Lexi's Note: - This will be the first of the chapters that will be telling the beginnings of Emma and Jean's relationship. Showing how they both got to where they are on that fateful day.
May 18, 2009
The Office of Dr Asgari Kapatī - Manhattan, New York
1:17PM
Looking down at the issue of Cosmo in her hands, Emma Frost rolls her eyes at the interview with mother in the magazine. The photos of her mother and older sister makes her sneer slightly, their painted on faces and vacant smiles, only serving to remind her of the loathing she has for the two women. A soft cough catches her attention, the young man sitting behind the reception desk smiling at her. Placing the magazine back on the pile of sordid garbage on the corner tables, the young blonde raises a finely manicured eyebrow, "Yes?"
"Dr. Kapatī will see you in a moment," the young dark haired man assures her, making Emma frown at his soft Jersey accent. Idly, she finds herself wondering what exit he was from… and if she'd ever meet someone that joke actually wasn't relevant with. Nodding at the receptionist as she stands, Emma reaches down to straighten her pale blue dress before making her way across the waiting room. If she's already waiting at the door when the doctor's ready, she reasons, it could easily cut thirty seconds to a minute off the time she's forced to spend here.
As she reaches the refined cherry door, it opens and a familiar young girl emerges into the waiting room. Emma barely recognizes the younger girl, and not just because her long, straight, dark blond hair is hanging down and partially obscuring her face. Her long denim skirt and the oversized flannel shirt that she hides her bandage-wrapped hands in are incredibly different from the school uniform she's used to seeing the younger girl in. "Oh… h-hi, Emma."
"Hello, Paige. I would say I'm surprised to see you here, but… yes." A wave of pain washes over Emma as she looks at the twelve-year-old transmorph; the look in Paige's amber-colored eyes as they meet Emma's pale blue makes telepathy wholly unnecessary in figuring out why the preteen girl was there. "I'm sorry, Paige. I… I wish I'd been able to save Samuel. We… I'm sorry."
"It's okay, Emma. Sammy's wit God now." Paige's bandaged hands find Emma's, squeezing them tightly and a small smile forms on her face as she looks up at Emma. The motion opens up tiny breaks in the fragile skin of Paige's face; knowing that Paige would risk that just for her makes the attempt at comfort even more meaningful to Emma. More tears open as the smile morphs into a frown. "Ma dun want me to go back to Xavier's. She thinks it's too dangerous."
"She's right, Paige. It is dangerous. There are people who want us dead because of how we were born, and they know exactly where to find you when you're there," Emma replies after a moment of thought.
A small flash of hurt and anger washes over Paige's cracked and freckled face, her hands gripping Emma's tighter. Then a look of determination set in, her jaw and lips pushing forward in an attempt to look tough. "No! That's not what Sammy would want, or Jean… oh. I'm so sorry…" Looking shocked at what she'd said, Paige tries futilely to pull her hands from Emma's.
An uncomfortable moment of silence passes, before Emma nods slightly. "You're right. They wouldn't. They'd want us to be strong." A soft smile breaks Emma's lips. A look of triumph and happiness washes over Paige's face and before Emma can react, the smaller blonde wraps her arms around her in a tight hug. Hesitantly, Emma hugs Paige back, the tiny girl's waif-like body feeling solid and unusually hard. Breaking the hug and looking down at Paige, Emma can see pieces of the young girl's flesh falling away, exposing what looked just like her own diamond form. Smiling, she places a small kiss on the smaller blonde's forehead. "Careful, Miss Guthrie. It looks like I'm rubbing off on you."
With a surprised squeak, Paige pulls her small pocket mirror from the breast pocket of her red flannel shirt. Examining her face with it, she grins and gives Emma another, much quicker hug. Skipping to the door, Paige waves to Emma before leaving the doctor's office in search of her mother.
"It seems I have competition for role of therapist," Dr Kapatī's melodic alto comes from behind Emma.
