Adult-FanFiction.org : Marvel 'Verse

A Diamond in the Rough	By : DrunkenScotsman Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > General Views: 3410 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
A/N: As per usual, I'm always open to feedback on my work. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
________________________________________________________________________________________
Chapter 4: Transposition

Emma had never been a morning person, a fact which had intensified throughout high school. To wake up fully, and have time to eat and dress, she’d had to set her alarm for a full two hours earlier than her intended departure time. No amount of coffee could puncture the mental haze she felt every morning until nine. It was one of her few foibles.

One that she could manage with sufficient planning. When enrolling for courses at Bernhardt, Emma had pored over the catalogue and online registration page. For her first semester, she’d managed to set her schedule to her liking: nothing before ten.

Even so, Emma awoke for her second day of college much groggier than usual. A banana and a cup of coffee served for a fast breakfast, but under no circumstances would she skimp on her attire and makeup. “A lady never faces the day looking less than her best,” Mother had often said.

Mother’s vanity often grated on Emma’s nerves; but on mornings like this, she couldn’t deny that her lessons had their uses.

For today, Emma decided on a dress – fewer pieces to don and coordinate. Given the heat of mid-August, she felt inclined towards sleeveless. Jersey fabric wouldn’t require pressing, which she didn’t have time for, and wouldn’t wrinkle as much through the day. Plus, it breathed well enough.

Fortunately, even with those criteria, she had plenty to choose from.

Today, she selected a baby-blue number with matching headband – Emma thought the color softened the usual sharpness of the icy blue of her eyes into something a bit friendlier, more approachable. A pair of diamond studs for her ears and white almond-toe pumps completed the ensemble.

For makeup, Emma typically favored a minimalist, more natural look – a pat of powder on each cheek, maybe eyeliner, sometimes pale pink lipstick. She applied all three today. She also added concealer under her eyes to mask any trace of evidence of her poor night’s sleep.
Gathering her white-rimmed cat-eye sunglasses, purse, and satchel with books, Emma left for her second day of classes.
And, more importantly, a rendezvous with a certain redhead.
XXXXX
Classes that day passed without incident – more of the typical first-day introductions of the course materials and policies. The summery afternoon saw students all over the quad, sitting or reclining on towels or blankets, chatting and laughing. One group tossed a frisbee around.
Emma scanned the tableau from behind her shades, seeking her quarry. She caught a few stray strange looks from some of the others, but not until she recognized the blue-haired girl who’d propped up her feet yesterday did she realize the looks came from classmates who’d witnessed her weakness. Fury – at them, but more at herself – mounted within her, but she wouldn’t let it distract her from her goal.

After half an hour’s search, Emma spotted a familiar red mane, tied back in a ponytail today, in a recessed garden between buildings. The redhead paced around a stone birdbath carved into a seashell shape, weaving her way amongst the four stone benches surrounding it, her phone to her ear. Seeing this, Emma kept her distance, not caring to hear whatever inane conversation Ms. Grey might be having.

While she waited, Emma couldn’t help but assess the redhead’s outfit. A seafoam-green tanktop seemed a smart choice for the warm weather, especially since the lower hem left her midriff exposed – a common fashion choice amongst the student population, Emma had noted. The pair of light-wash boot-cut jeans had a bit of a retro bell-bottom vibe. Overall, the ensemble highlighted Ms. Grey’s height, long legs, and hourglass figure.

Those shoes, though? How could anyone think chunky slides fashionable?

Ms. Grey, still on the phone, shot Emma a pointed look.

Emma shrugged mentally. I stand by my opinion.

“I gotta run,” Ms. Grey told whoever was on the other end. “I’ll call back this weekend, okay? Take care of the team for me, Kitty. Later!”
Putting her phone away, Ms. Grey fixed Emma with a sour look. “You’re not here to criticize my clothes, so why don’t we cut to the chase?”

Emma responded with a curt nod and pulled off her shades. “I’ve reconsidered your offer from yesterday.”

“Offer?” echoed the other with an expression equal parts confusion and pique.

“Of solidarity for those with our unique condition,” Emma replied. “That was the subtext, at least.”

The redhead folded her arms, but she nodded slowly. “I believe people like us need to stick together and look out for each other.”

“Like the person on the phone just now?”

A fond smile graced the redhead’s lips, drawing Emma’s attention. “Kitty’s one of my best friends at the Institute, but her gift is different from ours,” she replied.

“So, in a way, I understand you better than one of your closest friends?” Emma needled with a smirk.

