When Scott Met Annie

Chapter 1: Farewell to Frost

"You're not leaving."

It wasn't a question, and the way Emma said it honestly just had Scott madder. It was more of a command than anything like a please or a question. But then, that was how it always went. She told him how it was going to be — and he was tired of listening.

He didn't turn her way fully as he gestured to the bag slung over his shoulder with one eyebrow raised over the top of his ruby quartz glasses. "Yeah, I am."

She looked absolutely livid, and he recognized the expression from so many years of watching her look down her nose at so many other people — even him. It was the anger, the feeling that she had been wronged because she didn't get what she wanted. Forget the fact that he had stopped feeling good about what they were trying to do, forget that he felt ashamed every time he watched the news broadcasts, forget that every time he got a second to think — to really think — he knew he'd screwed up, betrayed everything he was supposed to stand for.

But never mind any of that. Emma Frost wanted what she wanted — and what she wanted was to run this faction of X-Men with Scott.

She shifted the way she was standing, her eyes still narrowed but her stance a little more... open. It was a trick she'd pulled on him enough times that he knew what it was, and if he'd been in a little more of a forgiving mood, it might even have worked. There was no denying that Emma was attractive. He couldn't deny it, not when she knew it. She knew exactly what he liked about her, too, and on more occasions than he could count, she would do exactly this — an open invitation.

A distraction.

"Are you going to stop me?" he asked, still not fully turned her way, and she dropped her shoulders, annoyance flashing in her eyes when she saw that he wasn't going to give her the kind of attention she wanted. He could feel her pricking at the corners of his mind already, since her attempt to pull his gaze on her own clearly needed a little extra help.

She recoiled her telepathic touch from his mind when she felt the raw anger there. He wasn't going to hide it; he hated when she did this, when she pressed into his mind without asking, when she tried to make him fall at her feet. He'd had enough, and he was done letting her get away with it.

She met his gaze, and he honestly wasn't sure how much of the hurt he saw there was an act. He never knew. It was impossible to tell. She knew he couldn't stand to see her hurt — at least, that had been the case for so long that she had long ago learned to take advantage of it. But if she expected him to come rushing to her, hold her in his arms and promise he wouldn't go — like he'd done every other time before — she didn't understand at all.

He was done.

He glared her way once more before he finally turned on his heel, slamming the door behind him as he went.

Where will you go?

He let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He'd been waiting for that. He didn't know what took her so long — if it was just the shock that her usual tricks weren't working or if she thought she'd wait until he was a little less angry. But he could hear it all the way through her telepathic message: the accusation. The sneer she tried to hide but never could, not entirely.

That's none of your business, he told her, his hands in fists at his side as he stalked toward the front door, past a few X-Men who were at least smart enough to stay out of the way of any argument between Scott and Emma. There had been plenty lately. He was so done with all of it.

They won't take you back, she projected out to him.

And there it was.

He knew she was probably right. He couldn't take back any of what he'd done, the stupidity that had split his friends — his family — apart. He couldn't even blame it entirely on her, no matter how badly he wanted to. He couldn't blame the Phoenix, couldn't blame anything but himself and his own pig-headed stupidity. If he went back to Westchester, he wouldn't be surprised at all if the only thing waiting for him there was a fight.