Faces part 9 of 9 and Epilogue
Title: Faces (part 9 of 9 and Epilogue)
Author: Tamoline and Louisa
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Disclaimer: Not my characters. Not my pairing.
Notes: Finally, the last part of Faces, the first decent length fanfic and femslash story we have ever worked on. I hope that you have enjoyed it. Any feedback, what you liked, what you disliked, what you thought we could do better, would be greatly appreciated. We're currently working on a prequel fic from Emily's perspective and contemplating a companion piece/sequel, also from Emily's perspective.
Thank you for reading!
PS - Bonus points for guessing where I stole the section title from!
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
That turned out to be the first of many such visits, although I attended the rest of the appointments on my own. I found myself grudgingly forced to admit that perhaps this wasn't quite so excruciating as I had thought it would be. Some visits went better than others, of course, but by and large -- and much to my surprise -- I would have to say that this whole exercise actually turned out to be helpful. At least I knew that Dr Chandra would not be revealing any of my secrets to anyone else. I had made certain of it with a small, yet effective, mental compulsion. One never could be too careful with these things. Being able to speak freely to someone who didn't have a vested interest or a relevant agenda proved to be surprisingly liberating. As the time went by, I actually found myself able to confront the events that had eventually brought me to this point. And that made me feel... conflicted.
The thing about realising that you not only knew what needed to be done, but were actually ready to face up to it at last? It meant that you couldn't really justify turning your back on it. No matter how much you wanted to.
Not if you wanted to keep even a shred of self-respect.
May Emily forgive me for what I had to do.
We exited the movie theatre with Emily's arm entwined around mine. If forced at the point of torture, I might admit that I had rather enjoyed myself. This was despite repressing my inner nitpicker from commenting at various points in the film: 'Travelling into someone's dreams doesn't work like that!' Emily was indulging her inner geek by chattering to me at length about the film we'd just seen. There were two good reasons for this. The first was that she triuly enjoyed the opportunity to enthuse without feeling self conscious about it. The second was that she knew I found it indescribably cute. And if the chattering was perhaps a little more forced than usual, well, there may have been reasons behind that too.
When we arrived back home, Emily's place, I took a deep breath and prepared to utter those fateful words: 'We need to talk.' Emily didn't give me the chance. As soon as the door clicked shut behind us, she pushed me up against the wall and kissed me, hard. She pressed her body into mine as if she was trying to merge the two of us into one being, her mouth devouring me as if she was starving and couldn't get enough. And I couldn't help but respond.
I knew I should pull away from her. I knew I should just tell her what had to be be said. I knew that what I had to do was best done quick and clean, leaving no ragged ends to tangle and fester. I knew all of that, the thoughts flashing through my mind quicker than a heartbeat or a single, panting breath, but I was completely helpless. Helpless to do anything but let this happen.
I didn't deserve this. God help me, I knew I didn't deserve it. But I wanted it. I wanted her, to impress her into my memory, to hold her there, to hold this moment there and not have to go forward into tomorrow. Sod tomorrow. I could give her now, would give her now and I would make it count.
So, one last night. A parting gift.
So I had better make tonight a night to remember. For both of us.
I met her passion with my own, bracing myself against the wall as I kissed her back just as fervently, running my hands over as much of her as I could reach. It wasn't nearly enough; a thought she clearly shared. Without the need for speech, we stepped away from the wall, both moving in tandem, in harmony, making just enough space between us to give ourselves room to manoeuvre. Our hands found buttons and zippers, for once neither of us trying to take charge; struggling with, rather than against, as we stripped each other bare. We left a trail of clothing all the way from the door to the bedroom. Not unusual, for us. What was different this time was that it took us that long to do more than kiss and hold each other, treating each kiss as though it might be our last. We paused at the bed, looked deep each other's eyes for a timeless moment. My chest ached with a feeling I could barely even acknowledge, let alone name.
What a bloody inopportune time to develop something like a conscience.
Focus, Emma, I told myself.