"Yes, well, considering where you graduated from, Doctor? I'm sure I would do a much better job at it," Emma cooly retorts as she walks past the tall Indian woman, entering her office. "I'd likely be better at your job than you if I'd interned under Robert Spitzer."
Dr. Kapatī emits an odd, strangled little noise halfway between a gasp and a chuckle at that. "You know who Dr. Spitzer is?"
Seating herself on the supple leather couch without invitation, Emma crosses her legs and raises an eyebrow as she watches Dr. Kapatī close the door. "I'm a teenage lesbian being forced to spend time with a psychologist. I decided to do a bit of research beforehand." Peering at the young blonde over her glasses, the older woman seats herself in a wingback chair that matches the couch. Adjusting her own glasses, Emma's pale blue eyes lock on the dark eyes of the therapist, "So… now what? And I should probably warn you that if the phrase 'conversion therapy' passes your lips? When I leave this office, you'll be under the impression that you're the star of a Bollywood film. Complete with the urge to break into song at important moments in your life."
"That will be… quite unnecessary, Miss Frost. No, I'm here to help you work through your grief. Seeing as how I lack your gifts, I believe that will require us to engage in conversation." The awkward attempt at humor disarms the young blonde a little as she settles in across from Dr. Kapatī, the woman's dark eyes watching her with great intensity and curiosity. "Why don't you start at the beginning? Tell me how you met Miss Grey."
Breaking eye contact, Emma finds herself fidgeting with the hem of her dress. "O-okay…"
August 23, 2008
The Xavier School for the Gifted - Salem Center, New York
11:47AM
Staring out the window, Emma watches the trees pass as the limousine winds its way down the two-lane road to the Xavier School. With a sigh, she turns to her father, "So, tell me again why I'm being banished to Mutant High?"
"Emma, we've been through this already. You're not being banished. This is for your best interests." Winston places his large hand on his daughter's, staring over her shoulder at the large mansion growing closer through the windshield of the limo. Eventually, he turns his attention back to the frustrated girl sitting across from him. "You need to be with people who can help you with your abilities."
"But Dad… why don't Adrienne or Christian have to go to Mutant High? They're mutants too." Emma breaks out her best doe eyes, a weapon against her father she'd mastered long ago as a means of getting her way. Her father only lets out an exasperated sigh, though, and Emma pouts as her attempts at cuteness hit a wall.
The car rolls through the gates and onto the paver stone driveway of the mansion, and then comes to a stop in front of the main doors of the school. "Princess… they're older. Adrienne and Christian are in their last years at Middlesex." There is a long pause as Winston fights and loses the battle to keep a small grin from creeping onto his face. "They also didn't make their principal sexually attracted to goldfish."
Crossing her arms with an indignant pout, Emma's expression only makes her father's grin grow into a large smile. The young blonde responds with a wrinkle of her nose and poking out her tongue. "She said you and Mr. Stark were using science to replace her God, and refused to take it back. It was an accident!"
"Exactly, Emma. You need someone to help you hone your powers. You are the future, and you know as well as I do that you need this." The door of the limo opens, the driver standing out of the way so they can exit the car. Reaching out, Winston cups Emma's cheek as he looks her in the eye. "And you need to meet more people your age. People like you. You need to be with your peers, Emma, instead of rushing to grow up."
Emma sighs before looking down at her hands, her fingers compulsively brushing and straightening her dark grey slacks. She nibbles on her bottom lip for a moment, mulling over what her father just said. Knowing deep inside that he is right, she looks up at him, her pale blue eyes meeting his. "Okay Dad… I'll try."
"Good girl. Now, we have an appointment with a 'Professor Xavier'. Hmm. Good to know the staff here is well-qualified." Leaning in, Winston plants a soft kiss on her forehead before climbing out of the car, Emma following close behind.
