Human

by Alsike

Emily's mother is dead, but her memory lives on, as does her desire to manipulate Emily's life away from serial killers and towards politics. But sometimes, serial killers and politicians are not that far removed. Sequel to 9 Crimes

Chapter 1

A card fell out of the pile of mail that Emily had carted up the stairs. It was a thick pile of magazines and coupon listings after a week chasing a pair of serial killers in Chicago. She let out an 'oof' as she stooped to get it, nearly too exhausted to push herself back up.

Tossing the junk onto the coffee table, she flopped into the sofa and opened the card.

"Dear Ms. Prentiss," it read, printed in embossed calligraphic script. "You are cordially invited to the gala ball and yearly meeting of the Home and Family Coalition. This year's ball is in honor of the late Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss. Please write donation checks to Home and Family Coalition, c/o Chairman Richard Kimble."

Emily swallowed hard and her eyes fell to the spiky masculine handwriting below.

"Dear Emily, I was horrified to learn of your mother's passing, and may have pulled a few strings to have her memory be the center of this conference. She truly was a martyr for the cause of peaceful co-existence. I would love to see you there, and there would be an opportunity to meet many of the people who prized your mother. Although I'm certain there will be an opportunity for you to give a speech, no need for you to do so! Please give it a thought.

Your Uncle Edward."

Emily sank into the cushions and pressed her fingers into her forehead. The funeral was over. She had answered all the condolence cards months ago. She had been so busy with everything else going on in her life, that she hadn't even thought about her mother for weeks, more than in passing, as she always did when buying new clothes (her critical comments in her ear) or just looking at herself in the mirror (the same).

The Home and Family Coalition was an odd political organization. It wasn't affiliated with a single party, and in fact had higher-ups as members from every party except the Communists. She had been dragged to meetings as a child, and nearly died of boredom, because everyone was friendly and convivial and lying all the time. To her it had seemed like a social club with the Prentiss' usual associates with some strange ill-defined political motive. Her father hadn't liked the group though. It had been one of the things her parents fought about before and after they separated. But her mother had never missed a meeting.

Her Uncle Edward was actually her mother's uncle. He hadn't made it to the funeral. She hadn't seen him in years. She didn't want to go. She couldn't stand politics and politicians. But it wouldn't be easy to say no.

She should have been able to sleep. She was so utterly exhausted, but she couldn't relax. The three am phone calls had become fewer in the past two months, with longer expanses of time elapsing in between, but tonight, when the clock blinked from 2:59 to 3:00 and Emily was still lying awake, she was the one who pressed send.

"Hey."

"Hello, Emily." Emma's voice was low and a bit gravelly, and Emily wondered if she had woken her up, but that was one of the questions they weren't allowed to ask.

"Tell me something."

"Hmm." Emma considered. "Well, I had an interesting piece of news the other day. A former student of mine, a troublemaker to the bone, is now working as an aide to a California state senator. I am actually terrified."

Emily laughed. "What did he do?"

"She, I'm afraid. The females of the species are always worse than the males. She liked to pretend that her mutant ability was to create pretty sparkles, but in truth it was destroying electronic equipment. She took out every computer in the school once."

"What!"

"I sent my apologies to the state senate."

"Do you have many students who go into politics?"

"I wouldn't say many. It's never an easy route for a mutant."

"I always hated political society. Lies, smiling and drinking with your enemies. Using people for what they can give you. Bombing the countries of your friends, but no hard feelings, because it was purely a political decision."

"You should try corporate circles, darling. Then you'd understand what cutthroat really means."

Emily smiled, knowing Emma couldn't see its weakness. "You never talk about your family."

"No. I'd rather not violate your ears with such an ugly topic."

"Mine wasn't that easy."

"When did your father die?"

Emily froze, and then frowned. "He left when I was eight, then died when I was eleven."

"I wish my father had died when I was eleven. My life would have been so different."

"It was hard. My mother… she pulled away when he left, disappeared into her work. And when he died she wouldn't speak to me or look at me for years. And when she did, it was like she didn't know me."

"As far back as I can remember my mother was lost in a haze of happy pills and vodka. I don't blame her. She had to live with my father."

"Is she…"

"Dead. Like Marilyn Monroe: sleeping pills and sedatives, with a chaser of vodka. She would have been pleased. It was ruled a suicide, to my father's irritation, lost all that insurance money." She laughed. "But it was probably an accident. Really, the miracle wasn't that she died, but that she lived as long as she did like that."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't pity me for that. Pity me that my father, the devil take him, is still walking this earth. God, I wish he were dead."

Emily was silent. She wished they weren't so far apart. She couldn't read her face from here, or put her arms around her and hold her whether she liked it or not. The crisis was obvious in Emma's voice, but although she had caused it, she couldn't stop it.

"Is that enough?" Emma spat bitterly. "Or did you want to know more about the childhood that produced one madman and three sociopaths?"

"I love you."

Dead silence. A long hiss of breath.

"Fucking hell, Emily! Don't just… do that!"

Emily did smile this time. "Sorry. I wanted to shut you up."

Emma's voice had grown quiet. "Why did you call tonight?"

They had already broken all the rules, what was one more?

"I was invited to a conference, a gala ball in honor of my mother."

"Really?"

"They're politicians. They want to make her into a martyr for the mutant cause, just because of how she died. She was doing her job, because that's all she did. And fine, use her as a symbol, as a point of integration, but I don't want anything to do with it."

"You're going, aren't you?"

Emily blinked. "I…"

"It's the Home and Family Coalition, in New York, isn't it? Have you chosen a hotel yet?"

"I haven't even agreed to go yet!"

"There should be room left at the Hilton. I'll make certain. I would just have you in mine, but that would be unseemly, I suppose."

"… Emma?"

"What? You didn't think they wouldn't invite one of their largest contributors, did you?"

Emily laughed with relief.

***

Garcia was disgusted by the amount of abusive language used towards mutants in the private emails of government officials and even widespread memos in certain departments. Muties, mutant freaks, just freaks, talking about registration, elimination, keeping the national news away from information about lynchings and murder.

It wasn't even that secret, just like the old boys talk about faggots and girly-men. She wondered how many secret mutants like her were in those departments, having to listen to this shit all the time. She was lucky that her team wasn't like that. It helped that none of them were particularly normal to begin with. Even JJ was coming around to a degree that Garcia was considering telling her. They were such good friends that it always felt to her like an elephant in the room. She was just worried that after she told her it would change from being an elephant only she could see, to one particularly vivid to them both.

But as of yet, she had only found evidence of normal prejudice. She hadn't seen signs of any nefarious plots. Even the pro-registration people were merely trying to draft a new resolution, and would wait for an opportune time to introduce it, rather than manufacture one. After New York there was a flurry of legislation passed, but Garcia had managed to infect one of their emails with a virus that handily deleted all the related files, slowing down their progress until the flurry had passed and the legislation was again considered reactionary.

She thought she trusted the system, but she knew about disaster politics. Crises were dangerous times, especially with this presidential regime in power. And Sage wasn't entirely wrong. If she trusted the government to be able to change, she knew it could change for the worse as well as the better.

There was only one that struck her as slightly odd. It was from a very pro-mutant candidate complaining about the new junior state senator from his district. It contained a lot of mutant abuse. But when Garcia read it closely it seemed that the real motivation was a combination of him being irritated by her being more intelligent than him, female, young, and uninterested in subordinating herself to her seniors. It was pretty vicious though, and the girl was one of the few members of government that had been elected openly as a mutant. She was already a target.

Garcia flagged the correspondence for her spider-bot to take a closer look at.

***

"Emily's not here?" JJ stepped into the meeting room with a stack of files.

"Nope," replied Morgan. "She's heading up to New York today for a big party this weekend, the lucky duck."

"A party?" JJ slid into her seat. Then shook her head. It was none of her business. "Too bad. There's this case…"

"We pull more mutants?" asked Reid.

"Sort of."

***

It was a strange case. The Sacramento PD didn't want the news getting around, so they only asked for a consult, a basic profile that they could work with to catch the perpetrator. Homeless people were being murdered, indiscriminately. Their bodies were left on the steps of the state senate, in local neighborhood parks, one in the bathroom of a public library. All of the victims appeared human.

The police had assumed it was a violent psychopath, and had posted extra officers to keep an eye out. But so far, there was no luck. Also the method of killing was surprisingly dainty. The first few had gone unreported as murders because the COD was an overdose, which homeless people had a habit of dying of all the time.

It was only when someone reported a struggle between a small cloaked figure and an old man that they put it together. Officers had rushed to the scene, but the old man was dead and the anonymous caller had disappeared along with the murderer.

Then the email came to police headquarters. It said that the murders were cleaning up society, getting rid of the lowest form of sapiens to pave the way for the development of the species.

That was when the Sacramento PD decided they needed help.

***

Chapter 2

Emma glanced up, catching sight of dark hair and blood red velvet. She stiffened, entirely ignoring the man trying to flirt with her (and wholly embarrassing himself) and looked. Eyes tracing down the nape of the woman's neck, her straight narrow shoulders, the inward curve of her back.

Emily, turned, glanced up to see her and smiled with her whole face.

Swallowing, Emma tipped her head towards the hall and inquired with her eyebrows. Emily shrugged and nodded, so she made her (rather curt) apologies to the baron of corporate real estate who had been trying to arrange an assignation and ducked into the hallway, underneath the ornate swooping balustrades that supported the grand staircase.

