Chapter One
"Meeting The Therapist"
"Sex is like air; it's not important unless you aren't getting any."
"The abyssmal ignorance of our students is beginning to depress me. The Marinas trench would seem shallow by comparison," Emma remarked to Scott, stirring her Darjeeling tea with a spoon. They were sitting together in a corner of her study where the morning light poured in through the bay windows and made everything golden. In the background, the ethereal, haunting tones of Mozart's Adagio in C Minor for Glass Harmonica rose and fell.
Emma took a cautious sip from the cup and nodded in approval at the sweet, slightly fruity taste, "An excellent harvest."
"I take it that the economics papers weren't good," Scott said wryly.
"That would be an understatement. They don't seem to be able to grasp the simplest principles of macroeconomic policy as they apply to the early Genoshan economy and its mutates."
"Well, I'm sure it's nothing to do with their teacher," Scott smiled, stroking her cheek. His fingertips were rough against her skin.
Putting her teacup aside, Emma leaned forward to kiss him on the lips. He responded eagerly, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer. His mouth was warm and hungry against hers, a kiss as fierce and violent as possession. She nipped gently at his bottom lip, and the coppery taste of his blood filled her mouth like late Darjeeling tea. Desire flamed within her, and . . . .
A knock sounded at the door. The couple broke apart, breathless. Scott wiped his mouth guiltily with the back of his hand, as if aware that he had broken yet another taboo and enjoyed it. He looked at the red smear of blood against his skin for a moment and then scrubbed it clean against his jeans. Emma merely smiled and licked her lips. She did not understand why people were so ashamed of pleasure that they made so many petty rules to prevent themselves from experiencing it in all its forms.
"Come in," she said, realising they had left their guest waiting for too long.
The door opened a fraction and Rogue stepped into the room. Emma suppressed a wince at how the girl looked. She was wearing an old pair of jeans, faded grey-blue with age, worn white at the knees, and a too-large Saints' sweatshirt that she had obviously taken from Gambit's closet. Her hair was scraped back into a loose braid, and her face was innocent of make-up. Emma mentally scheduled some girl-talk with her, in which she intended to educate her about the straying eyes of men in general and Remy LeBeau in particular.
"Hey, guys. Hope I'm not disturbing anything."
"Of course not. What can we do for you, darling?"
Rogue shifted her weight from one foot to the other, wrapped her arms around herself. Emma could feel the nervousness radiating off her, a low, nauseous buzz on the edge of awareness. Finally, she said, "I want you to take me inside my head and find out why I've got this block when it comes to my powers. I want to . . . no, I need to get control over them now."
"Need," Emma murmured, sipping at her tea, "What an interesting choice of words."
"Yeah, it is. Is Remy making you do this?" Scott asked, his voice concerned.
"No, I'm making me do it," Rogue replied, "Back in Valle Soleada, I knew what it was like to have a normal life. Hell, more than that – a good life. Maybe I can't have all of that again, but I need to have part of it."
"You miss sex," Emma said sympathetically. She could not imagine what it would be like to live without knowing the heavy weight of a body on top of her own, the silk and warmth of naked skin, the sublime ecstasy of orgasm.
"That ain't the problem," Rogue flushed, "It's all the rest. Kissing him without having to go to that damn Z'noxx chamber, sleeping in his arms, being able to have kids with him one day. Everything y'all take for granted."
Emma looked at her in pity. Did she really believe that Gambit shared her romantic dreams, her domestic desires? When she had trained as a sex therapist, she had learnt about men like him. Men who were so incapable of commitment that they pursued women they could never have. Men who fell in love with movie stars and digital fantasies and other people's wives. Men who fell out of love the instant that, by some miracle or twist of fate, the unattainable became attainable. If Rogue gained control of her powers, she was certain to lose the man she loved.
"Are you sure this is what you want, darling? It could have consequences you don't expect."
"I'm sure," Rogue replied, and there was no doubt in her voice.
Emma nodded, realising further argument would be futile, "In that case, I shall see you tomorrow for our first session."
For such a brief one, this chapter took me a great deal of time to write. I kept writing parts that were perfectly fine by themselves, but didn't work in the overall scheme of the chapter. It might be because, although I've read all of Morrison's X-Men,it took me a while to work out what he was trying to do withScott and Emma. Although I'd prefer to write more before posting, the nature of serialised fiction is such that it is best to post on a regular basis before the readers forget about the story.