A tall, dark-haired young man a few years older than her brother waits for them near the front door. Wearing a white button down shirt and dark pants, the young man watches them exit the car impatiently through his red-lensed glasses. "The Professor is waiting." Without another word, the rude man spins on his heel and marches swiftly into the building. Following him into the school, Emma curses herself for wearing her Christian Louboutins that day as she scurries after her father and guide. Cute as they may be, they are definitely not made for rapid movement.
After a few minutes, the group arrives at the open door of the office of the school's founder and headmaster, Charles Xavier. "Please, please, come in," the warm deep voice of the school's administrator invites. An older gentleman who appears to be close in age to Emma's grandfather's age sits at the desk. Her father reaches across it, shaking his hand and then Emma follows suit. "I do hope your drive was uneventful."
"Thank you, Charles, the ride was lovely," Emma's father responds warmly. "I'd like to formally introduce you to my daughter Emma."
"A pleasure to meet you, Emma," the older man replies with a warm smile.
"I'm sure." Emma returns the smile with a sarcastic smile of her own.
"Emma…" sighs Winston.
Her father turns to Xavier to offer an apology for her behavior, only to receive a smile and a wave of the older man's hand. "It's all right, Winston, no harm was done," Charles reassures. Gesturing to the young man standing behind Emma, whose eyes have been burrowing into her back since they entered the office, Charles offers an introduction. "This is my aide, Scott. Perhaps you would enjoy receiving a tour of the grounds from him? Your father and I have some delightfully boring paperwork to deal with."
"I think I'd rather have my shoe collection burned than deal with any more paperwork," the young blonde concedes. Not that she's much more thrilled with the idea of spending time with the rather dour young man… but it edged out paperwork. Barely. Shaking the headmaster's hand again and offering a smile to her father, she turns on her heel and strides out of the room, "Come, Jeeves. Show me the lay of the land." There's a momentary silence and then Emma smirks at the sound of heavier footsteps behind her. Probably had to get permission from Xavier, she muses. Probably has to get permission to use the bathroom. He seems like the sort.
Making their way into the library, the pair are dwarfed by massive shelves and desks. Perhaps there's at least one thing to look forward to here at Xavier's, she concedes. Much to Emma's disgust, Scott proves to be the scintillating conversationalist she suspected he was and they stand there in silence for close to a minute before moving on. As they reach the base of a giant staircase, Emma's guide finally puts forth a tidbit of information. "This is the central staircase-"
"Thank you, Mr. Door Stop. I never would have guessed that, what with it being a staircase located in the center of the building and all."
"-which leads to the girls' dorms and the female teachers' apartments. The dorms are assigned by ascending age, with the younger students on the lower levels and the older students higher up."
"Just out of curiosity, what's the policy on having another person in our room unsupervised?" Emma manages to get that one out with an angelic look on her face, waiting until Scott opens his mouth to reply before going in for the kill. "Wait, I'm asking the wrong person, aren't I? I doubt you'd have had a reason to know in your time here." Grinning in self-satisfaction, Emma raises one hand as her eyes flare blue, cutting off what would undoubtedly have been a witty… oh, she couldn't even think that with a straight face. "Yeah, no. Hold that thought."
Leaving her guide frozen in place, Emma opts to go it alone, wandering through the hallways of the school. Voices catch her attention; turning her head, she reaches out with her powers and finds a gathering of minds just outside the building. Her heels clacking on the large marble tiles as she makes her way to the French doors at the end of the hallway. Peeking out through the large panes of glass, she spies a handful of people who look closer to her age. Definitely something worth investigating, she decides.
Opening the doors, Emma wanders out into the bright noontime sun. A small hiss escapes her lips and she curses mentally, wishing she hadn't left her sunglasses behind in the car. As her eyes adjust, she gets a better look at the group: five people around her own age gathered in a semicircle around three older teens. The leftmost of the older teens is a tall, almost feminine young man, his long blonde hair tied back into a plait at the nape of his neck and massive white wings emerging from his broad back. Beside him sits another older boy, his skin either gold or a substance that resembles it rather closely. Smirking, the tiny blonde fights the urge to shift into her organic diamond form just to show off. The final member of the older trio and only girl is a tall, freckled redhead whose long mane is braided down her back, the tip falling to just above her shorts' waistband.