Emily was waiting. Emma didn't stop. She strode up to her, pushed her back against the wall (hands on the bare silk of her shoulders) and kissed her.

It had been too long. Too many nights spent listening to her voice, unable to reach out and take.

Emma kissed her until she was breathless. Then she released her mouth, but kept her shoulders clasped tightly, her thumb rubbing against the still reddened roughness of scar tissue.

Emily looked up at her, eyes glazed, lips swollen, and smiled. "Hi?"

Emma leaned her forehead against the other woman's and let herself grin. "Hello." Her voice came out in a growl.

Emily's hands slid around her waist and she reeled her in, burying her face in her shoulder and holding her tightly. "It's so good to see you."

It was even better to touch, thought Emma. The pad of her thumb rubbed against her cheek, and she lifted her chin to kiss her again.

"Well, well Emma. It seems as if there's something you haven't been telling me."

Emma glanced up and grinned, tangling her fingers protectively in Emily's. "Hello Tony," she drawled out. "And when exactly have I told you anything about my personal life?"

"Oh, that hurts, Emma. I thought we were friends." The man stroked his devilish beard and a rumble of laughter was in his voice as he spoke.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Unlikely."

"You aren't going to introduce me?"

Emma glanced from Tony to Emily, frowning. "I suppose. Tony, meet Agent Emily Prentiss, from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Emily, this is Tony Stark: alcoholic, megalomaniac, and the richest man on earth."

Tony smiled and bowed, taking Emily's hand to kiss it. "You forgot to mention lowly sapiens."

"That's something you have in common."

Tony straightened and dropped his jaw in feigned shock and offense. "What? You mean all those times you rejected me because it would be degrading to be seen with a human, you were lying?"

"I was trying to protect your self-esteem. It was actually because you were too ugly."

Tony laughed. "Oh no, I'm wounded to the core!" He turned back to Emily and smiled disarmingly. "Prentiss? Any connection to…"

"My mother."

"I met her once, well, more than that. She was… an interesting woman. Well spoken. More thoughtful and considered in her opinions than most presidential speechwriters. I am truly sorry for our loss."

Emily tipped her head. 'Our loss' that was interesting. "Thank you," she said. "It's always nice to know someone who knew a part of her that I didn't."

His eyebrows lifted slightly at her words and the way she said them. There was a call from inside the ballroom, a large man in a tuxedo waved towards them, and Emily started in surprise. "Oh, I should…"

She slipped back towards the party, and Emma moved to follow her. Tony caught her arm.

"Really?" he said, leaning close into her face. "Law enforcement, Emma? Does she know about you?"

Emma jerked her arm out of his grasp. "More than you. More than anyone besides… Jean Grey, the crazy bitch."

"A human and a Fed. You had better be playing games Emma. If you've fallen for her… there are some people who aren't going to be very happy. And most of them are here."

***

"Now this is strange. Look at these reports. On at least half of them the same person is mentioned as a witness or one of the first on the scene."

"What? Who?" Morgan peered over Reid's shoulder.

Garcia grinned at the scene on her monitor. It was always fun to watch them work. And the surveillance helped her reputation as a goddess. She started hacking into the Interpol database for one of the other jobs she was assigned. It required four entry points and twelve different series of code to be submitted at once. They had fewer qualms about hiring mutants, and their security benefited because of it.

"Janine Kishi."

Garcia froze. The program crashed, and a swarm of spider pursuers charged after her to find her location.

"Oh, shit!"

She hurriedly set up an extra router and led her pursuers on a merry chase, taking one out whenever she had the opportunity. It was absorbing, but she couldn't completely repress the niggling fear that she might have to admit some of her less than legal extra-curricular activities, or not see justice done.

***

"Emily! It's so lovely to see you!"

It had been a long time since she had seen her uncle Edward, more than ten years, she thought. She had cut ties with her mother's social circle when she left the Ukraine for college in Germany, and when she joined the FBI her mother had stopped inviting her back.

He looked the same, a few more lines around his eyes, a new, slightly swollen curl of flesh under his chin. His complexion was poor and she wondered whether he was having trouble with his diabetes.

"It's great to see you too."

He was her grandmother's much younger brother, only six years older than her mother, and the only mutant in their family. There was some question about his parentage because of that, and he was written out of his father's will. But he had become a very successful businessman in his own right. His mutation was an extraordinary power of hearing, and he was also an accomplished musician.

Emily's father hadn't liked him. He always said he was 'unscrupulous,' but to her mother he was the young uncle who passed out fifty-dollar bills at family parties, and she often sided with him. He had been one of the stress points that had led to their separation.

"You look so much like your mother!" Emily tried not to cringe. "I couldn't believe it when I heard. I couldn't believe any of it! What madness, horrible, horrible madness."

"It was… one of the worst things I've seen."

He looked at her, his eyes sad and his mustache bristling pensively. "Yes… I had forgotten your work. Your mother told me about the sacrifice you've made. She was unhappy, but I was impressed at your commitment to society."

Emily chucked at the very 'politician' comment. "It feels worthwhile," she replied, playing along.

"Good, good. But what of your future ambitions? You surely can't be planning on staying there your entire life?"

Emily gaped. "I- I just moved into the department I wanted. I haven't… really been thinking beyond that."

"Oh yes, the serial killing one. You mother… was not particularly pleased."

Emily laughed quietly. That was a bit of an understatement. "It's what I wanted."

He patted her shoulder. "I understand. You really get to use your intelligence there." He tapped her forehead as if she were four. "All your skills. And what's your position for advancement?"

"I like my job. I'm not really interested in going back to paperwork."

He sighed. "I understand. The boys will be disappointed, but they will adjust."

Suddenly none of this felt as innocuous as before. "The boys?"

"Let me introduce you around. I have friends who are just dying to meet Elizabeth's daughter."

***

"Garcia, can you pull up any information on Janine Kishi of Sacramento?"

"The goddess is at your service." It wasn't as easy to be charming as usual. She had the files already saved to her firewalled hard drive. All she had to do was hit print.

"That name is really familiar," said Reid. "There was an article, I only saw the headline…" He flipped back. "Junior state senator from California."

The first sheet popped out. It was the same article.

Rossi frowned. "A mutant."

Reid devoured the article in a moment. "Wow. If I were fifteen again, she would be my role model."

"What? Seriously man." Morgan looked at the photo of the well-pressed Asian girl. "She looks about fifteen."

"She's 23."

"Hell, at least she's legal."

"Her mutation's intelligence. She graduated high school at sixteen, started her own business, and then got a BA and an MA in political science and policy. She ran for state senate as an open mutant. Only about 3 others have ever done that on the state level, and only one won."

Morgan rolled his eyes. "She does sound a lot like you."

"I'd love to meet her."

"Hold it," cut in Rossi. "She's not just some celebrity. She could be our unsub."

Reid and Morgan exchanged a glance. "Are you thinking frame?"

"Oh yeah."

"Slow down, boys," said Hotch. "Lets keep an eye on the facts."

***

"Frosty!"

Emma, just about to tell Tony where he could shove his theories, choked on her venom and turned in time to be attacked by a spiky-haired yellow tornado. Jubilee threw her arms around her and gave her a kamikaze hug before ducking away and getting out of range of physical retaliation.

"I didn't know you'd be here!"

"Jubilee?" Emma stared at the girl, who cocked her head and examined her ex-teacher with a frank stare.

"You look good. Not vastly aged."

Tony guffawed, and Emma pressed her fingers to her forehead, feeling the headache she was accustomed to in the presence of Jubilation Lee return.

"And you are still wearing that yellow coat."

Jubilee spun so the glaringly yellow duster flared. "It's a new one, actually. But you can't argue with style."

"Apparently not."

Jubilee laughed at her sarcasm and wrinkled her nose in consternation. "I think I missed you. That is really… really incredibly unnerving. Let's forget I ever said that, okay?"

***

Chapter 3

"Emily, I want you to meet Roger Crooke, California State Senator, but maybe next year US Senate, and then President?"

The man, who looked like a model for his Armani suit, long rectangular jaw, dark eyes, a flop of hair over his forehead, and a smile, more toothy and disarming than the usual model's furtive grin, shook her hand and shook his head at Edward's comments.

"We'll see." His smile didn't fade, and his comment sounded more satisfied than modest.

"Tomorrow, I suppose."

Roger glanced at Emily. "Are you coming to the meeting?"

Emily blinked. "I…" she looked at Edward. "Am I?"

"Of course." He patted her shoulder again. "Even if you're not interested yet, it's important for everyone to get to know you."

Roger Crooke caught sight of someone and waved her over. "You should meet my protégée, Janine Kishi."

"Hello." The woman smiled and Emily couldn't help but smile back. "You are Emily Prentiss, correct?"

"That's me."

"I'm pleased to meet you. I'm very impressed by some of the things you've done."

Roger patted her shoulder. "This is Emily, not Elizabeth."

Janine tipped her head. "Isn't that what I said? In fact, I was thinking of the Kamas Utah incident."

"Fiasco, you mean." Emily didn't want to think about that. The name of that town just brought up bad memories. Her hand shook slightly as the world faded out. It would be so easy to not be here right now, to not be anywhere…

"You caught the killer, alive."

The two men looked blank, then turned to speak privately to each other.

"We had some help." Emily knew she sounded stilted and unfriendly, but she couldn't force her way back into the world so quickly. "I'm surprised you heard about that one. Only the people who are obsessed with serial killers and consider us the next best thing watch us that closely."

