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WHO: Kitty Pryde & Emma Frost
WHEN: Oct 14, 2025; Late Night
WHERE: Emma's Office
WHAT: Kitty and Emma talk about their Quantum Leap murders and then about Scott.
WARNINGS: Mention of death and also they're stupid.
It had been a few weeks since their return from Remy’s universe, but home still feels stranger this time than it had the first time they returned. The other world had been so foreign, so cutthroat, that being home and safe feels wrong. But it’s fine. Nothing she actually has to think about, since she has so much other work to do. They didn’t learn enough from their jaunt. She is trying to make up for that personally by diving into her side-projects. It’s only when she looks up and sees her clock says it’s past midnight that she remembers it doesn’t all have to be done tonight.
This is not unusual for Kitty. In fact, it happens more nights than not. It’s a little more unusual to see Emma’s office lit up at this hour. She is about to just go through, but remembers that an office is a potential hookup space, and she has no great need to see her best friends in a compromised state, tonight. She sighs to herself and knocks on the office door like a normal person.
« Come in. » There is amusement twisted up in these two words, not as pronounced as it usually is but still there. How funny, to think that they'd have a light on if they were hooking up in her office after midnight.
When Kitty enters Emma is at her desk, clearly ready for bed with her makeup removed, her hair wrapped up in some contraption, and her pajamas on (tonight something actually cute, a silk tanktop and shorts, a robe for modesty dropped on the floor next to her desk). She looks a little tired, even. But despite that she's here, shuffling through documents, both official looking and shreds of paper with scribbled notes. She doesn't bother looking up.
"Shouldn't you be in bed, darling?"
Kitty is also in pajamas, only hers are simple black shorts and a big faded Darth Vader sweatshirt. She doesn’t quite laugh at Emma, with her weird hair thing and no makeup, but it does give her more pause, as she walks directly through the door instead of turning the knob.
“Shouldn’t you?” She counters immediately, craning her neck to see the notes, unabashedly nosy. They are nothing of terrible note, just things for the lawsuit, notes for class, ideas for her team.
"I should, probably," Emma concedes without any argument at all. She's tired and there's nothing she's doing now that she can't do in the morning. But she's feeling restless, and she didn't want to bother Scott with her tossing and turning. Plus, she prefers action to uselessly fussing.
"I'm not in the habit of doing this, though, and you are." Finally, she lifts her eyes.
"...are you alright? I know you're throwing yourself into your projects, as usual."
Kitty should just say of course she’s all right. She is, after all. But her friendship with Emma has taught her that if she doesn’t self-disclose, there’s absolutely no way Emma will say what’s actually keeping her up, either. She might not, anyway. But maybe. Maybe there’s some utility to sharing. She’s a little too tired for denial, anyway.
“I am.” She is okay, ultimately. “But like. Have you noticed it’s harder to sleep since coming back from Remy’s place?”
There is a calculation going on as Emma watches Kitty, knowing that something similar is happening inside her companion's momentarily unavailable mind. It's always a little bit like a game, but she feels like they know each other well enough now that it's turning into chess, where there are set moves with expected responses.
"It was a little much there." It hadn't just been Jack. It had been the ending, cutting herself mentally off from them, knowing that technically, this could happen here too. They could die. Muddle that up with all the annoyances of her father's lawsuit, and Emma is… like this.
She lets out an irritated sigh.
"Some of it was enjoyable, but I don't think any of us are particularly well-equipped for that much death." Her toes curl a little as she thinks on the memories from Genosha she'd taken from Manny, but her expression remains impassive.
“It was a little much”, Kitty knows, is the most heartfelt admission of overwhelm she’s going to get from Emma, maybe ever in her life. She doesn’t push it. It is like chess. And she’s good at chess. She knows to think, quietly, about how Emma must mean boy-kissing her boyfriend when she talks about what was enjoyable, to distract from the fact the other half of her brain is thinking about the killing blows she made on Jack’s henchmen. How Emma had practically insisted she do it instead.
“Do you think we should be?” She asks, a genuine question. They’d seen death. They would see it again. But she’s not sure anyone should ever get used to it.
Emma can't help herself — a small smile creeps its way onto her lips at the thought of 'boy-kissing' Scott (Kitty is correct in her assessment there). In fact, she's fairly correct in the entirety of her assessment. The smile is quick to fade.
"No. It's better to have it always be difficult." She is certain of this, even as she wishes a little that it could just be easy, to spare everyone. "It's important to recognize the cost of such things."
After a moment she shifts back from her desk, still seated but with open her arms as an invitation for her friend to come to her.
Kitty hesitates for a moment, just because it isn’t very adult and respected friend of her to sit in Emma’s lap like a child. But ultimately, she sighs like she’s put out, and sinks to sit in the chair with Emma, looping her arms around her neck, resting her head on her shoulder.
“I know there wasn’t a real cost, this time. But it felt like there was, right?”
