Fake Empire
Title: Fake Empire
Author: Alsike
Rating: M (for fpreg and implied transgender sex)
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss, other Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men or Criminal Minds. I owe
wizened_cynic for the concept of quantum babies and probably for the transgender sex too. But I'm the one who deserves to be cursed at. Title stolen from the song by The National.
Apologies:
I'm so sorry. I really don't know where this came from... that's a total lie. I know exactly where this came from. this is the fault of trexkitten for suggesting an apocalyptic destruction of the human race, and
wizened_cynic who inquired whether i had given Emily a quantum baby yet. And yes, i combined the two ideas... plus i've been reading Gilberto Freyre who supplied certain other offensive aspects.
This is a cracked out AU of my previous X-Men/Criminal Minds crossover. Knowledge of previous stories is not necessary.
It intersects with the angstfest storyline a few years later, during Emma and Emily's established non-relationship.
Oddly enough, although this contains an apocalypse, this does not count as Angst. It is very non angsty, in fact it tends more to the rainbows and puppies end of the spectrum. I am working on the angst! It is coming slowly. Try not to kill me for this.
Queen Emma: that sounded about right. Right now she had to be satisfied with Lady, but not for long. Erik Magnus had decreed that all mutants be given titles according to their abilities and status in the new regime. And Emma, sixteen and brilliant, could see her future in her grasp.
It was her birthday, her entrance into adulthood, and her father, perturbed at her rejection of his offer of second in command, brought her a gift.
“She was of a rather good family, before the revolution.”
“Really?” Emma eyed the beautiful human slave, not impressed. Her father was making a statement, pretending he still had power over her. As if she would ever be ashamed of something as meaningless as her sexual tastes. Still, he had made a rather good choice.
* * *
“You were with the mistress again? Is that what took you so long?” Aaron shook his head. “You shouldn’t be so familiar with her.”
Emily gave a weak grin. “She’s just a child.”
“She’s a mutant. Our mistress.”
“Just a child, that monster?” spat Rossi.
“She’s just a child.” Emily repeated, then thinking to herself, smirked. “She thinks she’s pretty hot stuff, but she’s a spoilt kid.”
JJ shook her head as they walked to the bathing complex. “I’ve never heard anyone call our mistress a spoilt child before.”
“I wouldn’t repeat it. But it’s accurate to what she does. She didn’t want me to leave afterwards, so she pouted until I cuddled with her.”
“I can’t believe she forces you to have sex with her.”
Emily smiled. “It’s not a chore. She’s really easy.”
JJ gave her an odd look. “Do you… like her?”
“It's a waste of time to hate people for what they are. And she’s never done anything to hurt me.”
“She never reciprocates either.”
“Like I said. Spoilt child.”
* * *
Baroness was an improvement, but not what she wanted. She was irritated. Scott had been made a Duke and his power wasn’t even fully functional. It was just because he had children, and Magnus, with his coddled little brats, appreciated “dynastic potential.”
The dark-haired woman wiping the table caught her eye. Emma paused in her pacing and gave her a long, thorough glance.
“You.” The woman looked up. Good body, beautiful dark eyes. Emma frowned; she knew this one. “… Emily.”
The slave seemed surprised and started to blush. “Yes.”
“Remove your clothes.”
“What?”
“Remove your clothes. Strip. Can I be clearer?”
Emily pulled off her shirt and stepped out of her trousers.
“Turn around.”
Emily’s body was actually rather impressive, not too skinny, good breasts. Her hips were slightly narrow, but that could be worked around.
“How would you like to have my children?”
Emily’s jaw dropped.
The logic was simple. Childbearing was a dangerous activity. You were weak and sick for nearly a year. Having a child with a fellow mutant was a precarious alliance, and getting knocked up by a human was disgusting. It was a perfect plan… as long as Emily didn’t keep passing out.
* * *
“I want to get one of my human slaves pregnant.”
Henry dropped the beaker he was holding, sloshing acid that immediately began to eat the linoleum all over the floor. “What! Emma! You can’t just-“
“I can’t what? If I were Scott I’d have a hundred brats by now, but I can’t just stick it in. So I’m asking you.”
Wringing his blue paws Henry whimpered. “This isn’t…”
“Don’t tell me you believe in human rights. You’ll be on the block for a traitor in minutes. And anyways, I asked her. She said yes.”
“Um, okay.” The blue furry man blinked a few times, trying to get his head around the concept. “Do you have a donor in mind?”
“No. You’re missing the point. I don’t want her to carry my child, I want it to be her genetic material and mine.”
“Oh! Well, there are a few theories…” Then he looked pensive and started to smile. “Actually, Marquis Shaw has a boy who has an interesting power that I’ve been dying to experiment with. And he does owe you a favor…”
* * *
Emily looked uncomfortable and nervous. Emma frowned. Just sticking it in was clearly not going to happen, not if it would hurt her. She knelt between her legs, and noticed that she wasn’t even aroused. She leaned in and kissed her.