"I have… recently become more interested in your work."

Janine smiled, but with a bit of a sickly look that matched too closely the way Emily felt. Emily smiled wanly back. There was something strange about her; about the way she looked at you like she could read what was written on the inside of your skull. But Emily felt nothing inside, no scuff against her shields like she did when Emma had had enough of skirting things and decided to get the information the direct way.

***

"It reads like a total house cleaner, except not. It's the places the bodies are planted, like he wants to get our attention. The email too."

Morgan agreed with Reid's summation, and ignored Hotch and Rossi's disapproving expressions. "It's almost like the homeless guys don't matter, they're just convenient props in whatever game he's playing."

"Or she's playing," cut in Rossi. "There's nothing to rule out a female unsub yet."

"We're not cops for a reason," said Hotch coolly. "If they thought she was a viable subject they wouldn't have called us. We need a profile, not a suspect."

Morgan frowned. He looked over the pictures of the victims again. "There's something about this that's bugging me," he said. "Young Latin druggie, old white lady, old black man. I'd say the e-mail's bullshit, and the unsub is a white man, thirty to fifty, wealthy, unmarried and successful, or at least thinks he should be successful, but pretty recently something's happened to throw him off his game, and he's blaming all the others, because they've taken away his prized privilege."

"Make that sound less angry black man, and you've got something pretty good."

Morgan preened at Hotch's approval.

Rossi shook his head. "No way to make that fit an Asian woman? Look at the places, a library? That man you described, he wouldn't set foot in a library. Not a woman?"

"You think it's some crazed librarian, tired of all the riffraff coming in without being able to read?'

"Should we just disregard the email?" asked JJ. "Could the unsub be like Morgan's successful man, but be a mutant as well?"

"He wouldn't have the same sense of privilege," said Reid, thinking out loud. "It would make more sense for him to target higher-ups. The glass ceiling pushing him down, not the glass floor falling apart beneath him."

"I don't know," said JJ. "Some mutants have a pretty strong sense of privilege."

***

Emma had apparently not been to enough of these parties recently, if her barely post-teenage former students were showing up. Tony had pretended to see someone he knew and abandoned her to her fate. Jubilee was still emitting so much excitement that Emma feared for the fuse box.

"I think I was informed that you were heading off to LA to seek your fortune in Hollywood, the last I heard. How did you manage to end up working for the California state senate?"

Jubilee shrugged and wrinkled her nose. "LA sort of sucked. I did some extra work, and then got blacklisted for blowing up a trailer, so I hitched up the coast and crashed with Nini while applying for school. I worked on her campaign instead of paying rent, and she offered me a job, because apparently I didn't screw everything up as was expected. It's a shit job, but hey, perks!"

"You're in school though?"

Jubilee crossed a pair of fingers on both hands. "At Cal," she said, with a rocking motion of coolness.

Emma tried to not let every ounce of pleasure she felt show on her face. "I'm glad to see that you've gotten out of your own way for once."

Jubilee stuck her tongue out. "Come on, you're impressed, admit it."

Emma's expression spread into a grin. "Just validated."

"As if!"

"A little impressed." Emma conceded. "Or would you prefer utterly astounded?"

"I'll take 'a little impressed.' Because I am a little impressive," Jubilee pressed her hand to her chest dramatically. "But you always knew I had potential, even when it was locked so deep beneath my-"

"Delinquent tendencies?"

***

Emily considered the fact that ninety percent of the room was constituted of white men between the ages of thirty and sixty, all wearing tuxedoes (with black ties, the white ones would be broken out for the actual ball). As her uncle was dragging her towards yet another group of men, sipping bourbon and speaking in hushed tones with cruel expressions, she wondered if it would be easier to remember their names if she weren't a lesbian. Women stood out sharply, and not only because of the variety of dress. She had always noticed that when she looked back on a party, the five or so women who had been there were always clear in her mind, while often the men, unless particularly distinct, had a tendency to blur into a faceless heap.

"Emily, this is Sebastian Shaw. Mr. Shaw, Elizabeth's daughter."

Emily blinked in surprise at the sight of the animalistic man with muttonchops and a salt and pepper ponytail behind a receding hairline. He was certainly memorable, even before he took her hand, nearly grinding the bones together with the force of his grip, and kissed it.

"Yes," he said with an odd hiss in his voice. "I've heard so much about you from my dear friend here." He tapped Edward unaffectionately on the arm. His eyes scanned over her, looking for something she couldn't identify, but she felt a rough sandpaper brush against her mind. It was weak, no chance at forcing its way through her shields. "I hear you are a federal agent. That must be… difficult, what with their attitudes. I wonder if you would be interested in your rights."

Emily stared at him blankly. "I'm… quite happy at the FBI actually. What do you do, Mr. Shaw?"

"I survive on the good will of my friends," he said, with an ugly tone. "Since my worthless son took my company from me."

"I'm sure you'll get it back soon," said Edward, with a haste that suggested he head heard what followed one too many times already.

"Yes," Sebastian said. "I believe I will."

Edward turned to the man standing beside him, one with a shriveled face, and a bald crown, rimmed with long greasy grey locks that curled at the ends. "And Lorne! How are you? My grand-niece, Emily."

His hand was clammy and he gave a limp, feelingless shake. "Pleasure," he said grimly.

"Likewise."

"Your master didn't join us?" inquired Edward, and Emily glanced curiously at him at the word 'master.'

"No," Lorne replied gratingly. "He did not think it was worth his time."

Edward shrugged. "Well, not all of us have such effective lackeys to do our dirty work, I suppose."

Lorne sneered and turned back towards Sebastian.

Edward pulled Emily away, "Can't stand either of them, really. Repulsive fellows." He looked up and spotted someone else he knew. "Oh! Richard!"

***

Emma frowned. There was something wrong with the mental feeling around Janine, but she was another woman who had built strong shields by dissecting her emotional self from her rational self (mainly with the purpose of defending herself against her younger sister's flurries of passion, her anger, disdain and resentment). And although she didn't believe in ethics, Emma had standards, and invading a former student's mind because something felt slightly off was not a route to be taken at the first opportunity.

"Are you all right?"

Janine nearly stepped back in shock at the question, but recovered quickly and flashed an insincere half-smile. "Of course. I'm fine."

Emma shook her head. "I never thought of this as a place for you. You always seemed to intelligent to fall into this trap."

Janine Kishi had been at the Massachusetts Academy during its most successful time, before exploding buildings and financial troubles scuppered it. Emma had run out of college preparatory curriculum to teach her after barely a year. She asked Janine about her future plans, and they decided to give her control of a lab at Frost Enterprises. In less than a year she had enough patents and capital to fund a fully self-sufficient business venture. They had only lost touch after Janine decided to move to California and study political science. Frost Enterprises still sold an entire line of products she had developed while working there.

"I want to change things," Janine replied, with a slightly ironical grin that Emma recognized from herself when acknowledging the truth of an obvious cliché. "I'm not a warrior, but I don't understand how so many people can be satisfied with the status-quo. It's quite astonishing how people manage to blind themselves."

Emma grinned. "Astonishing? Or just sad? But you shouldn't be here. These boys are all about the status quo. They like the fear and violence, because, as men with power, they are not a target. It has the added benefit of weeding out the riffraff. Survival of the fittest always improves the gene pool, does it not?"

"I was invited. But I ran without their support. I just wanted to get out of Sacramento for a little while."

And there was the feeling of wrongness again. Emma didn't like it, but she always hated seeing her students unhappy.

***

Chapter 4

Emily had met too many slimy middle-aged men for one night. Edward had tried to introduce her to Tony Stark again, who looked at her and smirked in an obviously lecherous way and just said, "We've met," before disappearing. After that Edward had made his excuses and left her alone.

She leaned weakly against the drinks buffet sipping ruby port very slowly. She knew by now to avoid the Cognac and Brandy at these events, because they took her out for the entire next day. The port was better, because the sugar would make her puke long before the alcohol would.

"God, these things make yourself want to shoot yourself in the head, don't they?"

Emily glanced over at the impish Asian girl, clad in vibrant yellow, with jewelry everywhere and bangles up to her elbows.

"Not that I recommend it as a course of action. Open bar, eh?" She made to toast with her glass of yellowish liquid, probably sherry, and Emily met it with her port for a clink.

"Don't over indulge," she said, feeling weirdly parental. "Or tomorrow will be nasty."

"I have an incredible metabolism." She took a gulp of her drink and nearly choked. Emily grinned.

"That's not white wine."

"Christ that has a kick! I thought they were just being cheap when they hardly gave you any."

"Nope, why would they be cheap? They get to write all this off on their taxes."

"Ooh, cynical. I like that. You been to a lot of these?"

"Too many."

"This is my first, but I mainly came along because, hey free trip to New York, and my boss needs someone to make sure she doesn't work herself to death."

"I hope she knows what that's worth."

"Me too," Jubilee stuck out her tongue. "This is kinda gross." She dumped the glass beck on the table and leaned back against it, lifting herself a few inches off the ground with her hands. "Wanna play a game?"

Emily blinked. Even when she had been a kid at these parties, and not the only one, no one had ever asked her to play a game. The local kids would usually disappear together, and the visitors would hang off their parents' coattails, whimpering. Emily usually hid under the desert table and read, until her mother found her and slapped her for not being social. "What kind of game?"

"Pick the sleaziest loser."

