I'm starting to think that Christmas shopping is a special kind of hell they don't warn you about. Manhattan's crowded enough on normal days, but during December, it's like the entire population of New York decided to cram into this one shopping center. Jingle bells assault my eardrums from every store, and I've been shoved by at least fifteen people carrying those fancy shopping bags with rope handles.
"This is completely pointless," Mystique mutters beside me, her borrowed form, some random brunette with a forgettable face, blending perfectly with the holiday crowd. "You realize Emma Frost could buy this entire district if she wanted to, right?"
I scan another storefront window, hoping for inspiration to strike. What do you get for a woman who can literally turn herself into a diamond?
"I don't get it," Firestar says, her naturally fiery hair tucked under a beanie to avoid drawing attention. "I thought you didn't want anything to do with Emma Frost anymore. Why are you looking for a gift for her?"
I sigh. "Because she still helped me." The memory of Emma holding me after Jubilee died flashes through my mind. "She was there when it mattered."
"This is so stupid," Mystique groans, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Christmas is stupid."
An elderly couple glares at her as they pass by, clutching their shopping bags like she just insulted their grandchildren.
"Look, I spent years of my life watching everyone else I knew love Christmas and I want to feel that for once, okay? I want to do normal things like buy gifts and decorate trees and all that shit everyone else takes for granted."
Firestar's expression softens immediately. "Oh, Jack..."
"Don't 'Oh Jack' me," I mutter, ducking into yet another overpriced store. "Just help me find something for Emma that doesn't scream 'I bought this because I had to.'"
Mystique trails behind us, picking up a crystal figurine and examining it with obvious disdain. "You realize she can probably make better crystals with her own body now, right?"
"Not helping," I growl, but she's right. What do you get someone who has everything, including the ability to become the world's most valuable gemstone?
I pause in front of a display of fancy pens. Emma always has one of those expensive fountain pens when she's grading papers. But would she even care about another pen?
I stare at the pens for another moment before shaking my head. "Nah, too obvious," I mumble, turning away from the display. Emma probably has a drawer full of fancy pens that cost more than my entire wardrobe.
I wander deeper, past throngs of frantic shoppers clutching their purchases like trophies. After a few more minutes of aimless browsing, I find myself standing in front of a store with rows of novelty mugs lining the window display.
"Maybe in here," I say, more to myself than to my reluctant shopping companions.
Inside, I'm immediately drawn to a rotating rack of ceramic mugs, each emblazoned with some cutesy slogan or another. There's a whole section of "#1" mugs. #1 Mom, #1 Chef, #1 Boss Lady. I spin the rack slowly, scanning each one.
"Holy shit," I laugh, plucking one from the display. "#1 Therapist." The irony is so perfect I can't help but grin. "She'll love this."
"What, the #1 Mommy mug?" Mystique asks, appearing at my shoulder with that judgmental look she's perfected.
I hold up the therapist mug, still grinning. "No, this one. She'd probably love that mommy one too if I got it for her, but this feels more my speed."
Annoyance flickers across Mystique's face.
"So you're actually going through with this," she says, crossing her arms. "Buying a gift for the woman who literally tried to mind-control you into loving her."
"It's complicated," I mutter, turning the mug over to check the price tag. Twenty bucks for a ceramic cup with words on it. What a racket.
"It's really not," Mystique counters, her voice taking on that dangerous edge I'm starting to recognize. "She's manipulative, controlling, and clearly obsessed with you. And here you are, buying her a cute little present like a good little pet."
Firestar shifts uncomfortably beside us. "Maybe we should finish up and head back to the apartment? Xorna's probably wondering where we went."
"In a minute," I say, already heading toward the checkout counter. "I'm getting this."
Mystique grabs my arm, her fingers digging in with surprising strength. "Why are you so desperate for her approval?" she hisses, her stolen brown eyes flashing with something that looks suspiciously like her natural yellow. "Is it because she reminds you of mommy?"
"Emma's nothing like my mother," I snap, yanking my arm free from Mystique's grip. The mug nearly slips from my fingers, but I catch it before it can crash to the floor. "Not even close. At her absolute worst, Emma couldn't hold a candle to the nightmare my mom was."
Mystique steps back, clearly surprised by the venom in my voice. Even her borrowed face can't hide the flash of genuine shock.
"Look," I say, lowering my voice as a family with small children passes by, "Emma's going through a lot right now. She lost all those students when the Massachusetts Academy was destroyed. That kind of trauma would mess with anyone's head. So maybe we both latched on to each other a little bit."
"Are you seriously defending her?" Firestar whispers, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"I'm not defending what she did," I clarify, moving toward the checkout counter. "I'm just saying I understand where it's coming from. Fear of losing someone else."
The cashier rings up my purchase, completely oblivious to the tension crackling between us. I hand over my cash and accept the small bag with my ridiculous mug inside.
As we exit the store, another idea hits me. Something from the Massachusetts Academy. Something that might actually mean something to her.
"Come on," I say, suddenly eager to get back home. "Let's head back to the apartment. I need to ask Magik for a favor."
"What kind of favor?" Mystique asks, suspicion heavy in her voice.
I just shake my head, already planning what I'll say to Illyana when we get back. "You'll see."