“So we’re just going to do this?” Emily’s voice was weak. Emma kissed her throat and then collarbone.
“I’m going to make you come first. Okay?” Emma’s lips latched on to her nipple and Emily’s hands clasped the back of her head.
“Okay.”
* * *
“Emily… what’s wrong? You’ve been sort of pale and sick looking lately. Are you alright?”
Emily looked up and smiled wanly. “I’m fine. Better than fine. I’m pregnant.”
JJ’s jaw dropped. “What? Whose? You’re never with anyone. Morgan? Hotch?”
“It’s Emma’s.” JJ dropped the box she was holding. “She wants an heir. Apparently it’s good for her court status.”
“That is… that is so not okay. She’s using your body like a parasite. Did she make you have an operation?”
“What? No.”
“No? Who… who did she make you sleep with?”
Emily flushed. “I’ve only been with her.”
“I’m not really following here.”
“Mutants… there’s this little boy, and all he has to do is touch you, and… you change.”
“Oh my God!” JJ’s face contorted, at first with horror, and then crossing into an odd speculative look. “Does… does she make a really hot guy?”
Emily blinked. “Don’t ask me. But does this mean you’re up for carrying number two?”
* * *
Emma was panicking.
Emily was throwing up blood, and couldn’t stop retching even to breathe. Henry was fluttering unhelpfully. He didn’t know what was wrong and couldn’t treat it without asking.
<< You don’t get to do this! >> Emma found a stringy, wet, horrified-looking Emily in her mind and shook her. << I cannot lose you. I can’t lose both of you. >>
<< It hurts. >> was the weak response.
<< Tell me where, baby. >>
Emma relayed information to Henry who stuck her with an anti-nausea and an IV for the dehydration.
“You’ve been under too much stress.”
Emily rolled onto her side, away from him, but looked utterly miserable while doing it. He sighed, and left. Emma crawled into bed next to her and spooned around her, looking young, like a chastened teenager.
“This is my fault, isn’t it? I don’t know what I’m doing. I just lunge impulsively into things. You need to stop me if I made a mistake. Tell me what you want. I’ll do it. I’ll do anything you want, even if you don’t want to do this anymore.”
“I don’t want to go back downstairs.”
“What?” Emma looked at her, brow furrowed. “But I offered…”
“I know.” Emily turned over to press her face against Emma’s shoulder. “I didn’t think it would be this bad. It’s gotten worse. They call me a traitor for doing this with you, and I’m scared all the time. They do things to my food, and they won’t let me sleep. JJ tried to stop them, but they hate me for this.”
“I will kill them all. I will have them executed in public.” Emma was sitting up and ready to jump out of bed and give the order when Emily grabbed her arm.
“No!” She sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, rocking slightly. “They’re right.” She looked at Emma, her eyes deep and sad. “I am a traitor, because I love you.”
Emma fell out of bed.
* * *
Henry shook his head as Emma ran off to find something for Emily to eat.
“I always thought Emma had a great potential to fight against injustice, once she opened her eyes to it. I never thought she would learn to see it by committing the greatest injustice of them all.”
“She did ask,” remarked Emily, slightly amused that even other mutants had the same questions. “I said yes.”
“Why?”
“I’ve wanted a child for a long time, since… since not long after I lost my own mother. But I could never bring a child into this world just to be a slave.”
“You do know that as a parent of a mutant you’ll be given higher status.”
Emily blinked. “I didn’t even think of that.”
“And the child will be Emma’s heir.” Emily nodded. “Which lifts you even higher.”
Emily smiled softly. “It doesn’t matter. I’m still a slave, still a human. Nothing changes that.”
“In fact, you won’t be a slave.”
“What?”
“Winston Frost bought you for his daughter as a concubine. To show how little she cared for his bullying, she never bothered to change the classification. Which was good, especially once she began sleeping with you.” Emily flushed. “But because you are her only concubine and will be the mother to her heir, you are technically her consort. And because it would be a sad thing if a mutant’s parents were his slaves, they are given the title of Ryoshin-sama, honored parent, which is technically a citizen without voting rights.”
“I don’t… I don’t know what to think.”
“It will be within Emma’s rights to marry you.”
Emma stood outside the door, trying to get her breathing under control. She hated when people plotted against her. She shoved through it, interrupting the conversation.
It took a week of Emily saying nothing for her to get angry enough to bring it up.
“Why aren’t you doing it? You manipulate me into everything else, why not into marrying you?”
Emily blinked, stunned at the sudden tirade. “I don’t want to manipulate you into that.” She was pretty certain that she hadn’t manipulated Emma into anything, actually. “If you want to ask, it should because you want to. No other reason.”
Emma flopped onto the bed beside her. “I’m not going to. I can’t risk it.”
Emily nodded.
Emma frowned. “I can’t risk you. Not for some idiotic statement.”
“I understand.”
