The champagne in Emma's glass catches the light as the jet engines hum beneath us. I've never flown private before today.
"The service was nice," Emma says, taking a delicate sip from her flute, ice-blue eyes studying me over the rim.
"Yeah," I manage, though my voice sounds hollow even to my own ears. The truth is I barely remember any of it. Jubilee's funeral is just a blur of black clothes and somber faces, most belonging to people I'd never even seen before. Students, teachers, maybe even some X-Women alumni, all there to say goodbye to the girl with the yellow coat and dazzling smile.
I stare out the window at the endless expanse of ocean below us. Somewhere down there is the jungle where it happened. Where I watched Jubilee die and couldn't do a damn thing to save her.
"You didn't eat anything," Emma observes, breaking the silence again. "You should try the charcuterie board. The prosciutto is imported."
I look at the elaborate spread of meats and cheeses arranged on the table between us, my stomach turning at the thought of food. "I'm not hungry."
Emma sighs, setting down her champagne flute with practiced precision. "Jack, you can't punish yourself forever."
"I'm not punishing myself," I say, looking at the untouched food. "I just feel... I don't know. Sad. And so fucking angry I can barely breathe sometimes."
Emma leans forward, her perfect posture never faltering even as the jet hits a patch of turbulence. "And scared," she adds softly. "You're terrified, Jack."
I want to deny it, but what's the point? She's a telepath. And she's right.
"How could I not be?" I snap, louder than I intended. "Cassian Nova is still out there somewhere. He killed Jubilee like it was nothing, Emma. Like squashing a bug." My hands clench into fists on my lap. "And when I asked Xavier what we're going to do about it, she just gave me that calm professor look and said 'we'll figure it out.' Figure it out? Like it's some fucking homework assignment?"
Emma doesn't flinch at my outburst. She just watches me with those calculating eyes, letting me get it all out.
"He could have killed all of us," I continue, my voice dropping to almost a whisper. "He should have killed all of us. Why didn't he?"
"Because he wanted witnesses," Emma says, picking up her champagne again. "He wanted us to carry his message back to Xavier."
I stare at Emma, the weight of her words sinking in. "A message? What message? That he can kill us whenever he wants?"
"Precisely. Fear is a powerful tool, Jack."
I run my hands through my hair, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by everything. The funeral, the flight, the memory of Jubilee's blood on my hands. It's too much.
"I feel so in over my head," I admit. "Have you... have you gone to a lot of funerals?"
"Countless, Jack." Her voice is quiet but steady. "And I expect we'll see countless more."
My heart shatters at her words. "What?"
"This is one of the curses of being a mutant," she explains, swirling the champagne in her glass. "Watching your friends die far earlier than they should have."
"I don't know if I can do this a few more times."
"It gets easier," Emma says softly, not looking at me now but at some distant point beyond the jet window. "But you never forget them."
"I don't want it to get easier." The idea that I could someday attend another funeral and not feel this crushing weight seems like a betrayal.
"Neither do I."
We sit in silence for a while, the only sound the steady hum of the jet engines carrying us away from everything. I stare out at the endless blue below us, thinking about how maybe my life would be simpler if I just left the X-Women behind. Found some quiet corner of the world where I could use my powers to help people without all this superhero baggage. No funerals, no more battles with cosmic-level threats.
But even as the thought forms, I feel something tear inside me. These people took me in when I had nothing. Gave me purpose, training, a place to belong. Even in the short time I've been with them, it feels like I've found something truly special, a family I always dreamt of.
"Jack," Emma says suddenly, "no one's making you choose."
I whip my head around to look at her. "You're in my head?"
A small smile plays at the corners of her mouth. "I'm always in your head."
I should be angry about the invasion of privacy, but honestly, it's almost comforting. At least someone knows what a mess I am inside without me having to explain it.
I glance around the jet's sleek interior, noticing something I missed before. Along the bulkhead, there's an elegant logo with "FROST" emblazoned in silver lettering.
"Hey, why does this jet have your name on it?" I ask, glad for any distraction from my dark thoughts.
Emma follows my gaze to the logo and smiles. "Because it belongs to my company."
"What?" I blink rapidly, feeling mental whiplash.
"Frost International," she says casually, as if everyone owns multinational corporations.
"You have a company?" The words tumble out before I can stop them.
Her lips curve into that mischievous smile I've come to know so well, eyes sparkling with amusement. "What's wrong, Jack? Don't think I'm smart enough to run a Fortune 500 company?"
"No! I mean… I'm sure you are," I stammer. "I just... but you hang out at the mansion all day and teach and flirt with me and train and go on missions and stuff."
Emma laughs, the sound genuine and warm in a way I rarely hear from her. "I inherited it from my mother," she explains, crossing one leg over the other. "It was already quite large when I became CEO. I don't oversee day-to-day operations. The mutant world needs me more than whatever familial legacy this is." She gestures around the luxurious cabin. "But it's nice. I'm rich, and we get to fly private."
"Jesus Christ," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. "Is there anything about you that isn't intimidating?"
"I drool in my sleep," she reminds me with a wink, and despite everything, the funeral, the grief, the fear. I feel a small smile tug at my lips.
"So what exactly does Frost International do?" I ask, finally reaching for a piece of cheese from the board. Maybe I am a little hungry after all.
"What doesn't it do?" Emma replies, refilling her champagne. "Energy, pharmaceuticals, technology, real estate. My mother was quite the visionary, building an empire that could weather any economic storm."
I chew thoughtfully. "And they just... let you run off and play X-Woman whenever you want?"
"I have excellent management teams in place," she says with a dismissive wave. "And telepathy is remarkably useful for quarterly board meetings."
The cheese is actually incredible, rich and creamy with a sharpness that cuts through the flavor. I reach for another piece.
"So this whole time I've been thinking you're just a teacher with a fake fancy accent, and you're actually some corporate billionaire?"
Emma's smile turns slightly predatory. "Multibillionaire, darling. And I'm a very good teacher."
"Awful therapist, though."
Emma's eyebrows shoot up, her perfect lips forming an 'O' of mock offense. "Excuse me?"
"I'm joking."
She leans back in her seat, studying me with those piercing blue eyes. "That's because I've been going easy on you, Jack."
"Oh yeah?" I counter.
"Yes." She nods slowly, her expression softening just a fraction. "But slow and steady. You've been through a lot. In fact, your whole life is laughably tragic."
I can't help but chuckle at her brutal honesty. "Fair."
Emma smiles. "Genosha will be a nice change of pace for you."