An unofficial companion piece to
Sequoia Swennes' "Shadows In A Mirror"
By Kielle
NOTES & DISCLAIMER: This takes place in an alternate universe where Xavier never lost the use of his legs, and contrary to what you might think things turned out a little darker as Xavier ruthlessly pursued his Dream... Though the following tale is my own, the concept and continuity I just described is wholely the property of the excellently creative Sequoia Swennes (swennes@erols.com); if you want the real story (ie. what the heck is up with Jean), you'll have to read her "Shadows In A Mirror" piece. Do not archive this without my permission (which is really easy to get, just ask!) -- feedback is appreciated as always. I think this idea has a LOT of potential...how about you?
Add to that the understanding that the object of your attention brought her fate upon herself, like a smoker in bed -- then warp the resulting emotion to right-angles with the secret knowledge that the so-called "accidental" fire was actually set by a cruel husband, and that the victim was still too blindly dependent to leave him despite the horror he'd visited upon her.
Take this mixture of revulsion and pity, add just a dash of smug "I would NEVER be that stupid" self-righteousness, and you might come close to how Emma Frost felt every time she was forced by circumstances to socialize with the Xaviers.
As the party swirled around her like water around a stone, Emma fastidiously sipped expensive champagne from a delicate long-stemmed glass and regarded the hosts sidelong over its brim. She meant to be observing Xavier, of course. He was the center of the celebration, the heart of the darkness, the reason she continued to attend these wretched fawning fetes. But her eyes kept sideslipping to the Lady Xavier -- his beautiful trophy wife, the former Jean Grey. A lovely girl, truly, a social butterfly who glowed like a crimson star on her much older mate's arm every time someone paid her a compliment or humbly asked her opinion. Everyone adored Jean...especially her doting husband.
However, Emma Frost could look straight past the perfectly coiffed mane and the too-bright emerald eyes, straight through the practiced laugh and the artful posturing. She could see what had been done to the girl's mind. She could see the metaphoric wings clipped to the metaphoric bone. Through her own mind's eye, Emma could almost touch the scar tissue, the psionic flower cut brutally short, its roots torn up and doused in poison. She could make out the mark of Xavier upon the carnage...and she could sense the telltale signs which indicated that the target had been a willing one.
The stupid cow had cheerfully ALLOWED Xavier to mutilate her mutant powers before they could blossom.
The mere thought sickened Emma to the point of nausea. She didn't want to be in the same room as the woman, but she had no choice. Everything rode upon her continued appearances, her carefully maintained image, her social contacts. Everyone who WAS someone, mutant or not, simply HAD to be seen at the Xavier estate to continue to be "someone" -- and although she cared little for the social manuevering, her "image" was an important part of why she was here tonight...
At that point Emma felt a steady gaze on the back of her head. Normally she wouldn't have bothered to pay any attention -- her striking appearance and elegantly simple style of dress routinely attracted glances -- but this particular perusal was accompanied by just the slightest tapping against her psionic shields. Someone was looking for a way in. Utterly futile, of course, but the attempt warranted her attention.
She turned slightly, just enough to glance behind without looking nervous; she found herself regarding a slim oriental girl in a beautifully brocaded sheath dress, her glossy black hair falling in two neat raven's-wing waves over her shoulders. She was ostensibly nibbling on a salmon-and-roast-beef hors d'oeurve, but when she found Emma eying her she smiled charmingly and shelved the pretense.
"M'm'zelle Frost. What a pleasant surprise. M'sieur Xavier has spoken of you on occasion -- I'd hoped to have the pleasure of making your acquaintance."
I'm sure you did. Just as I'm sure he ordered a mere child to assess my defenses, the coward, Emma thought nastily even as she beamed most winsomely in response. "Ah, dear, what HAS Charles been saying about me? You must be Miss Manh. I've heard wonderful things about your skills with the Xaviers' accounts. There wouldn't be a chance that you would consider coming to work for me, would you?"
The young woman returned Emma's artless social smile with equal skill. "M'm'zelle, I am afraid that I must tell you what I've told your charming little assistant three times already: I'm afraid that my contract with the Xaviers is quite binding. And even if it were not so, my reply would remain the same due to personal loyalty. Though your offer is MOST flattering."
Emma had expected no other response. Still, it looked good if she brought the subject above the table, so to speak. If nothing else, it was a good idea to remove any notions that her attempts to woo Xi'an Coy Manh away from the Xavier camp were anything more than a simple bid for an excellent accountant. By the glitter in Manh's eye and the sharp edge to the honeyed words, Ms. Frost's "charming assistant" had apparently been hounding her just a tad too hard. Emma sighed and made a mental note to herself to have a word with her energetic young aide about the importance of subtlety. The direct approach was not always the right one -- the child was a genius, true, but she seemed to keep forgetting that humans (and mutants) didn't appreciate direct bluntness as much as her beloved computers did.
