. Even the smelly short one, Logan. Warren, who told me he was my father.
And Emma. Remembering her brings the dream back to me, crisp and clear, along with her emotions, her bright smile and hair in the sun, and the soft scent of her perfume. The dream is still so real as if I just stepped out of the park and lay down here in my crèche only a moment ago.
I snuggle down deeper into the pile I made still half-asleep and unwilling to crawl out of my crèche yet. I’ve spent many days waking up without my siblings around me and I feel just alone now as I did then but I go through the same routine. Even as sleepy as I am I reach out with my senses and search for my brothers and sisters automatically. I have never been successful, but it’s a routine now.
But instead of the emptiness I’m used to, the tingling feel of mutants around me nudges me further awake. Some are as sleepy as me, which makes me smile, thinking how alike we are. Others are in various emotional states. I can even feel the nasty jangling feeling that I remember from yesterday when Scott Summers came to the infirmary.
There’s Jean, I note. I get the sense she notices me and sends me a warm and welcoming feeling as I pull my sense back in.
It’s so odd to feel all this. I was never free to explore my surroundings this way without my collar being turned off and being ordered to find someone. Even in the mornings, with my siblings, it was the warmth of their bodies and the soft sounds of their breathing that I took comfort from, as I was unable to sense them with the collar on. After the Cleansing I had searched every morning not only to find some bit of comfort, but also because I could.
My senses come across Emma, close, perhaps next door or a bit further. The simple sensation of pleasure radiates from her for a moment and I bask in it, letting it fill me and sent a little bit back to her in greeting.
*Good Morning, Angela.*
I smile happily to myself and stretch in my crèche. Just being greeted like this in the morning as if I exist, as if someone else exists, makes me feel… I can’t even describe it. I send a surge of my happiness to her and I can sense her amusement.
*Don’t worry, you’ll soon get tired of all the busy minds and emotions running around here,* Emma thought to me.
I didn’t quite believe her.
*I’ll see you a bit later, dear. I need to finish taking my shower. Oh… and your father is about to knock on your door. Try to be nice to him? He can be insufferable but he’s a decent man at heart.*
~knock~~knock~
“Angela? Are you up yet? Rise and shine.”
I pull my senses instantly, but not before brushing by Warren who was close.
Hearing the door to the room they’d housed me in open, I kicked off the pile of blankets and sheets I was under and crack the closet door just enough to peek out. He stood there in the doorway, looking confused and slightly worried.
“Angela?” Warren took a step in and then started to turn around when he stiffened for a moment. “Ahh, there you are. Emma just told me you were… umm… sleeping in the closet?”
Sensing his disapproval, I let my gaze fall to my toes that are peeking up from under the long pa-jam-a bottoms I was given last night.
“No. No. None of that. There’s nothing wrong with sleeping in the closet,” he says as he steps closer and uses a finger under my chin to tilt my head back up. “I see that we’re all going to have to be more careful with our emotions around you.”
He gives me a wide bright smile and I can’t help but smile back as I feel its honesty. I’m surprised to see he’s only a tiny bit taller than me; for once I’m able to look someone almost completely eye-to-eye. I tilt my head to the side and study him, my eyes wondering over his face.
Warren seems to sense what I’m doing and stands there letting me look him over. I had been too tired yesterday to really understand what was going on when he talked to me, too tired to get a really good look at him. All I remember was the sweet treat he brought me, his wings and the almost shy way he told me he was my father.
Of course, when I cringed away from him, Emma had to come over and explain that most fathers weren’t bad. I knew then that she could see the confusion in me and that the meaning of “father” that had risen up inside me had been Emma’s, just like all the other bits and pieces that I suddenly knew. Emma’s father was different.
“Your eyes are blue.” Warren’s voice drags me back from my thoughts and I can’t help but give him a confused look.
Of course my eyes are blue.
He laughs at me softly, but not in a cruel way.
“I didn’t mean what color light shines out of them, Angela. I meant the iris,” he reaches up and circles his eye. “The blue part of mine. Your irises are blue too, like mine. Unusual for a brunette like yourself.”