Emily laughed. There was something devilishly impertinent about the way Jubilee wiggled her eyebrows. "There are so many here, how do you decide?"

"All right, let's say… him." She pointed to a balding man with a ring of grey hair that fell straight past his ears and then curled loosely at the end. "What is the sleaziest thing you think he's done?"

"I was introduced to him," Emily frowned. "Lorne or Lewis or something? Apparently he has a master."

"Really?" Jubilee wrinkled her nose. "I can't see him in leather."

***

Garcia stared unhappily at the screen. Her bot had returned with more emails, some vicious, some charming and friendly. It was obvious, but none of this information was legal.

Reid frowned, scanning the data again. "You know what's strange? The Tox Screen. Whatever they were injected with caused respiratory arrest and cardiac failure, but there are no chemicals in their bloodstream. Instead there are blood cells with someone else's DNA. Mutant DNA."

"So the killer had to be a mutant," said JJ.

"Yeah," replied Reid. "Had to be… or killed with a syringe full of toxic mutant blood."

Garcia swallowed. She opened doors to internal databanks of California prisons. She looked at the mutant rolls for dangerous mutant facilities, and found exactly what she suspected would be there.

He had disappeared through some clerical error or another, they thought. And to control panic the escape hadn't been reported to the media. No one was supposed to know where the mutant facility was, for fear of terrorist action from either side. And so no one knew that he was free.

If she told anyone, she was as good as fired.

***

Emma leaned into Emily's shoulder from behind. "They're serving dinner soon. I, for one, despise mass-produced banquet food. Interested in slipping out?"

"If you promise me no politics, I'd go anywhere with you."

Jubilee looked up from where she was sampling the bourbon to try and find something palatable, and stared. She bounded over and looked curiously from one to the other. Emma groaned and rested her forehead on Emily's shoulder. Jubilee stepped back and stood, arms akimbo, a dirty grin taking over her face. "You're shagging, aren't you?" She pointed at Emily and wiggled her eyebrows. "You're shagging Frosty."

Emily looked awkward.

"Oh, score!"

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. "I assume you have met my former pupil, Jubilee."

"Not in… so many words." It was slightly unnerving to see the young woman she had been evading the party with as Emma's student.

Jubilee didn't seem to have an issue with it though and shook her hand firmly. "Don't worry. I was never into that." She tipped her head towards Emma. "But, you know, can't sleep, and all day with in-your-face boobs. Things happen."

Emily couldn't help the chuckle.

"Please," said Emma, exasperatedly.

Jubilee skimmed around to her side. "So, you guys are bailing? Can we tag along? I need to rescue Nini from the politics about now, and since you're paying we can go somewhere good."

She disappeared into the crowd to locate the mysterious Nini.

"When did I say that I was paying?" asked Emma to empty air. She glared at Emily. "You're getting along with my delinquent student far too well."

***

Nini turned out to be Janine. It seemed that she had also been one of Emma's students. She gave Emily a glance and then a smile and it was obvious she had twigged.

Emma gave the command of where they were going and Jubilee leaned into her ear. "She that masterful in bed? Because seriously, leather."

Irritated, Emma took Janine's arm and led the way out of the hotel. Emily easily dropped into step alongside Jubilee.

"You were Emma's student?"

"Yeah." Jubilee grinned. "She doesn't talk about me? I was the worst one she ever had."

"We're you the one that took out all the computers in the school?"

Jubilee nodded. "I blew up the school once too. But I had a reason for that. The computers were an accident."

Emily laughed. "You seem to like her."

"So do you." Jubilee wiggled her eyebrows.

Emily grinned, shaking her head unconvincingly. "What's she like as a teacher?"

"Oh, she's a psychopath. I mean seriously, psychopath. But she's the best teacher I ever had."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. I used to be pretty ADD, not, you know, diagnosed, but if it wasn't physical I couldn't be bothered to focus. I was always off in outer space. But Frosty could always tell, and whoop, mental smack down, knocked me right out of my daydreams. Her class was the only one I was passing, so she took me for supervised study sessions after school. It was torture. But eventually I learned enough to control my own mind. I really got my powers under control then too. I don't know if I would have ever graduated if it weren't for her."

"That's high praise."

"It really sucked when she had to close the school. It was all Monet's fault anyways. I couldn't have cared less whether or not she killed her bitch of a sister."

Emily blinked and looked unsure. "Uhh…"

"Oh." Jubilee grinned guiltily. "I probably shouldn't have said anything about that."

***

After the banquet ended a small group of men gathered in a private room for brandy and cigars.

Sebastian Shaw leaned back in his chair and took a long draw on his cigar. "So, Edward, you really think that girl has potential? Not too much of a loose cannon?"

"I'm sure she can be cultivated into what we need,"

Roger Crooke shook his head. "You mean she's not prepared at all yet? Surely her mother…"

"Her mother and she were not on the best of terms."

Sebastian frowned. "That could be trouble."

Tony Stark chuckled and took a pull on his cigar. "I don't know. She's Emma's new petite amore. She may be more cultivated than we think." Edward gaped, and Tony smirked. "You're her uncle. Didn't know she swung that way?"

Edward snorted. "Do you take me for a fool? I was surprised. I did not know she was acquainted with our dear Miss Frost. Or that she…" His voice faded out, and he swallowed, clearly not in the present anymore.

"Or what new fantasies would pop up when you did?" Shaw asked with a sneer. "Our Emma swings every way."

"I think that might be news to one person," intoned Lorne slowly. "News he might be interested in."

"Lorne," Tony said hesitantly. "You're not going to bring him into this."

"I can't think of anything more entertaining than watching a parent discipline a child."

Tony shook his head, but a secret smile twitched at the corners of his lips.

***

Watching Emma fend off her students was nearly mesmerizing to Emily. Janine turned out to be, away from political society, a smart direct young woman with flashes of wickedness. Jubilee was clearly insanity personified, and they ganged up, attacking Emma from both ends of logic and unreason. Sometimes Emma managed to struggle out on top.

They met in the bathroom, Emma leaning against the sink, waiting for her.

"Are you enjoying this?" she asked dryly.

"I am." Emily cocked her head and bit her lip, considering what to say next. "It's nice to see you with students who aren't…"

"Dead?" Emma curled her lip and turned away.

Emily cupped her chin and turned it back. She ran her thumb over her lip to relax it. Then she leaned in and brushed her lips against her cheek. "I have never seen you interact with a student before."

"Both of these have graduated, so if anything it's even stranger for me."

"You didn't lose them."

Emma huffed into her neck. "Jubilee was kidnapped and tortured under my guardianship. And I don't like seeing Janine here. These people are cruel and ruthless. She is intelligent enough to best them in a debate, but winning here is far more risky than losing. You know that. You were born to this."

"I never wanted to come back. The longer I'm here, the more I'm forced to wonder what my mother did for them. Someone wanted to know whether I was interested in my rights. It's like there's this little feudal system that is in charge, based on nepotism and heredity."

"It is amusing that they still believe they can trust family, at least until the child usurps the throne. But you're lucky. Your parent is dead and your uncle is in desperate need of an heir."

Emily gulped and pushed Emma away. She didn't feel lucky; she felt trapped. "What? Me? What do they want with me?"

Emma smirked and turned towards the door. "Just your pretty face, I'm sure."

***

It had been a pleasant dinner, and the mood managed to stay light. At least it did until they stepped outside and saw the lights and sirens, and the dead man lying on the pavement.

***

Chapter 5

"God, not here."

Janine had turned so pale she was nearly blue. Jubilee stood in front of her, electricity running in waves down her fingers, as she sought an enemy.

Emily glanced from the body to the two defensive women. "What's going on?"

"There's some creepy stalker guy following Janine around and killing these poor homeless people. We were hoping for a break by jetting off to New York."

"Do the police know about this?"

Jubilee rolled her eyes. "Duh. But they won't accept that it's a stalker and keep on trying to poke holes in her alibi. Actually, Nini tried to bully them into asking your team for help. I guess they didn't."

"I should call JJ and check."

Emma put a hand on her shoulder as well as on Janine's and pushed them down the street. "Actually, we should clear the area before the curious officers over there decide to take an interest."

***

It was ten o'clock, Henry was asleep, and for once they were both home on a Friday night. JJ was settled in Will's lap, an uninteresting movie playing barely a degree above mute, and kissing his jaw, not put off by the prickle of day old stubble.

Something buzzed against her thigh, and she made a wordless sound and ground into it. Will stiffened.

"JJ, is that your phone?"

"What?"

The phone buzzed again and then started blasting a Midi version of the Second Brandenburg Concerto. Henry started to wail in stereo.

"Shit!" JJ rolled off of Will's lap and fished around in her jeans for her phone.

Will sighed and levered himself off the couch, heading in to check on Henry.

JJ glowered at the name on the phone. "This had better be good, Emily," she snapped.

"Do you know anything about a serial killer in Sacramento whose been killing homeless people around the state senate buildings?"

JJ gulped. "We… we just did the profile today. It was just a consult, not our jurisdiction."

"Well, he's just killed in New York, so it's our jurisdiction now."

***

Janine sat with her knees up on the edge of Emily's bed, staring at the tiny bobbing heads in the Skype windows of her laptop.

Jubilee insinuated herself behind her, but every once in a while she'd jump off and pace to the door. Emma sat back out of sight of the camera, seemingly not paying any attention.

"What was the profile you came up with?"

"Morgan pulled the final draft," said JJ. "Most of the connections were his."