Emma wraps her arms around Kitty when she sits, and despite the juvenile pose of her companion she doesn't mock her in the least. In fact, she's almost subdued, quiet for a few moments as she thinks and reflects on a few things. Notes to herself that she should probably talk to Scott or Manny about all this, but finds that for once they seem like the worst people for it.
"It did. I think that's how it should be, too. They were as close to real as possible." Another quiet moment, and Emma has to force herself not to frown as she pulls in a breath. "I'm sorry I brought you with me. I don't think I should have."
At this, Kitty lightly bops the back of Emma’s head with the hand that’s most accessible for this motion, as if to knock that idea out of her brain.
“You should have. I’m glad you did. How the hell would this have been better if you did it alone?”
This earns a tiny scoff from Emma, who gently knocks her head against Kitty's in retaliation.
"It could have turned out fine, and then you wouldn't have any of this mess in your head and Jack wouldn't have been a problem."
And she has done this to Kitty, directly, by asking for her help. But Emma's not Scott, and she won't let the guilt eat at her too much. Another sigh, and she tips her head back for a moment before righting it.
"I am sorry, though. That you have this in your mind now. If I could I'd spare all of you from ever having to do such things." Too sincere. She gently pinches Kitty's side.
Kitty sits and takes it, wrinkling her nose but it’s not much pain. More difficult to hear Emma saying something this objectively stupid. She’d sort of suspected as much, and the sentiment is very sweet, but very misguided. Very Emma all in all. Kitty stills, and doesn’t answer too quickly.
“I’d have other things in my head, anyway. All the death at the end. Probably some more fake-murders I would’ve partaken in, somehow.” Kitty raises her eyes, so Emma can see she’s serious. “I’ve been an X-Man for just as long as you have. There’s going to be messed up stuff in both of our heads. I’d rather share it than have you carry that all alone. That’s not your job.”
"I know." And Emma does, of course. They're all prone to taking on too much, and while she isn't as self-sacrificial as most of her friends, in this way she maybe is. Xavier maybe has gotten into her head a little, which is an annoying realization. Or maybe it's just that she's too attached to her team. That feels just as bad and uncomfortable; everything feels like she's slowly bleeding out control of her life, lately.
"We do live very complex lives." An insane understatement, one that almost makes her smile, the corners of her lips twitching for just an instant. Kitty’s do the same, in a silent echo that she doesn’t realize is happening.
"...so many things have been going on, lately. It's only natural that this would hit a little harder. The end of our little adventure, in particular."
“I was barely even around for that.” Kitty is quick to parry, in her constant quest to prove she is all right with everything that happened. Not quite true. She was. She just was diving through floors and walls, intangible. She can’t complain if nothing really could have hurt her.
“...I didn’t see you around, either.” She attempts, because she’s wondered about it. All their psychic communication left before the massacre, too.
"I'm glad you weren't entirely present. Really, no one should have been there." Emma had said as much to them, mentally, the moment everything had started. Right before she left. Staying was pointless, and even if Laura would argue that for her it wasn't, she has a hard time believing that anything she learned there would necessarily translate to here. That world had been different in so many ways.
Emma fusses some with Kitty's hair as she is weighing what to say. How much of her throat to expose with honesty. Saying this thing she is thinking is arguably less revealing than a variety of other things she's already held back. Maybe she should give her friend a crumb.
"There was no reason for me to feel any of you die, if that happened. It would have been a waste of energy."
Kitty can’t help it, her nose twitches unhappily at the remembrance that Emma had to feel anyone die at all. No wonder it had been trying. She keeps relaxed and easy in her friend’s arms, not tensing or showing any signs of worry, as though she’s afraid that would scare her off. And she kind of is.
“It sucked even seeing it.” She says aloud, because the only way to encourage more crumbs is to give them, too. “I’m glad you didn’t have to feel that either. That must’ve been like, a headache, as it was in that world.”
Emma squeezes Kitty briefly — she obviously knows she's worried about scaring her off, but she's trying. They both are.
"Visibily it was particularly messy," she replies with obvious distaste. "But I can mentally disconnect, as long as I'm not trying to control the person dying. Or in that case trying to maintain communication with you all." Manny can't, but she doesn't want to bring this up, partially for him, and partially for herself. Kitty's smart enough to connect that with the memories Emma took from Manny from Genosha. She shakes her head a little instead.
"So I left. I wouldn't have, if it mattered, but… it didn't. I didn't see a point in enduring it. Some of us have to be sensible."
Kitty nods against the shoulder she is still resting her head on. Emma’s right, she makes a point to think loudly. There wouldn’t have been a point in enduring it. They’d make sure she never had to, for real. (Emma is very nearly embarrassed at being reassured. As though she needs it.) Her thoughts right now don’t have to go all the way to Genosha to find a sticking point, though.
“But that means you did feel Jack die.” She concludes, a statement more than anything. If she’s wrong, Emma will correct her, but she doesn’t think she is. Kitty squeezes back just a little more tightly, only for a moment. “I know you’d be the last person to leave if we were really in danger.” She says out loud, too.