Emma glared at her. “Why? Why do you understand? What do you want? I want to give you something that is important to you, that you want. But you never seem to want anything at all!”
“There is one thing.”
Emma looked up sharply, considering whether she had just opened herself up for manipulation again.
“I just… I just don’t want to be left out of this child’s life. I don’t need a big part, just…I don’t want to be the surrogate, pushed back downstairs once this is over.”
Emma blinked away involuntary tears. “Why are you even asking?” She snorted, roughly. “I don’t have a fucking clue about what to do with a child. You’re in charge. This is your kid. I always wanted her to be yours.”
Emily sat frozen for a long moment, before dropping her head to hide her smile. “God… You’re just…” Emma glanced up and saw Emily’s wide grin. “I’d kiss you if I weren’t… repulsive.”
“You’re gorgeous.”
* * *
“You’ve heard then?”
Emily looked away. “They were celebrating.”
Emma was not a precognitive, had never been so, but that moment she knew, just knew, that they would kill Emily first. When the slaves in her house rose up, they would too afraid to hunt her down right away. To get their blood flowing they would kill the traitors in their midst, kill the weak and helpless. Emily, Deirdre… “You mutie-lover! Oppressor!” And what would Emma do then, the core of her life torn out and left broken and bloodied on the floor? Would she kill them all, or let them slit her throat? She could survive anything, but what would be the point of surviving that?
“What are we going to do?”
Emma clasped her hands. “Erik won’t let it go too far.”
“Meaning what? If every household revolts…”
“Meaning he will kill them all.”
“I am one of them.”
“And I am as much of a traitor as you.”
“What! But you’ve tried so hard…”
“I admitted our marriage to them.”
“What? But why?”
“I am not weak.” She clenched her hands tighter. “Loving you does not make me weak, or frightened, even when death is approaching from both sides.”
Emily pushed her hair back from her lover’s ears, looking deeply into her eyes. “How do you stay so young?” It was almost a criticism, almost saying ‘why are you still such a brash, naive idiot?’
Emma leaned in and took her lips, locking their tongues together. “You taste good for one so old and wise,” she remarked dryly.
“I’d die for you.”
“Your death is worth less than nothing to me. I would kill to keep you, and I am planning on doing so.”
“What about Deirdre? If this happens…”
“When. It's already begun.”
“Running is pointless, not that you would ever run. I will stay at your side. But she…”
“I was thinking I would talk to Jean.”
* * *
“Trying to run? Traitor.” The goddess of fire laughed. “If the humans don’t kill you, the mutants will.”
“I know.” Emma didn’t bend or cower. Jean had no respect for the weak. “But I am not trying to run. I cannot abandon my world, no matter how poisoned it has become.”
“But you are here for my gates. I could not send you anyway.” The mirrors of the room lit up and in each one Emma saw herself, different outfits, different activities, but obviously recognizable. “You exist in all the worlds I touch.”
“But… Deirdre?”
“Your child?” The fires around Jean flickered like she was laughing. “Now that is possible. She’s rather anomalous as it is.”
“You could do it?”
The mirrors changed. In one of them a slender dark-haired near teenage girl snapped viciously at a worried half-Asian Goth with cat’s eyes. The rest were empty. “There are enough nearby worlds where she does not exist.”
“Please…”
“I require payment.”
“What?”
“A memory.”
Jean floated towards her, and then, like a cobra striking, kissed her. Emma’s eyes widened as she sucked, a searing pain cutting through her mind. Then Jean pulled away and laughed, licking her lips with a tongue of fire.
“What- what did you do? What did you take?”
She laughed again. “Oh that is good. Comedic gold.”
“What!”
Jean smiled. “The first time you made love to your wife.”
Emma stared, then looked confused. “I don’t remember,” she said weakly.
“Of course not. The memory’s mine now. Bring your spawnling here at the earliest opportunity. If you wait too long, it will be too late.”
Emma looked pained.
“Oh, who do you want to take her?”
“What?”
“On the other side. She is only four. Are you sending her to yourself or your wife?” Jean grinned like a jack-o-lantern. “I’m sorry, but there aren’t any worlds where you are together. Apparently owning her as a slave is one of the few ways to make your darling stay.”
“Send her to Emily.” Emma sighed. “In whatever world, she’s got to be a better parent than me.”
Jean smiled.
“Your will be done.”
* * *
Emily looked pale and unhappy, but Emma knew what she was feeling and why, because she felt the same. Watching Deirdre walk trustingly into a mirror world was more painful than she had bargained for. But Jean had held up her end of the deal and had let them stay until the door opened and a woman who looked so much like Emily and yet hardly resembled her at all opened the door and her eyes widened in shock.
Emma watched her lover and wondered what exactly was different. It was their gaze, she decided. Her Emily had learned to look down, look away, always with half shadowed eyes. It had made her fight for honesty, for full disclosure, because her shields were too good for casual reading. But the Emily in the other universe looked straight on. She wouldn’t avoid anyone’s eyes.
