When the alarm clock went off, Emma awoke in a cold sweat. Her hands had bunched around the sheets, and her head was aching. She'd ground her teeth together in the night. Again.
She peered over her blankets, trying to appear that she didn't feel like she'd just run a marathon. Amanda, groggy, her golden hair going everywhere, reached over and slammed down the button the alarm clock. It was set so she wouldn't be late to classes, and it always seemed to be a trifle louder than either preferred.
It was a normal routine or, at least, a routine that was quickly becoming a big part of Emma's life. Sometimes she would watch as Amanda rolled out of bed and shook Megan awake from the top of the bunk bed. They'd move quietly around the room, Amanda gathering up the clothes she'd lain out the night before for her and Megan.
And, today, she could see Amanda was getting ready to do the same thing. One of her hands was already wiping the sleep from her eyes while the other was groping for her socks. Megan was, no doubt, also putting on her socks on her bunk bed, getting ready, like Amanda, for classes.
The only difference was that, today, Emma would do the same. She sat up, reaching for her tylenol and a hairbrush. Above her, she could hear Laura getting ready. Emma hurriedly dry swallowed and got to her feet. By the time Laura's feet appeared on the ladder, Emma was ready to help her down.
She got up, putting the pill bottle back in her night dresser. Laura sleepily slipped down. Logically, Emma knew Laura could get down herself. She had fantastic reflexes, and keener than usual night vision. However, Emma always felt better helping her to the floor.
She gathered up Laura's clothes, looking around for her barrettes. Had she put them on the dresser or the table?
"Need any help Em?" asked Amanda.
Emma smiled. Over the past month and a half, Amanda had become quite the friend. She was, as Emma had discovered, acting in the role of friend, mentor, mother and sister to the young girl in her charge. She'd seen Megan safely through to America with only minor hiccups at the age of sixteen, and being a human too as a handicap.
Then again, maybe it had been that handicap that had helped. Amanda had been the front, the one people looked at instead of peering closer to see the child with pink hair. She'd used that because, even though she hadn't been blessed with a mutation, she, like Moira, had been blessed with a brain.
But that similarity, her strong protection of Megan, made it difficult to dislike her. Yes, she hadn't gone through as much as Emma had, but, as she had recovered and Laura taught basic skills she'd needed, Amanda had been willing to help.
She'd thought, at first, it would be strange sharing a room with someone, and had been hesitant to agree. And, true, the sound of someone else's breathing in the night was still slightly frightening. Yet, Amanda had understood, in her way.
She'd been kind, but confident, staying some nights with Emma, who sequestered herself, instead of time with Kurt or the others. It had been a kind of comfort, since Amanda was one of the few visitors she would allow besides Moira and the Professor.
Everyone else she treated cautiously, and Laura stayed by her side. Sometimes Emma would watch her, just to make sure she wasn't going to disappear. Kayla was gone, but in every tilt of Laura's head, every smile, Emma could see an echo of her sister.
"Em?"
Emma turned away from Laura and smiled.
"If you could braid Laura's hair maybe?" asked Emma, "I need to start getting dressed, and I think I lost the barrettes."
"Sure thing," Amanda said cheerfully, "And they're on the table."
Emma kissed Laura on the forehead, and then walked out of the room and into the communal bathroom. No one else was up yet: Emma and Amanda got up purposefully early to assist the children in their charge. She splashed water on her face and got a good look at her reflection.
She saw an angular face, the baby fat long since burned away. She saw ring of blisters still healing on her forehead, revealed by her newly-cut bangs, which were stuck up and mussed from sleep. A few faint bruises marred her skin and her too-thin collar bones jutted above the cloth of her nightdress.
Emma coughed and began applying the make-up Amanda had purchased for her on a trip to the store. The Professor had been generous, giving them small monthly allowances which he said they'd earn later by chores around the school. With the right touches, and Emma had practiced, she could hide the bruises. She could fade the blisters. When she brushed her bangs, she would hide them completely.
Her clothes had also been made to hide her emaciated state. She was gaining weight again, but not enough to disguise all of her ribs or the bumps in her spine. Her years in captivity had thinned her down uncomfortably, although the heavy cloth of the fashionable, yet baggy clothes, hid it.
"Em!" Laura said, running into the bathroom, "What do I do?"
She turned and saw that, while Laura had gotten dressed, and Amanda had braided her hair, her shoelaces were untied. Emma smiled quickly and knelt down, lacing her niece's shoes with a deft hand.
But, even after Laura and she were ready, she could feel her stomach flipping knots. She was going to be separated from Laura, on her own. She would be interacting with multiple people her own age all day for the first time since Stryker had ripped her from her home. Emma would be tested by a world she didn't know, and, she was sure, found wanting.