"I did, but he's not the first and won't be the last."
Emma says this calmly, because there's no use in hiding it and, really, it only bothers her in a way that's hard to articulate anyway. This part of it is clinical, intellectual. The hard part of it is visceral.
"And I'm unfortunately attached enough that I can't leave any of you behind again. What a miserable state, to care so much." A jest, mostly, but she does also mean it a little too. Emma kisses the side of Kitty's head, though, lest she pick up on any of that sincerity.
"You haven't been having nightmares, have you? Just trouble falling asleep?"
“A few nightmares.” Kitty answers, not finding a reason to not be honest at this point. “When I do sleep. But not bad.” She sort of assumes she’s not alone in those. That part does remind her a little of Genosha, how they’d danced around a conversation just like this, then. She hadn’t changed in her approach at all. She still just sighs at the indignity of being kissed on the head, then retaliates by capturing Emma’s face in her hands to really make a point.
“Something can suck even though it’s not the first or the last time. Including caring about us, but that one’s gonna keep going, because I care about you, too.”
She underplays the sincerity of that, too, unfortunately, by taking a move out of Emma’s playbook and tapping her nose with a finger.
While Emma hasn't had nightmares (or, at least, has not had anything so concrete as a real nightmare), she doesn't correct Kitty, figuring she might not believe her anyways. There are other things to focus on, anyways, like being horribly indignant about her face being caught.
And there are Kitty's words to focus on, too. She knows all these things, but even with the annoying finger tap, it still hits Emma somewhat strangely in her chest. She cares so much, more than she thought she ever would about anyone who wasn't Christian. Maybe she's just tired. Maybe she's just stressed from the combination of their latest jump and the idiotic lawsuit with her idiotic family. She doesn't really mean to change the subject, but now all she can think about is the infuriating nightmare of caring. So.
"I think Scott's turning me into an insane person," she essentially blurts out.
Emma’s face still in her hands, Kitty tilts both of their heads before dropping her friend’s. She laughs just once, sharp and bemused. “I mean, yeah, probably.” She says after a second, like this is the thing that makes the most sense in the world. Which. Yes. Scoot Summers has an effect undeniably.
“But how do you mean?”
Once her face is released Emma lets out an exasperated sigh. Mortifying, to have said this already, and now she has to explain herself? She should have kept her mouth shut, but knows that Kitty absolutely will not let this go. If only they could go back to talking about people dying.
"I just… I'm not supposed to be this…" Into him? Soft? He's often difficult, and often odd, and that's never bothered her before, but should it now, with how much time she spends with him? It doesn't. She thinks it's cute. And things have been good recently, but it feels like it's going to blow up in her face again. She's something akin to scared about her feelings getting hurt, which she thought she'd desensitized herself to years ago.
"He occupies far too much of my mental space."
“Oh my god, you like-like him.” Kitty grins, but it’s deadpan enough that it’s apparent she expects retaliation. She settles into Emma’s shoulder, trying to strike a balance between being comforting and not cloying in any of these sentiments. She understands, of course, the dreadful ordeal of liking anyone, but Emma and Scott deserve the good part. She can’t discourage that.
“Good.” She decides, aloud. “Who says you can’t?”
"I'm sorry, are we in high school? Like-like?" Emma's offense sounds genuine but is, in fact, not. She does like-like him, to put it in such stupid terms. She tells him he loves him regularly now, and not in the way she tells everyone else. Platonic love she understands — growing up with Christian gave her that. But this is uncharted territory that makes her feel out of control. The amount of time she wants to spend with him is unreasonable. The fact that she missed him when she was away on Mykonos for two days is ridiculous.
Emma makes a face. "Obviously. I can do whatever I want." After a long moment she waves a dismissive hand. "It doesn't matter. I'll just… stop feeling insane eventually." There is, almost, an upward lilt to her words, like a question.
Kitty smiles a little at that uncertainty, which isn’t typical for Emma. Good to know even her coolest friend isn’t immune from awfully messy emotions. Towards a boy, no less. But she hugs her again, to be something solid, and says,
“You know. Any old asshole can block out all their feelings and pretend to be disaffected by like, everything. It’s the braver thing to let feelings happen, so. No wonder it feels insane. But it’s the only way to let the good stuff happen, too.”
Though Emma returns the hug she simultaneously groans and mutters, "Shut up." There is more she wants to say here, but it's taking a moment to process. She's had plenty of good things without sacrificing this much control. Or so she thought, anyways; being a teenager again had shaken that conviction.
"...this is good," she finally says, and there's no question in there, and not even that much force behind the words. It is a statement, not a reassurance for either of them. She can't tell Kitty all of it (she is afraid of being hurt again, but she can barely acknowledge it herself), but she can tell her this at least.
"And yes, it's mortifying that I'm having all of this about a boy who is, objectively, an idiot."