“Face me, everyone.” Emma stood at the head of the ballroom, filled with slaves and servants, mutants and humans alike. She could feel the rumbling confusion, the hints of anger, of fear. “Everyone here knows that the war has begun. Most of you are just waiting for your marching orders, and I have little doubt that both myself and my wife are a target on both lists.”
The distracted muttering stopped and she had everyone’s full attention. “I have never bothered to challenge the status-quo in any way save one, and that is because the status-quo, no matter how unfair or oppressive, was one of peace. That is no longer true. I do not believe in the wholesale murder of half a race, no matter which half it is. But mainly, I wish to survive this war. Anyone who believes that it is possible for humans and mutants to live in peace together is welcome to stay when we go into lockdown. Everyone else will be allowed to leave, if they do so peacefully, but no one will be allowed back in.”
A few mutants stay, a few humans, Henry and JJ among them. Emma makes sure their feelings are true, and kills a man who starts a ruckus as they leave. Emily runs the downstairs, considering their supplies, wondering how long they will have to last.
They sleep poorly, locked in each other’s arms, wishing they knew their daughter was all right, trying to survive this apocalypse.
* * *
Emily opened the door, struggling up from where she had fallen asleep on the couch at the late night chime. A little girl looked up at her, dark hair and crystal blue eyes.
“Mommy!”
Emily’s eyes widened. “Hello?” she said, half to the empty darkness.
“Mommy! It’s Didi!” She put her arms up to be lifted, and Emily, seduced, still awkwardly looking around for the pranksters, picked her up, holding her to her chest. The small girl tangled her sticky fingers in her hair and tugged gently. “Mommy. Where’s M’ma?”
“M’ma?” Emily pulled back the small child enough to stare her in the face. “Did you just ask for Emma?”
* * *
The letter pinned to the odd cloak Didi wore went some lengths to explain the situation. “Emily,” it began.
“You do not know me, and it would be presumptive of me to say that I know you, for we have never existed in the same world. But I believe I know enough of your character that it would not be a mistake to entrust our child into your care.
“Our world is currently preparing its own apocalypse and it is not safe for her to remain. If we survive, we shall endeavor to relieve you of Deirdre’s care, but if not, I hope you have the honor to care for her as if she were your own.
Sincerely,
Grand Duchess Emma Grace Frost”
Emily sat back on the sofa, gaping at the letter. It certainly sounded like Emma, her diction, her arrogance, but it was too formal, too distant to be directed at her. And what was with all this Grand Duchess business?
Emily looked over to the small child, who had found her collection of antique African carved elephants and was currently setting up a stampede. Emma’s daughter? She must be four at least. She turned over the page and noticed the note hastily scrawled on the back, in what looked suspiciously like her own writing.
“Emily,
How odd this is to be addressing myself, but you are not me, although enough alike to make me worry about Emma’s insistence on sending Deirdre to you. First, the important information that she has no doubt forgotten to include:
Deirdre Victoria Frost, four years and 28 days old. She can use the toilet on her own, although she needs assistance in remembering to wash her hands. She can read short books of simple words. She dislikes cabbage and is allergic to nuts. She will not go to sleep without a story and when restive likes warm apple juice mixed with orange.
I have no idea how you will react to this. It was both something I wanted and was petrified of. I would never have gone through with it without Emma, nor survived it. Please, do not be afraid to ask for help. But please look after her, if only because you could have been me, and could have known what sending her away feels like.
Emma is brazen and daring as usual, but I doubt we will survive this war. So please take care of her, and remember, we are not our mother. I hope Deirdre becomes as much yours as she will always be mine.
Love,
Emily Elizabeth Frost”
Emily gulped and picked up her phone. “Hi, Ro? Call me back whenever you’re free. I need some advice.”
* * *
“It’s not me! It can’t be me!” Emily thrust the letter at Garcia who had been the first one to arrive after her panicked series of phone calls. “She doesn’t sound anything like me. This has got to be a bad joke!”
Garcia read the note slowly. “She doesn’t really sound like you.”
“She sounds submissive! I’m not submissive!”
Garcia lowered her glasses and grinned. “Good info.”
Emily glared at her. “Although, apparently she married Emma. Marrying Emma requires a good dose of submissive qualities.”
“It’s a different world.”
Emily glowered at Garcia. “I can’t believe you’re taking this seriously. She’s not mine. There’s no way she can be mine.”
Deirdre toddled up to her and put her arms around Emily’s leg. “Story?”
“She seems to recognize you.” Garcia patted her head. “Hey honey.” Didi grinned. “And she looks just like you when she smiles.”
Emily dropped back onto the couch. “I don’t have any stories. And her Emily would probably cross the boundaries of worlds to murder me if I read her any of my profiling stuff.”
“I am prepared!” Garcia pulled a book out of her voluminous purse. Emily looked at it.
“Why exactly do you have The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins in your bag?”
Garcia shrugged. “You never know when Dr. Seuss will come in handy.”
