Chapter 12…

Day four. At least, that was the best guess Charles could venture. There were no windows in the base. No clocks hung on the walls; Charles could only keep track of day and night with the glimmer of sunlight that crept through the bottom of the door behind Cerebro.

Any televisions or radios had been removed—books as well. It appeared Erik and his band of merry mutants didn't want Charles distracted by such things.

It was evening, and Charles inspected the chain-link fence surrounding Cerebro. The barrier was eight feet high—the heavy-duty type Charles imagined around prison yards. At the bottom, the fence wasn't even connected to the floor; with all that weight, it didn't need to be.

If Charles could walk, he'd just climb the damn fence. He could use Cerebro on his own, searching for Hank, Alex and Sean's minds. He had never telepathically communicated using the machine, but if he could locate mutants, then given practice—

By the fencing, Charles rubbed the bridge of his nose. It wasn't an option. Escaping through the base's door wasn't an option. He was stuck there until Erik came to his senses…

…or decided that building a mutant army was more important than Charles' displeasure.

If he was hooked up to Cerebro, could Charles even prevent himself from locating mutants? The machine broadened his telepathy across the world; trying not to find others like him was like asking someone to open their eyes but not to see.

Rolling his wheelchair beside the fence, Charles reached the edge of the open archway. He examined where the fence met marble. The wires had been jabbed into the stone like someone had hammered them into place. Near the bottom, a single little wire stuck out from the wall as if mocking him.

Dammit, Erik.

It was past one in the morning before Charles got to bed. As the next hour dragged by, however, he lay with his eyes peering upwards, the base suddenly very quiet and very empty. Too quiet—too empty. Only the pipes above the kitchen and the lights in the living area offered any sounds at all, and it was just a continuous soft humming in his ears. With a flash of irritation, Charles snatched up the pillow underneath his head and flattened it against his face.

Not more than twenty feet from the base's entrance, there came a shift. Charles jerked the pillow away; he focused. The teleporter was gone, of course, before Charles had a chance to lock on. But the shift—the presence—remained. A mind.

Charles sat up.

It wasn't Erik. No, this mind sensed his presence the same instant he felt it. It was cold and rigid, but also contained a type of amusement within its core of glistening crystals and intensity.

Emma Frost.

Charles brought his attention to the door. Seconds later, the metal slab opened and the diamond woman stepped inside. Although the spherical room was dark, her crystal body gleamed in the faint lights still illuminating the rest of the base, exhibiting a spectrum of colors.

She approached the fencing and then closed her fingers around the wires.

"He has you caged in here pretty well, doesn't he?" she said and flashed a smile.

Charles didn't smile back.

The woman lifted a hand. She plucked at the wiring close to her head, the metal snapping as she went. Creating an opening just large enough to fit through, she grabbed the top of it. Then, with the ease of a gymnast flipping on a mat, she slid her body through, the jagged wires not leaving a scratch.

On his bed, Charles frowned as the woman approached him. Would Erik send Emma? He had said repeatedly that Charles needn't worry about the others. No, she had come on her own accord.

A shiver ran up Charles' back. He could fend off a telepathic attack; after all, such a move would require that Emma enter his mind where his senses were the strongest. But she didn't need telepathy to harm him. In her crystal form, she could kill or torture him with just a few swipes of her fingers.

"Why the long face, sugar?" she asked as she sat on the edge of his bed.

Charles squared his jaw. "I'm not working that machine for you. So you can do with that as you wish."

"Oh, that's not very nice," Emma said, her voice resonating within her diamond lips. "I know Erik has been pestering you for days now. I thought we could have a little talk. Just you and me." Her eyes sparkled a little.

"I believe I'll pass this time, if you don't mind." Charles nudged his head towards the base's door.

Emma stood back up. "I don't think you want to do that. I have something I want to say to you, but first… " She nodded at herself. "I assume you won't try anything if I turn back to blonde?"

Even if she was weaker in her human form, Emma could change back to diamonds the instant Charles went on any telepathic assault. Reluctantly, he nodded.

