Pretty Girls Make Graves (aka Loveaholic) 8/8
Title: Pretty Girls Make Graves (aka Loveaholic) 8/8
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Rating: R
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Apologies: Don't kill me, please?
Summary: Sometimes the plans you make have a chance to become real. What if what you thought you wanted isn't enough?
Matt did the washing up, and Michael waited while Emily threw up and put her to bed. Emma was assigned to take the twins out for a walk, ‘to aid digestion.’ She found it rather amusing that she had been shanghaied into child-minding, but at least it wasn’t cleaning.
They had gone down to the park. Sam had made his way to the edge of the brook and was reaching in, trying to catch a fish. Susan stood stiffly beside her.
“I saw my mother kiss you.”
“I thought you would have,” Emma said calmly.
Susan turned on her swiftly and glared. “Why did you let her!”
“Why did I let her? Do you really expect that if a beautiful woman plants herself in my lap and throws herself at me that I’m going to turn her down? I don’t press my knees together like a good little girl even for your sake.”
Susan looked shocked and hurt. Emma pressed her lips together.
“Look,” she said finally. “I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not as bad as all that. I used to feel the same way you did.” She didn’t explain that she had kept feeling that way for quite a bit longer, especially after her first time which was not all a girl could wish. “It’s frightening, but it shouldn’t be. Your father and Matt are good friends, aren’t they? They like to spend time together. They like to give each other hugs.” Emma closed her eyes. “Sometimes it’s nice to be close to someone, just to not feel alone.”
“I don’t believe you,” Susan replied.
“I know.” Emma smiled wryly. “I think I may have been trying to see if I could convince myself.” Because, she didn’t say, being alone had always been better before.
Susan looked like she was going to cry. It was never pleasant imagining your parents having sex. It could never be like it was in stories. It was always a little horrifying, a little disgusting, and much more so if you actually loved your parents. Emma hadn’t had that particular trouble. She had just had others.
“You do know that I won’t lie to you, not even to spare your feelings. You can ask me whatever you want.”
“Except not to do it.”
Emma sighed. “I’m not pursuing her. It has nothing to do with you. But for my own self respect, I will not go after a woman who so clearly has no interest in me.” The reason was a lie, but so many things were that she hardly noticed them anymore.
Susan looked away.
There was a splash and a yelp. Sam had fallen into the water. Emma quickly pulled him out.
“I think it’s time to go home.”
* * *
The headmaster appeared in the hall as Emma got back to the school. She didn’t doubt he had been waiting for her, even if he’d never admit to it. The creak of the wheels from his chair made her stop and wait.
“What did you do today?” It sounded pleasant enough, but it was an interrogation.
“I was invited to the Fleetwood-Prentisses for dinner.”
The headmaster narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been spending time enough with them, haven’t you?”
“Their mother is American. We had one of our traditionless holidays this week. Offering solace to a fellow ex-pat.”
“How nice. Did you have a good time?”
Emma laughed. “I suppose. Family drama is always more entertaining if it’s not your family.”
The headmaster nodded, but looked as if he were considering the comment seriously, not that he usually looked otherwise. “Don’t forget, Emma, the chance that I gave you. Be careful.”
Emma thought about Matt. Anyone else would have treated him as a time bomb ticking, not let him in their house or in their life. But Emily took him into her family, let him live with her children, trusted him to an absurd degree. But maybe he deserved it. She doubted that she did. “I don’t make decisions based on fear,” she said coolly.
“No?” he asked. “No, I suppose not,” he answered himself. “But I think we have learned that it is better not to make them in anger.”
Emma looked down at her hands, closing her fingers over clean skin. “I don’t regret it.” She breathed out slowly. “Except that I could have made them suffer more.”
He looked at her steadily. She couldn’t tell whether it was with disapproval or pity. “All of them?”
* * *
November 26: Fourteen Years Previously.
Emma took the keys from her father’s pocket. He was limp and drooling, bent over the table, food smeared on his face. She could smell the grease fires, the heat radiating from the kitchen, from the sofa in the den that smoked like old horsemeat. There was a thin layer of snow on the ground outside, and she stood shivering on the porch as she turned the key, locking the door behind her.
There were keyholes on both sides.
The snow crunched under her feet as she started the long walk towards town. It should take her at least an hour. The drugs would wear off quickly, but it would be too late. She knew from personal experience that there were no routes out when the door was locked.
She only glanced back once. A warm yellow light shone from the windows. For once it looked pleasant and welcoming, not like the doorway to hell.
The curtains must be on fire, Emma thought, and kept walking.