Part 2
* * *
Author: Alsike
Rating: M (for fpreg and implied transgender sex)
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss, other Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men or Criminal Minds. I owe
wizened_cynic for the concept of quantum babies and probably for the transgender sex too. But I'm the one who deserves to be cursed at. Title stolen from the song by The National.
Apologies:
I'm so sorry. I really don't know where this came from... that's a total lie. I know exactly where this came from. this is the fault of trexkitten for suggesting an apocalyptic destruction of the human race, and
wizened_cynic who inquired whether i had given Emily a quantum baby yet. And yes, i combined the two ideas... plus i've been reading Gilberto Freyre who supplied certain other offensive aspects.
This is a cracked out AU of my previous X-Men/Criminal Minds crossover. Knowledge of previous stories is not necessary.
It intersects with the angstfest storyline a few years later, during Emma and Emily's established non-relationship.
Oddly enough, although this contains an apocalypse, this does not count as Angst. It is very non angsty, in fact it tends more to the rainbows and puppies end of the spectrum. I am working on the angst! It is coming slowly. Try not to kill me for this.
Queen Emma: that sounded about right. Right now she had to be satisfied with Lady, but not for long. Erik Magnus had decreed that all mutants be given titles according to their abilities and status in the new regime. And Emma, sixteen and brilliant, could see her future in her grasp.
It was her birthday, her entrance into adulthood, and her father, perturbed at her rejection of his offer of second in command, brought her a gift.
“She was of a rather good family, before the revolution.”
“Really?” Emma eyed the beautiful human slave, not impressed. Her father was making a statement, pretending he still had power over her. As if she would ever be ashamed of something as meaningless as her sexual tastes. Still, he had made a rather good choice.
* * *
“You were with the mistress again? Is that what took you so long?” Aaron shook his head. “You shouldn’t be so familiar with her.”
Emily gave a weak grin. “She’s just a child.”
“She’s a mutant. Our mistress.”
“Just a child, that monster?” spat Rossi.
“She’s just a child.” Emily repeated, then thinking to herself, smirked. “She thinks she’s pretty hot stuff, but she’s a spoilt kid.”
JJ shook her head as they walked to the bathing complex. “I’ve never heard anyone call our mistress a spoilt child before.”
“I wouldn’t repeat it. But it’s accurate to what she does. She didn’t want me to leave afterwards, so she pouted until I cuddled with her.”
“I can’t believe she forces you to have sex with her.”
Emily smiled. “It’s not a chore. She’s really easy.”
JJ gave her an odd look. “Do you… like her?”
“It's a waste of time to hate people for what they are. And she’s never done anything to hurt me.”
“She never reciprocates either.”
“Like I said. Spoilt child.”
* * *
Baroness was an improvement, but not what she wanted. She was irritated. Scott had been made a Duke and his power wasn’t even fully functional. It was just because he had children, and Magnus, with his coddled little brats, appreciated “dynastic potential.”
The dark-haired woman wiping the table caught her eye. Emma paused in her pacing and gave her a long, thorough glance.
“You.” The woman looked up. Good body, beautiful dark eyes. Emma frowned; she knew this one. “… Emily.”
The slave seemed surprised and started to blush. “Yes.”
“Remove your clothes.”
“What?”
“Remove your clothes. Strip. Can I be clearer?”
Emily pulled off her shirt and stepped out of her trousers.
“Turn around.”
Emily’s body was actually rather impressive, not too skinny, good breasts. Her hips were slightly narrow, but that could be worked around.
“How would you like to have my children?”
Emily’s jaw dropped.
The logic was simple. Childbearing was a dangerous activity. You were weak and sick for nearly a year. Having a child with a fellow mutant was a precarious alliance, and getting knocked up by a human was disgusting. It was a perfect plan… as long as Emily didn’t keep passing out.
* * *
“I want to get one of my human slaves pregnant.”
Henry dropped the beaker he was holding, sloshing acid that immediately began to eat the linoleum all over the floor. “What! Emma! You can’t just-“
“I can’t what? If I were Scott I’d have a hundred brats by now, but I can’t just stick it in. So I’m asking you.”
Wringing his blue paws Henry whimpered. “This isn’t…”
“Don’t tell me you believe in human rights. You’ll be on the block for a traitor in minutes. And anyways, I asked her. She said yes.”
“Um, okay.” The blue furry man blinked a few times, trying to get his head around the concept. “Do you have a donor in mind?”
“No. You’re missing the point. I don’t want her to carry my child, I want it to be her genetic material and mine.”
“Oh! Well, there are a few theories…” Then he looked pensive and started to smile. “Actually, Marquis Shaw has a boy who has an interesting power that I’ve been dying to experiment with. And he does owe you a favor…”
* * *
Emily looked uncomfortable and nervous. Emma frowned. Just sticking it in was clearly not going to happen, not if it would hurt her. She knelt between her legs, and noticed that she wasn’t even aroused. She leaned in and kissed her.