With that, Emma's crystals lost their luster. Shifting from glass and then snowy white, her body finally transformed back into its human form. It was then Charles realized exactly what angle the woman was playing. Standing by his bed, Emma Frost wore only white lingerie. Similar to the one she was dressed in at the Russian compound, the two-piece had the slightest touch of ruffles around her bra and the bottom of her undergarments. Stockings were attached to a garter belt that fit her waist just perfect.

Charles sucked in a breath. He opened his mouth, but the words stuck.

Emma didn't hesitate. Placing a hand on his right shoulder, she pressed down until he was lying on his back. She got on top of him, straddling his waist. Her legs held firmly to his sides, her thighs hot against his body.

"Like I was saying," she went on, "I have something I want to say to you. And I have a feeling you'll want to listen."

Charles remained still.

Emma smiled down at him. "Just consider something for a moment. Two telepaths. With our abilities, imagine what we could do for one another. Or to one another." She leaned closer; her lips grazed his ear. "We could be very creative together."

Her mind pushed at his. He didn't expect it, and she passed through his mental barriers. A wave of pleasure swept through his upper body. He gasped.

"Don't tell me you haven't been curious," she said.

Charles closed his eyes. He could have forced her out of his mind. But as another wave struck him, he realized he could barely move. It didn't just end at his waist that time. As Emma's mind seeped deeper, a new sensation emerged. So familiar and yet so strange now, like seeing a loved one after being separated for years.

His legs. He felt his lower body.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. Tears streamed down the sides of his face.

"It's been awhile," Emma said with a satisfied grin.

Then, she kissed him. Her lips were moist; there was a faint taste of lipstick still tracing the edges. She slid her tongue into his mouth.

His legs didn't move, but he felt every sensation she granted him. It was an illusion; she was teasing his mind. But it felt real. And he wanted that feeling. After everything that had been taken away, he wanted it more than anything else.

He wrapped his arms around her. She pushed the covers down to his ankles and intertwined her legs with his. He tried to breathe, but it was difficult. His lips trembled. His hands were shaking.

Emma pressed her mouth harder onto his. Her hands slipped underneath his shirt, her nails grazing his sides. He slid his hands up her back, her skin soft and firm, and so inviting. He squeezed her tightly to himself, tightening his grip with each wave of satisfaction she offered.

But then, his mind caught up with him.

"Wait—wait," he struggled to get out.

Emma smiled. "Just relax. I'll take care of you."

She started kissing his neck, her telepathy enveloping his.

With a groan, he pushed at her mind. Across the lower half of his body, the sensation dulled some.

Emma stopped. She lifted her head; her smile was gone. "What's the matter?"

"I know what you're doing," he replied. "I…I can't—I won't help you work Cerebro. Not even for this." He exhaled deeply, feeling as his legs continued to grow numb again.

Emma peered down. Her face was impossible to read, but through his telepathy, Charles felt her frustration—even anger. She didn't like being said no to.

Then, out of nowhere, the woman released a laugh. She grinned at him again, but this time, it wasn't meant to be pleasant. "Let's face some facts, sugar," she said. "Just between the two of us. You know what I can do for you. And I know what you can't." She brought her lips half an inch from his. "So I'm about the only option you have left."

As her words sunk in, any desire inside Charles burned away. He shoved the woman off; she fell back near the end of the bed.

"Get out," he exclaimed, sitting up.

She stared at him as if trying to figure out if he was real.

"Leave!" he shouted.

Emma glared. Fury blazed through her eyes like the dark blue should have been bright red. But underneath, surprise was also lurking.

With that, Charles said, "So that's it, then? With all your power, the only thing you're good for is seducing men."

Eyes like razors, Emma came back, "It's always worked well enough."

"Getting what you want in exchange for sexual favors?" Charles frowned. "There's a word for that."

The movement was swift; he barely caught the glint of crystal before it flashed across his face. It smacked his left cheek and felt like a brick had struck him. With a shout, he toppled to his right, his hands clasping his head. Across the lower half of his body, all sensation was gone.

Emma Frost stood. Back to her diamond form, she walked to the metal fence blocking Cerebro and then slid through it the same way she had entered. Using her crystal fingers, she pinched the metal together again, and then left the base, never looking back as Charles held his face, the skin feeling like it was on fire.

End of Chapter