I raised a hand to Emily's face, brushed my fingertips softly against her cheek, trailing them along her jaw and then downwards. She trembled as I drew my nails lightly down her neck, shuddered as I cupped her breast in my hand. I moved in closer, sliding my other hand over the skin of her back as I wrapped one leg around her hip, pulling her firmly against me. Moaning low in her throat, she clung to me in return, seducing me from gravity's embrace as we toppled together onto the bed.
The spell broken, our bodies moved together, skin slick with a heady mix of sweat and desire. We kissed again as our hands explored each other's naked bodies, knowing just where and how to touch to bring forth a gasp or a sigh or a moan. We took our time -- no rush, no hurry -- as if we had all the time in the world.
But our time was running out.
Both of us knew that to be true, no matter how much we tried -- were trying -- to deny it. Every touch, every movement and cry of hers whispered: 'Stay with me.' Every one of mine said: 'Goodbye.' Neither one of us wanted to hear what was being spoken without words. I memorised each and every plane and curve of her body, the feel of her lips, the need in her eyes, locking every precious detail deep inside where nothing could touch them. She had done so much for me, and I could offer her nothing but ashes in return. It wasn't enough. I had to give her more.
I slid down her body, caressing her breasts with my mouth and hands. Writhing and panting, she tangled her hands in my hair, jerking me to a halt as I tried to move further south. I lifted my head to find her looking down at me, something dark and desperate in her eyes.
"No," she growled. "Come up here."
I pulled back experimentally, feeling the tug on my scalp. Yes, this was do-able. I smiled hungrily up at her.
"Make me," I breathed, then slithered rapidly down her body. She started to say something, but the sound melted into a moan as I reached my goal. Well, it's not like I could have answered her anyway, at least not with words. I buried myself in her, breathing in her scent, losing myself in her taste as I licked and stroked, delving into her with my tongue. She screamed my name when she climaxed, the sweet pain of it far sharper than the prickling in my scalp as she tightened her hold. It went right through me.
Without warning, she suddenly yanked me up, releasing my hair to grab me roughly by the shoulders and throw me onto my back. Covering my body with her own, she pinned my wrists above my head and kissed me deeply, thoroughly, hungrily.
"You taste of me," she whispered, releasing one wrist so she could stroke and cup my breasts. I shivered a little as she rolled one nipple between her finger and thumb, unable to help a small disappointed noise as she moved her hand again. Splaying her fingers across my cheek, she tilted my head to one side and brought her mouth to my neck, trailing her tongue over my skin, kissing the spot just behind my ear that she knew I liked.
"Tell me that you want me," she breathed, nipping gently with her teeth.
"I want you," I murmured, letting my need, my desire, make my voice raw. I wanted her more than I could say, and I did everything in my power to let her see it. But she wanted more than that, I could sense it. "I... Ah!" She bit me again, harder, bringing her hand back down to my breasts and making me arch beneath her. "I *want* you, Emily."
She wanted even more than that, but I couldn't give it to her. I couldn't tell her that I loved her, not when I was leaving. Not when I didn't know if I'd be coming back.
I didn't even know if it was true. What did Emma Frost really know about love, anyway? I couldn't answer that question, not yet, but Emma Frost did know a lot about debt. And Emma -- I -- owed Emily Prentiss a great deal.
Some might say everything.
So I gave her everything that I could.
Although it was against my nature to do so, I laid myself open to her, submitting to her desires and her will. I let her do with me as she would, possessing me more thoroughly than I had thought possible. When she wanted me pliant, I obeyed; when she wanted to fight, I struggled. I was water to her steel, shaping myself to her thoughts, turning her fantasy into reality.
And I screamed her name when I came.
Afterwards, we lay there in her bed, tangled together as always with her head resting on my chest. It would be so easy to fall asleep like this; to leave those fateful words unspoken and to pretend, for just one night, that we could go back to the way things were. But we couldn't. I couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to her. It wouldn't be fair to me. And it wouldn't be fair to Scott.
I didn't want to do this. I had to do this.
God, it would be so much easier if I didn't care for her as much as I did. If she didn't *matter* to me, then I could lie to her without a second thought. I could just tell her I was going away, tell her something nonspecific about having some unfinished business to take care of. I could even tell her that I'd be coming back. But I couldn't -- wouldn't -- do that to her.
It was ironic, really. My... regard for her (for want of a better word that I did not deserve to use) was what was going to destroy our relationship.
