Peace Studies (1/3?)
Title: Peace Studies (1/3?)
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Rating: R
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Word Count: 3119
Apologies: I feel very awkward about this AU. It seems to be treading on a lot of the same ground as a couple of others. So... Mash up!
Summary: In one world, Emma and Emily didn't disobey their parents. They didn't fight for freedom. And they didn't find each other in the midst of loss and terror. They met at a party instead.
The woman, poised and composed, clicked her way through the pack of reporters to step up on the platform then turn and smile. Her black suit was well cut and well chosen, and her smile was broad and even, until she tripped over one of the microphone cords and just barely managed to not topple over onto her face. She straightened up, and smiled again, slightly more embarrassed this time.
"Ambassador Prentiss! Ambassador Prentiss! Is it true that you've convinced Israel to allow a Palestinian state to exist?"
Emily laughed. "It took a little finagling, but it looks hopeful. And don't call me Ambassador Prentiss. That's my mom."
"How do you feel about following so closely in your mother's footsteps?"
"Closely?" Emily seemed to consider this. "We have similar roles, but we followed different paths to get there. My mom worked her way up. I got it handed to me on a silver platter." Everyone laughed.
"Peace studies isn't an easy thing to study."
"Which I found out in a firefight in Somalia," Emily said, seriously. "But it's work worth doing. There's nothing more important than peace."
-
Emma Frost, CEO of Frost Enterprises Inc, clicked off the television and rolled her eyes. "Fucking hippies. She's got the same mess in her head as you, Tony."
Tony Stark laughed. "What can I say? Weapons Manufacturers for Peace! You're information technology; you shouldn't disagree with her. You can't sell computers in a war zone."
"We can sell helicopter flight controls, training programs, and communications systems. We can sell PTSD therapy programs too. War is excellent for business."
"I heard you were working with the team designing those."
“I had a BA in neuroscience. I’ve kept up with the literature.” Emma tapped her temple. "Some people are more versatile than others."
Tony considered this. "Were you ever interested in that?"
"In what? Becoming a Psychologist? Getting a PhD? Teaching?" The horror in her voice increased at each term. "I was bred for business Tony, just like you."
He pouted and batted his eyes at her. "But I wanted to be an engineer too."
"And look at you. Superhero extraordinaire."
"And you?"
"If I'm bored, Tony, I get laid."
"So do I. But sometimes it's a different kind of boredom."
"And then I go develop PTSD software. It's satisfying. Not quite as satisfying as sex, but good enough."
"Speaking of sex, what did you think of her?"
"Her?"
"Ambassador Prentiss?"
"The young one?"
"Yes. I know the old one is smoking hot. The young one is the one I am considering inviting to my next party."
Emma rolled her eyes. "And you need my opinion?"
"Come on. I saw you watching her, with that look."
"And if I was imagining taking her with a really big hard strap-on and fucking her positive ideals out of her?"
"I'm putting her at your table."
Emma rolled her eyes. "Tony... Peace-nicks!"
* * *
“Ambassador Prentiss!” Tony clasped her hand and shook it eagerly. Emily flushed.
“Emily, please. Mr. Stark.”
“Then call me Tony.” He gave her a lecherous smile. The blonde girl at his side gave him a sharp elbow in the gut. He gave a short yelp, and smiled. “And meet my girlfriend-”
“I know you,” Emily cut him off. “You’re Brooke McQueen, from the Star Ledger.”
The girl’s face brightened in excitement. “I’m so thrilled to actually be introduced to you, Ambassador.”
“Emily.”
“Emily.” Brooke bit her lower lip, shifting with pleasure.
“And this is…” Tony reached for the hand of the man at her side. He stiffened.
Emily glanced over at him, worried. “Oh.”
“Aaron Hotchner,” the man said flatly. “FBI.” He didn’t shake hands.
Tony nodded and took Emily’s arm with out permission. “You didn’t really need to bring a bodyguard,” he whispered, sotto voce.
“I thought it was less likely to mess up the seating than to not bring anyone.”
Tony smiled, shaking his head. “This is your table. I’m leaving you in the hands of my dearest friend, Emma Frost.” The blonde woman glanced up, caught sight of Emily, and gave a sly roll of the eyes. Emily stiffened slightly. She stood.