“Okay, obviously he’s an idiot.” Kitty agrees, automatically. She, of course, grew up with Scott. She adores him. She knows simultaneously that he has hurt Emma immeasurably because of his sense of duty or whatever.
“...He’s trying, though? Isn’t he?” She tries, too, because ultimately her friend’s right, from what she can see. It is good. She likes them together.
It's good that they agree that he's an idiot. It's good too that Kitty likes them together — Emma knows that her first thoughts about them had been wondering how to handle their break-up. About what this would mean for Jean. It's not that Emma needs Kitty's approval (obviously), but it is nice to feel that support has solidified. She is confident in her feelings and in Scott's, but the whole thing does still make her almost nervous.
The idea that she was 'hurt immeasurably,' though, makes Emma grimace, but she says nothing on the matter.
"He is trying. Very hard. He wants this to work and he wants to stay. That's the most I can ask for, at this point."
This is the part where the guilt sets in, again; that Kitty remembers her time stopping button and neglected equations back in her office, all of which should help Scott stay. It’s not her relationship, obviously. But realistically, she’s one of the only people who can actually help it last. Maybe she could manage a few more hours tonight.
“If he stops trying, I’m going to yell at him.” She says, simply, but it’s the truth. None of them get to stop trying now.
Softly, Emma shushes Kitty's guilt.
"If you don't sleep you won't be able to do good work, darling. There's time. We're not exactly doing a good job of finding clues for Ambrose."
Again, she kisses the side of her friend's head. "If he stops trying I'm going to mind spike him so badly he'll have a headache for a week. I think both those threats will keep him in line. And the fact that he really does want to stay with us."
Here she goes quiet for a moment, considering, before adding, "He promised me he'd stop treating his leaving like it was inevitable. So there's that as well."
Kitty smiles. That’s good news, objectively. “I feel like he never knows how to accept good things, either.” They have that in common as a couple. “Only he also has the whole like, sense of duty or whatever to run away from it. So it’s good he’s not. He must like-like you, too.”
She smirks in anticipation of a mind spike of her own.
Emma agrees silently in Kitty's mind, at least on the assessment of Scott. She's perfectly capable of accepting the good. She feels like she deserves everything she wants. She is not made nervous by things that seem too good (maybe this is a little bit of a lie). Which Kitty knows, but she doesn’t say anything, and even tries to not think it too loudly.
Emma pinches Kitty's side again. "He's obsessed with me, and rightfully so."
“Right, because of all the mind control.” Kitty says, obviously unserious. She swats Emma’s hand away from her side and curls up her legs into the chair. “I’m still finding a way to fix it all.” She says again, stubborn, “I don’t want anyone else to leave yet. And definitely not that permanently.”
"Like I'd need that to make someone obsessed with me."
It's nice that they've fallen quickly back into their usual little meaningless barbs. Emma doesn't particularly want to think about her nerves, or about death, or even really about what lies ahead with Ambrose. She shifts Kitty a little in her arms.
"You'll figure it out. You do have to sleep some in the meantime, though. As frustrating as that is."
“So do you.” Kitty says, quick to point out hypocrisy. She doesn’t particularly want to stand and go. She’s actually comfortable for a change, the ideas in her head a little quieter when there’s someone to tease. But there’s a boy who’s obsessed with Emma who will probably freak out if he wakes up alone, so she pulls back a little.
“Will you be able to go to sleep if you try?”
With a sigh, Emma glances at the notes on her desk, all things that can wait, and all things that she feels less than compelled to deal with now that she's spoken with Kitty. This conversation has quieted her mind some too. She gives her friend one last squeeze before starting to usher her off her lap, also figuring that she should get back to her and Scott's room.
"I think I can manage. I can ease your mind a little more if you'd like, before you head off."
This is an offer Kitty has always said no to. She scoots off Emma’s lap entirely, and almost automatically does so again. But she couldn’t just preach vulnerability without showing any herself. She tosses her hair and stands up straighter. “I don’t need it.” She specifies, lest that be mistaken. “But. Sure.”
"Spoiling me, I see," Emma jokes, standing and reaching to gently smooth out Kitty's wild hair. With it, she smooths over her mind, just the tiniest bit. It's subtle, maybe enough that Kitty wouldn't even notice if she didn't know it was being done. It feels like the equivalent of a warm blanket being tucked over her in winter; gentle, comforting, safe. A drowsiness that will follow her to her room, but won't force her to sleep.
"Don't waste it by trying to do any work when you get to your room, hm?"
“I’m going to read just a little more.” She promises, which is the best Kitty can ever do, even as she’s fighting like a small child against how sweet the comfort feels. It’s not a very productive sensation. She doesn’t allow it to win very often. But maybe this time. She turns to go, but then back again, once more.
“And you know I’d hide real bodies for you, too, right. I’d just yell at you a whole lot more, first.”
Emma scoffs, both at the resistance she can see in Kitty and at her words. Stupid girl.
"Of course. That's what friends are for, isn't it? Now off to bed, darling. We don't need to think about murder any more tonight."