I took a deep breath. Maybe this wasn't the best time, but I couldn't put this off any longer.
"Emily," I said, softly.
"Do you want to stay here tonight?" she interrupted, attempting to derail what I'd been about to say. "I know you've needed some space recently, but, well, I thought..." Hoping, not thinking, and as she turned her head to look at me, her eyes shining with the light of dying stars, even hope faded.
"We need to talk."
I could feel the moment when her mind turned to ice; freezing and closing off. She sat up in the bed, drawing away from me and wrapping herself in the sheet.
"Go on," she said, her voice level and smooth.
I sat up and faced her, meeting her gaze with my own. "I know I've been distant the last few days," I began. Starting to sleep separately again had been surprisingly painful, despite the fact that we still weren't officially in a relationship. Emily hadn't said really anything at the time, simply accepting my choice, but her eyes had spoken volumes. I hadn't been ready to talk about this with her then, however. I just hoped that I was now. "I just wanted you to know that it's nothing to do with you."
"It's not me, it's you?" she said, her voice growing brittle, with a razor-sharp edge of cold fury.
I winced. "In a manner of speaking, yes. It's because of something that I just wasn't able to deal with before. Therapy has helped me come to terms with a number of my issues, and this one was buried deeper than most. Probably because I really didn't want to deal with it." A soft sigh escaped my lips. "For a number of reasons."
Her eyes softened a little, but I knew her well enough to see the hurt as well as the compassion. "Why didn't you tell me about it? I could have helped you..."
I held up a hand, stopping her mid-sentence. "Because you couldn't, not with this." There really was no good way of saying this, so I just plunged straight onwards. There was no turning back now. "Before I left the school rather abruptly, I was already in a relationship." I could have left it there -- wasn't this bad enough? -- but I couldn't stop myself from driving the final nail into the coffin of our friendship. "I had a boyfriend."
Her eyes widened in shock, the colour draining from her cheeks. She looked like she'd been slapped. "And this never came up before because...?"
"When I left the school, I abandoned him without a word. Because... Because I knew that he'd help me to stay strong. To stay there and keep on doing what needed to be done. And I just couldn't do that any more. So I just left. I betrayed them. I betrayed him. And in many ways, that was the worst betrayal of all. Much more than all the rest of my crimes, I couldn't let myself go there, remember that. Otherwise I might go back. And that... That would have destroyed me. One way or another." There wasn't enough air in here. I was having to draw great, rasping breaths through a throat that felt like it had been scoured raw. When had I started crying? Tears blurred my eyes and dripped soundlessly to the sheets beneath. It no longer surprised me how easily they flowed when I was alone with Emily. But only her. It had only ever been her.
"So this is why you'd never commit to a relationship with me? Because as long as you didn't, you still had *him*?"
"I love him." Loved him, maybe. I wasn't sure. But I had to find out. Couldn't she see that? Couldn't she see that I had to deal with this before I could move on? Couldn't she see that I didn't have a choice? "I can't just let it go, not like that."
Her voice rose. I was wrong about her anger being cold. It burned hotter than a thousand fiery suns. "So you run off to D.C., find me," 'Make me love you' her thoughts said as clear as day, "*use* me to help yourself and now, what? Run back to your nice, normal boyfriend?"
Somewhere at the back of my mind was an obscure twinge of surprise that my skin didn't blister; that the heat of her wrath didn't leave me a charred and blackened mass.
Just like the others I'd let down. But I'd worked past that, now. I wouldn't lose myself in past sins. After all, I had more self-respect than that.
Which is why I couldn't deny her words. They were far too close to being accurate.
"I need to go back to him, to find out where I stand. What our relationship is." Who I was now. Which face I wanted to wear.
"So what was tonight, then? A pity fuck? One last ride for good luck before you slithered on back to your boyfriend?" She laughed; a jagged sound of broken glass and bitter tears. It cut me to the quick. "Doesn't it count as *cheating* if it's a woman you're fucking?"
"That's not... I didn't think..." But what could I really say to that?
Nothing.
"Go, then," she said bitterly, hunching over her knees with her hair a barrier between us, refusing to show me her face.