“Emma,” Tony introduced, “Ambassador Emily Prentiss.”
“Charmed,” Emma drawled sarcastically.
“Likewise,” Emily said flatly.
Tony grinned. “I can see you will get along swimmingly. Look after her, Ems.”
“Of course,” Emma said, entirely unimpressed. He slipped off and she turned to the other two seated table members. “May I introduce Lord and Lady von Doom?” They inclined their heads. “And,” a smiling man with coiffed blond locks came up behind her and reached his hand out to shake Emily’s. “You know Governor Worthington, of course. I’m looking after him for this evening.”
“Indeed. My wife is off on one of her philanthropic enthusiasms. Emma has promised to keep me out of trouble.” He flashed her a boyishly rakish grin.
“I’m sure she’ll do a good job of that,” Emily said doubtfully, and shook his hand.
He laughed.
* * *
“I’m just not certain why people expect trauma to be surmountable. People’s minds are astonishing. They can adapt to anything. The fact that they have a difficult time adapting to normalcy after extended periods of danger and violence is only to be expected. What people forget is that that can be a good thing. This world is not all happiness and fluffy bunnies, and it would be a terrible thing if it were. Humans have the potential for violence, for greed, for survival, why should they be disallowed from taking advantage of it?”
“So you’re saying that we should use victims of trauma as like a… swat team for dangerous missions?”
“The drug war on the border? You want someone with a quick trigger finger and a good dose of paranoia.”
“So, mental health issues are a good thing?”
“People should do what they’re made for.”
Emily stiffened, scowling. “That’s a complete fallacy. That’s like… like saying that because men and women fit together like, like waffle blocks, homosexuality should be forbidden.”
As one Lord and Lady von Doom rose and departed the table. Dinner had already been eaten and they were well into the wine, having called for another two bottles to add to the four provided.
Emma leaned on the table, narrowing her eyes as she looked at Emily. “No its not. It’s like saying people can have pleasure in a myriad of ways, and they should do what they like best. It would be a denial of their potential to restrict it. Don’t you always go on about potential?”
“The potential for positive growth.”
“The potential for increased pleasure, and productivity.” Emma smiled. “I’m a CEO, you’ll never hear me fight against positive growth.”
“Sometimes you have to have rules, just to make things fair.”
“Nothing in this world is fair. There are winners and there are losers. It’s the soul of capitalism, darling. Try to be a winner, or get eaten.”
Warren awkwardly excused himself, carrying his dessert plate. Aaron sat stoically on, ears deaf to the conversation, demolishing his flourless chocolate torte.
Emily gestured viciously with her fork. “Are you trying to provoke me? Sex, money, and politics. What are we going to fight over next, religion?”
Aaron finished his cake and coughed slightly. Emily glanced over at him. “You can go if you want, you don’t need to walk me home.”
He nodded shortly, and left.
Emma snorted. “A bodyguard? Couldn’t get a date?”
Emily cocked her head, frowning. “I didn’t see you with a date. Babysitting someone else’s husband?”
Emma paused and gave her a lazy smile. “That was just for seating. Technically, according to Tony, you’re my date.”
Emily stared at her, blankly.
“He thought there would be sparks. If you count the ones flaring from our… discussion… I can’t say he was wrong.”
Emily sat back, considering this. “He’s sort of strange, isn’t he?”
Emma snorted. “That’s an understatement.” Then she stood and held out her hand. “Care to dance?”
Emily gaped. "You're asking me?"
"Why not? We seemed to have scared away the rest of the company.”
"I thought you hated me."
"You piss me off. I might tread on your feet on purpose."
Emily laughed and offered her arm.
* * *
Brooke was staring pathetically out at the dance floor. “The Ambassador is dancing with Ms. Frost!”
Tony glanced out and smirked. “Emma can work magic that no one understands.”
“Oh, I do hope I get a chance to talk to her again.”
“Salivating for an exclusive, I can tell.”
Brooke shot him a glare. “It’s the Ambassador. She is news. She gets on a plane, and something in the world changes. If Janine Kishi wins the presidency, she’s in the top five for possible Secretary of State. They begged her to join the state department.”
