Sorry for the delay on this chapter, hopefully the next won't take as long. I honestly wanted this one to take place before "The Flood" but... I think it works where it is now.

Enjoy,

--P.

Christian stands leaning against the kitchenette's entryway. "The tea will just be a minute."

Emma nods. She seems distant, as if listening to something very far away. She doesn't look at Christian from her position on his comfortable couch.

He grins. "Oh Emma, this really is spectacular. It'll be just like a slumber party. You know, the kind we never got to have when we were kids."

Emma's brow furrows. If she was distracted by something before Christian spoke, she isn't anymore. "This isn't a game, you twit. I'm not here to play house with you." She looks back at her brother. He's still smiling. "What?"

"Nothing."

The tea kettle begins to sing, causing Christian to dance back into the tiny kitchen. The sound dies away and a new noise--the clattering of dishes--is heard.

"I'll take cream and sugar, nothing else thank you."

In a few moments Christian walks out of the kitchen with two cups of tea, steam curling up slowly from the surface of the liquid. He sits beside Emma on the couch and hands her a cup. "Cream and sugar, nothing else."

"Thanks." And she blows at the tea.

"I still can't believe you're here." Christian has ignored his tea and is looking at Emma, face still split by a wide smile.

"I still can't believe that you didn't listen to me." Emma retorts coldly. "Then again, you've never been one to plan sensibly in the face of such things."

"And you are sensible?"

Emma straightens up, throws her shoulders back a bit. "As a matter of fact I am. I'm not the one who ran off to San Francisco at sixteen to become a painter."

"Well, staying behind and having father throw me into a mental hospital to 'cure my sickness' wasn't that appealing. You'll have to excuse me."

She sighs. "There were other options, Chris."

"Oh, and what were those?" When she doesn't answer, Christian nods knowingly. "You can't think of any because you would have done the same thing."

"No I would have not"

"Oh yes you would. You would have run off because all of your prim rationality is just a façade."

She scoffs. "Façade?"

"Yes." Christian punctuates perfectly with a sip of his tea; pinkie out. "Façade."

"Well that is just absolutely--"

He cuts her off. "A truly rational person would not have flown across the United States in a day on a wild hunch."

She doesn't argue. He's right, really. A truly rational person would not have chased down a terrorist and made him beg for mercy in an alley. However, one could not be rational all the time. Emma was--emotionally at least--only human. She still go angry; she still got upset at the thought of her brother being alone in a city under siege. "It was more than a hunch." Emma states, eyes narrowed.

"Be that as it may, I'm fine, I'm in one piece, and the city of San Francisco is in no real--"

Christian does not get to finish his proclamation. A violent explosion somewhere down on street level causes his apartment to vibrate. Emma grips her tea cup tighter, but is completely unperturbed by the blast. "Oh my, whatever could that have been? Perhaps a giant hunch attacking the bay area?"

Setting his tea hastily on the end table, Christian stands. He looks--Emma thinks--like a rabbit preparing itself to run, but not quite sure in which direction it wants to go. "What was that?"

Emma, calmly. "Sit down."

He doesn't comply. Instead Christian heads into his bedroom, and in a few minutes, returns with a baseball bat.

Emma laughs, nearly spilling her tea. "Oh my God, you still have that thing? Whatever do you use it for? Don't tell me you play baseball?"

"Stuff it, you. I could play baseball."

She laughs again. Christian glowers at her, moving to stand in the middle of the room, the bat held in an attempt at good form. "What? What's so bizarre about me playing baseball?"

"Oh nothing." Emma manages to stop laughing after a few deep breaths. "It's just when father tried to make you play as a child, you'd be in the outfield picking flowers while everyone yelled at you to get the ball." Emma again tries not to laugh, snorts, looks horrified, and then erupts into laughter again.

Christian would still be glaring daggers at his sister had she not snorted, but that sends him into his own fits of mirth. "Did you just do what I think you did?"

"No!" She feigns absolute horror. "I'd never."

He's about to say something when another jarring explosion sends Christian leaping onto the couch, clutching the bat for dear life. Emma again tries to stow a snicker, this time without a snort.

"Why are you laughing?"

"I hate to say I told you so…"

"Then don't!"

Emma sighs. "Oh come now, calm down."

Another explosion goes off outside, albeit, a little further away. Emma wraps her arm around her brother and pulls him close. They curl up together on the end of the couch. "I'm sorry if I seem uptight."

"What?" He seems to have forgotten their argument before.

"I always admired you for running away."

"You lie."

"No, not at all. I always thought it was incredibly brave. I was just upset that you left me alone with father."

Christian sighs. "I wanted you to come with me."

"I wouldn't have done it."

"I know."

She smiles. "But wouldn't it have been fun?"

Christian nods. There's another explosion, no closer or farther than the last. Emma feels her brother wince and holds him a little tighter. She's missed this since he went away. They kept in touch, they called on holidays, they even saw each other at their parents' funerals. However, Emma has missed this kind of contact with her brother. They were like this as children, never too far away from one another. If Christian had a nightmare, Emma would know and she'd comfort him when he woke up. She was the first person Christian came out to and the last person he spoke to before he left.

"What do you think they want?" Christian asks softly, head rest on Emma's shoulder.

"They want to destroy the cure."

"And how did you know this was going to happen?"

Emma sighs. "I must just be psychic."

"You always knew where to find me in hide-and-seek…"

She laughs. "That's because you were a terrible hider. I mean really, behind the drapes?"

Christian shrugs. "What can I say? I loved drapes. Still do."

"I'm sorry I never told you."

"Don't worry about it."

Emma looks down at her brother. He's curled up, knees tucked under him like a child. "I wanted to tell you before you left, but it got stuck in my throat. Ever since… there just wasn't a right time to say it."

"I know how that can be."

Emma sighs again. Christian pokes her softly in the stomach. She flinches. "Stop that."

"I knew. I think I always knew you were just like me."

The apartment building vibrates again; another explosion. Down on the street, human soldiers with cure weapons, a regiment coming to Alcatraz's aid, mop up the few marauding mutants that didn't meet at the bridge.

The explosions stop; Christian falls asleep on Emma's shoulder.