Emma's face keeps flashing behind my eyelids every time I blink, like some kind of fucked up slideshow I can't turn off. It's been days since I saw her in the med bay, since she showed me exactly what she could do to my mind, and I still can't shake her from my thoughts. It's driving me insane.
The familiar electric buzz of Magik's portal fills the air as we step through the swirling golden disk and back into our apartment living room. The sudden shift from gunfire and screaming to the quiet of our place gives me mental whiplash. Ten minutes ago, we were in the middle of a firefight at some underground mutant trafficking ring. Now I'm standing on the IKEA rug Firestar insisted we needed.
Though it does kind of complete the room…
My body feels like it's been through a meat grinder, but the pain's already fading as my healing factor kicks in. The mission's a blur, just flashes of gunfire, terrified kids with scales and horns and green skin, and me stepping in front of bullets so they wouldn't have to.
I pull my helmet off, wincing as dried blood flakes off with it, and set it on the kitchen counter with a metallic clunk. My ears are still ringing.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Firestar's voice cuts through the post-mission silence as her hand clamps around my arm, spinning me to face her. Her copper-red hair is literally smoldering, little embers dancing at the ends.
I blink at her, genuinely confused. "What?"
"That mission!" She gestures wildly, her eyes blazing almost as bright as her hair. "You got shot almost a hundred times! I ended up losing count!"
I shrug, glancing down at my shredded uniform. The bullet holes are still closing, pink new skin replacing the torn flesh beneath. "It's fine?"
"I thought it was cool," Magik says from behind me, that familiar Russian accent carrying a hint of amusement. She's already cleaning her soul sword with a cloth, looking completely unfazed by the bloodshed we just left behind.
Mystique peels off her tactical gloves with precise movements. "I felt like it was a bit much too," she says, those yellow eyes fixed on me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. "At one point I saw you coughing up blood into one of their broken masks."
"So? We saved the kids, didn't we? That's what matters."
"That's not the point!" Firestar shouts. "You're acting like you don't care if you live or die!"
"I heal," I say flatly. "It's literally what I do."
Xorna steps forward. "Firestar is right," she says, that metallic voice echoing through her helmet vents. "You fight like someone with nothing to lose, Jack."
I run a hand through my sweat-matted hair and sigh. "I just have a lot on my mind lately."
Mystique steps closer, her eyes narrowing. "Like what?"
The words tumble out before I can stop them. "Emma Frost."
"Oh my God," Firestar groans, throwing her hands up. "You clearly have an unhealthy relationship with her. Who gets mad at someone and then sends them the most thoughtful Christmas present ever like you did?"
"She's been through a lot," I mutter, dropping onto the couch.
Mystique moves behind me, her blue fingers trailing across my shoulders. The touch sends electricity down my spine despite my exhaustion.
"I wouldn't put it past her to plant a seed deep in your mind," she says, her voice low and dangerous near my ear. "Something to make sure you never stop thinking about her."
A chill runs through me that has nothing to do with her touch. "Is that what's happening to me?"
Mystique circles around the couch, her face twisting with jealousy before she masks it. "Yes, I'm almost positive."
"Fuck." The possibility that Emma's still in my head, controlling my thoughts from a distance, makes my stomach churn. "Do you know anyone who can fix me?"
Mystique scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "Probably only Xavier, or that weird red-headed guy."
"Fuck..." I repeat as I rub my temples, feeling a headache building behind my eyes.
Mystique leans forward, her yellow eyes gleaming with something predatory as she places her blue hands on my knees. "Give me some time, and I bet I can make you forget all about Frost."
I stare at Mystique's blue hands on my knees while I proccess. And if Mystique's right about this...
I shake my head. "No, that won't work."
I reach for my phone on the coffee table, my fingers closing around it with sudden determination.
"What are you doing?" Mystique asks, her voice suddenly sharp.
"I'm calling Gene," I say, already scrolling through my contacts.
Mystique's reaction is immediate. She lunges forward, her blue hand shooting out to grab my wrist. "Why the hell would you call him?"
"Because someone once told me that the only good telepaths stronger than Emma are Gene and Xavier." I pull my arm back, keeping my phone out of her reach. "And while Gene definitely hates my guts, he'll help me. He's too self-righteous not to."
"We don't need to call him," Mystique insists, her voice rising with something that sounds almost like panic. She makes another grab for my phone. "He'll just root around in your head and be a complete asshole about it."
"Oh, for sure he will," I agree, standing up to keep my distance from her. "But he'll also erase whatever Emma left behind. And right now, that's what matters most."
I turn to Magik, who's been watching our exchange with that calculating look she gets. "Magik, would you be willing to…"
"I'm not a school bus," she interrupts, her Russian accent thicker with irritation. "Gene can get his own damn ride here."
Before I can respond, she storms off down the hallway, her bedroom door slamming with enough force to rattle the pictures on our walls.
I stare after her, completely baffled. "What the hell? Why is she mad?"
"I actually think this is a good idea," Firestar says, stepping closer. "If Emma's really in your head, we need someone who can get her out."
Mystique's entire body goes rigid at Firestar's words. I watch her blue face twist with something that looks like genuine panic before she regains control. Without warning, she springs up from her position and moves with startling speed toward Firestar.
Before I can ask what she's doing, Mystique leans in close, her lips nearly touching Firestar's ear as she whispers something I can't hear. Whatever it is, the effect is immediate. Firestar's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, and a deep crimson blush spreads across her cheeks, clashing spectacularly with her copper-red hair.
"I'm not…" Firestar starts to protest, then abruptly stops. Her gaze darts to me, something like embarrassment and horror mingling in her expression. She swallows hard, the blush deepening to an almost impossible shade of red.
"Maybe Gene wouldn't be such a great idea after all," she mumbles, suddenly finding the floor absolutely fascinating.
I stare between them, baffled by this one-eighty. "What could she have possibly whispered to you that made you switch sides so quickly?"
"Nothing!" Firestar practically shouts, her hair igniting with tiny flames that match her flushed face. "It's nothing!"
Mystique just stands there with a smug smile, those yellow eyes gleaming with triumph.
I look between them one more time, then shake my head firmly. "I'm calling Gene."