“Oh, and Emma is clearly making friends and influencing people.”
* * *
“I can’t believe you just said that! Are you trying to make yourself look like an ass? Because only an idiot would suggest that brainwashing and nuclear war is a solution.”
“What? It works.”
“You’re a bitch.”
They stopped dancing. Emma stepped closer, getting in her face. "You know, stepping on your feet really isn't satisfying enough." Emma leaned in to her ear. "I want to bend you over and spank your ass until you scream."
Emily slapped her.
* * *
Emma crossed her arms frowning as Tony lounged on the sofa, reading the papers. “This is incredible,” he commented. “You got two editorials in the New York Times. I haven’t seen a double header in that paper since the pope turned out to be an alien.”
"She didn't have to slap me!"
Tony smirked. "You didn't have to proposition her."
"I don't proposition her.” Emma scowled and considered burying her head under a pillow and suffocating. “If I had propositioned her she would have said yes. I just told her how much she pissed me off."
"I see..." Tony glanced back at the paper and made a contemplative noise.
“Christ!” Emma hissed. “How much can you say about it? We were dancing, and she slapped me. It’s not that exciting.”
“Apparently there’s a new coalition forming around the idea that women are naturally hysterical and shouldn’t hold positions of power.”
Emma pressed the pillow to her face.
Tony laughed. “You do know that an accident involving auto-erotic asphyxiation is the absolutely most embarrassing way to die yet invented.”
Emma threw the pillow at him instead.
* * *
“No. I am not going to make a statement about what happened at Mr. Stark’s party.” Emily stated stiffly into the phone. “Do you have any questions about my work, for instance? I am also a knowledgeable source on world politics, intercultural communication, esoteric religion and Twenty20 Cricket.”
Emily paused.
“No, I can unreservedly state that the discussion between Ms. Frost and myself immediately prior to the incident did not have anything to do with New Zealand’s chances of winning the world cup.”
Emily hung up and leaned on her hand, groaning. “I told you to screen those reporters better!” she yelled.
JJ hurried in with a cup of coffee. “I’m sorry. He said he was interested in the recent conflict between awesome powers.”
Emily considered this for a moment and took a sip of her coffee. “He was being metaphorical, I believe. Reporters are tricky. You have to keep an eye on them.”
JJ nodded dutifully and slipped out and back to her desk.
“Um, Ms. Prentiss,” her voice came through the intercom a few moments later. “Call for you on line three.”
Emily groaned but picked up the receiver and hit the blinking button.
“Emily Prentiss speaking.”
"So…"
Emily nearly dropped the phone. "Emma?"
There was a short slightly offended pause. "I do love it how a massive public argument always puts one on a first name basis."
Emily scowled. "Sorry, was that inappropriate? What is the right thing to call the person who threatened to violate my ass?"
"It wasn't a threat. It was a suggestion,” Emma returned, far too self-satisfied. “And if we’re talking violation, I have plenty of more interesting ideas.”
Emily made a sound like a strangled yelp.
“Fine, I understand, you're a little sensitive about your backdoor, not... completely liberated yet."
"Why am I not hanging up?"
"Oh. I have another proposition. But this one is about the bad press."
Emily closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, tapping her pen against her forehead. "Do I want to hear it?"
"Are you interested in a joint venture for charity? What's your favorite third world country?"
"You don't take anything seriously, do you?"
Emma considered this. "Sex," she said. "I take sex very seriously."
* * *
"JJ!" Emily shouted, calling for her personal assistant. JJ popped in the door and stood at attention in front of her desk. "I'm setting up a project with Frost Enterprises. You're my liaison. Here's the number. Call them and get a proposal and a meeting set up."
JJ jumped, eyes wide. She gaped. "Frost! But that's the woman..."
"Who I apparently assaulted at a party? Either way, it’s trouble that we need to fix." She frowned. "What's your favorite third world country?"
"Um..." JJ blinked. "China?"
Emily rolled her eyes. "Non-communist, please. This needs to be good press."