"Yeah," Derek leaned back a little so they could all see he was shirtless. "I figured it was a white dude, thirty to fifty, just realized his superstar status isn't as stable as he thought."

Emma laughed. "You do realize that you've just described ninety percent of the people here? Is he a mutant or not?"

"Emma's there?" hissed JJ, totally forgetting that it was not a private line.

Garcia chuckled from behind her window. "Emily, I thought you said this party was business."

"He could be either a mutant or not," interjected Reid. "If he is a mutant, he's a powerful one. Someone who didn't have to work very hard for what he has, and now considers it his right to be here. If he's human, his success came with other advantages, like good looks or inherited wealth. Something happened recently that made him realize that it wasn't all plum pudding from here on out, and he decided to do something about it."

"You have ruled out exactly no one," drawled Emma.

"The guy thinks he's in control," said Morgan. "He's got a plan and he's putting it into action. I doubt he's getting his hands dirty, so he's probably hired someone else to do the actual killing, leaving him with a squeaky clean alibi."

"And the lackey is either a mutant, or a human who kills with toxic mutant blood."

"Shit," muttered Emma. Everyone looked at her. She rubbed her forehead. "I can't do this as fast as I used to. And every third person in this hotel is has a nefarious plot going."

"Telepathic evidence is not admissible," snapped JJ.

"I wasn't planning on bringing a court of law into this. If people terrify and torture one of my children, they don't get that privilege."

Janine laughed weakly, but Jubilee turned away. Emily breathed in through her nose, trying to count to ten. She glanced at the computer. "Sorry guys," she said, and closed the screen. "Emma…"

"What?" Emma snapped irritably in reply.

"This is my job, my expertise. You don't have to go off on him."

"Because you did so well last time."

"I can handle this!"

"You don't even understand what you're trying to do! Every single person here is capable of this. Even if you find the culprit and arrest him, the rest of the room will mark you down as a target."

"I can't let you go vigilante." She didn't know what would happen, not exactly. But Jubilee had told her about Emma's sister. She had tried to be equivocal, but Emily knew well enough that Emma would strike back when cornered, and that she often followed a skewed line of reasoning into ugly mistakes. And this was a student who was being targeted. When it came to her students, Emma didn't have much of a concept of restraint.

Emma had had enough. "You can't let me do anything. You are a weak, ineffectual human, and if you won't listen to reason, go ahead, get yourself killed. I will solve this my way. Try to see if your toothless justice can keep up."

Emma stalked out the door.

***

Emily was an idiot, a stubborn frustrating idiot. She had seen her pale and weak and injured too many times, and still she blindly charged towards her own death. It was clear that she was too suicidal to be worth protecting. But just walking away was so much harder than it ought to be. You don't save those who don't want to be rescued. It's not worth it.

Emma slumped against the wall outside of Emily's room and reached out with her mind. This was still something that came easily, sliding in, brushing up against Emily's shields, but not enough so she could feel it. Emily was anxious. It was clear, even from the outside. She was speaking to Janine and Jubilee, interrogating them about the case, about potential suspects.

It was also clear that the profile had come as a surprise to her former students. When you pictured a stalker or a killer, you rarely imagined one of your professional colleagues. But anyone had the potential to kill if they felt it was necessary. It wasn't as difficult as some made it out to be.

She left the connection open, thin and weak as it was. It would give her a little warning at least, if Emily decided to do something particularly stupid.

She had made it to the door of her own suite when her phone rang. Scowling, she checked the number, but didn't recognize it.

"Hello?"

"Hello Emma," said the voice. "You don't know me, but we have some acquaintances in common. I have some information that might help you, if you help me."

***

Emily rolled over in bed and groaned at her exhaustion. She had not slept very well. The tension of being on a case plus the fact that her body registered Emma's presence, knew what that meant and was very disappointed at not getting it, had led to her tossing and turning all night.

Someone was knocking on her door.

Her uncle Edward was on the other side, smiling nervously. "Good morning, Emily. The meeting starts in a few minutes. I was hoping that you would join me?"

Emily cringed internally as she was led into the room. Jubilee would have a field day with her sleazy loser game here. The looks she received were more putrid and suggestive than the night before, and she felt the hum of unguarded telepathic communication. Something scratched against her shields and stiffened them, sealing all the cracks and locks. Sebastian glanced up at her as she did that, blinking in surprise.

Emma came in late, sauntering through the door as cool as anything, completely impervious to the irritated looks. A particularly sharp one came from Lorne, the bald man. But she just glanced over at Emily and flashed her a grin.

Emily swallowed hard. That smile was not one that should have greeted her the day after that kind of fight. Emma's instantly recognizable touch brushed against her shields.

I need to talk to you afterwards.

All right. Emily sent back, utterly bewildered by the situation, staring at her hands so no one would think they were speaking. It was pretty obvious that everyone knew something was going on.

Tony spilled. Emma clarified. I'll destroy him for that.

The first order of business was patting and congratulating Roger Crooke. He had been appointed to run on the democratic ticket for the US Senate.

"California has an odd habit of electing Republicans on a state level and Democrats on a national level," said Richard Kimble, the chairman, shaking his head. "We've selected Bruce Allan as the fall guy for the Republicans in this race. But he should have a good shot at the gubernatorial post next go round. If he stays nice, we'll make sure he has that."

Sebastian Shaw gave Roger a weak and slithery thump on the back. "But Crooke's our man. A couple terms in the senate, and straight to the White House."

Kimble nodded sagaciously.

Emily watched sharply as the games were played. Men bartered for appointments, for nominations, for electoral votes. There were no party lines here, only a record of which party you ran for, and if you won the barter but the race wasn't in your favor, there were swaps and plans and special vote collectors that could be hired for a price.

A particularly undecided race was debated for nearly a quarter of an hour. Shaw shook his head. "Lord, I wish I still had Tessa. No one has a head for odds like that girl."

"It would be best if Pennsylvania started heading blue again, for the next presidential."

"Weight it, you mean?" asked a young nervous nobody.

"Who's dead in the water?"

Tony shrugged. "Why don't we just leave it open for whoever they produce? Some local farmer standing up for the GOP."

Roger Crooke frowned coldly. "Remember what happened last time we did that? The Kishi girl got elected. The Bay Area is a rogue district. I'm worried for my old seat. We need to make a plan for that. Who cares about some Pennsylvanian rotten borough?"

"Janine is a former student of mine," said Emma. It seemed offhand and irrelevant, but it was a thrown gauntlet.

"It's not that we don't think she's very intelligent…" started some whining no name.

"But she's a young female Asian," said Shaw flatly. "And an open mutant. It isn't worth cultivating her, because she can never advance."

"There are six Asians in Congress, none are women, and one represents Samoa."

Roger chuckled. "As if being a mutant wasn't hard enough. Asians aren't even thought of as being American. They're just parasites, taking what this country has to offer before fleeing back home. They don't contribute."

"And what, exactly, have you contributed, Mr. Crooke?" asked Emma disdainfully.

Richard Kimble coughed. "While this is all very interesting, we do have one more order of business." He smiled, and turned to Emily. "Ms. Prentiss. We'd like to offer you the opportunity to work with us."

***

Chapter 6

Suddenly the focus was on her again and Emily flinched. Being here was like nothing so much as being undercover at Liberty Ranch. And this was the moment that told them whether you were trustworthy or needed to be removed.

Emily smiled awkwardly. "I'm just a civil servant. I don't know what help I could be to you."

"I'm certain that you could offer great assistance. Your mother worked mainly to extend our network, brought us friends and allies. We could certainly use allies within law enforcement."

"Why? Are you serial killers?" Crooke flinched barely perceptibly, but Emily was watching him and caught the tell. Kimble laughed.

"I'm afraid your department is one of the least interesting to us. Except that recently, there has been talk of splitting your group into two, one primarily focused on mutant serial crime."

Emily felt cold. She had heard nothing about this, and she couldn't tell if it was a lie.

"We don't want that to happen. Having a federal unit of Mutant Hunters is extremely bad press. I'm certain you have friends who could make sure this isn't happening."

"I… I don't have many friends in the upper bureaucracy."

"Yes," Kimble sneered. "We heard about your debacle with Strauss. But she is barely a functionary. I'm sure you remember how to make friends. Your mother must have taught you that."

She had. Emily still remembered the cold instructions: find out something they don't want you to know, offer them something with no strings attached, ask for something in return. If they acquiesce too easily, they aren't worth very much. If they don't, play your reserve. Then offer another favor. The sweet overcomes the bitter.

Emily didn't do favors. She did her job. But if she made them threaten her, all she did was prove that she had power to use. She smiled again, her hesitancy, her inefficacy showing in her expression.

"I really do agree that it would be terrible to have a separate unit that targets mutants. I will definitely suggest to my supervisor that I think it is ill-advised." Even if the Public Corruption units clearly needed a better approach to dealing with mutant issues.

Shaw sneered. "I'm certain you can do better than that."

Kimble shushed him and smiled. "If you need an incentive, I've heard that your current supervisor is having some troubles with his hearing. He should probably be removed from the field for everyone's safety. I'm sure that you would do an admirable job in his place."

"I don't have seniority," said Emily flatly. When would they stop trying to tempt her with words that did nothing but disgust her?

"I'm sure that is only a formality."

"I don't want it."

Kimble blinked in surprise.