“So we’re just going to do this?” Emily’s voice was weak. Emma kissed her throat and then collarbone.
“I’m going to make you come first. Okay?” Emma’s lips latched on to her nipple and Emily’s hands clasped the back of her head.
“Okay.”
* * *
“Emily… what’s wrong? You’ve been sort of pale and sick looking lately. Are you alright?”
Emily looked up and smiled wanly. “I’m fine. Better than fine. I’m pregnant.”
JJ’s jaw dropped. “What? Whose? You’re never with anyone. Morgan? Hotch?”
“It’s Emma’s.” JJ dropped the box she was holding. “She wants an heir. Apparently it’s good for her court status.”
“That is… that is so not okay. She’s using your body like a parasite. Did she make you have an operation?”
“What? No.”
“No? Who… who did she make you sleep with?”
Emily flushed. “I’ve only been with her.”
“I’m not really following here.”
“Mutants… there’s this little boy, and all he has to do is touch you, and… you change.”
“Oh my God!” JJ’s face contorted, at first with horror, and then crossing into an odd speculative look. “Does… does she make a really hot guy?”
Emily blinked. “Don’t ask me. But does this mean you’re up for carrying number two?”
* * *
Emma was panicking.
Emily was throwing up blood, and couldn’t stop retching even to breathe. Henry was fluttering unhelpfully. He didn’t know what was wrong and couldn’t treat it without asking.
<< You don’t get to do this! >> Emma found a stringy, wet, horrified-looking Emily in her mind and shook her. << I cannot lose you. I can’t lose both of you. >>
<< It hurts. >> was the weak response.
<< Tell me where, baby. >>
Emma relayed information to Henry who stuck her with an anti-nausea and an IV for the dehydration.
“You’ve been under too much stress.”
Emily rolled onto her side, away from him, but looked utterly miserable while doing it. He sighed, and left. Emma crawled into bed next to her and spooned around her, looking young, like a chastened teenager.
“This is my fault, isn’t it? I don’t know what I’m doing. I just lunge impulsively into things. You need to stop me if I made a mistake. Tell me what you want. I’ll do it. I’ll do anything you want, even if you don’t want to do this anymore.”
“I don’t want to go back downstairs.”
“What?” Emma looked at her, brow furrowed. “But I offered…”
“I know.” Emily turned over to press her face against Emma’s shoulder. “I didn’t think it would be this bad. It’s gotten worse. They call me a traitor for doing this with you, and I’m scared all the time. They do things to my food, and they won’t let me sleep. JJ tried to stop them, but they hate me for this.”
“I will kill them all. I will have them executed in public.” Emma was sitting up and ready to jump out of bed and give the order when Emily grabbed her arm.
“No!” She sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, rocking slightly. “They’re right.” She looked at Emma, her eyes deep and sad. “I am a traitor, because I love you.”
Emma fell out of bed.
* * *
Henry shook his head as Emma ran off to find something for Emily to eat.
“I always thought Emma had a great potential to fight against injustice, once she opened her eyes to it. I never thought she would learn to see it by committing the greatest injustice of them all.”
“She did ask,” remarked Emily, slightly amused that even other mutants had the same questions. “I said yes.”
“Why?”
“I’ve wanted a child for a long time, since… since not long after I lost my own mother. But I could never bring a child into this world just to be a slave.”
“You do know that as a parent of a mutant you’ll be given higher status.”
Emily blinked. “I didn’t even think of that.”
“And the child will be Emma’s heir.” Emily nodded. “Which lifts you even higher.”
Emily smiled softly. “It doesn’t matter. I’m still a slave, still a human. Nothing changes that.”
“In fact, you won’t be a slave.”
“What?”
“Winston Frost bought you for his daughter as a concubine. To show how little she cared for his bullying, she never bothered to change the classification. Which was good, especially once she began sleeping with you.” Emily flushed. “But because you are her only concubine and will be the mother to her heir, you are technically her consort. And because it would be a sad thing if a mutant’s parents were his slaves, they are given the title of Ryoshin-sama, honored parent, which is technically a citizen without voting rights.”
“I don’t… I don’t know what to think.”
“It will be within Emma’s rights to marry you.”
Emma stood outside the door, trying to get her breathing under control. She hated when people plotted against her. She shoved through it, interrupting the conversation.
It took a week of Emily saying nothing for her to get angry enough to bring it up.
“Why aren’t you doing it? You manipulate me into everything else, why not into marrying you?”
Emily blinked, stunned at the sudden tirade. “I don’t want to manipulate you into that.” She was pretty certain that she hadn’t manipulated Emma into anything, actually. “If you want to ask, it should because you want to. No other reason.”
Emma flopped onto the bed beside her. “I’m not going to. I can’t risk it.”
Emily nodded.
Emma frowned. “I can’t risk you. Not for some idiotic statement.”
“I understand.”
Emma glared at her. “Why? Why do you understand? What do you want? I want to give you something that is important to you, that you want. But you never seem to want anything at all!”
“There is one thing.”
Emma looked up sharply, considering whether she had just opened herself up for manipulation again.
“I just… I just don’t want to be left out of this child’s life. I don’t need a big part, just…I don’t want to be the surrogate, pushed back downstairs once this is over.”
Emma blinked away involuntary tears. “Why are you even asking?” She snorted, roughly. “I don’t have a fucking clue about what to do with a child. You’re in charge. This is your kid. I always wanted her to be yours.”
Emily sat frozen for a long moment, before dropping her head to hide her smile. “God… You’re just…” Emma glanced up and saw Emily’s wide grin. “I’d kiss you if I weren’t… repulsive.”
“You’re gorgeous.”
* * *
“You’ve heard then?”
Emily looked away. “They were celebrating.”
Emma was not a precognitive, had never been so, but that moment she knew, just knew, that they would kill Emily first. When the slaves in her house rose up, they would too afraid to hunt her down right away. To get their blood flowing they would kill the traitors in their midst, kill the weak and helpless. Emily, Deirdre… “You mutie-lover! Oppressor!” And what would Emma do then, the core of her life torn out and left broken and bloodied on the floor? Would she kill them all, or let them slit her throat? She could survive anything, but what would be the point of surviving that?
“What are we going to do?”
Emma clasped her hands. “Erik won’t let it go too far.”
“Meaning what? If every household revolts…”
“Meaning he will kill them all.”
“I am one of them.”
“And I am as much of a traitor as you.”
“What! But you’ve tried so hard…”
“I admitted our marriage to them.”
“What? But why?”
“I am not weak.” She clenched her hands tighter. “Loving you does not make me weak, or frightened, even when death is approaching from both sides.”
Emily pushed her hair back from her lover’s ears, looking deeply into her eyes. “How do you stay so young?” It was almost a criticism, almost saying ‘why are you still such a brash, naive idiot?’
Emma leaned in and took her lips, locking their tongues together. “You taste good for one so old and wise,” she remarked dryly.
“I’d die for you.”
“Your death is worth less than nothing to me. I would kill to keep you, and I am planning on doing so.”
“What about Deirdre? If this happens…”
“When. It's already begun.”
“Running is pointless, not that you would ever run. I will stay at your side. But she…”
“I was thinking I would talk to Jean.”
* * *
“Trying to run? Traitor.” The goddess of fire laughed. “If the humans don’t kill you, the mutants will.”
“I know.” Emma didn’t bend or cower. Jean had no respect for the weak. “But I am not trying to run. I cannot abandon my world, no matter how poisoned it has become.”
“But you are here for my gates. I could not send you anyway.” The mirrors of the room lit up and in each one Emma saw herself, different outfits, different activities, but obviously recognizable. “You exist in all the worlds I touch.”
“But… Deirdre?”
“Your child?” The fires around Jean flickered like she was laughing. “Now that is possible. She’s rather anomalous as it is.”
“You could do it?”
The mirrors changed. In one of them a slender dark-haired near teenage girl snapped viciously at a worried half-Asian Goth with cat’s eyes. The rest were empty. “There are enough nearby worlds where she does not exist.”
“Please…”
“I require payment.”
“What?”
“A memory.”
Jean floated towards her, and then, like a cobra striking, kissed her. Emma’s eyes widened as she sucked, a searing pain cutting through her mind. Then Jean pulled away and laughed, licking her lips with a tongue of fire.
“What- what did you do? What did you take?”
She laughed again. “Oh that is good. Comedic gold.”
“What!”
Jean smiled. “The first time you made love to your wife.”
Emma stared, then looked confused. “I don’t remember,” she said weakly.
“Of course not. The memory’s mine now. Bring your spawnling here at the earliest opportunity. If you wait too long, it will be too late.”
Emma looked pained.
“Oh, who do you want to take her?”
“What?”
“On the other side. She is only four. Are you sending her to yourself or your wife?” Jean grinned like a jack-o-lantern. “I’m sorry, but there aren’t any worlds where you are together. Apparently owning her as a slave is one of the few ways to make your darling stay.”
“Send her to Emily.” Emma sighed. “In whatever world, she’s got to be a better parent than me.”
Jean smiled.
“Your will be done.”
* * *
Emily looked pale and unhappy, but Emma knew what she was feeling and why, because she felt the same. Watching Deirdre walk trustingly into a mirror world was more painful than she had bargained for. But Jean had held up her end of the deal and had let them stay until the door opened and a woman who looked so much like Emily and yet hardly resembled her at all opened the door and her eyes widened in shock.
Emma watched her lover and wondered what exactly was different. It was their gaze, she decided. Her Emily had learned to look down, look away, always with half shadowed eyes. It had made her fight for honesty, for full disclosure, because her shields were too good for casual reading. But the Emily in the other universe looked straight on. She wouldn’t avoid anyone’s eyes.