* * *
Brooke’s eyes were wide and she jumped up and down clapping her hands. “You really mean it? They’re taking my idea?”
Tony grinned at her pleasure. He was getting some excellent sexual favors tonight. “Yep, and they want you to break the story.”
“Yes!” Brooke punched the air, looked embarrassed, and then kissed him to try and make up for it, but Tony was already laughing.
* * *
The long cinderblock barracks-style building was already up and busy. Children were running around the dirt yard shouting and kicking a ball. A few pregnant women were waddling in and out of the doors.
And there was Emma, standing outside, talking to one of the infectious disease specialists they had lured into the wilds. She glanced over and was suddenly moving towards Emily and the dark haired press liaison.
"Photo op?" Emma grinned, opening her arms. Emily glowered, but accepted the hug.
“Smile!” Eva called out. Cameras flashed.
The tour was nearly over and Emily couldn’t help but being impressed by what she’d seen. "You set up some good things around here, didn't you?"
Emma flashed her a smile that was almost more pleased than smug. "They seem to be working, although they wouldn't have done half as well with out your cultural expertise."
Emily frowned. "I don't like you being nice. It makes me nervous."
Emma just grinned more widely.
Natalie finished pointing out the infectious disease quarantine facility and they were out in the sunshine again. A man with a broad grin was standing in front of a dusty jeep.
“Care for a tour of the countryside, ladies?”
Emily exchanged a glance with Emma, who shrugged and then offered her a boost into the backseat.
It was strange to be getting along with her, not arguing for once. Emily put it down to the nice weather and Emma having spent three weeks outside of US high society, and enjoyed the scenery as they drove through the mountains.
“It’s gorgeous here. I’ll have to commend my PA on her choice of third-world countries.”
Emma snorted.
“I know,” the guide said from the front. “I was sent here with the Peace Corps a few years ago, right after the tidal wave, and couldn’t wait to come back.”
“You’re with the venture?” Emily asked.
“Logistics.” He leaned back, not paying attention to the road, to grin at them. “I have to say, the instructions were the most detailed I had ever gotten. I’ve never had sample dialogues before.”
Emily flushed. She liked details.
“And in IPA transcription too, awesome.”
Emma gave her a look, rolling her eyes. “I told you your cultural expertise had been appreciated.”
Emily shook her head, ignoring her and spoke again to the driver. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Derek,” he said holding onto the steering wheel with only one hand as he reached back to shake hers with the other. “Derek Morgan. I’m honored, Ambassador.”
As they were talking, clouds started to gather and a few drops of rain spattered the company. Emily waited for Emma to panic about her outfit, or something, but she just looked up at the sky. “Not promising weather.”
Morgan frowned. “Better get the roof up then.” He hopped out and Emma joined him, helping him wrench the canvas up over the roll bars. Emily felt slightly uncomfortable at not assisting, but it was a two-person job. She would just have to deal with being the princess for a bit. By the time they were done, the rain was coming down in heavy plops, and when Emma slid back in next to her, her hair and shoulders were soaked. Derek’s shirt was sticking to him like a second skin.
“We better get out of the mountains as fast as we can.”
“Really?”
Emma nodded. “There’s a lot of loose soil and rock here. If the rain gets heavy up high, there could be avalanches.” Then she gave her a sharp look. “I read that in your report. Why don’t you know it?”
Emily rolled her eyes as Derek started the jeep and drove carefully down the road, as fast as he could with the heavy rain and oncoming twilight restricting his vision. Then she caught herself and berated herself for responding like Emma. “I wrote that weeks ago. I just didn’t think about it.”
Emma swished her hair, purposefully spattering her with water, and Emily elbowed her in the side.
“Uh oh,” said Derek. Water was pouring over the road. There was a rumbling from overhead. “I’m going to try and make it.”
He pressed down steadily on the gas, the Jeep plowing forward through the water. And then the road just gave out, the Jeep tipping, wheels skidding on the mud. Then, from above them, came the crash. A waterfall of mud and rocks and uprooted trees slid down the mountain and picked up the Jeep, turning it over and carrying it off the road, sending it tumbling down a ravine. It bounced a few times, flipping from top to side to wheels to top, and then skidding to a stop in a heap.