I had seen myself in the mirror of the bathroom yesterday, when Jean had shown me how the shower controls worked and had given me soap, shampoo and other things to clean myself. Having rarely seen myself in a mirror, maybe once or twice in passing when out with a Master, and was shocked at what I had seen. I had hair and I didn’t have my slave markings anymore and I could look at my eyes and my body without being cuffed on the head for being lazy.
Jean had stayed with me, and held me as I traced my fingers over where they all used to be. Every other day our scalps were shaved, to better see our tattoos and numbers, and to not see them made everything…
Real.
“Well, Hank wants to do a couple small tests this morning while everyone else is at breakfast, so that you can eat in peace. You up for it?”
“Okay,” I replied, finally speaking.
“You get dressed then and I’ll wait outside your door,” Warren said as he left, shutting the door behind him.
I turned back to my hidey-hole to look over the clothes Jean had said were now mine. They weren’t many and they weren’t like the skinsuits I had worn my entire life, but they were mine.
Yet another thing I didn’t feel completely comfortable with, just as I didn’t feel comfortable being in this room alone at night.
I sighed softly to myself and picked out several pieces that looked like they’d cover me completely.
While I didn’t feel like leaving, and it did seem safe here, as Emma had told me it would be, it was still a very confusing place, filled with strange and confusing people. But at least there were people.
People.
I blinked in surprise as I considered the word I had chosen. I hadn’t said slaves, mutants or Masters.
I had said people.
*****
Emma took her fruit and coffee out onto the patio when she spotted Jean through the glass. Now would be a good time to have a little chat about Scott and another little matter she believed Jean could help her with.
“Good Morning, Emma,” Jean looked up from her paper as the patio door opened and the white clad woman came out. “I’m surprised to see you in public this soon, before your first cup of coffee even.”
“It’s my second cup actually. You know I don’t call that swill you’re drinking coffee. I don’t know who insists on brewing it for the faculty each morning, but honestly they shouldn’t bother. I brew my own in my rooms every morning.” Emma pursed her lips in disgust as she sat down and gave the cup Jean was drinking from a pointed look. “I’d offer to educate you and share mine, but I only made enough for myself this morning.”
Jean chuckled in good humor. “Tomorrow perhaps?”
“As long as your taste buds can stand up to the challenge.” Emma’s eyes twinkled lightly as she sipped from her own cup. A slight hum of enjoyment escaped her. It really was good coffee and not that store bought tripe that most people deigned to be consumable. Sycophants.
“Scott came by my office last night. He asked me out to dinner.” Emma speared a bite of cantaloupe, chewing as she waited on Jean’s reply.
The surprised look in the red-head’s eyes wasn’t a surprise, but the mild flash of jealousy that followed was.
“I told him no, of course,” Emma said calmly as if she were discussing the weather.
“I see,” Jean replied and wiped her lips on her napkin, her eyes lowered to her own breakfast plate.
One of Emma’s eyebrows lifted in curiosity. The jealousy the other woman had shown was indeed a bit of a surprise, but Emma had the notion that it wasn’t due to Scott being interested in another woman. Or at least, not only because of it.
*Jean?* the blonde reached out and gently held out her mental presence for the other woman to accept or reject.
With a little sigh, Jean lifted her gaze back up to Emma’s and completed the light telepathic connection between the two.
*It’s nothing,* she answered the unspoken question. *I’m not jealous of him.* Jean paused and rolled her eyes. *I mean, I am jealous somewhat. He was my husband. I still love him. I’m just not in love with him.*
*I see,* Emma responded calmly, repeating Jean’s own words.
*Don’t play therapist,* Jean sniped playfully.
The blonde’s eyes danced almost wickedly as she looked back. *I wouldn’t dream of it. The school doesn’t pay you enough for my rates anyhow.*
After their mirth quieted, Emma refocused the conversation.
