I'm so sorry about the late updates....school is really crazy right now....but I'm super excited about this chapter and I think you guys will love it as well.

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Chapter 3: Patterns and Surprises

"Art begins with resistance - at the point where resistance is overcome. No human masterpiece has ever been created without great labor."~ Andre Gide

My life settles into a comfortable pattern again; both a relief and a curse. With a full schedule, I no longer have the luxury to dwell on my loss constantly. I can go hours without thinking about her but it's because I have a million other things to do now.

Of course, therein lies the curse. I have a million things to do. I wake up; have silent coffee and breakfast with Eric, who isn't a morning person either. We wordlessly exchange sections of the newspaper until the kids start streaming in, their bowls and spoons clanging noisily in the carefully constructed silence, their cereal and milk spilling everywhere.

When the din in the kitchen gets to be too much, I slip away to the ballroom that the Professor gave me for my studio. Not only do I get a studio out of our deal, but students as well. The Professor and I have broken the children up into two groups; those younger than twelve and those older. There are only about five younger than twelve and I just let them color whatever they want. Some of them are too traumatized from the kennels to pay much attention to me, much less actually take it in and use it. The Professor keeps a close eye on these drawings, hoping that this "art therapy" as he calls it, will help them heal.

I save the hard stuff for the older students. Remembering my high school art days, I find old multicolored bottles, to teach my students about light, oddly shaped fruit to teach them about shadow, and semi-unwilling victims to show facial structure. As much as she loves to jump around, Oro, however, loves to be the model. It surprises me how still she can stay when she needs to be.

But there are odd moments in the day, a quiet drawing session, the early morning coffee with Eric, when my attention slips back to thinking about Kayla and I have the urge to look though old pictures that I don't have, to smile when I think of our Chinese nights with Paul McCartney to serenade us as we ate. I wish more than ever that she were here to see what my life has become and I wonder how her life would have been if she lived.

"What do you think, Emma?" Scott produces a portrait of what looks like lumpy toadstools floating in space, snapping me out of my day dream.

I hold back a giggle as I step off my stool and lean against the back of his chair. "Is that what you see?"

His eyebrows draw together over his rose colored glasses. "I drew the stupid fruit, didn't I?"

Jean, who sits to his left, giggles at this. Scott immediately looks over and smiles. She goes back to her drawing with a small, shy smile, her red hair hanging like a curtain between them. Even that doesn't deter Scott from continuously staring at her. Oh, for Pete's sake…

"Look at the shape of everything," I instruct, plucking the pencil from his limp hand.

"They're all circle." He insists.

"No…" I point. "Look and see what's really there." I wait as Scott squints.

A moment later, he only shrugs.

"Okay. Let's start with the pear…" I look up briefly then back down to the page and start to sketch out the circles within the pear's shape. "See…it's rounded but not just two circles, there's an oval at the top too, isn't there?"

Scott stares at me like I'm an idiot. "I guess so…"

"And then grapes aren't circles at all, they're oblong…and the apple from this angle, looks like one and a half oblong shapes." I finish sketching. "Go ahead; draw the shapes. Worry about shadowing later."

Scott grumbles about "stupid fruit" until the lesson is over at the end of the hour. They pack up and Scott tries to make witty small talk with Jean about the homework that Eric assigned them as they walk out the door. He fails miserably and still he keeps trying to impress her. I laugh quietly to myself as even Oro rolls her huge blue eyes at them and casts me a look that seems to say: "Not again…"

With the room now empty even the vaulted ceilings of the ballroom make it hard for me to breathe. I don't have any more classes today and so I clean up; sweeping the floor and locking all the cabinets, counting to be sure all the easels are here, all of (well most of) the colored pencils are here as well. When I'm done, I look back into what is supposed to be mine. But it isn't and I'm not sure how to make it so. Instead of worrying about it, I slip out and away from the mansion, heading for fresh air.