* * *
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Rating: R
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Word Count: 3119
Apologies: I feel very awkward about this AU. It seems to be treading on a lot of the same ground as a couple of others. So... Mash up!
Summary: In one world, Emma and Emily didn't disobey their parents. They didn't fight for freedom. And they didn't find each other in the midst of loss and terror. They met at a party instead.
The woman, poised and composed, clicked her way through the pack of reporters to step up on the platform then turn and smile. Her black suit was well cut and well chosen, and her smile was broad and even, until she tripped over one of the microphone cords and just barely managed to not topple over onto her face. She straightened up, and smiled again, slightly more embarrassed this time.
"Ambassador Prentiss! Ambassador Prentiss! Is it true that you've convinced Israel to allow a Palestinian state to exist?"
Emily laughed. "It took a little finagling, but it looks hopeful. And don't call me Ambassador Prentiss. That's my mom."
"How do you feel about following so closely in your mother's footsteps?"
"Closely?" Emily seemed to consider this. "We have similar roles, but we followed different paths to get there. My mom worked her way up. I got it handed to me on a silver platter." Everyone laughed.
"Peace studies isn't an easy thing to study."
"Which I found out in a firefight in Somalia," Emily said, seriously. "But it's work worth doing. There's nothing more important than peace."
-
Emma Frost, CEO of Frost Enterprises Inc, clicked off the television and rolled her eyes. "Fucking hippies. She's got the same mess in her head as you, Tony."
Tony Stark laughed. "What can I say? Weapons Manufacturers for Peace! You're information technology; you shouldn't disagree with her. You can't sell computers in a war zone."
"We can sell helicopter flight controls, training programs, and communications systems. We can sell PTSD therapy programs too. War is excellent for business."
"I heard you were working with the team designing those."
“I had a BA in neuroscience. I’ve kept up with the literature.” Emma tapped her temple. "Some people are more versatile than others."
Tony considered this. "Were you ever interested in that?"
"In what? Becoming a Psychologist? Getting a PhD? Teaching?" The horror in her voice increased at each term. "I was bred for business Tony, just like you."
He pouted and batted his eyes at her. "But I wanted to be an engineer too."
"And look at you. Superhero extraordinaire."
"And you?"
"If I'm bored, Tony, I get laid."
"So do I. But sometimes it's a different kind of boredom."
"And then I go develop PTSD software. It's satisfying. Not quite as satisfying as sex, but good enough."
"Speaking of sex, what did you think of her?"
"Her?"
"Ambassador Prentiss?"
"The young one?"
"Yes. I know the old one is smoking hot. The young one is the one I am considering inviting to my next party."
Emma rolled her eyes. "And you need my opinion?"
"Come on. I saw you watching her, with that look."
"And if I was imagining taking her with a really big hard strap-on and fucking her positive ideals out of her?"
"I'm putting her at your table."
Emma rolled her eyes. "Tony... Peace-nicks!"
* * *
“Ambassador Prentiss!” Tony clasped her hand and shook it eagerly. Emily flushed.
“Emily, please. Mr. Stark.”
“Then call me Tony.” He gave her a lecherous smile. The blonde girl at his side gave him a sharp elbow in the gut. He gave a short yelp, and smiled. “And meet my girlfriend-”
“I know you,” Emily cut him off. “You’re Brooke McQueen, from the Star Ledger.”
The girl’s face brightened in excitement. “I’m so thrilled to actually be introduced to you, Ambassador.”
“Emily.”
“Emily.” Brooke bit her lower lip, shifting with pleasure.
“And this is…” Tony reached for the hand of the man at her side. He stiffened.
Emily glanced over at him, worried. “Oh.”
“Aaron Hotchner,” the man said flatly. “FBI.” He didn’t shake hands.
Tony nodded and took Emily’s arm with out permission. “You didn’t really need to bring a bodyguard,” he whispered, sotto voce.
“I thought it was less likely to mess up the seating than to not bring anyone.”
Tony smiled, shaking his head. “This is your table. I’m leaving you in the hands of my dearest friend, Emma Frost.” The blonde woman glanced up, caught sight of Emily, and gave a sly roll of the eyes. Emily stiffened slightly. She stood.
