The house hasn't changed at all, still the same pristine white paint job, same perfect lawn, same stone path leading to the front door. Like a fucking museum exhibit of suburban success. My knuckles turn white around Jubilee's dice bag as I stare across the street at the place where my childhood went to die.
A short plane ride and here I am, standing on my old street in Boston on Christmas Day. No sleep, just a belly full of rage and enough cash in my pocket to get me anywhere I could want to go. December's wind slashes at my skin, but I barely feel it. All I can feel is the hate bubbling up inside me like magma, threatening to blow the top off a volcano I've kept dormant for too long.
After everything that happened with Mystique, after seeing Jubilee's dice, something inside me snapped. I needed to go somewhere, anywhere, and somehow my feet carried me right back to hell.
I take a deep breath and start walking toward the door, each step heavier than the last. My mind's racing through all the things I'm going to do. I crack my knuckles, the small popping sound somehow grounding me as my rage builds with every step.
Just before I reach the street, an arm snakes out and grabs me.
I whip around, fist already cocked back, ready to destroy whoever's trying to stop me, and freeze.
Emma stands there, her platinum blonde hair whipping in the December wind, those ice-blue eyes boring into mine.
"Emma?" My voice cracks. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"I missed you." Her grip on my arm is gentle but firm.
Something in me breaks at the sight of her. All that rage, all that hatred I've been carrying suddenly crashes against a wall of pure emotion. Before I can stop myself, I'm pulling her into a hug so tight it might hurt her if she weren't Emma Frost.
"Emma, I feel so angry right now," I whisper into her hair, my voice trembling like a child's. "So fucking angry."
Her arms wrap around me, solid and real in a world that feels like it's spinning out of control. She doesn't push me away or tell me to pull myself together. She just holds me.
"I know, Jack," she says softly, one hand moving up to stroke my hair. "I know."
Her fingers thread through my hair in slow, soothing motions as we stand there on the sidewalk, probably looking like complete lunatics to anyone watching from their perfect Christmas windows. But I don't care. The rage inside me is battling with something else now, something that feels dangerously close to breakdown.
"So you came to Boston to kill your parents, huh?" she asks, her voice so calm she might as well be asking about the weather.
That does it. The dam breaks. I'm crying against her shoulder, ugly heaving sobs that rack my entire body. All that careful control I've maintained for years just shatters.
"I got these dice," I choke out, fumbling in my pocket to show her Jubilee's gift, "and then I felt like I couldn't breathe. Like the walls were closing in. So I went outside and I walked and walked and walked, and I started thinking about what I want most in the world."
Emma keeps massaging my scalp, saying nothing, just listening as I fall apart in her arms.
"First I thought maybe I wanted family, you know? That's what I always tell myself. Then I thought…" I swallow hard, forcing myself to continue, "I thought maybe I am in love with Emma Frost after all, so maybe I should go see you."
Her hand pauses briefly in my hair before resuming its gentle rhythm.
"I considered getting a taxi to the mansion, but then one other thought kept breaking through everything else." My voice drops to a whisper. "What do I want more than anything in the whole world?"
I pull back slightly, needing to see her face.
"It's true I want a family. It's true I want to be with you. But more than all of that…" My voice hardens, "I want to kill my parents so fucking badly, Emma. I hate them. I hate them so much it burns inside me, and I hate that Cassian Nova killed Jubilee, and I hate that I can't kill him. But I can kill my parents, Emma. They're right there."
I gesture wildly toward the house, my voice rising with each word.
"It would be so easy. I'm so much stronger than they are now. They couldn't even stop me."
Emma's face remains calm, her eyes holding mine steadily. No judgment, no shock, just quiet understanding.
"They're not your real parents, Jack," she says gently.
Something wild and desperate erupts from my chest.
"They're good enough!" I yelp, the words tearing from my throat. "Just because I'm from another world doesn't matter! These parents were probably just as bad. This is the best I can do!"
I'm shaking now, my hands balled into fists at my sides.
"I need to kill them, Emma," I plead, my voice cracking. "I have to."
Emma takes my face in her hands, her touch cool against my feverish skin. "No, you don't," she says firmly. "That's not who you are, Jack."