The garden is a sigh of relief as I stroll. To my left is a huge flowering magnolia plant. Instantly, I've gone back nearly six years to a time when everything was simple and hope was real. I pluck the fattest bloom and tuck it behind my ear. I remember, Kayla. I will always remember.

"Hey! Watch where you're walking!" A hostile voice warns from a small bunch of potted apple trees.

I can't help but react. For a moment, I can't feel the spring sun on my skin, the breeze against my hair. For an instant, I'm invincible and all the world can see it shimmering in the sun. And now I don't have Kayla here to make him forget or make him not tell what he's seen…

I yank it back when I realize this isn't an attack. A young man emerges from the copse of trees, a landscaper's logo on his shirt. I watch him pulling off a pair of thick gardener's gloves and tuck them into his back pocket before he runs his hand through his dark hair. He's at least six and a half feet tall….he even towers over me; I take a cautionary step back.

"Sorry," he's rubbing his dark grayish blue eyes eyes…oh God, oh God…no, he can't know… "I didn't mean to scare you."

I shake my head, feeling a stupid blush creep across my face. "No…I didn't think anyone else was here."

"Yeah, well, you were about to walk into one of the holes I dug for the trees." He points to a hole probably three feet deep and two feet wide. "You would have broken your ankle for sure."

"Thanks….I guess," I shrug.

"You're welcome…I guess." His smile is infectious, I realize after a second or two. "I'm David," he holds out a hand that I won't take. "David Starling."

"Emma…Frost."

He gives me a strange, confused glance and pulls his hand back. "So…you're not the usual age for someone to be admitted to the Institute. Most of them are about twelve or so."

"I'm the new art teacher…." It's sort of the truth.

"I see."

"And what do you do?"

"This…" He holds out his arms to summarize.

"So, you're the gardener?" I wonder.

"I prefer the term 'Landscaper'…it's much less-"

"Gay?" I insert.

He puts his hand over his heart in a gesture of wounded pride. "Ouch….that hurts."

"Sorry," I shrug. "I call them like I see them."

"Fair enough," Suddenly, a look of surprise crosses his face. He puts a finger up to his lips to indicate silence and points over my shoulder. "Look…"

I turn, slowly and there under the garden fence is a small grey fox, possibly the same one I saw a few days ago. It sits on its hind legs, busy tail wrapping around it's paws, it's small sharp eyes follow us. One of its huge ears flicks to the right and in the blink of an eye is gone just as quickly as its come.

"That's so weird…" David mutters. "You hardly ever see them in the daylight."

"I…" I stammer.

"Whoa," David narrows his eyes at me. "Are you okay? You look like you'd seen a ghost…"

"I should let you get back to work." I whisper and turn to go, letting the shadow of the past stay in the garden. As I run like a coward, I can hear a few heavy footsteps as he jumps up and follows me to the path, but I don't look back.

Later that night, as I lay wide awake beneath a moonless sky, I suddenly get the urge to draw. So I grab a sheet of paper, pencil and the magnolia blossom and head downstairs.

The kitchen is quiet and cool as I sit at the wide open table and begin to draw. Soon the familiar sounds of pencil on paper relax me enough that I yawn a few times. But just as I'm about to leave, I hear voices arguing. For a moment, I freeze as the voices grow frustrated and angry.

"…Eric, if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, it will not be used as a weapon!" the Professor mutters.

"But think of what we can do Charles, you and I and the children…" Eric reasons. "Especially if we strike first."

"That is not what this Institute is for. We decided together that knowledge was the best way to fight ignorance…we must show them through peace."

"Peace?" Eric laughs bitterly. "Peace? They will never let us have peace until they've killed every last one of us."

There is a pause, a beat of time.

"Give it a chance, Eric." The professor reasons. "Give this place a chance, give them a chance, you never know, they might surprise you."

