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Three years and one month ago,
‘Hello, Charles. My name is Emma Frost, and you and I have a great deal to talk about.’
There was silence.
Then Charles narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth.
‘I don’t know what game you are playing, Miss Frost,’ he said coldly in a tone that would have made his mother proud, ‘but the only thing that you and I have to discuss is location of my sister and then the direction of the nearest exit.’ He narrowed his eyes, hoping that he looked braver than he felt, ‘Anything else, I believe, had best be taken up in the presence of the police.’
He was somewhat discomfited when, instead of quailing under the force of his imperious stare, Miss Frost smiled.
‘You have character,’ she said in a tone that was almost approving, ‘I can’t say I was expecting that.’
The words surprised Charles, who frowned in puzzlement.
‘I beg your pardon?’ he said hesitantly, wondering if he had heard wrong.
But Miss Frost was already speaking, her tone thoughtful.
‘That being said,’ she mused reflectively, ‘if you had anything less he wouldn’t want you so very badly. Anything less and you probably would have already succumbed.’ She hummed at that and took another long look at Charles. ‘No,’ she murmured, ‘no, I was wrong to have supposed that you were merely a pretty face.’
Charles didn’t have the slightest clue what it was that she was talking about but even so he felt a slight flush rise in his cheeks and he found himself fighting the urge to squirm in his chair like some sort of recalcitrant schoolboy. He quickly shook himself and sat up straighter in his seat. He had faced down his mother at the height of her cold severity and countless others of the same ilk; he would be damned before he cowered before this woman.
‘Miss Frost,’ he said sharply, his impatience only just concealing his uneasiness, ‘I really must ask you to release me at once. You have no right to detain me here and I am certain that the police-’
‘The police, Charles?’ Miss Frost interrupted, her voice light, ‘You would really want to bring the police into this? Or ought I to remind you that it is you that was caught breaking into our facility in the dead of night?’
Charles’s face went red at that and he began to sputter indignantly.
‘Yes, but that is only because-’ he started, only to be cut off once more.
‘I am sure that – the breaking and entering charges aside – the police would be greatly interested to know just why a respected scientist such as yourself would be breaking into a heavily-guarded, top-secret laboratory at such a time,’ Emma continued musingly, her light and pleasant tone more suited to a garden party than the current circumstances. ‘I think that we can be reasonably sure that the words “industrial espionage” would crop up at some point …’
‘Stop it,’ Charles snapped angrily, but the slight tremor in his voice gave away his anxiety. ‘You’re being ridiculous. You know very well that I don’t care about your professional secrets.’
‘I’m afraid that’s not how the police would see it, sugar,’ Emma said, not even attempting to sound sympathetic. ‘I don’t think a judge would be too keen on it, either. And while the Xavier name may command a lot of respect in some circles, I’m afraid it won’t hold a candle against the Foundation’s reputation.’
Charles’s hands tightened into fists, torn between anger and fear. He forced himself to remain calm, however, as he turned to Emma in appeal.
‘Please,’ he said, low and restrained and earnest, ‘I don’t want to cause any trouble. I just – I want my sister back, Miss Frost. I need her back. I have to find her and I can’t – I won’t stop until I do … She means everything to me.’ There was a pause before he uttered the next sentence, the words coming out heavy yet resolute, ‘And if getting her back means going up against the Shaw Foundation, then – I must.’
If he didn’t know better, he would have said that Miss Frost softened ever so slightly at that, but when he blinked her face was just as cold and marble-like as ever.
‘You do realise that any such action would be futile?’ she asked with a slight tilt of the head. ‘That there is really nothing that you can do to stop the Foundation?’
Charles swallowed but made himself sit up straighter in his seat.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said firmly, shaking his head, ‘I still have to try. She’s my sister.’ A flicker of pain crossed his face and he took a deep breath before looking back up at his captor. ‘Now, will you please release me, Miss Frost, and let me on my way?’
Emma regarded him for a moment, a thoughtful look on her face.
‘No,’ she said.
Charles stared at her.
‘I beg your pardon?’ he asked, baffled.
‘I said no, Mr. Xavier. We will not be releasing you,’ Frost smiled thinly, ‘Well – not just yet, at any rate.’
‘Will you be calling the police?’ Charles demanded, half wanting the answer to be in the positive even as he dreaded such a thing. ‘Is that what we’re waiting for?’