“Emma,” Tony introduced, “Ambassador Emily Prentiss.”
“Charmed,” Emma drawled sarcastically.
“Likewise,” Emily said flatly.
Tony grinned. “I can see you will get along swimmingly. Look after her, Ems.”
“Of course,” Emma said, entirely unimpressed. He slipped off and she turned to the other two seated table members. “May I introduce Lord and Lady von Doom?” They inclined their heads. “And,” a smiling man with coiffed blond locks came up behind her and reached his hand out to shake Emily’s. “You know Governor Worthington, of course. I’m looking after him for this evening.”
“Indeed. My wife is off on one of her philanthropic enthusiasms. Emma has promised to keep me out of trouble.” He flashed her a boyishly rakish grin.
“I’m sure she’ll do a good job of that,” Emily said doubtfully, and shook his hand.
He laughed.
* * *
“I’m just not certain why people expect trauma to be surmountable. People’s minds are astonishing. They can adapt to anything. The fact that they have a difficult time adapting to normalcy after extended periods of danger and violence is only to be expected. What people forget is that that can be a good thing. This world is not all happiness and fluffy bunnies, and it would be a terrible thing if it were. Humans have the potential for violence, for greed, for survival, why should they be disallowed from taking advantage of it?”
“So you’re saying that we should use victims of trauma as like a… swat team for dangerous missions?”
“The drug war on the border? You want someone with a quick trigger finger and a good dose of paranoia.”
“So, mental health issues are a good thing?”
“People should do what they’re made for.”
Emily stiffened, scowling. “That’s a complete fallacy. That’s like… like saying that because men and women fit together like, like waffle blocks, homosexuality should be forbidden.”
As one Lord and Lady von Doom rose and departed the table. Dinner had already been eaten and they were well into the wine, having called for another two bottles to add to the four provided.
Emma leaned on the table, narrowing her eyes as she looked at Emily. “No its not. It’s like saying people can have pleasure in a myriad of ways, and they should do what they like best. It would be a denial of their potential to restrict it. Don’t you always go on about potential?”
“The potential for positive growth.”
“The potential for increased pleasure, and productivity.” Emma smiled. “I’m a CEO, you’ll never hear me fight against positive growth.”
“Sometimes you have to have rules, just to make things fair.”
“Nothing in this world is fair. There are winners and there are losers. It’s the soul of capitalism, darling. Try to be a winner, or get eaten.”
Warren awkwardly excused himself, carrying his dessert plate. Aaron sat stoically on, ears deaf to the conversation, demolishing his flourless chocolate torte.
Emily gestured viciously with her fork. “Are you trying to provoke me? Sex, money, and politics. What are we going to fight over next, religion?”
Aaron finished his cake and coughed slightly. Emily glanced over at him. “You can go if you want, you don’t need to walk me home.”
He nodded shortly, and left.
Emma snorted. “A bodyguard? Couldn’t get a date?”
Emily cocked her head, frowning. “I didn’t see you with a date. Babysitting someone else’s husband?”
Emma paused and gave her a lazy smile. “That was just for seating. Technically, according to Tony, you’re my date.”
Emily stared at her, blankly.
“He thought there would be sparks. If you count the ones flaring from our… discussion… I can’t say he was wrong.”
Emily sat back, considering this. “He’s sort of strange, isn’t he?”
Emma snorted. “That’s an understatement.” Then she stood and held out her hand. “Care to dance?”
Emily gaped. "You're asking me?"
"Why not? We seemed to have scared away the rest of the company.”
"I thought you hated me."
"You piss me off. I might tread on your feet on purpose."
Emily laughed and offered her arm.
* * *
Brooke was staring pathetically out at the dance floor. “The Ambassador is dancing with Ms. Frost!”
Tony glanced out and smirked. “Emma can work magic that no one understands.”
“Oh, I do hope I get a chance to talk to her again.”
“Salivating for an exclusive, I can tell.”
Brooke shot him a glare. “It’s the Ambassador. She is news. She gets on a plane, and something in the world changes. If Janine Kishi wins the presidency, she’s in the top five for possible Secretary of State. They begged her to join the state department.”