I can hear Eric swallow hard and then all I hear are footsteps. Then suddenly the door to the kitchen opens and the Professor comes in. "How much did you hear?" He wonders, suddenly looking more tired than I'd ever seen him.

I shrug. "Just the last two or three minutes."

The Professor sighs and plops down across from me.

"He's really freaked out," I whisper. "Isn't he?"

He nods. "Eric is worried that if we were to be discovered, the government may take it as a threat and try to destroy us."

"But we…aren't doing anything wrong…" I insist.

"I know that, Emma…" the professor smiles. "And you know that but…Eric has a valid point; so many mutants in one place and people know so little about us about our powers. People almost always fear what they can't or don't understand. Eric knows this better than most."

"It's because he's Jewish, isn't he?" I remember that numbers on his arm, the bitter talk we had. "And the Holocaust."

Again, the Professor nods. "Eric lost his parents and found out about his powers all in one day. He knows, probably than anyone, the consequences of being different."

I agree playing with the magnolia blossom on the table. "It…isn't easy… but it's nice to be here instead of…there…" I shudder at the memories of that place.

"How is it you were on Three Mile Island? If you don't mind my asking…" He adds as I feel my expression change.

I breathe in. I knew this would come up eventually. "I met a boy in college. He was beautiful and smart…and sweet and a mutant like us…" I sigh, thinking of Jamie's smile and the way his hand fit around my waist. "I fell hard and let myself be convinced to drop out of school, stop talking to my sister…"I swallow. "There are things that I'm not proud of."

"I see…he took you to Three Mile?"

I nod, letting day play itself over and over again in my mind. "…Said it was part of a job. He hands me off to Victory and splits. I haven't seen him since."

"What was his name?"

"Jamie Madrox…'Multiple Man' he called himself. He called me 'Pearl'." I smile at the memory of his amazement when I finally showed him what I could do. His eyes grew wide and he touched my cheek with a hand I couldn't feel. "…like mother-of-pearl…" he whispered.

"How is it your sister got there?"

I shake my head. "I don't know….I was there a few weeks before it happened. One early morning, I heard alarms going off and my sister scream and windows crashing and then I saw was Logan running down the aisles, slicing the locks with these huge metal claws…And Kayla was behind him…"

I remember her ordering me to go on, that she had to stay. Vaguely I remember the dark halls and dripping pipes and then I remember running out into the sunshine and free air. There was the Professor waiting for us. But what I can't put together is when the Professor told me that my sister wouldn't be coming. Was it after Eric lifted the helicopter into the sky? Or after? Because I can recall that I fell to my knees and screaming and crying to go back…we couldn't leave without her…I had to save her and then the professor knelt down next to me and placed his hand on my temple…then black.

"You told me," I whisper finally. "That you spoke to her…before she…?"

"I did," the Professor replies. "If you'll lean forward." He holds out his hands skull length apart. "I can show you."

Carefully, I lean forward over the table and close my eyes.

In an instant, I'm bombarded by images of us; me as a tiny grieving ten year old after our mother died. "Tell her I will always love her." Her and I laughing and singing to the Beatles in our kitchen. "Always have." Me crying into her shoulder about something. "Always will." Me painting in my room, me wiping the dirt and grease from my hands, and then her checking me to make sure I was alright when she and Logan busted me out of the kennels. "Nothing will ever change that…" For a moment, I'm over come with the love and had…has for me, and the knowledge that she wouldn't get of this alive….she knew….and she had to be sure that I lived…

The images quit suddenly and I fall back into my seat, the void in my chest screaming for more, more, more….the tears leak and I can't seem to catch my breath for a moment.

"Emma?" the Professor prods gently. "Emma? I know it was a lot to take in at one time…are you alright?"

"I want to know," I hiss suddenly. "I want to know what happened to her."

"It can't change anything." The Professor tells me what I already know

I fix him with a confident stare. "I need to know."

I bet you all didn't see that comming... :) Happy Reading!!!