WHEN: Oct 14, 2025; Late Night
WHERE: Emma's Office
WHAT: Kitty and Emma talk about their Quantum Leap murders and then about Scott.
WARNINGS: Mention of death and also they're stupid.
It had been a few weeks since their return from Remy’s universe, but home still feels stranger this time than it had the first time they returned. The other world had been so foreign, so cutthroat, that being home and safe feels wrong. But it’s fine. Nothing she actually has to think about, since she has so much other work to do. They didn’t learn enough from their jaunt. She is trying to make up for that personally by diving into her side-projects. It’s only when she looks up and sees her clock says it’s past midnight that she remembers it doesn’t all have to be done tonight.
This is not unusual for Kitty. In fact, it happens more nights than not. It’s a little more unusual to see Emma’s office lit up at this hour. She is about to just go through, but remembers that an office is a potential hookup space, and she has no great need to see her best friends in a compromised state, tonight. She sighs to herself and knocks on the office door like a normal person.
« Come in. » There is amusement twisted up in these two words, not as pronounced as it usually is but still there. How funny, to think that they'd have a light on if they were hooking up in her office after midnight.
When Kitty enters Emma is at her desk, clearly ready for bed with her makeup removed, her hair wrapped up in some contraption, and her pajamas on (tonight something actually cute, a silk tanktop and shorts, a robe for modesty dropped on the floor next to her desk). She looks a little tired, even. But despite that she's here, shuffling through documents, both official looking and shreds of paper with scribbled notes. She doesn't bother looking up.
"Shouldn't you be in bed, darling?"
Kitty is also in pajamas, only hers are simple black shorts and a big faded Darth Vader sweatshirt. She doesn’t quite laugh at Emma, with her weird hair thing and no makeup, but it does give her more pause, as she walks directly through the door instead of turning the knob.
“Shouldn’t you?” She counters immediately, craning her neck to see the notes, unabashedly nosy. They are nothing of terrible note, just things for the lawsuit, notes for class, ideas for her team.
"I should, probably," Emma concedes without any argument at all. She's tired and there's nothing she's doing now that she can't do in the morning. But she's feeling restless, and she didn't want to bother Scott with her tossing and turning. Plus, she prefers action to uselessly fussing.
"I'm not in the habit of doing this, though, and you are." Finally, she lifts her eyes.
"...are you alright? I know you're throwing yourself into your projects, as usual."
Kitty should just say of course she’s all right. She is, after all. But her friendship with Emma has taught her that if she doesn’t self-disclose, there’s absolutely no way Emma will say what’s actually keeping her up, either. She might not, anyway. But maybe. Maybe there’s some utility to sharing. She’s a little too tired for denial, anyway.
“I am.” She is okay, ultimately. “But like. Have you noticed it’s harder to sleep since coming back from Remy’s place?”
There is a calculation going on as Emma watches Kitty, knowing that something similar is happening inside her companion's momentarily unavailable mind. It's always a little bit like a game, but she feels like they know each other well enough now that it's turning into chess, where there are set moves with expected responses.
"It was a little much there." It hadn't just been Jack. It had been the ending, cutting herself mentally off from them, knowing that technically, this could happen here too. They could die. Muddle that up with all the annoyances of her father's lawsuit, and Emma is… like this.
She lets out an irritated sigh.
"Some of it was enjoyable, but I don't think any of us are particularly well-equipped for that much death." Her toes curl a little as she thinks on the memories from Genosha she'd taken from Manny, but her expression remains impassive.
“It was a little much”, Kitty knows, is the most heartfelt admission of overwhelm she’s going to get from Emma, maybe ever in her life. She doesn’t push it. It is like chess. And she’s good at chess. She knows to think, quietly, about how Emma must mean boy-kissing her boyfriend when she talks about what was enjoyable, to distract from the fact the other half of her brain is thinking about the killing blows she made on Jack’s henchmen. How Emma had practically insisted she do it instead.
“Do you think we should be?” She asks, a genuine question. They’d seen death. They would see it again. But she’s not sure anyone should ever get used to it.
Emma can't help herself — a small smile creeps its way onto her lips at the thought of 'boy-kissing' Scott (Kitty is correct in her assessment there). In fact, she's fairly correct in the entirety of her assessment. The smile is quick to fade.
"No. It's better to have it always be difficult." She is certain of this, even as she wishes a little that it could just be easy, to spare everyone. "It's important to recognize the cost of such things."
After a moment she shifts back from her desk, still seated but with open her arms as an invitation for her friend to come to her.
Kitty hesitates for a moment, just because it isn’t very adult and respected friend of her to sit in Emma’s lap like a child. But ultimately, she sighs like she’s put out, and sinks to sit in the chair with Emma, looping her arms around her neck, resting her head on her shoulder.
“I know there wasn’t a real cost, this time. But it felt like there was, right?”