Emma feels her face growing hot as she stares at the girl and does her best to shift her attention to what the beautiful girl is holding in an attempt to distract herself. 'Is that a guitar? No, the shape is different. More folksy. Maybe a banjo?'
"No, tis a bozouki," the older girl responds, with a melodic Irish brogue. "Tis a traditional Irish guitar."
"O-oh! Are you a telepath too?" Emma stammers out, her face growing even hotter out of embarrassment.
"No, hon, ye were projectin'. E'eryone out here heard ye."
Emma draws herself stiffly to attention, her ears burning as she tries to figure out a way to escape this horrid faux pas. Her father was right. She needed to be here. And within minutes of arrival, she'd proven exactly why. She jumps a little as she feels a hand gently taking hers. One of the students her age has risen from the semi-circle, approaching her and taking her hand. Emma's heart skips a beat and the entirety of her world becomes the girl in possession of her hand. Pale skin causes her freckles to stand out and her face is framed by a mass tangle of fiery red hair, wild and unkept. Large, clear, bright green eyes stare back at Emma, the smile on her rosy lips accompanied in her eyes.
She's, in a word… "…beautiful." Emma feels her chest tighten as she realizes she's uttered the word aloud. The girl in front of her flushes brightly and from the look the brunette she'd been sitting beside shoots Emma, the others had heard it as well. The whispers from the crowd turn the possibility into certainty and Emma's heart sinks. Her mind races as she looks away, trying to think of a way to escape the situation with what remains of her tattered dignity intact. "I'm sorry. I… I'm sorry."
Trying to pull away, Emma notices that she's anchored in place by the hand still holding her. The young ginger continues to stare at her, a pleading look on her face. "No, really, it's okay. Please, sit with us."
Frowning at the butterflies swarming her stomach, the petite blonde lets out a sigh and allows the redhead to lead her back over to the circle. Without relinquishing her grip on Emma's hand, the pretty girl forces the ornately tattooed Hawaiian girl sitting next to her to scoot to the left. Causing a chain reaction, the Hispanic boy on the end slides over to the end of the cement bench. Seating herself daintily, Emma looks to her right, taking in the others her age.
Immediately to her right sits a chalky-skinned girl with pitch black hair and a matching spot surrounding her left eye. A grin passes over the girl's blackened lips as she winks one bright blue eye at Emma. Beside her sit a boy and girl who Emma is relatively certain are fraternal twins. They both have black hair, his short and hers curly and straight. Their matching blue eyes gaze at her, the boy's with indifference and the girl's with trepidation as she clings to the abnormally pale girl. What really catches Emma's attention is their ears: both twins' ears come to a point, like an elf's.
"Maybe introductions are in order?" the winged boy suggests. Emma furrows her brow as his face tickles at her brain, feeling that she should know him. He gestures first to the literal golden boy to his left and then to the elegant Irish girl on the end, who offers a wave as she sets her bozouki down beside her. "This is Joshua, and the fiery Celtic maid beside him is Teresa."
"Oh my God… now I remember you. You're Warren Worthington!" Emma blurts out, and immediately all sixteen eyes fall upon her. Why was she feeling so… excitable? Then it dawns on her that her new acquaintance still has possession of her left hand. Her heart beginning its hummingbird impression again, but she still can't bring herself to try and free her hand. Blushing furiously, Emma realizes it's time to inspect her shoes. "Sorry."
"Heh, it's okay. I was wondering if you'd remember me. I only dated Adrienne for a couple weeks. It is a pleasant surprise to see you here at Xavier's." Gesturing to the twins to Emma's right, Warren continued with introductions, "I would like to introduce Jean-Paul Beaubier and his twin sister Jeanne-Marie."