I stood up and gathered my things, pausing in the doorway of the bedroom. "I'm sorry," I said quietly.
"Don't say you're sorry when you don't mean it," she yelled at my back as I left. To go back to the X Men. To go back to Scott.
It was the right thing to do, after all.
Epilogue (A month later)
You were right. I wasn't sorry, not really. I was sorry that I had caused you pain, but meeting you? Letting whatever it was that grew between us bloom? I wasn't and I'm not sorry for that in the slightest.
My accounts with the X Men are settled, I feel, at least. Which isn't to say that they and I are finished -- I don't think that will ever be the case. Too many emotional ties binding us together, for better or for worse. I'm just taking... a more detached role.
But Scott and I are over. It wasn't that I didn't love him. It's not that I still don't, in many ways. It's just that he is a leader. He helps people push past what they thought were their limits. Helps them to be better than they ever could be alone. And that can be such a good thing. Or it can lead to the situation that I found myself in several months ago.
I could only ever be strong for Scott, never weak. No wonder Emma Frost loved him so much.
So here I stand on the street, looking up at your apartment. I am more than a little nervous, I feel able to admit to myself. You're in there now, curled up in your den of geekery. With a good book, if I'm not mistaken.
I don't know if you'll want to see me. I don't know if you'll want to try friendship again, let alone anything else. I can only promise that if you do, then I'll try my best to let you in as far as I can, to tell you everything that I'm able. I can only imagine the look on your face as I tell you all the things I've done and experienced. The kind of things that you've only ever read about.
I go up to your building, press the appropriate buzzer. Sharing your senses, just your senses, I see you come to the intercom to answer.
"Emily Prentiss?" you say, in a tone of annoyance. You never did like being disturbed during your flights of fancy.
I idly notice that my hand is splayed out on the wall beneath the intercom in front of me, unconsciously mirroring your own pose stories above.
"Emma Winthrop," I answer in like manner, albeit much gentler in tone. I love you. "Can we talk?" I ask, simply. I have such wonders that I'd like to share with you.
And though you have shown me how to be both strong and weak enough to face whatever the future holds, still I find myself waiting breathlessly for your response.
Author: Tamoline and Louisa
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Disclaimer: Not my characters. Not my pairing.
Notes: Finally, the last part of Faces, the first decent length fanfic and femslash story we have ever worked on. I hope that you have enjoyed it. Any feedback, what you liked, what you disliked, what you thought we could do better, would be greatly appreciated. We're currently working on a prequel fic from Emily's perspective and contemplating a companion piece/sequel, also from Emily's perspective.
Thank you for reading!
PS - Bonus points for guessing where I stole the section title from!
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
That turned out to be the first of many such visits, although I attended the rest of the appointments on my own. I found myself grudgingly forced to admit that perhaps this wasn't quite so excruciating as I had thought it would be. Some visits went better than others, of course, but by and large -- and much to my surprise -- I would have to say that this whole exercise actually turned out to be helpful. At least I knew that Dr Chandra would not be revealing any of my secrets to anyone else. I had made certain of it with a small, yet effective, mental compulsion. One never could be too careful with these things. Being able to speak freely to someone who didn't have a vested interest or a relevant agenda proved to be surprisingly liberating. As the time went by, I actually found myself able to confront the events that had eventually brought me to this point. And that made me feel... conflicted.
The thing about realising that you not only knew what needed to be done, but were actually ready to face up to it at last? It meant that you couldn't really justify turning your back on it. No matter how much you wanted to.
Not if you wanted to keep even a shred of self-respect.
May Emily forgive me for what I had to do.
We exited the movie theatre with Emily's arm entwined around mine. If forced at the point of torture, I might admit that I had rather enjoyed myself. This was despite repressing my inner nitpicker from commenting at various points in the film: 'Travelling into someone's dreams doesn't work like that!' Emily was indulging her inner geek by chattering to me at length about the film we'd just seen. There were two good reasons for this. The first was that she triuly enjoyed the opportunity to enthuse without feeling self conscious about it. The second was that she knew I found it indescribably cute. And if the chattering was perhaps a little more forced than usual, well, there may have been reasons behind that too.