"But I have killed people, Emma," I choke out, the words burning my throat like acid. "So many U-Women. Tiana Shaw. Those two people attacking your academy. What's two more? What's the fucking difference?"
Emma's face softens as she holds my gaze. "That's completely different, Jack. Those were all acts of self-defense or protecting others. You were saving lives."
I stare at her, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Her words sink into me slowly, like water into parched earth.
"Listen. I'm not trying to stop you because I particularly care if they live or die. Frankly, I couldn't care less about those monsters who hurt you. I'm stopping you because I don't think it will be good for you."
Her hands move to my shoulders, steadying me. "And you probably don't remember right now because you're such a beautiful mess, but a certain patient of mine recently reminded me that I'm the number one therapist."
Despite everything, the rage, the pain, the overwhelming urge to burn my past to the ground, a laugh bubbles up from somewhere deep inside me. It sounds strange, almost foreign to my ears.
"You got the mug," I say, the corners of my mouth twitching up involuntarily.
"I did." Her smile is small but genuine. "It's sitting on my desk at this very moment, waiting for me to return."
I take a shuddering breath, feeling something inside me start to unravel. Not breaking, but loosening, like a knot being carefully undone.
"I don't know what to do with all this anger," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's eating me alive, Emma."
Emma's eyes soften, her hands still cupping my face like I'm something precious. "It doesn't have to be anger, Jack. You just need an outlet for all this emotion."
I stare at her, my breath catching in my throat. "I don't know how…"
"You already admitted you're madly in love with me," she interrupts, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "So give it to me. All of it. I'll take everything you have."
Before I can respond, she pulls me toward her, pressing her lips against mine. The kiss is deep, desperate, like she's trying to draw the poison from my soul. My hands find her waist automatically, pulling her closer as something shifts inside me, the rage transforming into something else entirely.
I lose myself in her, the world narrowing down to just this moment, just us. Her mouth is warm despite the December chill, her body solid and real against mine. The taste of her, mint and something uniquely Emma, washes through me, drowning out everything else.
When we finally break apart, I'm breathing hard, my forehead pressed against hers. The house across the street seems distant now, less important somehow.
"This fucking sucks."
The voice cuts through the moment like a knife. I pull away from Emma, heart still hammering in my chest, and turn to see where it came from.
Magik stands a few yards away, arms crossed. She looks completely out of place on this pristine suburban street in her black leather and armor, like a demon who took a wrong turn at the crossroads.
"Magik's here too?" I ask, my voice hoarse from all the crying.
Emma shrugs. "I had to get to you fast. I could sense what you were going to do all the way from New York." Her eyes flick to the house across the street, then back to me.
"Oh…"
Emma's hand finds mine, her fingers intertwining with my own. "Come on, let's get out of here," she says, tugging me gently away from the house that holds so many nightmares. "This place isn't worth another second of your time."
"Where are we going?" I ask, allowing her to lead me away, each step making the weight on my chest a little lighter.
Emma's ice-blue eyes meet mine, determination etched into her perfect features. "Back to the mansion. Where you belong."
I hesitate, thinking about the apartment in Mutant Town, about Firestar and Xorna and everything I've built there. "What about X-Factor? I made commitments there."
Emma's lips curve into that smile that always makes my pulse quicken, somehow both predatory and tender at once. "I'm not entirely convinced X-Factor is the right fit for you, Jack," she says, her British accent more pronounced as her voice drops to that silky register that seems to bypass my brain and go straight to my nervous system. "Besides," she adds, stepping closer until I can feel the warmth of her breath against my ear, "I've waited quite long enough to have you completely to myself, and I find my patience has finally reached its limit."
My breath catches in my throat. The implication is crystal clear, but somehow hearing it wrapped in her elegant phrasing makes it hit even harder. Heat floods my face as I stare at her, momentarily speechless.
"Oh for fuck's sake," Magik groans, rolling her eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't fall out of her head. "Can you two at least wait until we're back at the mansion before you start eye-fucking each other? It's freezing out here."
Emma's laugh is like silver bells in the winter air. "Jealousy doesn't become you, Illyana," she says without taking her eyes off me.
"Whatever," Magik mutters, frowning as she gives me one more longing look.