The hallway echoed as footsteps approached, and Moira drew herself up. Her tongue felt fuzzy, and she struggled to stay conscious. Worst of all, at least for the moment, was the taste of vomit inside her mouth.
For whatever reason, she'd thrown up that morning. Pinpointing the exact reason was difficult at the moment, and she'd given up after about an hour. There hadn't been much to throw up except bile, but what food they'd given her that morning was gone, as well as most of her daily water. The little she'd had after that wasn't enough to get rid of the taste.
It had served to make her more dehydrated and, as such, she knew whatever Martinique had in store for her today would hurt more than usual. Her last cigarette burn still hurt.
She rotated her wrists. As usual, it didn't really do something now that they'd cuffed her in. She leaned back, swallowing and trying to ignore the sour taste as her throat tightened.
The door opened and, as she expected, Martinique appeared. The smirk on her face was wider than usual, and Moira wondered if she knew she would be weaker that morning. Something new and terrible was expected.
But the teenage girl she dragged in with her was still a surprise. The girl's wide blue eyes were taking in the scene, filthy blonde hair falling around he face. Her dirt-smudged face turned to Moira, and, even though her skin was almost the color of a lily, she managed to pale.
Martinique jerked her down so she was on the floor, using her hands to support herself. Instinctively Moira pulled forward, and her wrists ached. The girl looked up, cocking her head slightly.
"I don't know her," Moira managed, "There's no reason to bring her into this."
Martinique smiled and crouched next to the girl.
"Do you hear that Emma?" she said, "The nice woman is worried about you. She doesn't want you to be hurt. How thoughtful! What do you say to that Emma?"
The girl just swallowed and looked at the ground.
"Good answer," said Martinique, "Now, you remember what I told you to look for?"
Emma nodded and Moira felt something twitch inside her.
"If you encounter resistance, just keep pushing," said Martinique, putting one of her hands on Emma's shoulder, "And don't try anything clever with me, because you know I'll know. And that will just make it hurt."
Moira looked back at the girl, and her heart began to beat faster. Martinique pulled away Emma's filthy hair and, for the first time, Moira saw a thick collar was clasped around her neck. Martinique's fingers flew on what seemed to be a keypad, and it came off.
"You should've been more cooperative Moira," said Martinique, "Because, judging by how out of practice the little princess is, it's gonna hurt."
Emma looked up at her, her eyes pleading. Moira took a shuddering breath and braced herself. Emma sat back on her heels, closing her shining blue eyes and clasping her hands.
Ice stabbed her brain. Moira felt herself jerk back, but the physical discomfort was nothing compared to what she was feeling in her mind. It was like cold, sharp, thin fingers stirring her brain.
Frustration and fear leeched over her, but she knew it wasn't hers. It was Emma's, and she tried to reach out.
Emma, you don't have to do this. You don't have to let them-
Don't talk! Emma screeched, It'll make it worse, it'll make it worse! I don't want to hurt you, I don't! I don't have a choice!
Emma!
The pain increased, and it was like a fist punching her repeatedly. Emma was pushing with all her might, and Moira knew she was screaming. Her fingers clawed into the armrests she was buckled into, and her head flailed wildly.
Moira felt something shatter. She saw her research fly in front of her eyes, known facts, paper she had looked at. She saw the lists of names, of dates, of places, of politicians whose children were mutants and had begged her to find the types of people who might harm them.
Even in the midst of her pain, she could feel tears trailing down her eyes. She struggled to keep a hold onto it, but no matter how tight her grip was, it felt like it was all being whipped out of her hands.
Her mind went to her son. They would hurt him. They would take this information, hurt him, hurt Charles, Hank, Peter, Scott, Kurt, Jean, Storm, all the children like them. Even the girl going through her mind-
I'm sorry, I know you have a son, I'm sorry, I don't want to hurt you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...
Don't tell them about that! cried Moira, The information if you have to, but please, leave everyone out of it! The students, I know you can see them, don't tell them!
She could feel Emma hesitate.
I need them to be safe, Moira said, Please, I know they'll kill me after they get this, but everyone else has to be safe. Don't you understand? They'll hurt him too.
I...you don't know how long I've been here. I know exactly what they can do to me if they're angry...
Unbidden, images forced themselves into her head of pain, of burns, of cold, of watching the flesh melt off her bones from lack of food. She saw Emma curled up in a corner, fourteen, twelve, younger?
Moira felt the tears fall down her face even more, and she wished she could move, could do something.
Why do you care? You're...you...you said it yourself. You don't know me.
You didn't deserve that, said Moira, You should've had better. I'm so sorry. I-
More pain made her cut off the thought. She saw a blurry image of the room, Emma, trembling, Martinique, smiling.
I...
The pain didn't disappear, but the room did. Instead she saw what looked like a blank room. She saw Emma looking at her, clean and with her hair showing itself to be a pale blonde, her face to be around sixteen. God. Just a child.