Emily snorted. "At least Strauss tempted me with something I actually wanted. Did you even speak to my mother about me once before you thought I might make a good replacement for her? She could have told you, I'm a thief-taker. I don't want your fame and power. I want to do my job."

Kimble crossed his arms. "Then what do you want? What can we do that will help you do your job?"

"You can leave me alone. My job has nothing to do with you. I deal with the evil, the violent and the insane, and unless those are the people you want to protect, I can give you nothing."

"And if we did?"

"I would give you nothing."

You're an idiot.

Emily shot Emma a sharp glance. Why? Because I'm bargaining from my weakness?

You think they'll let you go. They've shown you their sins and you've proven your loyalty to the system.

I'm worthless to them.

Exactly. You have no value; you are merely a threat. If you wanted evil, violent and insane, you couldn't come to a better place.

"I would give you nothing," Emily repeated faintly, hating herself for playing the game, hating herself for trusting Emma. "My profession is worth more than that."

Crooke smiled harshly. "But surely some thieves are worth more than others."

Emily locked eyes with him. "Some are worse than others."

Her uncle Edward gave a forced laugh. "Well, that's obvious enough. I told them they wouldn't be able to convince you now. Still feeling your oats, wanting the thrill of the chase, not the dull bargaining of the boardroom. But not forever, I would assume. Some day you might need some help. Just remember that we're on your side, and you can come to us."

"We hope," said Kimble, "that if you are ever in a position to help us, you will not think on us too cruelly. Of course, if you were willing to help us now, we could easily have you as Director of Violent Crime within five years. Your progress will be slower if you wait."

"I'm not ready for that sort of responsibility."

***

Emma offered Emily her arm as they walked out. Everyone watched knowingly. Tony grinned.

You shouldn't have done that.

I'm not getting locked into their game.

They're paltry vote grubbers. They want your influence, not your soul.

I don't have any influence to give them. They're the idiots for not figuring that our on their own. I thought you were going to let that go and worry about the fact that Roger Crooke is obviously the one in charge of Janine's harassment.

Or at least the instigator and the planner.

Emily frowned and glanced at her. Why does that not mean in charge?

He's human.

And that means what, exactly? You think the lackey he's using is controlling him somehow?

I can't get into his head. It's being blocked. Which means there's either someone more powerful helping him, or he's using a piece of technology that someone more powerful gave him.

Why are you suddenly so willing to help me on this?

Well, it's obvious that there's nothing I can do that will stop you from pursuing this. But you're not equipped to deal with this. Not if there are two mutants involved. Emma ran her fingers over the strap of her shoulder holster. Even with this.

It's not like I want to do this alone. I know it's stupid. But I need to be able to trust that you will do this my way. I can't let you just take him out… like your sister.

Ice was the only response. Then… Jubilee told you.

It is none of my business. I know why you did it. I know that you thought it was the right thing to do, and that you had no allies once your own sister turned on you. But you cannot do that here. You don't need to.

I know. The response was short and crisp and felt like a lie. I'll help you. Bring him to justice, or whatever. You're completely competent. That felt like a sneer. You just need someone to watch your back. And that was an insult.

They reached her door. Emma leaned against the wall beside it.

"You shouldn't have rejected their offer."

Emily didn't play politics for this very reason. She didn't like to be lied to, manipulated, and used. Emma was just like her mother. And Emily didn't have the strength to deal with that. She needed to be able to trust the people around her.

"Not this again! You know how I feel about politics."

"You could have been director. You could easily have played your influence into the top position. You could fix their idiotic mutant policies, helped your friends." Emily blinked, stunned. There was no way Emma should know about Garcia. "It's your team's indifference to influence that keeps them weak. You complain about too much work, too few resources, but you won't try to change it."

"Since when does playing those games change things for the better? All these people are doing is selfishly abusing the system. They get their vengeance and their perks and that's all they care about. They can't care about anything real."

"Oh, get over your idiotic childhood traumas and oedipal issues about becoming your mother! Politics is pragmatics, not whatever nefarious evil you think it is."

"You want me to do it? Just give up everything I've worked so hard to get? I finally got what I wanted, I am doing what's important to me, and I won't give it up for you or anyone."

"I didn't know you were such an egotist." Emma shook her head. "Giving up this chance to make a real difference."

Emily gaped. "An egotist! I work to help other people. I risk my life-"

Emma snarled. "For how many? A handful a year? Be honest. You're helping yourself. Assuaging your guilt for being born wealthy by suffering other people's pain. Covering up your own victimhood with reckless machismo."

"How many? I shouldn't be surprised that you don't understand. You wouldn't ever think saving just one person could be worth 'changing the world for the better.' You're so selfless you let your students die."

And she had gone too far, she knew it by the way Emma's face went white, her shoulders stiffened, and whatever fire there had been in her eyes went blank and cold like diamond. But she didn't care. She was seething, burning up with fury and frustration at how Emma willfully wouldn't understand.

Emma walked away.

Emily leaned against the door to her hotel room, then slid down it to sit on the floor outside, and tried to calm her rough breathing. She pressed her palms to her face and just tried not to lose control.

Why was she even here? This wasn't about honoring her mother; it was about replacing her. She knew she shouldn't have come. She had been betrayed by her body, betrayed by wanting something that didn't even exist. If knowing how to hurt someone was intimacy, then she had it, but she had nothing else.

No one was on her side here. She had never felt so utterly alone.

***

Chapter 7

"Hey."

Emily looked up to see Jubilee looking down at her, an incongruously worried expression on her face. "Hey."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Emily climbed stiffly to her feet. "Politicians just… drive me insane."

Jubilee chuckled weakly. "Yeah, me too. Once this bodyguarding shit is over, I'm out of it. Janine's willing to be the straight line in the chaos, but it's worse than swimming in poison for me. It's strange, because it should be the realest thing there is, where you can affect more people than anywhere else, and yet it still feels so fake."

Emily glanced around. "Where is your charge?"

Jubilee's expression grew hard. "I had her lock herself in the bathroom after I cleared it. There's something I need to show you."

***

A note had been left in their room while they had been out looking for breakfast. It was disgusting, a fake suicide note.

This world is too dirty, too worthless to save. Mutants are participating in their own subjugation! We must all rise together to overcome the sapiens plague. I have killed hundreds but if all mutants turn on their human neighbors the war will be over and we will have won. But as long as we believe the humans' force of numbers can overpower us, we are nothing but slaves, and I will not live a slave.

Emily's lip curled at the poor excuse for a suicide note. But what it said didn't matter. What it meant was that the game was nearly over, and Crooke was ready to make the last move. Emily wasn't ready. She didn't have back up, she didn't have a constrained area where she knew the killing would take place, and she couldn't afford to wait for Crooke to make a mistake. She had to choke on her pride.

"I need to show this to Emma."

Janine moved her bag and something fell out from behind it. A syringe and a small vial filled with what looked like blood clattered to the floor.

***

Emma hadn't stopped pacing since she left Emily's company. She couldn't believe how vulnerable she had let herself get. But it was her fault, letting someone in was letting them hurt you. She had tried to help Emily, but how do you help someone who will tell a room of powerful men that they are no better than criminals, and it is her duty to arrest them. She wouldn't be surprised if Crooke was aware his number was up. Emily had worked it out easily enough.

Emma wondered what string he had pulled to get Syringe out of prison. Garcia had faxed her the information. Syringe was a mutant with toxic blood, who had had the tips of his fingers fitted with needles. He could kill with the flick of his finger. This was not his first human-killing rampage. Emma shook her head. Crooke must have guts to work with a mutant whose favorite activity was murdering humans.

Somehow she was supposed to work the situation so that it looked like Emily got her collar without any of this extra information. But she didn't even know where Syringe was and she couldn't tell what Crooke was planning.

Honestly, she did not understand these FBI people. You eliminate the threat first; then worry about protocol and stepping on people's toes. The only morality you really answer to is your own. If the criminal is gone, who cares where he went?

***

"Don't-"

Janine glanced at Emily with serious eyes. They disagreed. She crouched and picked up the vial of red liquid and turned it slightly, watching the way the liquid coated and streamed away from the glass.

"This isn't blood," she said. "It's not viscous enough."

"Then what is it?"

Janine stared at Emily flatly. "My old lab is around here. I want to go look at it."

"But you're under a death threat."

"That's no reason for me to be useless."

"I'll be with her," said Jubilee.

"You shouldn't take a risk like this," said Emily flatly. God, she sounded like Emma, telling her how human she was, how weak.

"He won't expect me to go there. He wants to scare me, keep me in the hotel."

"Emma will kill me if I let you go."

"We'll keep moving," said Jubilee, "stay unexpected. I've evaded worse than this. We can do it."

"For how long?"

"Until the ball tonight. We'll expect you to have a plan by then."

Janine carefully stowed the vial in a safe place. Jubilee stretched her arms behind her head and grinned.

"This is my favorite part." She climbed on the bed and bounced a few times to get some height and then, flipping in midair tapped open a panel in the ceiling with her feet. She landed easily on the floor.

"Got your gadgets?"

Janine sighed and fastened an odd-looking contraption to her wrists. She showed them to Emily. "I tried to copy Spiderman's design."

"They're awesome!" said Jubilee, hanging upside down out of the hole in the ceiling.

"I needed some way to keep up with that."

***

"Do you need backup?"

"No!" Emily nearly cursed into the phone as she jogged down the hall towards the elevators. "I don't need to tip my hand like that."