When we arrived back home, Emily's place, I took a deep breath and prepared to utter those fateful words: 'We need to talk.' Emily didn't give me the chance. As soon as the door clicked shut behind us, she pushed me up against the wall and kissed me, hard. She pressed her body into mine as if she was trying to merge the two of us into one being, her mouth devouring me as if she was starving and couldn't get enough. And I couldn't help but respond.
I knew I should pull away from her. I knew I should just tell her what had to be be said. I knew that what I had to do was best done quick and clean, leaving no ragged ends to tangle and fester. I knew all of that, the thoughts flashing through my mind quicker than a heartbeat or a single, panting breath, but I was completely helpless. Helpless to do anything but let this happen.
I didn't deserve this. God help me, I knew I didn't deserve it. But I wanted it. I wanted her, to impress her into my memory, to hold her there, to hold this moment there and not have to go forward into tomorrow. Sod tomorrow. I could give her now, would give her now and I would make it count.
So, one last night. A parting gift.
So I had better make tonight a night to remember. For both of us.
I met her passion with my own, bracing myself against the wall as I kissed her back just as fervently, running my hands over as much of her as I could reach. It wasn't nearly enough; a thought she clearly shared. Without the need for speech, we stepped away from the wall, both moving in tandem, in harmony, making just enough space between us to give ourselves room to manoeuvre. Our hands found buttons and zippers, for once neither of us trying to take charge; struggling with, rather than against, as we stripped each other bare. We left a trail of clothing all the way from the door to the bedroom. Not unusual, for us. What was different this time was that it took us that long to do more than kiss and hold each other, treating each kiss as though it might be our last. We paused at the bed, looked deep each other's eyes for a timeless moment. My chest ached with a feeling I could barely even acknowledge, let alone name.
What a bloody inopportune time to develop something like a conscience.
Focus, Emma, I told myself.
I raised a hand to Emily's face, brushed my fingertips softly against her cheek, trailing them along her jaw and then downwards. She trembled as I drew my nails lightly down her neck, shuddered as I cupped her breast in my hand. I moved in closer, sliding my other hand over the skin of her back as I wrapped one leg around her hip, pulling her firmly against me. Moaning low in her throat, she clung to me in return, seducing me from gravity's embrace as we toppled together onto the bed.
The spell broken, our bodies moved together, skin slick with a heady mix of sweat and desire. We kissed again as our hands explored each other's naked bodies, knowing just where and how to touch to bring forth a gasp or a sigh or a moan. We took our time -- no rush, no hurry -- as if we had all the time in the world.
But our time was running out.
Both of us knew that to be true, no matter how much we tried -- were trying -- to deny it. Every touch, every movement and cry of hers whispered: 'Stay with me.' Every one of mine said: 'Goodbye.' Neither one of us wanted to hear what was being spoken without words. I memorised each and every plane and curve of her body, the feel of her lips, the need in her eyes, locking every precious detail deep inside where nothing could touch them. She had done so much for me, and I could offer her nothing but ashes in return. It wasn't enough. I had to give her more.
I slid down her body, caressing her breasts with my mouth and hands. Writhing and panting, she tangled her hands in my hair, jerking me to a halt as I tried to move further south. I lifted my head to find her looking down at me, something dark and desperate in her eyes.
"No," she growled. "Come up here."
I pulled back experimentally, feeling the tug on my scalp. Yes, this was do-able. I smiled hungrily up at her.
"Make me," I breathed, then slithered rapidly down her body. She started to say something, but the sound melted into a moan as I reached my goal. Well, it's not like I could have answered her anyway, at least not with words. I buried myself in her, breathing in her scent, losing myself in her taste as I licked and stroked, delving into her with my tongue. She screamed my name when she climaxed, the sweet pain of it far sharper than the prickling in my scalp as she tightened her hold. It went right through me.
Without warning, she suddenly yanked me up, releasing my hair to grab me roughly by the shoulders and throw me onto my back. Covering my body with her own, she pinned my wrists above my head and kissed me deeply, thoroughly, hungrily.