Please, they're safe right now, said Moira, feeling desperate, I can't have these people find them. They'll hurt them. My son, everyone. I'm begging you. I...I don't think you'll be able to mask my research-
She may kill me. She wants to. I don't even need to read her mind, Emma said, She remembers that time I spit at her. I can see it in her eyes.
But please. So many lives are on the line, Moira said, So many people can suffer if this goes wrong. Please. I need them to be safe, more than anything.
For a second, she saw the image of a woman in her twenties, her skin and hair dark. Her eyes were warm and she reached out. A memory of Emma's perhaps, something kind and from another time.
"I need you to be safe, more than anything," the woman said.
I miss her so much, Emma whispered.
"Emma!"
She got another image of the room, hazy though it was. Moira saw Martinique standing over Emma, holding something that resembled a cattle prod.
"Don't!" Moira managed.
Martinique stabbed it into Emma's hand, and it crackled with electricity. Emma screamed with pain and Moira felt it, coupled by another wave. It raced all the way down into her toes, pain like nothing she'd ever felt before.
Charles jolted forward in his chair. He clutched his head with one of his hands. It was sharper than a headache, but not up to the level of a migraine. It was just so sudden, and yet it felt different, but at the same time, familiar.
His mind immediately went to Kevin. Was that him? He would be in his room now. School got out early for the younger students.
Kevin? he said, Kevin, is something wrong?
No, nothing's wrong, said Kevin, But, something hurt. It hurt in my head though. Not like a bump or bruise, but deep. Like a painful prickle...
Charles frowned and thought. It sounded like a psychic event, and if that's what it was, and if he and Kevin had felt it, Jean would've too.
One minute Kevin, he thought.
Okay, should I go to your office? Is something wrong?
I don't think so, said Charles, I just need to talk to Jean.
But what if it's something bad?
I'm sure it's fine, said Charles, I'll be right back.
He wished he could stay and talk to Kevin and give him some sort of reassurance about what was happening. But the feeling was growing faint in his head, and he wanted to hold onto it until he discovered what it was. It was difficult to do that and hold too many conversations at once.
Jean, did you feel something a minute ago? he asked, Some sort of pain?
He felt Jean startle. Was she in physics? A test? No time.
Um, no, Jean said, I didn't feel anything at all.
Charles's frown deepened. Jean was the most powerful mutant he'd ever come across. If this was a psychic event, she would've felt it. She had sensed Nur waking up halfway around the world. In her sleep.
She would've been able to feel it if this was based purely in some sort of event.
Yes, thank you, Charles said.
He cut off the connection and looked out the window. The feeling was fading. Why had he and Kevin been able to feel it and Jean hadn't? What was special, what was unique about him and Kevin that made things differently? What had they done that Jean hadn't?
Suddenly, he realized that they had both, from what Kevin had told him, been in Moira's mind more than once. Jean had never needed to do so. The feeling began to fade, and he latched onto it, desperate.
With all his strength, he followed it, followed the pain, but pushed off the physical sensation. It existed on a different plane. Charles ran into what felt like a wall her fence, pushing him back. It was tough, but he clawed at it. The pain and the trace were still fading, but it was there.
Warmth came down his face. His nose was bleeding again. He didn't care. She was there, he could tell it. He hammered again and again at the fence, at the last barrier between them.
Something was pounding back at him though. It hurt, but it seemed distant. He snarled. He had battled an ancient mutant in his mind, felt himself being taken over and fought it. He hadn't been triumphant, but he wasn't going to give up. Charles wasn't failing her again.
Finally, a crack appeared, and he pushed through it. He felt Moira faintly, felt her pain, her exhaustion, her confusion. He was feeling woozy as well, but he had to hold on. He brushed against her mind, tried to pull her with him.
Moira!
Charles...
He could have screamed with relief. She was still alive, but her mind was fading. He had to hold onto her.
Are you...the weird electric fences, the collars, you shouldn't be able to...who are you?
A second voice? Who was that? He pushed further. Whoever they were, they needed to get away from Moira. They had no place in her mind, no place-
Please...we need help, the voice whispered, I think they're going to kill her!
It was getting harder to hold on. That damn fence kept trying to push him away, and it was like trying to swim through jello. Electrified jello. He just kept concentrating. Everything but this struggle was leaving.
Who!?
God, it was all pulling away. Nothing he could do, no more tools left to fight. He pushed through it more, still feeling Moira's mind brushing up against his, this other one too. A girl? Yes, the age of one of his students.
But they were pulling away. He pushed his love toward Moira's mind, desperate to give her some sort of message and gather his strength. The other mind was fading in and out of focus. Something was slapping down. He heard something being clasped around a neck somewhere. Fingers on a keypad.
Nathaniel! the voice shrieked, Nathaniel Essex! Please, I don't think they'll have much use for her or me soon-
The voice cut off. Charles tried to get back in focus, but he felt something hard against his face. Pain, then nothing.