"This is stupid, Emily," hissed JJ. "We never work on our own. Hotch would kill me if he knew I was letting you do this."

"I'm not alone." JJ snorted pointedly. "I'm not. You may not trust Emma, but I have Jubilee on my side, and even Janine is working as a lab analyst right now."

"The victim?" The disapproval in JJ's voice was clear. "You know the Sacramento PD consider her their main suspect."

"Then why did they let her leave the state?" Emily tried not to think of the feeling she had when the syringe and vial rolled out of Janine's suitcase. She didn't believe the plot was Janine's. It was too simple, too straightforward. But the way it so obviously implicated her… its very obviousness could be a ruse, a way of keeping the investigation close to her, so she could be sure to direct it to the targets she wanted removed.

She didn't have backup here. She didn't have someone to bounce her ideas off of. Her team provided the profile, and she trusted it. Emma's loyalty to her students, Jubilee's directness and honesty, Janine's confidence even in the face of her own death, those were things she couldn't trust. But she had to trust her team, even if they weren't at her side.

***

"Emma!"

Emily was banging on her door. Emma turned and sat in the armchair. She was not opening the door. She was not interested in speaking with Emily. In fact, never seeing her again sounded absolutely fine.

The rage simmered underneath the surface of her skin. But it was rage mixed with hurt. She had expected it from an enemy, from Jean, from Cassandra Nova, a telepath who could reach in and pick her mind apart, find the weight of her guilt. But she hadn't expected it from Emily.

Her guilt had been in the front of her mind these days: Jubilee, in her yellow coat, as if the symbol of her childhood could erase the scars and violation that her negligence had allowed. First Tony's warning, and then Emily, asking her point blank about her sister, about that time when again, she had made a mistake, a miscalculation, and it had cost one of her students his life and the rest their innocence. It had been freedom to take that gun and act. It was her final vengeance, finally freedom from a sister who had tortured her her entire life, who had taken more things from her than she could remember. The corpse of a student was the last vile gift Adrienne would give her, and a bullet was the last one she would return.

"Please, Emma! Let me in."

"I don't want to hear it!"

"I'm not going to apologize to you!"

Emma jerked the door open and dragged Emily in by her wrists. She slammed the door and roughly shoved Emily against it. "You're not going to apologize?"

"Why should I?"

Emma curled her lip. She hated that expression on Emily's face, that look of relaxed natural cruelty, almost bordering on disdain. She wondered if Emily had learned it from her mother, or from too many years spent staring down the most worthless dregs of society, and listening to them yap inefficaciously about their righteous duty to kill, their god-given right to violate children, the purity of their vengeance.

Was that all she was now? Now that Emily had opened her up to the core, without even a telepath's skill, just the cruel cutting insight of a purely human intelligence?

"I wouldn't forgive you if you did."

"I know."

Emma hated that look. She pressed tightly against Emily's body, free hand catching her jaw, making Emily's head slam back against the door, choking her just enough to make it difficult for her to breathe. "Maybe if I hurt you, you'd reconsider."

"Get off of me," Emily hissed. "Vengeance has no place in this." She jerked her wrists from Emma's grip. "You don't get to manipulate me and then have me beg on my knees because I pissed you off."

"Maybe I want you on your knees." Emma stepped back, letting her go.

"No you don't," she said flatly, her hand gently rubbing her throat where Emma had left a mark. "I wouldn't even want me then." Emily's eyes were sharp, but her face too honest, too tired to be anything but sad. Emma turned away, flexing her hands, still able to feel the skin, the narrow bones…

"Why are you here?" she asked, admitting the truth by ignoring the statement.

"Crooke left a note."

***

Emma did flip out about letting her former students leave the hotel unaccompanied. But she didn't blame Emily for it, which was a first. The start time of the ball approached, and they needed a plan.

Emma was to watch the perimeter. Jubilee was guarding Janine, and Emily was to stay within sight of Roger Crooke. She cursed as she fussed with the leg holster that she hated to wear. But the shoulder carry was not going to work with this dress.

There was a knock at the door and a tentative touch at her mind. Emily glanced around, nothing else… She opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

Emma was leaning nonchalantly against the opposite wall. Her eyes scanned Emily's body from heels up the long split skirt of the dark green dress and eventually to her face. She grinned lazily and offered her arm.

Janine and Jubilee joined them, Jubilee in something that looked like a tuxedo, but moved far better.

"You can't trap a gymnast in cloth!"

Janine flashed a tightly folded sheet of impenetrable data at Emily. "It wasn't blood. It was liquid Fentanyl. It would have killed me just as quickly."

Emily frowned. That didn't add up. It didn't follow the same pattern. If she knew anything about serial killers it was that they were sticklers for patterns.

At the ball they split up. Emily needed to be near Crooke, but didn't want to speak with him. Unfortunately, he spotted her and approached of his own accord.

He put his arm around her shoulder and smiled his politician smile. "That was an interesting meeting today, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was," Emily agreed without inflection. "Congratulations on being appointed to run."

"Thank you." He smiled at her again. "You know, they would have given you anything you wanted if you were willing to work with them. They were very excited about you." He gave a fake little sigh. "But I suppose if you already have everything you wanted, they couldn't really find much of a carrot. Just like your mother really."

Emily looked at him sharply. In what way was that like her mother? She still had no idea what her mother's relationship was with these people. "How do you-?"

But he was patting her shoulder again and ignored the interruption. "You get it, don't you? In the end we have to ally ourselves with the mutants or we'll be forgotten when they finally take the power that they deserve. Right now we can be useful to them and we have to take advantage of that."

Emily had heard this line before. It was like a children's story about the mice that fed the lion that was languishing in a net so that when he was healthy again, he wouldn't eat them. But the moment that the lion was strong enough to break free of the net, he would gobble down the mice who had fooled themselves into trusting him. She wondered if her mother had told her that one.

Crooke smiled again, but a different smile this time, and his arm felt hot and oppressive. "I'm sure you know about being useful."

Emily looked him straight in the face. "Yes, I know. But just because they're begging to fuck you, doesn't mean they won't fuck you over when they're done."

She slipped away from him then. She would keep an eye on him, but she wasn't going to deal with that look, which, after too many bourbons would only too easily turn into straying hands and ill-considered comments.

Someone coughed pointedly into a microphone, and Emily glanced up to the podium where Richard Kimble stood, waiting for silence.

"As the chairman of this committee, I would like to welcome you all to our annual gala ball at the close of our yearly meeting. This year's ball is in honor of a dear departed friend of the Home and Family Committee, Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss. I would like to invite a long-standing member of the committee, who knew her well, both as a politician and as a person. Mr. Edward Jackson."

Edward came up to the microphone, snuffling into a handkerchief. Emily thought this was a bit much for someone who hadn't even been able to find time to make it to the funeral.

"Thank you all for coming," he said, his teary countenance unapparent in his voice. "It is always such a tragedy to lose someone before their time, and I never imagined I would outlive my dear niece, Elizabeth. She was an exceedingly strong and capable woman, with a fierce loyalty: to her family, her country, and most particularly, her duty as an ambassador."

Emily winced at that, she wondered what he meant by loyalty to her family: Loyalty to him, or loyalty to her family's honor? She had never divorced Emily's father, even though they were completely separated for three years before his death, separate houses, custody sharing agreements, everything except the piece of paper. And she had worn her widow-hood like a badge of honor. Becoming a widow or a widower, she had once told Emily, is the only proof of a marriage's success. Any other ending is the sign of a failure.

At least he had correctly emphasized her duty to her work over all the rest.

"Elizabeth was an ambassador to the core, always gracious, always welcoming, but as hard as nails when challenged." There was a weak titter among those who were bothering to listen. "Although she was the bearer of a sharp intellect, and could have had success in any field of government, she found her calling in the foreign service. We asked her many times to run for office, to serve in the cabinet, and even offered an appointment as a federal judge, but she always declined, saying that even if these positions were more public or more powerful, her work as an ambassador was more important."

Emily had never heard any of that before. It came as a shock to her, and it took another few moments to notice that her uncle was smiling at her.

"Her daughter, who is here tonight, has followed her example in many ways. Although she is not in the Foreign Service, she has chosen her work because it is important, not for the power or the status of it. And I am certain, that if the ambassador were here with us, she would be very proud of her daughter's strength of character, that is so much like her own.

"Elizabeth's untimely death was indeed a tragedy. But she died as I can only assume she would have wished, still working for her country, and for the cause of peaceful co-existence. It is up to us to continue this fight, and every day make steps towards this ultimate goal."

Edward bowed and smiled. "Thank you."

Emily felt stunned by this speech, by the comparison he had made between herself and her mother. It was clear his intent was to soothe any hurt feelings that she had caused at the earlier meeting, and she felt guilty at making him do that. But she had never heard her mother spoken of in such a way before. She was politics, through and through, with no patience for Emily's practical idealism. But Edward's speech made her seem as driven and bull-headed as Emily herself. But if she wasn't political, why had she been allied with this group at all?

Emily came up next to Tony who was sipping tonic water with a tragic expression on his face as he watched the brandy being poured. Why was he here? The meeting had been particularly interesting because of how all the people were interacting, competing and allying to gain their desires. But Tony and Emma had sat back, unaffected. They seemed too powerful, too competent in their own right to need what this coalition could give them.

"What do you want?" she asked. "What does being part of this give you?"

Tony glanced down at her. "What do I want?" he asked with a chuckle. "Besides a triple bourbon? Increased military spending. That's all."

