The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea Chapter Thirty (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch, Uberbeta and Honorable Moo… And we’re back, lol… InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and Dracena… *glomp * ProPhile is a wondermous smutmuse who is underutilized. Morgan is poke-worthy. Readers/Reviewers: *ahem * Yes, well, lol. Thanks to everyone who is still reading and reviewing as they can. The ducks send their love, as well. Cheeky little devils…


Emma sighed. The place was spotless, as usual, thanks to Firestar, as not so usual. New security measures had been added, as per Professor Xavier’s suggestion, and there were already plans in place for additional rooms should the sixty already available prove too few, which she doubted highly. She inhaled deeply of the aroma of old wood, polish, lemon oil, fine dust and rose petals, overlaid with the cold, crisp scent of air conditioning. She was home.
“Emma?”
“Yes?” she sighedrninrning to face her self appointed major domo. Firestar stood in the entry to the grand dining area that had, in years past, been host to Gatsby-esque balls and several very interestingeamieaming matches between various ancestors and relations of the Frost family. Firestar did not look nervous or even like a servant addressing a superior, which brought Emma a modicum of relief as she, for all her old money and refined airs, did not relish the idea of staff.
“The first bunch will be here in about half an hour. Should I get lunch here or just wait on it?” Firestar pushed her red hair out of her eyes and tipped her chin, questioning. She did not particularly agree with Emma on most things, including personal philosophies, but she did feel indebted to her. The older woman had saved her from things that were worse than death, worse than simple cessation of biological function. She had saved her from a loss of self and of soul, and Firestar was not sure how she felt about that, even so many months later.
Emma shrugged elegantly. “It’s up to you. I need to perform some final checks on the big round room.” She smirked slightly, Logan’s appellation for the device known as Cerebro at the Institute had always struck her as funny, possibly even innocently silly, but she knew better. She knew derision when she heard it, even if it was in self defense. Firestar nodded and turned, heading back into the depths of the house, and Emma sighed. The version of Cerebro at her location had been easy enough to build, once the proper people had become involved. She had been able to help move most of the pieces into place herself, under Charles’ direction. And what she did not move, Warren and Betsy did, Forge and Charles looking on, calling directions in one form or another. She knew that the original had been a labor of love, some sort of twisted, self hating love, on the part of Magneto and Charles and she wondered how much that had been a part of the machine’s function, whether or not her former lover would need help in doing whatever he did to make it work. It seemed, she thought dryly as she rounded the corner leading to the elevator leading to the deep sublevels of the basement areas, that he did not. He had become morose, as only he could, terse in his answers and deeply introspective in thought, radiating a sort of depression that bespoke lifetimes of grief carried in one person. She had found it best to leave him alone after the first migraine. Emma wtilltill not used to seeing this mass of metal and space and knowing it was in her home and, as she had taken to doing, simply stood and stared as the elevator doors opened to the “big round room.” The scent of ozone still hung in the air from recent welding and the metal gleamed dully, like pewter, as she advanced towards the lonely outcropping and it’s console. She felt the excitement rise in her like a tangible thing, sending tendrils of nervous energy through her limbs as she reached for the rather idiotic looking head piece. She had never used it by herself before and wanted to try it at least once be eve everyone arrived and she had to begin using it in earnest. Carefully, she settled the head piece and closed her eyes. She knew how to do this, she reminded herself. Charles had instructed her ad nauseum on the proper use of Cerebro, even going so far as to quiz and test her. She had restrained her comments and actions, which she knew he was e ofe of judging by the slightly amused expression on his face, and done as she was taught, performing to perfection each and every time. She had shrugged off Sean’s impressed noises, ignored Forge’s fretting and went on about her life, secretly doing a jig on the inside that she now knew the same thing as the Great Professor Charles Xavier. Emma’s thoughts were snapped like a rubber band back to the present, Cerebro activating as it recognized her hooked into it’s mechanism. It was very difficult not to think of it as a living thing, but Emma managed, not letting it control her rat rather using her own mental abilities to control it. For the first moment, it felt as if she were falling very far and very fast, and she bit back a scream. After the briefest vertigo, she steadied and the world rushed by her. It was as if she were standing in the middle of a long hallway and everyone in the world was running past her as fast as they could, faster than normal humans should be allowed to run. After a few seconds, she could pick out those which were like hthosthose which had that special chromosome that set them apart. They shone, she thought, like stars in the dark. She could see some of their powers, see them hiding or celebrating them… Then it all stopped. It was like having the rug literally yanked out from under her feet. The mental jolt was so sudden that for one flaring, panicked instant, she wondered if she were dead. Then he came.
The people fell away, leaving her standing alone in the hallway as he walked towards her. He looked, she thought, well. Tall and straight and imposing, not at all like a man who needed a symbiotic organism to heal himself. He stopped in front of her and smiled, his voice a low caress. “Emma,” he said his smile growing fractionally. “I was wondering when you would arrive.”
“Eric,” she purred. “Get out of my head.” She knew that, outside of this image, she was reaching for the head piece but for some reason, it was just not coming off. She knew that she was struggling and tried in vain to control it. She could feel rather than see his smile now.
“I do apologize for my unannounced entry, Emma, but I have the tiniest favor to ask of you…”
“No,” she snapped, her cool slipping. “You’re not welcome…” She wondered wildly how he had managed this, how he could get into her head like this, but she did not have time to wonder for very long. A jab of pain shot through her skull and his spoke again.
“Emma, you owe me. You remember. I’ve come to call it in…”