nike_ravus (nike_ravus) wrote,


 Title: Human 8/8 [Epilogue]
Author: Alsike
Rating: PG-15
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men, Criminal Minds, or the Baby-Sitters' Club.  I owe Argentine for the third, re: Jubilee and Fifty-Foot Janine.

The End!  (I would have put this on with the last part, but the post was too big)

Summary: Emily's mother is dead, but her memory lives on, as does her desire to manipulate Emily's life away from serial killers and towards politics.  But sometimes, serial killers and politicians are not that far removed.


Part 1, Part 2Part 3Part 4Part 5Part 6, Part 7

              Chapter 8


               “Special Agent Emily Prentiss, FBI.”

The tired looking New York City Detective eyed her badge with displeasure.  “I suppose you shot him?”

She held up her gun.

“How convenient?”  He scanned her outfit.  “And you were… working undercover?”

“Something like that.”

“I hope you’ve got a tidy story for us, Agent.  ‘Cause my boys and I would just love to go home some time tonight.”

The mutant containment team was taking away the monster, handily bound and gagged with gold silk curtain cords by Jubilee.  Emma had carefully and rather forcefully checked both girls for injuries, but she hadn’t even looked at Emily, who stood over Crooke, as others called the paramedics and the police.

Emily left for the station, without looking back.

*            *            *

When Emily finally made it back to the hotel it was nearly three in the morning.  The adrenaline had faded during one of the detective’s interminable questions about why she didn’t have backup, why she didn’t call for backup, and what on earth was she thinking, pulling a gun in the middle of a crowded room.

It had worked, hadn’t it?  She had asked sarcastically.  She hadn’t shot anyone she hadn’t meant to.  And those political types are a lot less flighty than some seem to assume.  She didn’t mention that Emma was probably assisting with the ‘don’t panic’ response.

She stuck her card in the slot, the green light came on and she jerked the door open with a crunch of cheap metal.


She looked up.  Emma was waiting for her on her bed, knees tucked to her chin, arms wrapped around them.  Emily sighed, exhausted.

“Do we have to do this now?”

Emma flashed a wry grin.  “Let’s not.  Come here.”

It shouldn’t have been easy, but it was, to just stand still while Emma unfastened the dress she never wanted to wear again.  As it slipped to the floor, she leaned back into her arms.  Emma’s hands slid around her, to cup her breasts and pull her down under the covers.

*            *            *

It was late, and the lights were off, making Emily stumble as she entered her dim apartment.  The window shade was open and the only light came from the Capitol, the white dome lit up, like some strange alien ship.  The eyes of tourists were watching, but what could it mean to them?

Emily sighed, dropping her bags on the couch and fumbling around the kitchen for a glass of water.  She didn’t bother to turn the lights on.  It would spoil it somehow.

It’s not me.  Words came into her head, and she almost turned to look for the one who had spoken, although there had been no sound.  I never aimed that high.

No, Emily thought to herself.  You saw the bigger picture.  And you did whatever it took to keep it whole.

*            *            *

Emma had made it back to northern New York earlier, a car picking her up as she departed the train.  The school was subdued but still warm and busy as it always was on a Sunday night: The derelicts panicking about their undone schoolwork, the responsible ones enjoying their last moment of true freedom.

A movie was playing in the students’ common room.  Logan was on proctor duty, in the corner, losing at checkers and itching for a smoke.  Emma tipped her head, and he sloped off for his break.  She leaned against the doorframe and looked out over the students.  Some talking and laughing, a few propped dismally over textbooks, only a small group whose attention was fixed on the film.  All present and accounted for, it seemed.  No more trouble than they made themselves.

For a moment she thought she could see Jubilee, hanging dangerously off the furniture, looking at her with a bemused perceptivity.  “Whoa, Frosty.  You’re smiling.  Seriously, your rep is going down the drain with this one.”

*            *            *

Work tomorrow.  Emily frowned at her empty holster.  The damn NYPD had snagged it as evidence, and she wouldn’t get it back for a week at least, usually a month with their rate of return.  She’d have to borrow one from work.  Hopefully they wouldn’t be jetting off somewhere right away.  It had been a rather busy weekend.  She needed a break from her vacation.

She was exhausted, and stumbled into her bedroom, leaving an untidy trail of clothes behind her as she went.  But she paused at the edge of the bed.  It was empty, too big and too empty.  She sighed and sank into it.  The sheets were slightly crumpled and stiff after two nights un-slept-in.  They stayed cold at the bottom for too long.

Emily stared at the ceiling and waited for sleep.

*            *            *

“I heard what happened.”

Garcia’s voice was almost familiar now.  Emma chuckled grimly. “It worked out.  No thanks to us, I’m afraid.”

Garcia laughed.  “Well, sometimes our little by-the-book heroes can figure it out for themselves.”

“I suppose they can.”

“I found out who supplied the technology.”

“That was fast.”

“I am the information goddess.”

Emma shook her head.  “If you say so.  Give me the information and I’ll deal with it.”


“Do you care?”

“Not particularly.  The other things this guy has access to are pretty horrible.  Telepathy inhibitors are the least of the lot.”

“Hmm.”  Emma considered this.  “Perhaps the X-Men would be interested in rooting out an arms dealer.  There is a certain freedom to being a vigilante.  Not merely because they care less about where there information comes from.”

“I’ll send you what I have.  And the others who were buying from him?”

“They won’t remember his name.”  Emma laughed quietly.  “I won’t even have to use telepathy for that.  Influence can be just as convincing.”

“Well, I guess we can mark this one closed.”

“Does that imply there will be more?”

“There are always more, my darling grasshopper.”

“I’m hanging up now,” grumbled Emma.

“Then the Buddha at the pagoda of infinite wisdom will say adieu.”

*            *            *

Emily rolled over again, and glanced up at the clock.  It was only two, but she sighed, giving in, and reached for her phone.

“You missed me already?”

She could hear the grin in Emma’s voice, and buried herself deeper in the blankets, already more relaxed.

“You don’t sound like you were sleeping.  Don’t you have class tomorrow?”

Emma groaned.  “Bonehead history at 7:30, and no breaks until noon.”


“And you’re off chasing criminals again.”

“Not that I got much of a break, this weekend.”

“Well, if you need a real vacation, I’m sure it can be arranged.”

“Was that an offer?”

“I found this one quite thrilling, actually,” Emma replied, her voice taking on a low rumble.  “You, in that dress, packing, was one of the most stimulating things I’ve ever seen.”

Emily laughed.  “Stimulating?  In what way?”

“You know what way.  I’m certain I don’t have to elucidate… again.”

*            *            *

Tags: criminal minds, emma/emily, x-men

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