She laughed quietly. What else could the man with the largest arms contract with the US Government desire? But he gave her a sly glance.

"That's not what you wanted to know. You want to know the reason I'm here." He looked out over the room of busily networking contenders. "These are the new power-brokers," he said. "And if you don't keep an eye on where the real decisions are being made, you're losing touch."

Emily closed her eyes. Crooke was by the fireplace speaking with Sebastian Shaw. "I never wanted to be in touch. I never wanted to be back in this world."

Tony smiled and shook his head. "Stop fooling yourself. You never left. If you had really wanted to let go of this life you could have been a small town cop somewhere. But you were raised for this. You can't imagine a life that is irrelevant to the big picture. The people here are idiots to you because they can't see it. They're tied up in votes and parties and money, but you're one of us. You're a hero, like Emma and I. Whatever our sense of personal morality, we know somehow that even if everything is taken away, as long as you can save a life, change a life for the better, you are alive, and your life is meaningful."

Emily smiled. "Is that what it is? I thought the reason you weren't interested in their conversation was because you were too powerful to need to care."

Tony grinned. "That too. But none of these people understand what it really means to care for something greater than their own worthless little life. Even your uncle doesn't."

He frowned for a moment and looked speculative. "Your mother did," he said, finally. "She didn't work for them because of the perks they could give her; she worked for them because they gave her leverage. The more leverage you have the more lives you can save." He caught Emily's tortured expression, and read it correctly. "She may have forgotten you, but she fell into the trap that most heroes do. The more you feel responsible to the big picture, the more you forget about the little responsibilities. I don't doubt that you fight that battle with yourself on occasion. But," he said, smiling and lifting his glass. "The little ones are the ones that will come back to bite you in the end."

"I guess." Emily sighed. "Not that I have too many little responsibilities. I don't have anyone who depends on me."

Tony eyed her speculatively. "I'm not sure if you're entirely right about that."

Emily frowned. "What do you mean?"

Tony looked at her for a long moment.

Emily winced. "No," she said. "Dependent on me? Are you joking?" She forced a laugh.

Tony just shook his head and looked at his empty glass. "I really can't stand tonic after a while. Perhaps they'll fix me a Shirley Temple if I act ingenuous enough."

He disappeared in the direction of the bar.

Emily's eyes searched the room, and found Emma's, surprisingly, looking down at her from one of the balconies. They were sad, almost, and magnetic, pulling her towards the staircase, until Emma registered the returned gaze. Then they snapped back to sharp and hard, and she looked away.

Emily pressed her fists to her face. There was something, it was clear, but she didn't know how long she could take this push and pull.

Suddenly there was a crash, and a sharp thought piercing into her mind.

He's here! He's coming in!

The door to the ballroom burst off its hinges, and in charged some kind of monster. His skin was a sickly blue, and needles were arrayed on his fingertips like the spines of a porcupine. Emily couldn't see his face because it was shielded by a dome-shaped metal helmet.

I can't control him!

Jubilee dropped from the balcony onto his back, and he yelled, trying to throw her off, slapping back over his shoulders with his spiny fingers.

Where was Crooke? Emily had lost track of him. The monster threw Jubilee; she flipped easily through the air and landed on her feet, then charged after him. But he had spotted Janine and was rushing towards her.

There was Crooke! Rushing towards Janine from the other direction, "Get down!" he yelled and lunged for her.

There was a glint of something in his hand, and it all came together. Of course the syringe was full of Fentanyl, because the monster's blood only killed humans! She locked eyes with Janine, who had come to the same conclusion she had. Her gun was in her hand. Crooke reached Janine, his hand shooting out towards her neck.

"Down!" she mouthed. Janine dropped.

A gunshot rang out.

A body fell.

Blood spread across the parquet.

And with a tinkle, a glass syringe rolled away from Crooke's hand.

***

Chapter 8

"Special Agent Emily Prentiss, FBI."

The tired looking New York City Detective eyed her badge with displeasure. "I suppose you shot him?"

She held up her gun.

"How convenient?" He scanned her outfit. "And you were… working undercover?"

"Something like that."

"I hope you've got a tidy story for us, Agent. 'Cause my boys and I would just love to go home some time tonight."

The mutant containment team was taking away the monster, handily bound and gagged with gold silk curtain cords by Jubilee. Emma had carefully and rather forcefully checked both girls for injuries, but she hadn't even looked at Emily, who stood over Crooke, as others called the paramedics and the police.

Emily left for the station, without looking back.

***

When Emily finally made it back to the hotel it was nearly three in the morning. The adrenaline had faded during one of the detective's interminable questions about why she didn't have backup, why she didn't call for backup, and what on earth was she thinking, pulling a gun in the middle of a crowded room.

It had worked, hadn't it? She had asked sarcastically. She hadn't shot anyone she hadn't meant to. And those political types are a lot less flighty than some seem to assume. She didn't mention that Emma was probably assisting with the 'don't panic' response.

She stuck her card in the slot, the green light came on and she jerked the door open with a crunch of cheap metal.

"Hey."

She looked up. Emma was waiting for her on her bed, knees tucked to her chin, arms wrapped around them. Emily sighed, exhausted.

"Do we have to do this now?"

Emma flashed a wry grin. "Let's not. Come here."

It shouldn't have been easy, but it was, to just stand still while Emma unfastened the dress she never wanted to wear again. As it slipped to the floor, she leaned back into her arms. Emma's hands slid around her, to cup her breasts and pull her down under the covers.

***

It was late, and the lights were off, making Emily stumble as she entered her dim apartment. The window shade was open and the only light came from the Capitol, the white dome lit up, like some strange alien ship. The eyes of tourists were watching, but what could it mean to them?

Emily sighed, dropping her bags on the couch and fumbling around the kitchen for a glass of water. She didn't bother to turn the lights on. It would spoil it somehow.

It's not me. Words came into her head, and she almost turned to look for the one who had spoken, although there had been no sound. I never aimed that high.

No, Emily thought to herself, to her mother. You saw the bigger picture. And you did whatever it took to keep it whole.

***

Emma had made it back to northern New York earlier, a car picking her up as she departed the train. The school was subdued but still warm and busy as it always was on a Sunday night: The derelicts panicking about their undone schoolwork, the responsible ones enjoying their last moment of true freedom.

A movie was playing in the students' common room. Logan was on proctor duty, in the corner, losing at checkers and itching for a smoke. Emma tipped her head, and he sloped off for his break. She leaned against the doorframe and looked out over the students. Some talking and laughing, a few propped dismally over textbooks, only a small group whose attention was fixed on the film. All present and accounted for, it seemed. No more trouble than they made themselves.

For a moment she thought she could see Jubilee, hanging dangerously off the furniture, looking at her with a bemused perceptivity. "Whoa, Frosty. You're smiling. Seriously, your rep is going down the drain with this one."

***

Work tomorrow. Emily frowned at her empty holster. The damn NYPD had snagged it as evidence, and she wouldn't get it back for a week at least, usually a month with their rate of return. She'd have to borrow one from work. Hopefully they wouldn't be jetting off somewhere right away. It had been a rather busy weekend. She needed a break from her vacation.

She was exhausted, and stumbled into her bedroom, leaving an untidy trail of clothes behind her as she went. But she paused at the edge of the bed. It was empty, too big and too empty. She sighed and sank into it. She sheets were slightly crumpled and stiff after two nights un-slept-in. They stayed cold at the bottom for too long.

Emily stared at the ceiling and waited for sleep.

***

"I heard what happened."

Garcia's voice was almost familiar now. Emma chuckled grimly. "It worked out. No thanks to us, I'm afraid."

Garcia laughed. "Well, sometimes our little by-the-book heroes can figure it out for themselves."

"I suppose they can."

"I found out who supplied the technology."

"That was fast."

"I am the information goddess."

Emma shook her head. "If you say so. Give me the information and I'll deal with it."

"Illegally?"

"Do you care?"

"Not particularly. The other things this guy has access to are pretty horrible. Telepathy inhibitors are the least of the lot."

"Hmm." Emma considered this. "Perhaps the X-Men would be interested in rooting out an arms dealer. There is a certain freedom to being a vigilante. Not merely because they care less about where there information comes from."

"I'll send you what I have. And the others who were buying from him?"

"They won't remember his name." Emma laughed quietly. "I won't even have to use telepathy for that. Influence can be just as convincing."

"Well, I guess we can mark this one closed."

"Does that imply there will be more?"

"There are always more, my darling grasshopper."

"I'm hanging up now," grumbled Emma.

"Then the Buddha at the pagoda of infinite wisdom will say adieu."

***

Emily rolled over again, and glanced up at the clock. It was only two, but she sighed, giving in, and reached for her phone.

"You missed me already?"

She could hear the grin in Emma's voice, and buried herself deeper in the blankets, already more relaxed.

"You don't sound like you were sleeping. Don't you have class tomorrow?"

Emma groaned. "Bonehead history at 7:30, and no breaks until noon."

"Disgusting."

"And you're off chasing criminals again."

"Not that I got much of a break, this weekend."

"Well, if you need a real vacation, I'm sure it can be arranged."

"Was that an offer?"

"I found this one quite thrilling, actually," Emma replied, her voice taking on a low rumble. "You, in that dress, packing, was one of the most stimulating things I've ever seen."

Emily laughed. "Stimulating? In what way?"

"You know what way. I'm certain I don't have to elucidate… again."

***

FIN