“Oh, and Emma is clearly making friends and influencing people.”
* * *
“I can’t believe you just said that! Are you trying to make yourself look like an ass? Because only an idiot would suggest that brainwashing and nuclear war is a solution.”
“What? It works.”
“You’re a bitch.”
They stopped dancing. Emma stepped closer, getting in her face. "You know, stepping on your feet really isn't satisfying enough." Emma leaned in to her ear. "I want to bend you over and spank your ass until you scream."
Emily slapped her.
* * *
Emma crossed her arms frowning as Tony lounged on the sofa, reading the papers. “This is incredible,” he commented. “You got two editorials in the New York Times. I haven’t seen a double header in that paper since the pope turned out to be an alien.”
"She didn't have to slap me!"
Tony smirked. "You didn't have to proposition her."
"I don't proposition her.” Emma scowled and considered burying her head under a pillow and suffocating. “If I had propositioned her she would have said yes. I just told her how much she pissed me off."
"I see..." Tony glanced back at the paper and made a contemplative noise.
“Christ!” Emma hissed. “How much can you say about it? We were dancing, and she slapped me. It’s not that exciting.”
“Apparently there’s a new coalition forming around the idea that women are naturally hysterical and shouldn’t hold positions of power.”
Emma pressed the pillow to her face.
Tony laughed. “You do know that an accident involving auto-erotic asphyxiation is the absolutely most embarrassing way to die yet invented.”
Emma threw the pillow at him instead.
* * *
“No. I am not going to make a statement about what happened at Mr. Stark’s party.” Emily stated stiffly into the phone. “Do you have any questions about my work, for instance? I am also a knowledgeable source on world politics, intercultural communication, esoteric religion and Twenty20 Cricket.”
Emily paused.
“No, I can unreservedly state that the discussion between Ms. Frost and myself immediately prior to the incident did not have anything to do with New Zealand’s chances of winning the world cup.”
Emily hung up and leaned on her hand, groaning. “I told you to screen those reporters better!” she yelled.
JJ hurried in with a cup of coffee. “I’m sorry. He said he was interested in the recent conflict between awesome powers.”
Emily considered this for a moment and took a sip of her coffee. “He was being metaphorical, I believe. Reporters are tricky. You have to keep an eye on them.”
JJ nodded dutifully and slipped out and back to her desk.
“Um, Ms. Prentiss,” her voice came through the intercom a few moments later. “Call for you on line three.”
Emily groaned but picked up the receiver and hit the blinking button.
“Emily Prentiss speaking.”
"So…"
Emily nearly dropped the phone. "Emma?"
There was a short slightly offended pause. "I do love it how a massive public argument always puts one on a first name basis."
Emily scowled. "Sorry, was that inappropriate? What is the right thing to call the person who threatened to violate my ass?"
"It wasn't a threat. It was a suggestion,” Emma returned, far too self-satisfied. “And if we’re talking violation, I have plenty of more interesting ideas.”
Emily made a sound like a strangled yelp.
“Fine, I understand, you're a little sensitive about your backdoor, not... completely liberated yet."
"Why am I not hanging up?"
"Oh. I have another proposition. But this one is about the bad press."
Emily closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, tapping her pen against her forehead. "Do I want to hear it?"
"Are you interested in a joint venture for charity? What's your favorite third world country?"
"You don't take anything seriously, do you?"
Emma considered this. "Sex," she said. "I take sex very seriously."
* * *
"JJ!" Emily shouted, calling for her personal assistant. JJ popped in the door and stood at attention in front of her desk. "I'm setting up a project with Frost Enterprises. You're my liaison. Here's the number. Call them and get a proposal and a meeting set up."
JJ jumped, eyes wide. She gaped. "Frost! But that's the woman..."
"Who I apparently assaulted at a party? Either way, it’s trouble that we need to fix." She frowned. "What's your favorite third world country?"
"Um..." JJ blinked. "China?"
Emily rolled her eyes. "Non-communist, please. This needs to be good press."
* * *
Brooke’s eyes were wide and she jumped up and down clapping her hands. “You really mean it? They’re taking my idea?”