Emma wraps her arms around Kitty when she sits, and despite the juvenile pose of her companion she doesn't mock her in the least. In fact, she's almost subdued, quiet for a few moments as she thinks and reflects on a few things. Notes to herself that she should probably talk to Scott or Manny about all this, but finds that for once they seem like the worst people for it.
"It did. I think that's how it should be, too. They were as close to real as possible." Another quiet moment, and Emma has to force herself not to frown as she pulls in a breath. "I'm sorry I brought you with me. I don't think I should have."
At this, Kitty lightly bops the back of Emma’s head with the hand that’s most accessible for this motion, as if to knock that idea out of her brain.
“You should have. I’m glad you did. How the hell would this have been better if you did it alone?”
This earns a tiny scoff from Emma, who gently knocks her head against Kitty's in retaliation.
"It could have turned out fine, and then you wouldn't have any of this mess in your head and Jack wouldn't have been a problem."
And she has done this to Kitty, directly, by asking for her help. But Emma's not Scott, and she won't let the guilt eat at her too much. Another sigh, and she tips her head back for a moment before righting it.
"I am sorry, though. That you have this in your mind now. If I could I'd spare all of you from ever having to do such things." Too sincere. She gently pinches Kitty's side.
Kitty sits and takes it, wrinkling her nose but it’s not much pain. More difficult to hear Emma saying something this objectively stupid. She’d sort of suspected as much, and the sentiment is very sweet, but very misguided. Very Emma all in all. Kitty stills, and doesn’t answer too quickly.
“I’d have other things in my head, anyway. All the death at the end. Probably some more fake-murders I would’ve partaken in, somehow.” Kitty raises her eyes, so Emma can see she’s serious. “I’ve been an X-Man for just as long as you have. There’s going to be messed up stuff in both of our heads. I’d rather share it than have you carry that all alone. That’s not your job.”
"I know." And Emma does, of course. They're all prone to taking on too much, and while she isn't as self-sacrificial as most of her friends, in this way she maybe is. Xavier maybe has gotten into her head a little, which is an annoying realization. Or maybe it's just that she's too attached to her team. That feels just as bad and uncomfortable; everything feels like she's slowly bleeding out control of her life, lately.
"We do live very complex lives." An insane understatement, one that almost makes her smile, the corners of her lips twitching for just an instant. Kitty’s do the same, in a silent echo that she doesn’t realize is happening.
"...so many things have been going on, lately. It's only natural that this would hit a little harder. The end of our little adventure, in particular."
“I was barely even around for that.” Kitty is quick to parry, in her constant quest to prove she is all right with everything that happened. Not quite true. She was. She just was diving through floors and walls, intangible. She can’t complain if nothing really could have hurt her.
“...I didn’t see you around, either.” She attempts, because she’s wondered about it. All their psychic communication left before the massacre, too.
"I'm glad you weren't entirely present. Really, no one should have been there." Emma had said as much to them, mentally, the moment everything had started. Right before she left. Staying was pointless, and even if Laura would argue that for her it wasn't, she has a hard time believing that anything she learned there would necessarily translate to here. That world had been different in so many ways.
Emma fusses some with Kitty's hair as she is weighing what to say. How much of her throat to expose with honesty. Saying this thing she is thinking is arguably less revealing than a variety of other things she's already held back. Maybe she should give her friend a crumb.
"There was no reason for me to feel any of you die, if that happened. It would have been a waste of energy."
Kitty can’t help it, her nose twitches unhappily at the remembrance that Emma had to feel anyone die at all. No wonder it had been trying. She keeps relaxed and easy in her friend’s arms, not tensing or showing any signs of worry, as though she’s afraid that would scare her off. And she kind of is.
“It sucked even seeing it.” She says aloud, because the only way to encourage more crumbs is to give them, too. “I’m glad you didn’t have to feel that either. That must’ve been like, a headache, as it was in that world.”
Emma squeezes Kitty briefly — she obviously knows she's worried about scaring her off, but she's trying. They both are.
"Visibily it was particularly messy," she replies with obvious distaste. "But I can mentally disconnect, as long as I'm not trying to control the person dying. Or in that case trying to maintain communication with you all." Manny can't, but she doesn't want to bring this up, partially for him, and partially for herself. Kitty's smart enough to connect that with the memories Emma took from Manny from Genosha. She shakes her head a little instead.
"So I left. I wouldn't have, if it mattered, but… it didn't. I didn't see a point in enduring it. Some of us have to be sensible."
Kitty nods against the shoulder she is still resting her head on. Emma’s right, she makes a point to think loudly. There wouldn’t have been a point in enduring it. They’d make sure she never had to, for real. (Emma is very nearly embarrassed at being reassured. As though she needs it.) Her thoughts right now don’t have to go all the way to Genosha to find a sticking point, though.
“But that means you did feel Jack die.” She concludes, a statement more than anything. If she’s wrong, Emma will correct her, but she doesn’t think she is. Kitty squeezes back just a little more tightly, only for a moment. “I know you’d be the last person to leave if we were really in danger.” She says out loud, too.