*He came in to discuss, or rather complain about Angela, and then seemed to settle down, admitting he needed to give her a second chance. But after I turned down his offer of dinner, he became almost enraged and accused me of being prejudiced against him because of his blindness,* Emma explained as she stabbed at another piece of fruit. *I… nevermind.*
Jean reached across the table and laid her hand on top of Emma’s. *What were you going to say?*
Laying her fork down, the blonde telepath looked directly into Jean’s inquiring eyes. *I swear he was going to attack me.*
*Scott? Emma really… I don’t believe…*
*Yes, yes, you’re probably right,* Emma interrupted and pulled her hand from under Jean’s and picked up her fork again, resuming her assault on her fruit.
*Emma…*
“I plan on taking Angela shopping later. Someone has too. She needs more than a bar of soap, a trial-sized bottle of shampoo and two sets of clothes. While the donations were admirable, I do have the time after my last afternoon class. Would you like to come?” Emma asked calmly, as if the tension from the previous topic was nonexistent. “Angela feels comfortable around you and she could use one or two persons besides myself on her first trip out in public.”
Jean sat up straighter and sighed as she pulled her hand back. “Yes, I’d love to come. Perhaps we should Dani and Shan to tag along? I had planned on Dani showing Angela around the school today, thinking that she’d be one of the more open-minded of our younger faculty. And I’m sure the two of them wouldn’t mind time away from the campus.”
“Ahh, young Love. I still can’t fathom what took those two so long to realize what was between them,” Emma smirked over her coffee at Jean. “Don’t tell anyone, but I can’t help but feel positively ancient when two students, who were also members of the New Mutants, are now teachers. The same age as my Hellions were.”
Emma swerved away from the morose thought as she tried to keep the conversation on a lighter note. While the memory of her lost students still hurt, there were a lot of fond moments that she dwelled on as well.
“Well, Shan and Dani do make a good couple and a nice inspiration to our gay and lesbian students, as well,” Jean replied calmly. That period of time wasn’t as much of a pleasant one for her either, what with her basically coming back from the dead to everyone’s shock. The red-head ruthlessly shoved all those memories aside, refusing to ruin her breakfast. The topic of Scott would have to wait for another day, hopefully one where Emma wasn’t so recalcitrant about the subject. Honestly, Jean had known Scott since they were fourteen years old, who better than her to know what was going on with the man, even after they had divorced.
“I’ll leave asking the darling couple up to you,” Emma broke into Jean’s train of thought. “Actually, I had something else I needed to discuss with you this morning. Something of a more professional bent.”
“Okay.” Jean set her napkin down on her own plate and sat back in her chair. “What about?”
“Angela,” Emma stated with a wry twist of her lips, “and what happened on the plane.”
Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, she reopened her end of the telepathic connection between the two, wanting the conversation to be more private.
*Is it possible for a psychic bond to be accidentally created?*
Jean’s eyebrows raised in surprise. *You mean, a bond like the one Scott and I have?*
*Yes. You’ve spoken of it a time or two. I assume it’s still there?* Emma asked even though she knew the topic was a private one.
Jean looked at the blonde a moment or two, trying to guess her interest in the subject. It wasn’t a secret, this psychic link that she had hooked up with Scott when the two were very young and very in love, but it was an intensively personal thing to talk about with someone else.
*Yes, it’s still there. I’ve… I’ve tried to remove it or shut it down, but it’s still there. The only thing I was able to do was put a block on it, so we can’t read each other’s thoughts or know where the other is. I did that after… well, when we separated. It’s not permanent, unfortunately. I have to re-strengthen it every morning.* Jean cocked her head slightly in curiosity. *But for one to be connected to someone else that way on accident? I have no idea. You mentioned Angela. Is there something you haven’t shared with Hank and I?*
Emma carefully kept her expression as calm and unconcerned as possible as she answered. *Until I know one way or another, I want this kept between you and me.*
*All right, if you’re that adamant about it. What is going on, Emma?*
*I need you to scan my mind to see if there’s any psychic residue leftover from yesterday. Or if there’s a link to Angela. I searched last night, but didn’t find anything. You would know what to look for, correct?*
Jean looked at Emma in shock. Obviously something about the incident on the plane had Emma worried, or at least leaning towards the idea. Psychic bonds were extremely rare, even amongst telepaths. Twins were more than likely to have them than anyone else. And judging how the other woman was reacting, grilling her about why she thought she might have one with Angela, wasn’t on the agenda at the moment.
