"What?!" Mouth somewhat dry and inching ever closer to tie with the mass of heat otherwise known as the Sahara Desert, Emily didn't have to think hard to realize that she had been being watched this entire time. In fact, she was quite foolish to believe that her affairs were private, especially once it came to light that she was carrying the next generation of Genovese. Well, its not like ration was ever a part of the equation... The only question was exactly how much Chris already knew...

Not letting up his grasp, dark eyes were boring so deep into green, it wasn't going to be long before he reached the opposite end of the earth. This was hardly the ideal way to start out the day. "Emily, if you ever cared about me, you will tell me the truth."

This was it, the one moment she had been dreading from the very beginning...

Sighing as she braced herself for the worst, all the mother-to-be could think about was how much she really did love him, how much she wished for a time-machine to stop herself from ever breaking his heart. "Chris-" Her voice came out two or three octaves too high, just hitting the definition of a squeak, so she tried again after clearing her throat, "Chris, you know that I love you, but after you went to prison I..." A rather devious thought flashed across her mind. What if she were to blame the affair on sex addiction? After all, it was Chris that was always saying what a little nymphomaniac she was...

No, she couldn't do that, not while she was far enough out on a limb (what with attempting to keep Dave's name and secret identity out of things). Trying to look away in shame, he made it impossible for her eyes to wander too far from his face. "Well?"

They said that honesty was the best policy - whoever they were - but obviously they had never met anyone quite like Chris. "On the day you planned on killing Kick-Ass, I became acquainted with this guy, and he convinced me to..." There was a pause as many a deep breath was taken and breathing was regulated. "He convinced me to keep the baby. After you were taken away, and I was alone trying to cope, we started to bond, and ultimately, we ended up..." Forming a kind of diamond-shaped with the middle and index fingers of her left hand, the artist used her right pointer-finger to slide between the imperfect hole.

"In our room?"

Choking back a sob, knowing deep down that like the lowest kind of person - the unmentionable kind that were so much lower than the worms beneath the dirt that Hitler, Stalin, and all other dictators and horrors are buried beneath - she had absolutely no right to bemoan this, that all she could manage was a small nod.

Chris saw her bob her head, but he had to hear her say it, to personally witness the remorse and terror in her eyes, so he repeated himself, voice colder and more deadly than she had ever heard it before, and that was saying something. "Did you fuck him in our room? ANSWER ME!"

"Yes." It was less than a whisper, but he felt as if she had screamed it at him. "...On my vanity."

He couldn't believe it. After everything that had happened to him, losing his father, becoming the most hated person in the country, having his mother attempting to murder him, he never would have imagined that this was possible, that she would knowingly betray him in such a fashion. And yet, looking closely at the vanity - the bloody cracks spreading from one corner - there was no mistaking that someone's head had banged against the silvery sheet. Letting her go, Chris could feel everything draining away - his fight, his color, and last feeling he might have had left...

"Get out."

Hearing the broken calm in his voice was worse than if he had been screaming; at least when he had screamed at her in the past, there had been heart and emotion behind it. But Emily didn't argue, because she had more than one person to think about, and if she didn't leave now, there was no telling she would get that chance again. As she rose and grabbed a handful of clothes from the floor, she looked back at Chris, longing to say something to him - anything would have been better than the silence - but she had no idea what. Trying (and falling miserly) to hide her tears, she looked back at him once more. He wouldn't look at her.

Shoulders trembling, Emily left their room, only pausing once as she left the apartment...

There was no feeling bad for her, because she had done this to herself...

Ok, so this is a really short chapter, but I feel as if everything that needed to be said (as pertaining to the chapter) was said. For whatever reason, Chris just lets her go. If you don't want to think about the reasons could be, are too lazy to, or just want to look at some of the possibilities I was thinking of, or you want to share your own unique opinion, review the story/PM me, and I'll fill in any gaps (without spoiling the story). Hopefully. As always, thanks, and until next time!

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight, and all minor characters too.