"I did, but he's not the first and won't be the last."
Emma says this calmly, because there's no use in hiding it and, really, it only bothers her in a way that's hard to articulate anyway. This part of it is clinical, intellectual. The hard part of it is visceral.
"And I'm unfortunately attached enough that I can't leave any of you behind again. What a miserable state, to care so much." A jest, mostly, but she does also mean it a little too. Emma kisses the side of Kitty's head, though, lest she pick up on any of that sincerity.
"You haven't been having nightmares, have you? Just trouble falling asleep?"
“A few nightmares.” Kitty answers, not finding a reason to not be honest at this point. “When I do sleep. But not bad.” She sort of assumes she’s not alone in those. That part does remind her a little of Genosha, how they’d danced around a conversation just like this, then. She hadn’t changed in her approach at all. She still just sighs at the indignity of being kissed on the head, then retaliates by capturing Emma’s face in her hands to really make a point.
“Something can suck even though it’s not the first or the last time. Including caring about us, but that one’s gonna keep going, because I care about you, too.”
She underplays the sincerity of that, too, unfortunately, by taking a move out of Emma’s playbook and tapping her nose with a finger.
While Emma hasn't had nightmares (or, at least, has not had anything so concrete as a real nightmare), she doesn't correct Kitty, figuring she might not believe her anyways. There are other things to focus on, anyways, like being horribly indignant about her face being caught.
And there are Kitty's words to focus on, too. She knows all these things, but even with the annoying finger tap, it still hits Emma somewhat strangely in her chest. She cares so much, more than she thought she ever would about anyone who wasn't Christian. Maybe she's just tired. Maybe she's just stressed from the combination of their latest jump and the idiotic lawsuit with her idiotic family. She doesn't really mean to change the subject, but now all she can think about is the infuriating nightmare of caring. So.
"I think Scott's turning me into an insane person," she essentially blurts out.
Emma’s face still in her hands, Kitty tilts both of their heads before dropping her friend’s. She laughs just once, sharp and bemused. “I mean, yeah, probably.” She says after a second, like this is the thing that makes the most sense in the world. Which. Yes. Scoot Summers has an effect undeniably.
“But how do you mean?”
Once her face is released Emma lets out an exasperated sigh. Mortifying, to have said this already, and now she has to explain herself? She should have kept her mouth shut, but knows that Kitty absolutely will not let this go. If only they could go back to talking about people dying.
"I just… I'm not supposed to be this…" Into him? Soft? He's often difficult, and often odd, and that's never bothered her before, but should it now, with how much time she spends with him? It doesn't. She thinks it's cute. And things have been good recently, but it feels like it's going to blow up in her face again. She's something akin to scared about her feelings getting hurt, which she thought she'd desensitized herself to years ago.
"He occupies far too much of my mental space."
“Oh my god, you like-like him.” Kitty grins, but it’s deadpan enough that it’s apparent she expects retaliation. She settles into Emma’s shoulder, trying to strike a balance between being comforting and not cloying in any of these sentiments. She understands, of course, the dreadful ordeal of liking anyone, but Emma and Scott deserve the good part. She can’t discourage that.
“Good.” She decides, aloud. “Who says you can’t?”
"I'm sorry, are we in high school? Like-like?" Emma's offense sounds genuine but is, in fact, not. She does like-like him, to put it in such stupid terms. She tells him he loves him regularly now, and not in the way she tells everyone else. Platonic love she understands — growing up with Christian gave her that. But this is uncharted territory that makes her feel out of control. The amount of time she wants to spend with him is unreasonable. The fact that she missed him when she was away on Mykonos for two days is ridiculous.
Emma makes a face. "Obviously. I can do whatever I want." After a long moment she waves a dismissive hand. "It doesn't matter. I'll just… stop feeling insane eventually." There is, almost, an upward lilt to her words, like a question.
Kitty smiles a little at that uncertainty, which isn’t typical for Emma. Good to know even her coolest friend isn’t immune from awfully messy emotions. Towards a boy, no less. But she hugs her again, to be something solid, and says,
“You know. Any old asshole can block out all their feelings and pretend to be disaffected by like, everything. It’s the braver thing to let feelings happen, so. No wonder it feels insane. But it’s the only way to let the good stuff happen, too.”
Though Emma returns the hug she simultaneously groans and mutters, "Shut up." There is more she wants to say here, but it's taking a moment to process. She's had plenty of good things without sacrificing this much control. Or so she thought, anyways; being a teenager again had shaken that conviction.
"...this is good," she finally says, and there's no question in there, and not even that much force behind the words. It is a statement, not a reassurance for either of them. She can't tell Kitty all of it (she is afraid of being hurt again, but she can barely acknowledge it herself), but she can tell her this at least.
"And yes, it's mortifying that I'm having all of this about a boy who is, objectively, an idiot."