Those thoughts almost made it impossible to eat breakfast. Amanda had, without a word, gotten all four of their meals and brought it outside. It was private there, and Emma listened as Amanda spoke about classes, her voice reassuring and kind.
Emma heard almost none of it. Next to her, Laura listened intently. She was curious, eager to learn, and Emma had the feeling she got that from Kayla. Unlike Emma, who had merely wanted to become a school teacher, Kayla had actually been one.
She was glad Laura felt fine though, because her own feelings were in turmoil. What if she said or did something that revealed the years she'd spent as a slave and a science project? What if saying she was ready had been a mistake? She had only wanted to get back on track, to have Laura start her own schooling. Megan had already started, and Laura had wanted to join her, curious about the downstairs world.
As they walked down the hall, she felt the anxiety intensify. The Professor was waiting there, looking deeply pensive, but happy to see them. Laura's eyes were lit up in curiosity when she looked at the room to her class. Megan gave her a cheery wave before she skipped inside.
"I'll be introducing you in a minute Laura," he said, "And then I'll show your aunt into her classroom."
Laura nodded, excited. Emma's hands trembled at the thought of Laura going off on her own, but she ignored it and kissed her niece on the forehead. The Professor gave her a kind look, and Laura walked to his side. She looked over her shoulder once before she disappeared inside her classroom, waving.
Outside, Emma twisted her hands nervously. Amanda put a hand on her shoulder.
"She's going to be great," said Amanda, "Megan will be there too, and she says she already has some friends. Those friends will become Laura's friends."
Emma nodded, her throat numb. Amanda glanced at a clock on the wall and bit her lip.
"I have to go," she said.
Although Emma had known this was coming, a lump appeared in her throat. They had different classes, but Emma wished Amanda would be there. Amanda was different than other students. She was a refugee. How had she made it so no one noticed? Perhaps Emma should have asked, but that would have been weak.
"I'll be fine," Emma reassured her, "It's just high school."
Amanda gave her a reassuring smile and moved down the hall. Emma resisted the urge to scream after her that she hadn't been to school in three years. The door opened again, and the Professor appeared. Again, that kind look. She wanted to ask how she looked, if he could tell she'd been locked away from the sunshine for as long as she had.
But she remained silent as they moved down the hall, pausing at the door to her classroom.
"You know, you don't have to do this today," the Professor said gently.
She looked at him, her heart in her throat. At first she wondered what had given her away, but then she noticed her hands were trembling again. Emma swallowed her heart, trying to fight the panic and fear slowly taking over.
"If I don't go in now," she said slowly, "I'll be taking a step backward."
The Professor smiled at her, and then he opened the door. And so, terrified, she walked into the room.
Twenty pairs of eyes swiveled to look at her. They glittered, and she thought of her mother, beautiful and sparkling, of her own skin, waiting to burst forth. The Professor began to speak, but the words faded away. So did thoughts about her too sharp cheek bones, her pointy shoulders. The worry that her bangs wouldn't be able to hide the blisters on her forehead melted.
She smiled at them, not shy or reserved, but charmingly because, really, they weren't anything to be afraid of. They were nothing, and if they hurt her, she could hurt them back so much worse than they could ever do to her.
Pain? Oh, they didn't have the imagination for real pain, hadn't been introduced to the multitude of shades and variations. She walked between the rows, swaying her hips slightly, remembering how beautiful she'd looked that morning, how beautiful her mother was. We're knives wrapped in silk, her mother had told her once, sharp ones.
If they came at her, she could push them away. The same thing went for anyone who so much as breathed wrong near Laura. Laura was young and innocent, literally seeing the world for the first time. She had known pain, but wouldn't have to inflict it on anyone until she chose. But, in the meantime, Emma would do it for her.
The Professor stopped speaking, and she thanked him. He looked relieved at her sudden confidence, but she knew he wouldn't be if he knew why. No matter. He was a good man, and was trying to help. That was important.
She walked toward the desks, her head held high. Emma saw Scott in the back of the room, giving her an encouraging wave. She waved back, and thought about sitting next to him. There was an empty seat. He had always been kind to her and, in some ways, he understood. Maybe not to the extent Amanda did, and Amanda didn't even understand everything, but he did.
And then she saw Jean. Any warmth she had been nursing suddenly froze over, and she turned her back and slipped into the first seat she could. A few boys near her hastened to introduce themselves, smiling, for what they were worth. She smiled back, said her name, but, for a moment, she could still feel Jean behind her.
Yes, the students around her weren't real threats. All except Jean. She knew what Jean was capable of, had felt that corrosive pain in the depths of her mind. She was someone who could, if she wanted to, kill her. And maybe it wouldn't matter to her.
But Emma would get stronger. She had the work ethic she needed to do so. And then, when the day came when she could be confident of taking Jean in a fight, she could feel safe around the little bitch.
Until then, best just to keep her distance.
