[2009 – October]
I knew that Emma didn't have a child as she had told me so. So naturally, my thoughts couldn't help but turn to the Cuckoos from the comics when she suddenly mentioned a daughter.
It was still only a guess though, even if my instincts were telling me that I was thinking in the right direction.
Grabbing a woolen blanket from the sofa, I helped Emma to wrap it around her shoulders so that she wouldn't be cold and for her to cover up her modesty.
I had enough self-control to not lust over my sister, even though she was probably one of the most beautiful women that I had ever met, but that didn't mean that it was appropriate for me to be around her when she wore practically nothing.
At the same time, I asked her how she knew that it was her daughter that was in danger, to explain in detail what had happened to her. There was no point in acting before I didn't have a clear picture of what had happened, after all.
I listened intently while summoning a shirt to my hand through the Darkforce Dimension, at the same time using a barrier to repair the damage Emma's outburst had caused in her kitchen.
Now calm, she told me of the sudden telepathic cry that had so easily bypassed her mental defenses and what she thought this meant. Still, I knew that she wasn't telling me the whole truth.
My senses being what they were, my nose easily captured the almost undetectable scent of bile in her bathroom, as well as the faint traces of night sweat on her sheets in her bedroom, even while I stayed by her side and listened to her explanation.
Her blood on the broken glass also didn't hinder me from noticing that it had been filled with apple juice before and I could also smell traces of it on Emma's breath. Ruling out the possibility of her being sick or having eaten something bad was easy with my Extrasensory Perception, as I could sense that her physical state was not disturbed or unbalanced.
Drawing a conclusion about what had happened here before she had received the telepathic cry was thus not too difficult a task.
She must have been woken up by a bad dream, probably one that had her relive some rather horrible events from her past, causing her to feel sick to her stomach and throw up.
I didn't know of the specifics of her past but even the things that I had knowledge of were bad enough, not to mention all the possible abuse and torment that she had to endure that I did not know about.
Humans had an incredible capacity for evil, and the times at which this became the most obvious were always when one human had power over another.
Sighing internally, I quietly placed an ethereal barrier around her that would shield her from such nightmares in the future.
Naturally, there was also the potential for good in humans, even though it was much harder for people to act in a truly selfless manner.
One always stood to gain something after all, even if that something was just the gratification of knowing that one had done something 'good'. Selflessness was thus a rather strange concept or at least one that depended on one's perspective.
"How sure are you that this message came from someone related to you by blood, Emma?", I asked quietly after she had finished speaking, a light frown between my brows.
To be honest, I wasn't too sure about the origin of the Cuckoos. I knew that in the comics, a character by the name of Sublime seemed to have been responsible for their creation but the finer details, those I did not know.
Still, I didn't need to know if they were just clones or if they were truly Emma's daughters created by combining her DNA with that of someone else, similar to how Laura had been 'created'.
Either way, I knew enough about genetics and biology to know that very specific genetic material was necessary to perform such experiments. And since Emma was a woman, that meant that whoever had created her 'daughter' would have needed at least one of her eggs.
“One hundred percent.”, she replied with a voice devoid of emotions, her crystal gaze filled with coldness.
A normal human might not have noticed it, and I knew that even Jean would have had difficulty seeing through Emma's icy mask despite her incredible telepathic and empathic abilities, but since I was a being much more perceptible than a human with my perception being even greater than Jean's in some aspects, I could sense what Emma didn't say out loud, what she tried to hide.
A minute twitch of her hand, the faintest glimmer of something indecipherable in the depths of her eyes, her presence faintly disturbed by her inner turmoil. I could sense it – pain, hate, and deep fear.
Additionally, seeing her reply with such insistence while dark emotions plagued her heart, I could discern that there was something else that she wasn't telling me.
“Emma, what aren't you telling me?”, I couldn't help but question her as I crouched by her side, gently covering her hand with mine.
…
"Emma, what aren't you telling me?", her younger brother asked, his warmth suffusing into her cold hand as he gently placed his on top of it, his deep green eyes burrowing into her with tender, unbreakable strength.
A shudder went through her form as she saw Elijah's care and affection for her, a crack appearing in her icy mask while it was just the two of them.
For nearly a decade and a half, she had carried this secret with her, never once letting slip out even a single word about it to anyone. Even Christian did not know that she had not only lost her innocence while under the Hellfire Club's control but much, much more.