"Bonjour," Jean-Paul offers with a curt nod. His sister offers only a squeak as she tries unsuccessfully to hide behind him.
Warren shakes his head at their antics while the others giggle at their friend's response to meeting a new person, and then he moves on to the next member of the group. "Our lovely gothic princess, Neena Thurman."
"Yo, you can call me Domino… or Petey. Everyone does." The pasty girl offers with a sly grin.
"This is Julio Richter," Warren introduces the young Hispanic boy on Emma's far left.
"Um, hi." Smiling shyly, Julio waves to Emma as Warren reaches over and ruffles the boy's hair."
"And beside him is Alani Ryan-"
"Aloha!" Alani greets Emma with a broad smile.
"-and your new friend, Jean Grey."
As Warren draws her attention to the last member of their group, Emma's heart starts to race again. Her eyes lock onto the beautiful green orbs staring at her. She opens her mouth and then closes it as both the words and moisture disappear. Furrowing her brow and mentally berating herself, Emma finally fights out the words. "Hi… I'm Emma Frost."
May 18, 2009
St Andrew's Cemetery - Annandale-on-Hudson, New York
9:15AM
"Hello, Padre. Sorry it took so long for us to get here. The government's been using our detectives to hunt down those guys who shot up the mutie school down in Salem Center," the sheriff's deputy lets out as he exits his car. Behind him, a dark blue New York State Police car rolls to a stop. "Good, Joe's here too."
The old caretaker of the cemetery looks up at the loud deputy's arrival, rising to his feet with a soft grunt and wiping the sweat from his now red face. Walking over to the officers, Father Wells offers his hand first to the deputy and then to the trooper, "Hello, Bill. Joe. How's Emily feeling?"
"Heh, ready to pop. She's hoping to have you over so you can bless the baby," responds the young state trooper as he shakes the priest's hand. Stepping out from behind his car door, and closing it gently, Joe gestures towards the graves, "So, what did you need us to look at, Father?"
"We've had some vandalism…" A deep frown scores the priest's face. The three men walk to a large swath of charred dirt, the man of the cloth makes a sweeping gesture to the blackened ground. "Someone burnt this patch; it's the grave a local girl."
"Jeezus!" exclaims the deputy, squatting in front of the tombstone, the warm brown marble now blackened and cracked deeply. His palm wiping away the soot, he reads the words engraved on the stone, "'Jean Debra Grey. Her love is eternal'. Holy shit, this is that mutie girl that got killed, isn't it?"
"Damn, Bill… have a heart. She was just a kid. From what I hear, she was a damn hero that day. Captain America himself spoke at her funeral." The trooper's voice is unable to disguise his disgust with his fellow officer. "What if Bobby turned out to be a mutant?"
"I'd disown him if he was a mutie. They're friggin' freaks, Joe. Any good American can see that." The deputy spits on the ground in front of the headstone before standing up, turning to face the state trooper and the priest. "But, I know my boy isn't a freak, because I'm not a freak and neither is Madeline."
"Ye…yes, Bill, she was a mutant. She died at the shooting at the Xavier School," Father Wells responds, unable to hide the shock in his voice. His frown deepens as he turns away from the grave marker, looking to the far friendlier state trooper. "I'm worried that the people who attacked the school did this. Or their supporters. The sort we don't want in this community…"
"I understand. Bill, I think I can handle this. Why don't you take off?" the trooper offers. Waiting until the deputy is sufficiently far away, Joe sighs before using the toe of his boot to wipe the spittle away. Turning back to the priest, he frowns. "You said the girl is a local? Do you have the names of her parents handy? I'd like to tell them what's going on, face-to-face. Set them at ease. Then… I don't think Red Hook or Tivoli has anyone qualified to investigate this. I'll put a call in and get some guys from Kingston over here to start checking things out. We'll find out who did this, Padre."