"You taste of me," she whispered, releasing one wrist so she could stroke and cup my breasts. I shivered a little as she rolled one nipple between her finger and thumb, unable to help a small disappointed noise as she moved her hand again. Splaying her fingers across my cheek, she tilted my head to one side and brought her mouth to my neck, trailing her tongue over my skin, kissing the spot just behind my ear that she knew I liked.
"Tell me that you want me," she breathed, nipping gently with her teeth.
"I want you," I murmured, letting my need, my desire, make my voice raw. I wanted her more than I could say, and I did everything in my power to let her see it. But she wanted more than that, I could sense it. "I... Ah!" She bit me again, harder, bringing her hand back down to my breasts and making me arch beneath her. "I *want* you, Emily."
She wanted even more than that, but I couldn't give it to her. I couldn't tell her that I loved her, not when I was leaving. Not when I didn't know if I'd be coming back.
I didn't even know if it was true. What did Emma Frost really know about love, anyway? I couldn't answer that question, not yet, but Emma Frost did know a lot about debt. And Emma -- I -- owed Emily Prentiss a great deal.
Some might say everything.
So I gave her everything that I could.
Although it was against my nature to do so, I laid myself open to her, submitting to her desires and her will. I let her do with me as she would, possessing me more thoroughly than I had thought possible. When she wanted me pliant, I obeyed; when she wanted to fight, I struggled. I was water to her steel, shaping myself to her thoughts, turning her fantasy into reality.
And I screamed her name when I came.
Afterwards, we lay there in her bed, tangled together as always with her head resting on my chest. It would be so easy to fall asleep like this; to leave those fateful words unspoken and to pretend, for just one night, that we could go back to the way things were. But we couldn't. I couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to her. It wouldn't be fair to me. And it wouldn't be fair to Scott.
I didn't want to do this. I had to do this.
God, it would be so much easier if I didn't care for her as much as I did. If she didn't *matter* to me, then I could lie to her without a second thought. I could just tell her I was going away, tell her something nonspecific about having some unfinished business to take care of. I could even tell her that I'd be coming back. But I couldn't -- wouldn't -- do that to her.
It was ironic, really. My... regard for her (for want of a better word that I did not deserve to use) was what was going to destroy our relationship.
I took a deep breath. Maybe this wasn't the best time, but I couldn't put this off any longer.
"Emily," I said, softly.
"Do you want to stay here tonight?" she interrupted, attempting to derail what I'd been about to say. "I know you've needed some space recently, but, well, I thought..." Hoping, not thinking, and as she turned her head to look at me, her eyes shining with the light of dying stars, even hope faded.
"We need to talk."
I could feel the moment when her mind turned to ice; freezing and closing off. She sat up in the bed, drawing away from me and wrapping herself in the sheet.
"Go on," she said, her voice level and smooth.
I sat up and faced her, meeting her gaze with my own. "I know I've been distant the last few days," I began. Starting to sleep separately again had been surprisingly painful, despite the fact that we still weren't officially in a relationship. Emily hadn't said really anything at the time, simply accepting my choice, but her eyes had spoken volumes. I hadn't been ready to talk about this with her then, however. I just hoped that I was now. "I just wanted you to know that it's nothing to do with you."
"It's not me, it's you?" she said, her voice growing brittle, with a razor-sharp edge of cold fury.
I winced. "In a manner of speaking, yes. It's because of something that I just wasn't able to deal with before. Therapy has helped me come to terms with a number of my issues, and this one was buried deeper than most. Probably because I really didn't want to deal with it." A soft sigh escaped my lips. "For a number of reasons."
Her eyes softened a little, but I knew her well enough to see the hurt as well as the compassion. "Why didn't you tell me about it? I could have helped you..."
I held up a hand, stopping her mid-sentence. "Because you couldn't, not with this." There really was no good way of saying this, so I just plunged straight onwards. There was no turning back now. "Before I left the school rather abruptly, I was already in a relationship." I could have left it there -- wasn't this bad enough? -- but I couldn't stop myself from driving the final nail into the coffin of our friendship. "I had a boyfriend."
Her eyes widened in shock, the colour draining from her cheeks. She looked like she'd been slapped. "And this never came up before because...?"