"Ah! I apologize for Katherine's zeal," she said lightly, changing the tone of the conversation, "but she does try so hard to please me. Your devotion is admirable. I promise to let the subject lie. Let's talk about something more pleasant! How has the training been going?"
Manh regarded her from behind her pleasant facade with suddenly wary eyes. It was no secret that her secretarial and accounting services paid for full scholarships for her two younger siblings at the most prestigious of the Xavier schools. What WAS less known was that Manh herself was under Xavier's personal tutorage. As far as the world knew, she was a simple low-grade (if highly intelligent) telepath. If the true extent of her abilities had been generally known, far less of Xavier's contacts would have felt secure when invited alone into a room with the Professor and his harmless-looking "secretary."
She couldn't tell which "training" Emma Frost was referring to. Knowing what she did of the woman, it could have been either. Emma gave her no clues, still smiling blandly as she toyed with her fluted glass.
"M'sieur Xavier seems pleased," she hedged carefully. "The Manhs are fast learners."
"Oh, so true! That IS good news. Tell me--" Emma's voice abruptly hardened, striking like a snake "--whatever *possessed* you to use this party AND MYSELF as a practice ground?"
Xi'an's face went completely blank. She carefully set the hors d'oeurve down on the nearest silver tray and dabbed her fingers off with a napkin as if she had all the time in the world. In reality, she was trapped and stalling. There was no point in lying -- she knew that. Apparently she hadn't been careful enough when she'd investigated Ms. Frost's outer shields, looking for a chink. She couldn't fall back on the simple "I was just practicing my telepathy in a crowd" routine, not judging by the way Emma had phrased her so-called question. Which left her with two options:
A) Admit that Xavier had given her permission to do what she'd done, indicating that he was indeed encouraging her to use her power on his allies
or
B) Admit that her mentor knew nothing...which was patently ridiculous, because everyone knew how much the man hated it when other psis flexed their abilities under his roof. Even psis who belonged to him heart and soul.
Neither path was suitable. So instead, she met Emma's gimlet gaze square on and replied sweetly, "Practicing? Oh, no, m'm'zelle. I'm ashamed to admit that that last glass of wine has gone to my head and my shields are a little...uneasy. I hadn't even realized until you pointed it out that I was projecting. I'm terribly sorry and quite embarrassed. Perhaps it would be best if I were to go lie down for a bit. If you would kindly excuse me...?"
"Of course." Her face a polite blank, Emma watched Manh vanish into the crowd. Then she broke into a brief grin and toasted the girl's retreating back and downed the rest of her champagne. That'll teach Xavier to sic a mere pup on me. The nerve of the man. Of course, this means that I can expect him to drop in personally soon, but that's what I wanted, isn't it? I can handle HIM.
She shuddered. I just hope he doesn't bring Jean.
"Emma. How nice of you to make it. You didn't say hello when you arrived."
Good. He's alone. "I'm sorry -- you looked so busy speaking to Sebastian at the time that I simply hated to intrude." Emma smiled coolly as Xavier brushed an elegant kiss across the back of her hand. The courtesy was empty, precise, mechanical -- a mere formality for any onlookers. The one thing they agreed on was that the last thing the media needed was any indication that there was anything amiss between them. The tabloid scandal which had erupted in the late eighties over their brief affair deserved to stay in its grave -- Emma and Charles had mutually decided to take the narrow path between "vengeful jilted lovers" and "unrequited longing." In truth, neither had ever truly cared for the other. Emma had found the attention of one of the most powerful men in the world flattering but of no real consequence beyond the information she'd hoped to gain from him...
...and once she'd proved impossible to control like his dear little wife, Xavier had abandoned any pretense of affection. In fact, he'd become downright forceful. The resulting tear-up between his personal cadre and her own loyalists had leveled the Massachusetts Academy, killing sixteen unfortunate human students and injuring countless others. The resulting legal disaster had been difficult to smooth away, to say the least; in fact, it had nearly resulted in Xavier winning the legal right to have her "dangerous" abilities erased with forced "gene therapy." On the bright side, the backlash of bad publicity had almost derailed Xavier's fanatical campaign for what he called "peace" between the species.
Almost.
That was all in the past. Now the two simply regarded each other from behind polite masks, the rest of the party forgotten. Neither bothered to size up the other -- they both knew exactly where their powers meshed. He was the more powerful telepath, that was undeniable...but she was by far the more vicious, perfectly willing to dig her claws into his psyche and drag him down into the abyss with her the instant he showed any sign of foul play.