Ms. Grey snorted. “Hardly.” More gently, she added, “But, despite your attitude, I’d like to think we could become friends.” She added a smile for good measure.

Why is she being so nice to me? Emma wondered, eyes narrowing.

“I meant what I said a moment ago. I meant mutants in general, but I think it’s especially true for us telepaths,” the redhead explained, answering Emma’s unspoken question. “Because of the way the mind works, our gift can be so beautifully connective… or horribly destructive.”

A shiver shot up Emma’s spine at the other telepath’s tone – one of insight gained through hard-won experience. That shiver also came from the memory of their brief telepathic contact yesterday, that clarity of Ms. Grey’s voice inside Emma’s mind. She swallowed the lump that suddenly formed in her throat. “Destructive, how?” she repeated in a whisper.

The redhead started to answer, but instead her mouth snapped shut. “Until I know and trust you better, I think I’ll keep that to myself,” she replied.

Usually when she wanted to know someone’s thoughts, Emma would leverage this curse of hers. Out of habit, she started to shift her gaze, but she diverted when she recalled what had happened yesterday when her eyes met Ms. Grey’s. Emma’s eyes instead alighted on her counterpart’s left ear, pierced twice in the lobe and adorned with simple, small gold hoops.

“You know, it’s rude to read people’s minds without permission,” Ms. Grey chided her.

Emma frowned. “Like you did a few moments ago?”

The redhead sighed. “You project.” At Emma’s confused look, her counterpart explained: “You broadcast your thoughts and emotions – to other telepaths, anyway. All untrained telepaths do, according to Professor Xavier.”

An image of a bald man in a wheelchair bubbled up from Emma’s memories. “That man who appears on all those talking-head shows to discuss ‘the mutant issue’?”

“That’s him.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed. “Did you make me think of that just now?”

The redhead sighed again. “No, that was all you, I swear.” She shook her head, crimson ponytail lashing like a flickering flame. “But that’s an example of how dangerous our power can be. People start getting suspicious when they can’t trust their memories and thoughts to be their own.”

Emma pursed her lips. “Until yesterday, I’d only ever used it to gather information. A form of power, granted,” she added on noticing, from the corner of her eye, the redhead’s pointed look. “What you’re talking about, though? I had no idea.”

“That’s why I’m so grateful for the training I’ve had,” Ms. Grey responded in a gentle tone. “I can’t imagine the pain I could’ve caused without meaning to.”

Emma couldn’t fight the memory of what she did yesterday, or the surge of emotions that came with it. With anyone else, she might’ve put on a mask of indifference to hide behind. With Ms. Grey, though, she knew that would prove futile.

“Emma? What happened?”

Stranger still, she found herself wanting to share.

To open up to someone, just this once.

To be vulnerable.

Part of her rebelled at the notion. Vulnerability, after all, was just another word for weakness. She could practically feel Father’s disapproving glower for even contemplating this.

Emma began to answer, but Ms. Grey interjected: “And don’t say it’s nothing. I can feel the turmoil inside you.”

Emma pursed her lips. With a deep breath, she decided to take the plunge and trust her fellow telepath. “Yesterday, on the way home, I was accosted by two men.” Ms. Grey’s face contorted into a sour expression. “I take it you know the type?”

“Entitled jackass who won’t take no for an answer? All too well,” the redhead replied, her tone matching her expression.

“I’ll spare you the details, then,” Emma replied, already feeling weight lifting from her shoulders. “After I made it clear I had no interest in their meager offerings, they blocked my car in its space.”

The redhead covered her mouth and shook her head. “Terrifying. Oh, Emma…”

Emma blinked back tears, both at the other woman’s kind, horrified tone and at the ghost of the fear she felt yesterday now returning. No crying, she ordered herself. “I had no clue what to do,” she admitted. “I was alone, in a strange town where, for the first time, my name wouldn’t protect me. I felt…”

“Powerless,” the redhead finished. “Practically every woman I know has been in danger like that, and they felt exactly like that. Myself included.” She looked Emma over, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Thank goodness you’re not… hurt or anything. What happened?”

Emma smirked and raised her chin. “I wasn’t powerless, as it turned out. I don’t know how, exactly, but I made them go away.”

“Using telepathy,” the redhead added with an understanding nod. A quizzical expression now took over. “You said you’d never done that before?”

Emma shook her head, now letting her gaze rest on Ms. Grey’s aquiline nose. “Not to my knowledge, anyway. Before yesterday, I’d only read minds. I didn’t know I could do anything else.”