Emma cocked her head to the side and contemplated him for a moment.
‘No,’ she said decisively. ‘No, I don’t think that we ought to get the police involved, do you?’
‘But-’ Charles sputtered. ‘Then I’m not sure that I understand. Why am I here?’
Emma raised an eyebrow.
‘That is the question, isn’t it, Mr. Xavier?’ she asked lightly. ‘For the moment, though, the reason you are here is, as I said before, to talk. Just talk, nothing more.’
‘I very much doubt that we have a great deal to say to one another,’ Charles said tightly, gritting his teeth. ‘If this is about my research, Miss Frost, then I will sadly have to inform you-’
‘Oh, no,’ Emma waved him away impatiently, ‘You have it quite wrong. You see, Professor, we don’t want you to talk to us. We are the ones that want to talk to you.’
Charles was silent for a moment.
‘I can’t imagine that you have anything to say that I want to hear,’ he said at last. ‘Not if it hasn’t got anything to do with Raven.’
Emma smiled.
‘We will get to that shortly,’ she said pleasantly. ‘All in good time. But I must confess myself surprised - surely your curiosity is not so restricted as all that, Professor? Surely you want to know more?’
Charles’s eyes narrowed. ‘More about what?’ he asked her suspiciously.
Emma’s eyes gleamed.
‘You are in the heart of the Shaw Foundation headquarters, Mr. Xavier,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘I am sure that you’d have a million questions, if only you could put your mind to it.’ She paused for a moment, as if to allow Charles time to think, before continuing, ‘I believe, for instance, that you would like to know what it is that the Shaw Foundation actually does. Am I right?’
Charles, his expression wary, slowly nodded his head.
‘Well then, let me explain,’ Emma said easily. ‘We at the Shaw Foundation are dedicated to maximising the potential of the average human being and building on his natural abilities in any way that we can, whether it be through physical development and augmentation, or through the mental and neurological.’ Her eyes flicked up to meet Charles’s. ‘I am sure that I have no need to add that we have naturally been immensely successful in all of our remits.’
Charles, who had been listening carefully, narrowed his eyes.
‘So what are you saying?’ he asked slowly, his eyes fixed steadily on Emma. ‘That you are creating some sort of super-soldier?’
Emma smiled.
‘That, indeed, is but one small part of our goals,’ she admitted with a gracious nod of her head. ‘But only a small part, dear Professor. The idea of the super-soldier is very old-fashioned, after all – quaint, if you will. No, our interests these days lie more in the neurological.’ She paused. ‘Tell me, Charles, have you ever heard of the Dollhouse?’
Charles stared. Then he let out a bark of laughter.
‘You’ve got to be joking!’ he scoffed.
Emma just sat there and watched him, looking completely unperturbed by his laughter. She waited for him to fall silent before continuing.
‘Why?’ she asked in a calm, reasonable tone of voice. ‘Why must I be joking?’
Charles looked at her in surprise.
‘Well, it’s-’ he tried to shrug but was hampered by the cuffs tethering him. ‘It’s preposterous!’ he said at last, shaking his head. ‘It’s like something out of science-fiction! The very idea that there are men and women out there who can be programmed like computers-’
‘Like Dolls, Mr. Xavier,’ Emma coolly interrupted him, ‘programmed like Dolls.’
Charles opened his mouth but nothing came out.
‘You can’t be serious,’ he said after a moment, his disbelief slowly fading and giving way to a sudden chill. ‘This is – you just can’t.’
Emma raised an eyebrow.
‘I am being completely serious,’ she said coolly. ‘The Dollhouse exists, Charles, and we are currently in it. Well,’ she amended, completely ignoring Charles’s flabbergasted expression, ‘One of them, anyway.’
‘One of ….’ Charles shook his head, ‘Are you saying that all of those rumours I’ve been hearing about the Dollhouse are true? And that there’s more than one of them?’
Emma’s smile turned catlike.
‘Well, I wouldn’t say all of them,’ she drawled, giving him a conspiratorial look. ‘That one about us having actually taken over the world by turning every single human being in existence into a Doll without their knowledge is, of course, complete hokum.’ Her expression turned thoughtful. ‘At least, I think it is …’ She then shook her head and was once more her business-like self. ‘But as for the parts about us being an organisation that programs the minds of young men and women to be whatever we want them to be? