Just Like Heaven
So i was feeling grumpy, uninspired, and irritable. To get me out of the funk, i hit shuffle on my iTunes and wrote 10 Didi-centric ficlets!
Title: Just Like Heaven
Author: Alsike
Rating: G, PG at most (Seriously, no swearing, no sex, no violence)
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss, Deirdre Frost-Prentiss
Fandom: X-Men, Criminal Minds (Seriously, i don't know if these fandoms are even relevant in these ficlets. I feel like i'm writing fanfiction for my fanfiction)
Spoilers: .... Do you know who Didi is? It doesn't matter. You'll figure it out.
Disclaimer: I'm sure the people who own X-Men and Criminal Minds would love to make a claim on this, because seriously, if you can cross-over Star Trek and X-men in canon why not Criminal Minds? Think about it, guys. I think I owe more to
wizened_cynic than to the dudes in suits anyways. She could probably sue me for custody of Didi and win.
Didi Fic!
Just Like Heaven
AFI (Covering the Cure)
Emily had never really thought what it would be like to have kids. She didn’t know what it would be like to suddenly not be able to step into your bathtub without banging your foot on the sharp edge of a toy. She hadn’t expected children to be so naturally mendacious. Didi at least was obvious about it. When she cuddled up to you and told you how much she loved you, it was usually pretty clear what she wanted to get out of it.
Emily was her servant in all the ways that counted, clothes, food, cleanliness, and if it didn’t match her expectations, it was rejected with utter derision, sometimes with a strong over-arm throw. Emily hadn’t anticipated what it would be like to have another person, even a little one, living in her house, interfering with her well-ordered life.
But sometimes, after a bath and endless struggles with the shampoo and dark tangled curls, Didi would curl up in her arms, Emily’s nose pressed to the top of her head. The way she smelled was just like heaven.
Don’t Say
St. Lola in the Fields
“I just can’t be there. I have to work. I…”
Emily couldn’t find any more words. All the reasons and excuses seemed thin and faded in the face of Didi’s expression. How could she say she was protecting other children, helping other people, when she couldn’t even be there for the child who was supposed to be her own daughter?
“You don’t love me. I want M’ma!” Didi struck out at her with her little fists. “Mommy’s no good. You’re not my mommy!”
“Didi, Don’t say…” She caught her hands, backing away from the blows. How could she say it wasn’t true? “I have to work.”
The tears came. Emily walked away and closed the door to her room.
“Mommy!”
The anguish was visceral, but Emily couldn’t respond. Didi wasn’t calling out for her.
Limit to Your Love
Feist
“Why won’t you come home?”
Emma leaned against her hand, too tired to stay poised and collected when accosted by the only girl who could break her heart with a word. Well… not the only girl, and that was why she couldn’t go back.
“I can’t. I have obligations here.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone. Somehow Emma couldn’t believe that the reason was because Didi didn’t know the word obligations. She knew the tone too well.
“If you don’t come back, I won’t love you anymore.”
Emma closed her eyes. “I don’t expect you to. If I don’t deserve it, it is your right to take it away.”
She would never blame her daughter if she hated her for being someone who couldn’t even overcome her own fears.
Death of Seasons
A.F.I.
February was the worst month. Winter wasn’t over but Deirdre was tired of snow, tired of cold, tired of being housebound. Emily was tired of dragging sleds up hills, of wiping runny noses, of picking caked snow out of her collar. There was no sign of spring. The snow looked dirty and limp, or frozen into ice-tea chunks in the gutter.
That weekend being inside was too much, and Emily and Didi sat on the bench in the park looking at the tired dingy snow.
A serial killer had gotten the better of Emily that week and sent her into a pile of it, lacerating her face with cold. Emily’s eye was swollen and her face was red with scratches. The people who passed gave her horrified looks.
She thought that if she hadn’t been with a child, they would have been pitying ones. But being brutalized like this made her look like a victim of domestic abuse who had been forced to flee her house. One matronly lady came up and asked if they needed directions to a shelter where they could spend the night.
“It’s cold,” said Didi. Emily, too tired to move just grunted in response. Didi crawled into her lap. Emily put her arms around the girl and ran the tassels of the purple hat through her fingers. It was too bright and garish to be a flower. But it seemed like one anyway.
Smells Like Teen Spirit
Nirvana
It was clear that Didi was going to be a troublesome teenager. She was twelve and already showing her individuality by wearing spiked chokers and fingerless, elbow-length gloves. Emma looked at her musingly, and then she eyed Emily.
“Did you…?”
The dark flush that enveloped Emily’s face was proof enough and Emma couldn’t help but laugh.
“There’s nothing we can do then.” She shook her head. “It seems to be genetic.”
“Hey,” Emily tried to recover. “It was just a phase.”
Emma shook her head. “I am feeling a very strong desire to see you in a corset about now… and black lipstick, and knee-length boots.”
“I don’t have any of that stuff anymore!”
“Yes you do. I found it in your mother’s attic.”
Emily covered her face.
Banana Pancakes
Jack Johnson
The clouds outside made it seem like twilight, even though it was only nine in the morning. Emily stretched dismally as she dragged herself out of bed. It was Sunday, she was off, thank goodness. But it looked like a crappy day.
“Mommy?”
Emily jumped with shock and fell over a pile of books sitting next to her dresser. Didi was sitting up in her bed, looking out the window. She breathed three or four times. How many times would she forget the existence of her dimension-traveling daughter?
“It’s raining. No park today?”
“I guess not.”
Didi looked impossibly depressed. Emily sighed and sat back down on the bed ruffling her sleep-mussed hair. “Why don’t we make pancakes instead?”
Elvenpath
Nightwish
Jubilee had started reading Didi the Lord of the Rings as her bedtime book. It wasn’t inappropriate. Emily had read her about half of Slaughterhouse Five before JJ had picked it up absently, read a page, and then given her a serious rant about appropriate reading material for children. Emily had always thought Slaughterhouse Five was very kid friendly. Death happened in lots of kids’ books, but apparently it was only okay if it was heroic death.
Didi seemed to be enjoying the Tolkien well enough. Emily often peeked in to check on how it was going. The Lord of the Rings always reminded her of when she had been a teenager in the Ukraine, functionally illiterate in the Cyrillic alphabet and miserable. Her uncle had sent her a copy of the Tolkien trilogy and she had read it over and over again that summer until she nearly memorized it.
Even when it was clear that Didi and Jubilee were fine, Emily would lean against the doorframe, remembering the warm summer days, the words spilling over her like honey, spread out under a tree in the park that ran along the river in Kiev, her eyes closed, listening for the soft footfalls of an elf.
Paper Home
Raccoon
Emma always felt that she was standing on the outside. Emily had made her feel that way for a long time. She had always been whole, fulfilled on her own. And Emma had been that way too, until suddenly she wasn’t.
Didi loved her. She always was so happy to see her, but it made her feel like a visitor. She and Emily had this schedule, this system, this connection, and Emma was left out.
Deirdre made her help hang a tablecloth over a card table in the living room, and huddled underneath it, pulling Emma underneath with her.
“This is our house,” she said.
“All right.” Emma smiled and let her play. For a moment she felt at home.
Sakebi to Okori no Mukukata he
[Turning in the Direction of the Screaming and the Death] (No, I did not know the meaning of this while writing the fic.)
Yuki Kajiura & Sahashi Toshihiko
Didi was learning to dance in gym class. She came home complaining about it. She had to touch boys she said, who smelled, and never stepped in the right place.
Emily laughed at her and asked her if she didn’t play soccer with the same boys.
She did, she replied, but they weren’t bad at soccer.
Emma found this amusing as well when she called. “You’re lucky we aren’t making you go to etiquette school. I went there for five years of ballroom lessons and table manners, on Saturdays.”
“Eww!”
“You had to do it too?” Emily leaned back on the bed, phone tucked between ear and shoulder. “I always hid in the corner and wanted to die.”
“I would have asked you to dance.”
Emily laughed. “No one asked me to dance.”
“I would have.” Emma’s voice grew wry. “Everyone was too scared of me to ask, so I always ended up with the kid who was painfully shy and certain to be ignored. Eventually I asked right away, not waiting for the others to pair up. It made it look like I wanted to dance with the mouth-breathers and incessant wrigglers, so I didn’t have to be ashamed of ending up with them.”
“That’s me, mouth-breather with ADD. Glad to know you find that attractive.”
Emma chuckled. “Sometimes they grow up well. But I would have asked.” She paused. “Next time I see you… I’ll ask.”
Eyes Without a Face
Billy Idol
Didi’s favorite activity to do alone was drawing. She did not show signs of being the next Picasso. Jackson Pollock was more her forte, but Emily carefully collected all the pictures and put them in a file. The most current ones decorated the refrigerator and the cabinets in the kitchen. Clay tentacled objects decorated her once sparse mantelpiece.
According to Miss Manners this was perfectly appropriate decor.
The only trouble was that Didi had recently gotten into drawing eyes. Just eyes. Nothing but eyes. Eyes without a face like the beast from Cheshire was a grin without a cat. One of them, the best, took up the entire page, blue and penetrating. It was hung upon Emily’s bedroom door. Every time she saw it she nearly fell over with shock.
By some combination of chance and design, Didi had managed to capture Emma’s disapproving expression. It wasn’t losing its impact.
Title: Just Like Heaven
Author: Alsike
Rating: G, PG at most (Seriously, no swearing, no sex, no violence)
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss, Deirdre Frost-Prentiss
Fandom: X-Men, Criminal Minds (Seriously, i don't know if these fandoms are even relevant in these ficlets. I feel like i'm writing fanfiction for my fanfiction)
Spoilers: .... Do you know who Didi is? It doesn't matter. You'll figure it out.
Disclaimer: I'm sure the people who own X-Men and Criminal Minds would love to make a claim on this, because seriously, if you can cross-over Star Trek and X-men in canon why not Criminal Minds? Think about it, guys. I think I owe more to
wizened_cynic than to the dudes in suits anyways. She could probably sue me for custody of Didi and win.
Didi Fic!
Just Like Heaven
AFI (Covering the Cure)
Emily had never really thought what it would be like to have kids. She didn’t know what it would be like to suddenly not be able to step into your bathtub without banging your foot on the sharp edge of a toy. She hadn’t expected children to be so naturally mendacious. Didi at least was obvious about it. When she cuddled up to you and told you how much she loved you, it was usually pretty clear what she wanted to get out of it.
Emily was her servant in all the ways that counted, clothes, food, cleanliness, and if it didn’t match her expectations, it was rejected with utter derision, sometimes with a strong over-arm throw. Emily hadn’t anticipated what it would be like to have another person, even a little one, living in her house, interfering with her well-ordered life.
But sometimes, after a bath and endless struggles with the shampoo and dark tangled curls, Didi would curl up in her arms, Emily’s nose pressed to the top of her head. The way she smelled was just like heaven.
Don’t Say
St. Lola in the Fields
“I just can’t be there. I have to work. I…”
Emily couldn’t find any more words. All the reasons and excuses seemed thin and faded in the face of Didi’s expression. How could she say she was protecting other children, helping other people, when she couldn’t even be there for the child who was supposed to be her own daughter?
“You don’t love me. I want M’ma!” Didi struck out at her with her little fists. “Mommy’s no good. You’re not my mommy!”
“Didi, Don’t say…” She caught her hands, backing away from the blows. How could she say it wasn’t true? “I have to work.”
The tears came. Emily walked away and closed the door to her room.
“Mommy!”
The anguish was visceral, but Emily couldn’t respond. Didi wasn’t calling out for her.
Limit to Your Love
Feist
“Why won’t you come home?”
Emma leaned against her hand, too tired to stay poised and collected when accosted by the only girl who could break her heart with a word. Well… not the only girl, and that was why she couldn’t go back.
“I can’t. I have obligations here.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone. Somehow Emma couldn’t believe that the reason was because Didi didn’t know the word obligations. She knew the tone too well.
“If you don’t come back, I won’t love you anymore.”
Emma closed her eyes. “I don’t expect you to. If I don’t deserve it, it is your right to take it away.”
She would never blame her daughter if she hated her for being someone who couldn’t even overcome her own fears.
Death of Seasons
A.F.I.
February was the worst month. Winter wasn’t over but Deirdre was tired of snow, tired of cold, tired of being housebound. Emily was tired of dragging sleds up hills, of wiping runny noses, of picking caked snow out of her collar. There was no sign of spring. The snow looked dirty and limp, or frozen into ice-tea chunks in the gutter.
That weekend being inside was too much, and Emily and Didi sat on the bench in the park looking at the tired dingy snow.
A serial killer had gotten the better of Emily that week and sent her into a pile of it, lacerating her face with cold. Emily’s eye was swollen and her face was red with scratches. The people who passed gave her horrified looks.
She thought that if she hadn’t been with a child, they would have been pitying ones. But being brutalized like this made her look like a victim of domestic abuse who had been forced to flee her house. One matronly lady came up and asked if they needed directions to a shelter where they could spend the night.
“It’s cold,” said Didi. Emily, too tired to move just grunted in response. Didi crawled into her lap. Emily put her arms around the girl and ran the tassels of the purple hat through her fingers. It was too bright and garish to be a flower. But it seemed like one anyway.
Smells Like Teen Spirit
Nirvana
It was clear that Didi was going to be a troublesome teenager. She was twelve and already showing her individuality by wearing spiked chokers and fingerless, elbow-length gloves. Emma looked at her musingly, and then she eyed Emily.
“Did you…?”
The dark flush that enveloped Emily’s face was proof enough and Emma couldn’t help but laugh.
“There’s nothing we can do then.” She shook her head. “It seems to be genetic.”
“Hey,” Emily tried to recover. “It was just a phase.”
Emma shook her head. “I am feeling a very strong desire to see you in a corset about now… and black lipstick, and knee-length boots.”
“I don’t have any of that stuff anymore!”
“Yes you do. I found it in your mother’s attic.”
Emily covered her face.
Banana Pancakes
Jack Johnson
The clouds outside made it seem like twilight, even though it was only nine in the morning. Emily stretched dismally as she dragged herself out of bed. It was Sunday, she was off, thank goodness. But it looked like a crappy day.
“Mommy?”
Emily jumped with shock and fell over a pile of books sitting next to her dresser. Didi was sitting up in her bed, looking out the window. She breathed three or four times. How many times would she forget the existence of her dimension-traveling daughter?
“It’s raining. No park today?”
“I guess not.”
Didi looked impossibly depressed. Emily sighed and sat back down on the bed ruffling her sleep-mussed hair. “Why don’t we make pancakes instead?”
Elvenpath
Nightwish
Jubilee had started reading Didi the Lord of the Rings as her bedtime book. It wasn’t inappropriate. Emily had read her about half of Slaughterhouse Five before JJ had picked it up absently, read a page, and then given her a serious rant about appropriate reading material for children. Emily had always thought Slaughterhouse Five was very kid friendly. Death happened in lots of kids’ books, but apparently it was only okay if it was heroic death.
Didi seemed to be enjoying the Tolkien well enough. Emily often peeked in to check on how it was going. The Lord of the Rings always reminded her of when she had been a teenager in the Ukraine, functionally illiterate in the Cyrillic alphabet and miserable. Her uncle had sent her a copy of the Tolkien trilogy and she had read it over and over again that summer until she nearly memorized it.
Even when it was clear that Didi and Jubilee were fine, Emily would lean against the doorframe, remembering the warm summer days, the words spilling over her like honey, spread out under a tree in the park that ran along the river in Kiev, her eyes closed, listening for the soft footfalls of an elf.
Paper Home
Raccoon
Emma always felt that she was standing on the outside. Emily had made her feel that way for a long time. She had always been whole, fulfilled on her own. And Emma had been that way too, until suddenly she wasn’t.
Didi loved her. She always was so happy to see her, but it made her feel like a visitor. She and Emily had this schedule, this system, this connection, and Emma was left out.
Deirdre made her help hang a tablecloth over a card table in the living room, and huddled underneath it, pulling Emma underneath with her.
“This is our house,” she said.
“All right.” Emma smiled and let her play. For a moment she felt at home.
Sakebi to Okori no Mukukata he
[Turning in the Direction of the Screaming and the Death] (No, I did not know the meaning of this while writing the fic.)
Yuki Kajiura & Sahashi Toshihiko
Didi was learning to dance in gym class. She came home complaining about it. She had to touch boys she said, who smelled, and never stepped in the right place.
Emily laughed at her and asked her if she didn’t play soccer with the same boys.
She did, she replied, but they weren’t bad at soccer.
Emma found this amusing as well when she called. “You’re lucky we aren’t making you go to etiquette school. I went there for five years of ballroom lessons and table manners, on Saturdays.”
“Eww!”
“You had to do it too?” Emily leaned back on the bed, phone tucked between ear and shoulder. “I always hid in the corner and wanted to die.”
“I would have asked you to dance.”
Emily laughed. “No one asked me to dance.”
“I would have.” Emma’s voice grew wry. “Everyone was too scared of me to ask, so I always ended up with the kid who was painfully shy and certain to be ignored. Eventually I asked right away, not waiting for the others to pair up. It made it look like I wanted to dance with the mouth-breathers and incessant wrigglers, so I didn’t have to be ashamed of ending up with them.”
“That’s me, mouth-breather with ADD. Glad to know you find that attractive.”
Emma chuckled. “Sometimes they grow up well. But I would have asked.” She paused. “Next time I see you… I’ll ask.”
Eyes Without a Face
Billy Idol
Didi’s favorite activity to do alone was drawing. She did not show signs of being the next Picasso. Jackson Pollock was more her forte, but Emily carefully collected all the pictures and put them in a file. The most current ones decorated the refrigerator and the cabinets in the kitchen. Clay tentacled objects decorated her once sparse mantelpiece.
According to Miss Manners this was perfectly appropriate decor.
The only trouble was that Didi had recently gotten into drawing eyes. Just eyes. Nothing but eyes. Eyes without a face like the beast from Cheshire was a grin without a cat. One of them, the best, took up the entire page, blue and penetrating. It was hung upon Emily’s bedroom door. Every time she saw it she nearly fell over with shock.
By some combination of chance and design, Didi had managed to capture Emma’s disapproving expression. It wasn’t losing its impact.