Ms. Grey hummed and sat on one of the benches. She gestured for Emma to join her, which the bench space could comfortably allow. The stone felt pleasantly warm against Emma’s rear, if a bit too hard to endure for long. Still, this feels surprisingly relaxing, Emma noted.

Before the silence could stretch past the point of pleasantness, the redhead sighed. “Look, Emma, even with our ability being hard for other people to detect, we have to be careful. Too many weird occurrences, and people start asking questions.” She frowned. “And, since I’m the known mutant, I’m the one they’re likely to ask.”

“They could start asking me too, if they keep happening around me,” Emma noted.

“Good point.” The redhead ran a hand through her ponytail. “I know I said earlier it’s rude to read minds without permission, but I also won’t judge you for using your powers in self-defense. One of the things we learn at the Xavier Institute is how to do exactly that.”

Not that your opinion matters to me all that much, Emma couldn’t stop herself from thinking.

Ms. Grey folded her arms. “I heard that.”

Emma merely shrugged. “I can control what I say aloud, but not every stray thought.”

“You could if you learned how,” the redhead countered, sounding as annoyed as Emma had yet heard her. “One of the other purposes of the Institute is to learn how to control our own gifts, so we can use them to help people.”

One of Father’s axioms – “If you can’t control something, it controls you” – sprang to Emma’s mind, and she knew she needed to be in control.
Aloud, she snarked, “Why would I want to do that?”

The redhead sighed again. “How about not hurting people by accident?”

Emma’s whole body stiffened. The images from last night’s news report appeared before her mind’s eye. She saw Ms. Grey sit up straighter as well. “I presume you saw that?” she muttered.

“What did you do, Emma?” hissed the other telepath.

“I told them to drive off a bridge.” The redhead stared incredulously, but Emma held up her hands. “I didn’t think they would actually do it, remember? Besides, even if the imbeciles hadn’t managed to survive, it’s not like the world would have lost anything of importance.”

The redhead kept staring for a few interminable-seeming beats, finally coughing to clear her throat. “Again, I’m not saying you’re right or wrong to do that. In fact,” she chuckled and shook her head ruefully, “I can’t honestly say I haven’t at least wanted to do the same thing.”

Emma smirked, but it quickly faded. “Even if I wanted to go to your Institute, I couldn’t possibly, for myriad reasons. First, I worked hard to convince Father to let me attend Bernhardt instead of one of the Ivy Leagues. Asking him to permit a transfer so soon would not bode well.” She shuddered.

“Second: location. New York is too far for the regular visits home I agreed to in my negotiations.”

“No sense in antagonizing your parents,” Ms. Grey agreed.

“Third, and perhaps most importantly: You’re the only one who knows about… my condition. Attending your Institute would broadcast it to anyone who knew I was there.”

The redhead nodded gravely. “I do miss my anonymity at times,” she admitted. With a shrug, she added, “On the other hand, there’s a lot of freedom in not having to carry a secret around all the time, constantly worried about people finding out.”

Emma pursed her lips and turned away. She again imagined Father’s disappointed glare, this time at discovering his daughter was a mutant freak. “Tempting, but no. I have too much to lose.”

In the margins of Emma’s vision, Ms. Grey also turned away “That’s fair. Consider the invitation open-ended.”

They sat in silence for a bit. Emma shifted, careful of the rough edge of the stone seat against her calves – she didn’t want any unsightly scrapes. She noted her counterpart stretching her legs outward. For some reason, Ms. Grey’s crimson toenails caught her eye.

Suddenly, the redhead turned back towards Emma and scooted a bit closer. “I just had an idea: Since you don’t want to come to the Institute, why don’t I bring the Institute to you?”

Now Emma turned back as well. A strange thrill crept up her spine at the redhead’s increased proximity. “I don’t follow.”

“I could show you everything I’ve learned about controlling my gifts. Here on campus, or out in town, or wherever,” Ms. Grey suggested. “Nobody would know; we’d just look like a couple of girlfriends handing out.”

Unbidden, images of her numerous chess tutors flashed through her mind. Father had begun teaching her to play when she was six, and she began competing in tournaments by ten. The tutors came and went as she surpassed them – the last one shortly after her curse manifested and she kept reading his mind to beat him.

Emma smirked fondly. “I haven’t had a tutor in years. You’ll find me a diligent student, I assure you.”

Having a friend who understands me on this level sounds nice, too.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
- 3
- 4
- 5
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

A Diamond in the Rough