Tony grinned at her pleasure. He was getting some excellent sexual favors tonight. “Yep, and they want you to break the story.”
“Yes!” Brooke punched the air, looked embarrassed, and then kissed him to try and make up for it, but Tony was already laughing.
* * *
The long cinderblock barracks-style building was already up and busy. Children were running around the dirt yard shouting and kicking a ball. A few pregnant women were waddling in and out of the doors.
And there was Emma, standing outside, talking to one of the infectious disease specialists they had lured into the wilds. She glanced over and was suddenly moving towards Emily and the dark haired press liaison.
"Photo op?" Emma grinned, opening her arms. Emily glowered, but accepted the hug.
“Smile!” Eva called out. Cameras flashed.
The tour was nearly over and Emily couldn’t help but being impressed by what she’d seen. "You set up some good things around here, didn't you?"
Emma flashed her a smile that was almost more pleased than smug. "They seem to be working, although they wouldn't have done half as well with out your cultural expertise."
Emily frowned. "I don't like you being nice. It makes me nervous."
Emma just grinned more widely.
Natalie finished pointing out the infectious disease quarantine facility and they were out in the sunshine again. A man with a broad grin was standing in front of a dusty jeep.
“Care for a tour of the countryside, ladies?”
Emily exchanged a glance with Emma, who shrugged and then offered her a boost into the backseat.
It was strange to be getting along with her, not arguing for once. Emily put it down to the nice weather and Emma having spent three weeks outside of US high society, and enjoyed the scenery as they drove through the mountains.
“It’s gorgeous here. I’ll have to commend my PA on her choice of third-world countries.”
Emma snorted.
“I know,” the guide said from the front. “I was sent here with the Peace Corps a few years ago, right after the tidal wave, and couldn’t wait to come back.”
“You’re with the venture?” Emily asked.
“Logistics.” He leaned back, not paying attention to the road, to grin at them. “I have to say, the instructions were the most detailed I had ever gotten. I’ve never had sample dialogues before.”
Emily flushed. She liked details.
“And in IPA transcription too, awesome.”
Emma gave her a look, rolling her eyes. “I told you your cultural expertise had been appreciated.”
Emily shook her head, ignoring her and spoke again to the driver. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Derek,” he said holding onto the steering wheel with only one hand as he reached back to shake hers with the other. “Derek Morgan. I’m honored, Ambassador.”
As they were talking, clouds started to gather and a few drops of rain spattered the company. Emily waited for Emma to panic about her outfit, or something, but she just looked up at the sky. “Not promising weather.”
Morgan frowned. “Better get the roof up then.” He hopped out and Emma joined him, helping him wrench the canvas up over the roll bars. Emily felt slightly uncomfortable at not assisting, but it was a two-person job. She would just have to deal with being the princess for a bit. By the time they were done, the rain was coming down in heavy plops, and when Emma slid back in next to her, her hair and shoulders were soaked. Derek’s shirt was sticking to him like a second skin.
“We better get out of the mountains as fast as we can.”
“Really?”
Emma nodded. “There’s a lot of loose soil and rock here. If the rain gets heavy up high, there could be avalanches.” Then she gave her a sharp look. “I read that in your report. Why don’t you know it?”
Emily rolled her eyes as Derek started the jeep and drove carefully down the road, as fast as he could with the heavy rain and oncoming twilight restricting his vision. Then she caught herself and berated herself for responding like Emma. “I wrote that weeks ago. I just didn’t think about it.”
Emma swished her hair, purposefully spattering her with water, and Emily elbowed her in the side.
“Uh oh,” said Derek. Water was pouring over the road. There was a rumbling from overhead. “I’m going to try and make it.”
He pressed down steadily on the gas, the Jeep plowing forward through the water. And then the road just gave out, the Jeep tipping, wheels skidding on the mud. Then, from above them, came the crash. A waterfall of mud and rocks and uprooted trees slid down the mountain and picked up the Jeep, turning it over and carrying it off the road, sending it tumbling down a ravine. It bounced a few times, flipping from top to side to wheels to top, and then skidding to a stop in a heap.
* * *