*Yes. It looks different than a normal telepathic connection,* the telepath shrugged off her surprise and answered, *and it’s very hard to find. It makes sense, in a way, since a permanent psychic bond with another person is by its very nature a private thing. Let me show you before I scan you. If you're willing?*
Since Jean knew where the link was in her own mind, it took less than a minute to connect more securely with Emma and dive into her own mind. They stood at the end of a brightly lit hallway, blocked from going any further by a large door with padlocks and several bars welded in place.
*You don’t do things by halves, do you?* Emma observed with a bit of humor.
*Well, it used to look more like the gates to the Greek underworld, but I thought having flames and a huge three-headed dog named Emma instead of Cerberus guarding the entrance was a tad overkill. I wasn’t in the best of moods when I thought that one up and I was watching re-runs of Xena at the time,* Jean conceded with a small smile.
*Well, I’m glad you got rid of the dog at least. I am a bit insulted you named it after me however.* Emma reached forward and slid her hand along the outline of the door and then touched each lock. *I don’t feel anything. If you hadn’t brought me here, this door wouldn’t exist for me. I can’t sense anything. Not even any brimstone,* she added teasingly then grew serious again. *I’d like you to scan me. It’s not something I’d prefer. I am a…*
Jean touched Emma’s shoulder, the touch as real here in the psychic plain to telepaths as it would be in the real world.
*We all have secrets, Emma. What I see in your mind will be held in the strictest of confidence. I’m flattered you asked me for help actually.* Jean carefully guided them out of her mind, their eyes opening at the same time. *As for not seeing the link, I’m not surprised really. Even the Professor was unable to see it when he scanned both Scott and I. Which is why you shouldn't be surprised if I don't find anything in yours.*
Jean wasn’t in a terrible hurry to scan Emma, knowing the other woman was an extremely private person and that the experience probably wouldn’t be a pleasant one. *What makes you think there's something there at all, Emma?*
*Little things.* Emma took a moment to gaze into her, now cool, coffee. *There was a moment yesterday when the subject of her father was brought up and she said...*
*'What's a father?' I remember that.*
*You weren't looking at her at that moment, neither you nor Hank. You didn't see her face. She suddenly knew what a father was and it horrified her.*
*But... Why would that horrify her though? Warren's not that bad,* Jean snickered.
*Yes, well my own father was that bad, Jean,* Emma replied emotionlessly. *And I hazard to guess that the moment of ecstasy that Angela and I shared on the flight back yesterday, that you all have been tittering about constantly since then, left behind a bit more than a nice afterglow in each of us. I still remember everything I saw in her mind and little things keep popping up when I think about her. Little bits of information. How she saw things. This morning, when she woke up, she was reaching out with her empathy and I knew why without looking into her mind, Jean. I knew that putting her in that room last night was a mistake on our part. We put her in there alone.*
Jean frowned, considering what Emma had said. It could be a bond perhaps, or just the residual remnants of yesterday’s imprint between the two.
*I saw a lot about her in that moment. I was her and vice versa until I managed to separate myself. I’ve been in a lot of minds, Jean,* Emma’s eyes hardened. *For good and bad reasons both, but what happened was unusual. I think there might be more, Jean. I can feel it. I could be imagining it all of course. Lingering trauma from Genosha and all that, but I had a dream last night. Not a nightmare. A dream. Of Genosha during happier times and she was there. Angelic... Angela.*
Continuing to sit quietly, Jean listened to what Emma did and didn’t say. If there was something there, some sort of psychic link between her and their new resident, Emma wasn’t thrilled about the entire idea.
*All right. Let's have a look shall we?* Jean stood up and moved to stand behind Emma’s chair. Gracefully placing her fingers on the other woman’s temples, she also broadcasted a subtle telepathic suggestion so that anyone that might be in the faculty dining room behind them would feel the need to look elsewhere.