“Face me, everyone.” Emma stood at the head of the ballroom, filled with slaves and servants, mutants and humans alike. She could feel the rumbling confusion, the hints of anger, of fear. “Everyone here knows that the war has begun. Most of you are just waiting for your marching orders, and I have little doubt that both myself and my wife are a target on both lists.”
The distracted muttering stopped and she had everyone’s full attention. “I have never bothered to challenge the status-quo in any way save one, and that is because the status-quo, no matter how unfair or oppressive, was one of peace. That is no longer true. I do not believe in the wholesale murder of half a race, no matter which half it is. But mainly, I wish to survive this war. Anyone who believes that it is possible for humans and mutants to live in peace together is welcome to stay when we go into lockdown. Everyone else will be allowed to leave, if they do so peacefully, but no one will be allowed back in.”
A few mutants stay, a few humans, Henry and JJ among them. Emma makes sure their feelings are true, and kills a man who starts a ruckus as they leave. Emily runs the downstairs, considering their supplies, wondering how long they will have to last.
They sleep poorly, locked in each other’s arms, wishing they knew their daughter was all right, trying to survive this apocalypse.
* * *
Emily opened the door, struggling up from where she had fallen asleep on the couch at the late night chime. A little girl looked up at her, dark hair and crystal blue eyes.
“Mommy!”
Emily’s eyes widened. “Hello?” she said, half to the empty darkness.
“Mommy! It’s Didi!” She put her arms up to be lifted, and Emily, seduced, still awkwardly looking around for the pranksters, picked her up, holding her to her chest. The small girl tangled her sticky fingers in her hair and tugged gently. “Mommy. Where’s M’ma?”
“M’ma?” Emily pulled back the small child enough to stare her in the face. “Did you just ask for Emma?”
* * *
The letter pinned to the odd cloak Didi wore went some lengths to explain the situation. “Emily,” it began.
“You do not know me, and it would be presumptive of me to say that I know you, for we have never existed in the same world. But I believe I know enough of your character that it would not be a mistake to entrust our child into your care.
“Our world is currently preparing its own apocalypse and it is not safe for her to remain. If we survive, we shall endeavor to relieve you of Deirdre’s care, but if not, I hope you have the honor to care for her as if she were your own.
Sincerely,
Grand Duchess Emma Grace Frost”
Emily sat back on the sofa, gaping at the letter. It certainly sounded like Emma, her diction, her arrogance, but it was too formal, too distant to be directed at her. And what was with all this Grand Duchess business?
Emily looked over to the small child, who had found her collection of antique African carved elephants and was currently setting up a stampede. Emma’s daughter? She must be four at least. She turned over the page and noticed the note hastily scrawled on the back, in what looked suspiciously like her own writing.
“Emily,
How odd this is to be addressing myself, but you are not me, although enough alike to make me worry about Emma’s insistence on sending Deirdre to you. First, the important information that she has no doubt forgotten to include:
Deirdre Victoria Frost, four years and 28 days old. She can use the toilet on her own, although she needs assistance in remembering to wash her hands. She can read short books of simple words. She dislikes cabbage and is allergic to nuts. She will not go to sleep without a story and when restive likes warm apple juice mixed with orange.
I have no idea how you will react to this. It was both something I wanted and was petrified of. I would never have gone through with it without Emma, nor survived it. Please, do not be afraid to ask for help. But please look after her, if only because you could have been me, and could have known what sending her away feels like.
Emma is brazen and daring as usual, but I doubt we will survive this war. So please take care of her, and remember, we are not our mother. I hope Deirdre becomes as much yours as she will always be mine.
Love,
Emily Elizabeth Frost”
Emily gulped and picked up her phone. “Hi, Ro? Call me back whenever you’re free. I need some advice.”
* * *
“It’s not me! It can’t be me!” Emily thrust the letter at Garcia who had been the first one to arrive after her panicked series of phone calls. “She doesn’t sound anything like me. This has got to be a bad joke!”
Garcia read the note slowly. “She doesn’t really sound like you.”
“She sounds submissive! I’m not submissive!”
Garcia lowered her glasses and grinned. “Good info.”
Emily glared at her. “Although, apparently she married Emma. Marrying Emma requires a good dose of submissive qualities.”
“It’s a different world.”
Emily glowered at Garcia. “I can’t believe you’re taking this seriously. She’s not mine. There’s no way she can be mine.”
Deirdre toddled up to her and put her arms around Emily’s leg. “Story?”
“She seems to recognize you.” Garcia patted her head. “Hey honey.” Didi grinned. “And she looks just like you when she smiles.”
Emily dropped back onto the couch. “I don’t have any stories. And her Emily would probably cross the boundaries of worlds to murder me if I read her any of my profiling stuff.”
“I am prepared!” Garcia pulled a book out of her voluminous purse. Emily looked at it.
“Why exactly do you have The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins in your bag?”
Garcia shrugged. “You never know when Dr. Seuss will come in handy.”
Part 2
* * *