FIN
and Ficmix! (includes drabbles which (or may not) answer remaining questions, including what happens next).
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Rating: R
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Apologies: Don't kill me, please?
Summary: Sometimes the plans you make have a chance to become real. What if what you thought you wanted isn't enough?
Matt did the washing up, and Michael waited while Emily threw up and put her to bed. Emma was assigned to take the twins out for a walk, ‘to aid digestion.’ She found it rather amusing that she had been shanghaied into child-minding, but at least it wasn’t cleaning.
They had gone down to the park. Sam had made his way to the edge of the brook and was reaching in, trying to catch a fish. Susan stood stiffly beside her.
“I saw my mother kiss you.”
“I thought you would have,” Emma said calmly.
Susan turned on her swiftly and glared. “Why did you let her!”
“Why did I let her? Do you really expect that if a beautiful woman plants herself in my lap and throws herself at me that I’m going to turn her down? I don’t press my knees together like a good little girl even for your sake.”
Susan looked shocked and hurt. Emma pressed her lips together.
“Look,” she said finally. “I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not as bad as all that. I used to feel the same way you did.” She didn’t explain that she had kept feeling that way for quite a bit longer, especially after her first time which was not all a girl could wish. “It’s frightening, but it shouldn’t be. Your father and Matt are good friends, aren’t they? They like to spend time together. They like to give each other hugs.” Emma closed her eyes. “Sometimes it’s nice to be close to someone, just to not feel alone.”
“I don’t believe you,” Susan replied.
“I know.” Emma smiled wryly. “I think I may have been trying to see if I could convince myself.” Because, she didn’t say, being alone had always been better before.
Susan looked like she was going to cry. It was never pleasant imagining your parents having sex. It could never be like it was in stories. It was always a little horrifying, a little disgusting, and much more so if you actually loved your parents. Emma hadn’t had that particular trouble. She had just had others.
“You do know that I won’t lie to you, not even to spare your feelings. You can ask me whatever you want.”
“Except not to do it.”
Emma sighed. “I’m not pursuing her. It has nothing to do with you. But for my own self respect, I will not go after a woman who so clearly has no interest in me.” The reason was a lie, but so many things were that she hardly noticed them anymore.
Susan looked away.
There was a splash and a yelp. Sam had fallen into the water. Emma quickly pulled him out.
“I think it’s time to go home.”
* * *
The headmaster appeared in the hall as Emma got back to the school. She didn’t doubt he had been waiting for her, even if he’d never admit to it. The creak of the wheels from his chair made her stop and wait.
“What did you do today?” It sounded pleasant enough, but it was an interrogation.
“I was invited to the Fleetwood-Prentisses for dinner.”
The headmaster narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been spending time enough with them, haven’t you?”
“Their mother is American. We had one of our traditionless holidays this week. Offering solace to a fellow ex-pat.”
“How nice. Did you have a good time?”
Emma laughed. “I suppose. Family drama is always more entertaining if it’s not your family.”
The headmaster nodded, but looked as if he were considering the comment seriously, not that he usually looked otherwise. “Don’t forget, Emma, the chance that I gave you. Be careful.”
Emma thought about Matt. Anyone else would have treated him as a time bomb ticking, not let him in their house or in their life. But Emily took him into her family, let him live with her children, trusted him to an absurd degree. But maybe he deserved it. She doubted that she did. “I don’t make decisions based on fear,” she said coolly.
“No?” he asked. “No, I suppose not,” he answered himself. “But I think we have learned that it is better not to make them in anger.”
Emma looked down at her hands, closing her fingers over clean skin. “I don’t regret it.” She breathed out slowly. “Except that I could have made them suffer more.”
He looked at her steadily. She couldn’t tell whether it was with disapproval or pity. “All of them?”
* * *
November 26: Fourteen Years Previously.
Emma took the keys from her father’s pocket. He was limp and drooling, bent over the table, food smeared on his face. She could smell the grease fires, the heat radiating from the kitchen, from the sofa in the den that smoked like old horsemeat. There was a thin layer of snow on the ground outside, and she stood shivering on the porch as she turned the key, locking the door behind her.
There were keyholes on both sides.
The snow crunched under her feet as she started the long walk towards town. It should take her at least an hour. The drugs would wear off quickly, but it would be too late. She knew from personal experience that there were no routes out when the door was locked.
She only glanced back once. A warm yellow light shone from the windows. For once it looked pleasant and welcoming, not like the doorway to hell.
The curtains must be on fire, Emma thought, and kept walking.
FIN
and Ficmix! (includes drabbles which (or may not) answer remaining questions, including what happens next).