“Okay, obviously he’s an idiot.” Kitty agrees, automatically. She, of course, grew up with Scott. She adores him. She knows simultaneously that he has hurt Emma immeasurably because of his sense of duty or whatever.
“...He’s trying, though? Isn’t he?” She tries, too, because ultimately her friend’s right, from what she can see. It is good. She likes them together.
It's good that they agree that he's an idiot. It's good too that Kitty likes them together — Emma knows that her first thoughts about them had been wondering how to handle their break-up. About what this would mean for Jean. It's not that Emma needs Kitty's approval (obviously), but it is nice to feel that support has solidified. She is confident in her feelings and in Scott's, but the whole thing does still make her almost nervous.
The idea that she was 'hurt immeasurably,' though, makes Emma grimace, but she says nothing on the matter.
"He is trying. Very hard. He wants this to work and he wants to stay. That's the most I can ask for, at this point."
This is the part where the guilt sets in, again; that Kitty remembers her time stopping button and neglected equations back in her office, all of which should help Scott stay. It’s not her relationship, obviously. But realistically, she’s one of the only people who can actually help it last. Maybe she could manage a few more hours tonight.
“If he stops trying, I’m going to yell at him.” She says, simply, but it’s the truth. None of them get to stop trying now.
Softly, Emma shushes Kitty's guilt.
"If you don't sleep you won't be able to do good work, darling. There's time. We're not exactly doing a good job of finding clues for Ambrose."
Again, she kisses the side of her friend's head. "If he stops trying I'm going to mind spike him so badly he'll have a headache for a week. I think both those threats will keep him in line. And the fact that he really does want to stay with us."
Here she goes quiet for a moment, considering, before adding, "He promised me he'd stop treating his leaving like it was inevitable. So there's that as well."
Kitty smiles. That’s good news, objectively. “I feel like he never knows how to accept good things, either.” They have that in common as a couple. “Only he also has the whole like, sense of duty or whatever to run away from it. So it’s good he’s not. He must like-like you, too.”
She smirks in anticipation of a mind spike of her own.
Emma agrees silently in Kitty's mind, at least on the assessment of Scott. She's perfectly capable of accepting the good. She feels like she deserves everything she wants. She is not made nervous by things that seem too good (maybe this is a little bit of a lie). Which Kitty knows, but she doesn’t say anything, and even tries to not think it too loudly.
Emma pinches Kitty's side again. "He's obsessed with me, and rightfully so."
“Right, because of all the mind control.” Kitty says, obviously unserious. She swats Emma’s hand away from her side and curls up her legs into the chair. “I’m still finding a way to fix it all.” She says again, stubborn, “I don’t want anyone else to leave yet. And definitely not that permanently.”
"Like I'd need that to make someone obsessed with me."
It's nice that they've fallen quickly back into their usual little meaningless barbs. Emma doesn't particularly want to think about her nerves, or about death, or even really about what lies ahead with Ambrose. She shifts Kitty a little in her arms.
"You'll figure it out. You do have to sleep some in the meantime, though. As frustrating as that is."
“So do you.” Kitty says, quick to point out hypocrisy. She doesn’t particularly want to stand and go. She’s actually comfortable for a change, the ideas in her head a little quieter when there’s someone to tease. But there’s a boy who’s obsessed with Emma who will probably freak out if he wakes up alone, so she pulls back a little.
“Will you be able to go to sleep if you try?”
With a sigh, Emma glances at the notes on her desk, all things that can wait, and all things that she feels less than compelled to deal with now that she's spoken with Kitty. This conversation has quieted her mind some too. She gives her friend one last squeeze before starting to usher her off her lap, also figuring that she should get back to her and Scott's room.
"I think I can manage. I can ease your mind a little more if you'd like, before you head off."
This is an offer Kitty has always said no to. She scoots off Emma’s lap entirely, and almost automatically does so again. But she couldn’t just preach vulnerability without showing any herself. She tosses her hair and stands up straighter. “I don’t need it.” She specifies, lest that be mistaken. “But. Sure.”
"Spoiling me, I see," Emma jokes, standing and reaching to gently smooth out Kitty's wild hair. With it, she smooths over her mind, just the tiniest bit. It's subtle, maybe enough that Kitty wouldn't even notice if she didn't know it was being done. It feels like the equivalent of a warm blanket being tucked over her in winter; gentle, comforting, safe. A drowsiness that will follow her to her room, but won't force her to sleep.
"Don't waste it by trying to do any work when you get to your room, hm?"
“I’m going to read just a little more.” She promises, which is the best Kitty can ever do, even as she’s fighting like a small child against how sweet the comfort feels. It’s not a very productive sensation. She doesn’t allow it to win very often. But maybe this time. She turns to go, but then back again, once more.
“And you know I’d hide real bodies for you, too, right. I’d just yell at you a whole lot more, first.”
Emma scoffs, both at the resistance she can see in Kitty and at her words. Stupid girl.
"Of course. That's what friends are for, isn't it? Now off to bed, darling. We don't need to think about murder any more tonight."