Minutes passed with Emma being as passive as she could be and Jean as delicate as she was able. Neither woman communicated even when Jean saw moments in Emma’s mind that caused her to flinch psychically, bringing them both pain.
*Nothing, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there. I’m sorry Emma,* Jean finally pulled away and sat back in her chair wearily. *I did see something else however.*
*My nightmares from the last few months,* Emma stated matter-of-factly. She had seen everything that Jean saw during their tour of Emma’s mind. *You think I might be part of the reason why she’s here.* Emma smirked at the other woman. *Yes, I caught that thought as you ran into Angela’s version of events in my memories. I’m not precognitive, Jean. There is no way I knew she was coming to this time.*
*No, I know you’re not a precog, but you are one of the few survivors of Genosha and the only telepathic one at that. You lost everyone you cared about there, just as Angela did. You needed healing, so what better way than your psyche finding you someone to save. Genosha generated a lot of psychic energy, Emma. I felt it from this side of the world. It left its own psychic scar on the Earth. With that many deaths, it’s not completely out of the realm of possibility that all that energy helped bring Angela forward. Combined with the residual energy from her trip through Pipeline’s teleportation tunnel after her Hunting trip, well you and I have both seen stranger things.* Jean shrugged, then brought the conversation back to the earlier topic. *However, I think we should have Hank do a scan of your brain waves.*
*You think something might show up there?*
*It never has for me, but we should cover all avenues.*
Emma stood up and gathered her plate and coffee cup. *Ahh, Jean. You just enjoy taking me to the most enjoyable places. Are you always this fun? A little breakfast with a brain scan afterwords. Is that your idea of the perfect date, Ms. Grey? Or should we just skip the first date and head right to the… physical exams?*
Jean’s reply was thick with amusement. *I promise I’ll bring flowers.*
*Well, then. By all means.*
*****
Scott gave Esme a welcoming smile and a wave for her to take a seat across from him.
"Goodmorning, Esme. I'm sorry to pull you in here during breakfast."
“It’s fine, Mr. Summers. I don’t usually eat much at breakfast anyways,” she reassured him.
"Well, let’s get to the point then. I don’t want you too late for your first class. I was wondering how close you and your sisters are lately?" he asked, his smile now gone and any expressive look hidden behind his visor.
The blonde, blue-eyed teenager before him looked as if she was a cheerleader instead of one of the strongest telepaths in the world. At least one of the strongest when her and her other sisters were all melded together in their 4-as-1 gestalt. Even without each other they were a mental force to be reckoned with. But it was this particular one Scott had heard other teachers talking about in concerned tones. It was this one he was interested in cultivating.
"Not as close as we once were," Esme Cuckoo admitted frankly and without sounding as if she regretted the state of things between herself and the other three.
"And how much can you keep from them, if I need you too," Scott asked her, giving her a wry smile when she winced at him. "I'm well protected psychically, Esme. All you'll do is give yourself a headache."
"Yes, Mr. summers, I see that. And to answer your question, I can keep anything I wish from them, and I have."
"Ahh. Like the fact that you experiment with that mutant-enhancement drug, Kick?" Scott sat back and waved his hand through the air dismissively. "I could care less about a little drug experimentation, Esme. I just wanted you to be aware that I know of your little fun and while I can't condone it, I do understand it. Believe it or not, I was once your age and not that long ago either. However, if you want to continue living here, you'll have to stop."
Esme's stunned look slowly melted away into a more thoughtful look. "So, so if you're not kicking me out Mr. Summers, what is it you want?"
Scott gave her a smile, inwardly pleased how easy this all was. "Nothing much really. I just need you to keep an eye out on a new resident of ours. I need her tested, Esme. I need to see what she's made of. Subtly make things more difficult for her. I'm sure you can think of ways. She's older than you, but not socially adept. Then report back to me, and only me, every day or so. Be sure to keep this between us. No sharing with your sisters or anyone else."
Esme’s smile eerily echoed the Headmaster's. "Gotcha Mr. Summers."
TBC