The only ones who knew were Charles and Hank, as the former had been present when the latter had performed his routine scans on her to check her health after she had been taken into the mansion as a student of Xavier's years after the incident.
Emma wasn't sure why but faced with Elijah's concern, his affection for her obvious, she wanted to tell him what they had taken from her, wanted him to know the kind of pain that plagued her when it was just her that wandered through this empty home at night.
“They took them from me, Elijah … “, she voiced out with a faint voice, crystal tears running down her cheeks as she crossed her arms and held her sides, her knees pulled to her chest.
…
I knew that Emma had been tormented by former members of the inner circle of the Hellfire Club but listening to her as she told me how she had been drugged and strapped to a table before someone had cut her open and taken away her ovaries, strained even my self-control.
The urge to lash out in anger was great but I restrained myself as I tried to find the words to comfort Emma. In the end, I just half-knelt on the armrest of the leather armchair and embraced her as she quietly cried her heart out, her pain and sorrow simply overwhelming.
And the longer I listened to her cry, the greater my wrath.
For someone as strong as Emma to just break down like this, I found it hard to imagine how much anguish there was bottled up inside her heart.
I now also understood better why family was so important to her.
It wasn't just because 'our' father had been a monster that had seen it necessary to bid his children against each other in some kind of very loosely defined death contest to find a worthy successor, but also because Emma could never have children of her own.
Still, as much as I wanted Emma to be able to open up about her past so that she might find some peace, or at least have some reassurance that she was not alone, this was not the time for such.
I didn't know how much danger the girl that had called out to her was in, nor was I sure that she was the only one that was in danger, which meant that time was of the essence.
"I am sorry, Emma. But we have to find her, and we have to do it fast.", I stated quietly as I softly rubbed over the small of her back, "She needs you."
Her head lowered, Emma turned away from me as she dried her tears and rose to her feet.
“Forgive my outburst. You're right, of course.”, she replied quietly as she turned back, her expression carefully schooled and her tone even except the faintest quiver.
Her reddened eyes and the way she tightly held onto the woolen blanket were the only things that reminded of her temporary loss of control.
[2009 – October]
I knew that Emma didn't have a child as she had told me so. So naturally, my thoughts couldn't help but turn to the Cuckoos from the comics when she suddenly mentioned a daughter.
It was still only a guess though, even if my instincts were telling me that I was thinking in the right direction.
Grabbing a woolen blanket from the sofa, I helped Emma to wrap it around her shoulders so that she wouldn't be cold and for her to cover up her modesty.
I had enough self-control to not lust over my sister, even though she was probably one of the most beautiful women that I had ever met, but that didn't mean that it was appropriate for me to be around her when she wore practically nothing.
At the same time, I asked her how she knew that it was her daughter that was in danger, to explain in detail what had happened to her. There was no point in acting before I didn't have a clear picture of what had happened, after all.
I listened intently while summoning a shirt to my hand through the Darkforce Dimension, at the same time using a barrier to repair the damage Emma's outburst had caused in her kitchen.
Now calm, she told me of the sudden telepathic cry that had so easily bypassed her mental defenses and what she thought this meant. Still, I knew that she wasn't telling me the whole truth.
My senses being what they were, my nose easily captured the almost undetectable scent of bile in her bathroom, as well as the faint traces of night sweat on her sheets in her bedroom, even while I stayed by her side and listened to her explanation.
Her blood on the broken glass also didn't hinder me from noticing that it had been filled with apple juice before and I could also smell traces of it on Emma's breath. Ruling out the possibility of her being sick or having eaten something bad was easy with my Extrasensory Perception, as I could sense that her physical state was not disturbed or unbalanced.
Drawing a conclusion about what had happened here before she had received the telepathic cry was thus not too difficult a task.
She must have been woken up by a bad dream, probably one that had her relive some rather horrible events from her past, causing her to feel sick to her stomach and throw up.
I didn't know of the specifics of her past but even the things that I had knowledge of were bad enough, not to mention all the possible abuse and torment that she had to endure that I did not know about.
Humans had an incredible capacity for evil, and the times at which this became the most obvious were always when one human had power over another.
Sighing internally, I quietly placed an ethereal barrier around her that would shield her from such nightmares in the future.