"When I left the school, I abandoned him without a word. Because... Because I knew that he'd help me to stay strong. To stay there and keep on doing what needed to be done. And I just couldn't do that any more. So I just left. I betrayed them. I betrayed him. And in many ways, that was the worst betrayal of all. Much more than all the rest of my crimes, I couldn't let myself go there, remember that. Otherwise I might go back. And that... That would have destroyed me. One way or another." There wasn't enough air in here. I was having to draw great, rasping breaths through a throat that felt like it had been scoured raw. When had I started crying? Tears blurred my eyes and dripped soundlessly to the sheets beneath. It no longer surprised me how easily they flowed when I was alone with Emily. But only her. It had only ever been her.
"So this is why you'd never commit to a relationship with me? Because as long as you didn't, you still had *him*?"
"I love him." Loved him, maybe. I wasn't sure. But I had to find out. Couldn't she see that? Couldn't she see that I had to deal with this before I could move on? Couldn't she see that I didn't have a choice? "I can't just let it go, not like that."
Her voice rose. I was wrong about her anger being cold. It burned hotter than a thousand fiery suns. "So you run off to D.C., find me," 'Make me love you' her thoughts said as clear as day, "*use* me to help yourself and now, what? Run back to your nice, normal boyfriend?"
Somewhere at the back of my mind was an obscure twinge of surprise that my skin didn't blister; that the heat of her wrath didn't leave me a charred and blackened mass.
Just like the others I'd let down. But I'd worked past that, now. I wouldn't lose myself in past sins. After all, I had more self-respect than that.
Which is why I couldn't deny her words. They were far too close to being accurate.
"I need to go back to him, to find out where I stand. What our relationship is." Who I was now. Which face I wanted to wear.
"So what was tonight, then? A pity fuck? One last ride for good luck before you slithered on back to your boyfriend?" She laughed; a jagged sound of broken glass and bitter tears. It cut me to the quick. "Doesn't it count as *cheating* if it's a woman you're fucking?"
"That's not... I didn't think..." But what could I really say to that?
Nothing.
"Go, then," she said bitterly, hunching over her knees with her hair a barrier between us, refusing to show me her face.
I stood up and gathered my things, pausing in the doorway of the bedroom. "I'm sorry," I said quietly.
"Don't say you're sorry when you don't mean it," she yelled at my back as I left. To go back to the X Men. To go back to Scott.
It was the right thing to do, after all.
Epilogue (A month later)
You were right. I wasn't sorry, not really. I was sorry that I had caused you pain, but meeting you? Letting whatever it was that grew between us bloom? I wasn't and I'm not sorry for that in the slightest.
My accounts with the X Men are settled, I feel, at least. Which isn't to say that they and I are finished -- I don't think that will ever be the case. Too many emotional ties binding us together, for better or for worse. I'm just taking... a more detached role.
But Scott and I are over. It wasn't that I didn't love him. It's not that I still don't, in many ways. It's just that he is a leader. He helps people push past what they thought were their limits. Helps them to be better than they ever could be alone. And that can be such a good thing. Or it can lead to the situation that I found myself in several months ago.
I could only ever be strong for Scott, never weak. No wonder Emma Frost loved him so much.
So here I stand on the street, looking up at your apartment. I am more than a little nervous, I feel able to admit to myself. You're in there now, curled up in your den of geekery. With a good book, if I'm not mistaken.
I don't know if you'll want to see me. I don't know if you'll want to try friendship again, let alone anything else. I can only promise that if you do, then I'll try my best to let you in as far as I can, to tell you everything that I'm able. I can only imagine the look on your face as I tell you all the things I've done and experienced. The kind of things that you've only ever read about.
I go up to your building, press the appropriate buzzer. Sharing your senses, just your senses, I see you come to the intercom to answer.
"Emily Prentiss?" you say, in a tone of annoyance. You never did like being disturbed during your flights of fancy.
I idly notice that my hand is splayed out on the wall beneath the intercom in front of me, unconsciously mirroring your own pose stories above.
"Emma Winthrop," I answer in like manner, albeit much gentler in tone. I love you. "Can we talk?" I ask, simply. I have such wonders that I'd like to share with you.
And though you have shown me how to be both strong and weak enough to face whatever the future holds, still I find myself waiting breathlessly for your response.