At least, that was the usual status quo. Now he was rubbing his chin and frowning slightly as he regarded her. She was icily beautiful in cream silk, her white-blonde hair caught up in an elaborate fashion and a pale gold chain looped around her throat. It was the necklace which caught his attention...
She allowed herself an internal chuckle, understanding both his hidden consternation about her too-perfect mental shields and his unwavering examination of her jewelry. He's figured it out. Good. Let him stew on it. Aloud, she asked pleasantly as she stroked the golden links, "You like it? A friend made it for me by hand. He's very talented."
"I'm sure he is," Charles said dryly. "You consort with the most...interesting people."
He knew that she was referring to Forge, the mutant inventor who'd turned his back on Xavier's cause. She knew that he was referring to People Against Xavier, the scattered underground network of humans and mutants who opposed his own party's growing influence over the US government. Neither had any proof of the hidden meaning behind the seemingly trivial small-talk, which was just fine by her; short of snatching the power-enhancing "trinket" from Emma's neck and forcing himself into her mind, there was nothing Xavier could do about the situation.
"Speaking of interesting people, I just had the most interesting conversation with your Miss Manh," she noted casually. "If you'd wanted to...talk to me, all you had to do was walk over."
Rather than sending a mere child to test the extent of my new shields, she added silently. She didn't send the thought, but it was clear that Xavier understood her unspoken meaning. He shrugged easily, as if dismissing the unvoiced accusation. "I have no control over Xi'an's life when she is off-duty. I suspect the young lady merely wished to speak to you herself. In regards to some sort of altercation with one of your employees, I believe."
Emma blinked, the very picture of innocence. "Oh? Which one?"
"I don't recall off the top of my head," Charles replied calmly. "I could ask Xi'an later if you want..."
"Oh, no need, don't worry about it. I'm sure the...misunderstanding has already been resolved peacefully." Another point scored for the so-called "White Queen" in the subtle game of ego-chess. Xavier was perfectly aware of the identity of Emma's assistant, the enthusiastic young Kitty Pryde. He was, however, most exceedingly sore that Emma had deftly snatched his most promising potential recruit right out from under his nose two years before.
Xavier was already considering his next move when someone moved up behind him -- one of the servants, the type who was bland and unnoticeable except when he wanted to be noticed. Apparently, that was exactly what he wanted, for his air of subdued urgency was unmistakable as he politely tapped his master's shoulder. "Sir? A word from Demarcen--"
By the mention of the chief of security and the way Xavier's shoulders stiffened, Emma knew that the innocuous phrase was a code for something serious indeed. She involuntarily checked the clock. Twenty minutes after midnight. Right on time. Xavier courteously but hurriedly excused himself, stepping back to receive a hushed report from the servant. When he turned back towards Emma his eyes were snapping with barely restrained fury. "I...you must excuse me, Ms. Frost...something has come up. Please enjoy the rest of the evening." And then he was gone, all regard for his cultivated image evaporated as he knifed through the crowd in the direction of the main hall. Heading for Cerebro, no doubt.
Calmly, Emma began to make her own way towards the front entry, taking her sweet time and enjoying the ripple of rumor spreading through the assembled merrymakers. Sheep, all of them. Her head was beginning to pound and she was going to need to sleep late in the morning, but she'd earned it; by now the young PAX burglar was away and safe, his entrance and exit concealed from the master telepath by the subtle blanket of psychic static Emma Frost herself had been generating for the last hour.
It had taken an artist's touch to tune her output up to the necessary levels just slowly enough to avoid attracting Xavier's attention, and it was taking every ounce of effort she had in her to let it ease off just as smoothly. If the boy was on schedule, he should have already fled into Braddock's sphere of influence; by sending him and his precious cargo of secrets from Xavier's inner sanctum from one telepath's protective shield to another until he was many miles away, his trail would be quite effectively erased. And PAX would finally have the information they needed to prove that Charles Xavier was nothing more than a dangerous despot in the making--
Emma staggered slightly as she reached the heavy oak doors, one hand rising involuntarily to her temple as a firestorm of rage abruptly crashed through the astral plane like the brunt of an exploding star. Her waning static burst like a bubble under the fiery blast, but it was too late -- Scott Summers was safely away and out of Xavier's grasp. Xavier. That was who the anger had exploded from, of course. He'd probably just found the gaps in his files and and the rummaged hard drive...
No. It wasn't that. He was missing something far more valuable. What...
Jean.
His wife.
She was gone.
A smile blossomed across Emma's perfect features as her probing curiosity struck the crux of her enemy's burning fury. Xavier's pet had finally found a backbone, and she'd run away with the PAX agent! Of all the unexpected developments...!
It was going to be an interesting month, Emma Frost decided as she recovered her balance and regally strode out to her waiting limo.