Naturally, there was also the potential for good in humans, even though it was much harder for people to act in a truly selfless manner.
One always stood to gain something after all, even if that something was just the gratification of knowing that one had done something 'good'. Selflessness was thus a rather strange concept or at least one that depended on one's perspective.
"How sure are you that this message came from someone related to you by blood, Emma?", I asked quietly after she had finished speaking, a light frown between my brows.
To be honest, I wasn't too sure about the origin of the Cuckoos. I knew that in the comics, a character by the name of Sublime seemed to have been responsible for their creation but the finer details, those I did not know.
Still, I didn't need to know if they were just clones or if they were truly Emma's daughters created by combining her DNA with that of someone else, similar to how Laura had been 'created'.
Either way, I knew enough about genetics and biology to know that very specific genetic material was necessary to perform such experiments. And since Emma was a woman, that meant that whoever had created her 'daughter' would have needed at least one of her eggs.
“One hundred percent.”, she replied with a voice devoid of emotions, her crystal gaze filled with coldness.
A normal human might not have noticed it, and I knew that even Jean would have had difficulty seeing through Emma's icy mask despite her incredible telepathic and empathic abilities, but since I was a being much more perceptible than a human with my perception being even greater than Jean's in some aspects, I could sense what Emma didn't say out loud, what she tried to hide.
A minute twitch of her hand, the faintest glimmer of something indecipherable in the depths of her eyes, her presence faintly disturbed by her inner turmoil. I could sense it – pain, hate, and deep fear.
Additionally, seeing her reply with such insistence while dark emotions plagued her heart, I could discern that there was something else that she wasn't telling me.
“Emma, what aren't you telling me?”, I couldn't help but question her as I crouched by her side, gently covering her hand with mine.
…
"Emma, what aren't you telling me?", her younger brother asked, his warmth suffusing into her cold hand as he gently placed his on top of it, his deep green eyes burrowing into her with tender, unbreakable strength.
A shudder went through her form as she saw Elijah's care and affection for her, a crack appearing in her icy mask while it was just the two of them.
For nearly a decade and a half, she had carried this secret with her, never once letting slip out even a single word about it to anyone. Even Christian did not know that she had not only lost her innocence while under the Hellfire Club's control but much, much more.
The only ones who knew were Charles and Hank, as the former had been present when the latter had performed his routine scans on her to check her health after she had been taken into the mansion as a student of Xavier's years after the incident.
Emma wasn't sure why but faced with Elijah's concern, his affection for her obvious, she wanted to tell him what they had taken from her, wanted him to know the kind of pain that plagued her when it was just her that wandered through this empty home at night.
“They took them from me, Elijah … “, she voiced out with a faint voice, crystal tears running down her cheeks as she crossed her arms and held her sides, her knees pulled to her chest.
…
I knew that Emma had been tormented by former members of the inner circle of the Hellfire Club but listening to her as she told me how she had been drugged and strapped to a table before someone had cut her open and taken away her ovaries, strained even my self-control.
The urge to lash out in anger was great but I restrained myself as I tried to find the words to comfort Emma. In the end, I just half-knelt on the armrest of the leather armchair and embraced her as she quietly cried her heart out, her pain and sorrow simply overwhelming.
And the longer I listened to her cry, the greater my wrath.
For someone as strong as Emma to just break down like this, I found it hard to imagine how much anguish there was bottled up inside her heart.
I now also understood better why family was so important to her.
It wasn't just because 'our' father had been a monster that had seen it necessary to bid his children against each other in some kind of very loosely defined death contest to find a worthy successor, but also because Emma could never have children of her own.
Still, as much as I wanted Emma to be able to open up about her past so that she might find some peace, or at least have some reassurance that she was not alone, this was not the time for such.
I didn't know how much danger the girl that had called out to her was in, nor was I sure that she was the only one that was in danger, which meant that time was of the essence.
"I am sorry, Emma. But we have to find her, and we have to do it fast.", I stated quietly as I softly rubbed over the small of her back, "She needs you."
Her head lowered, Emma turned away from me as she dried her tears and rose to her feet.
“Forgive my outburst. You're right, of course.”, she replied quietly as she turned back, her expression carefully schooled and her tone even except the faintest quiver.
Her reddened eyes and the way she tightly held onto the woolen blanket were the only things that reminded of her temporary loss of control.
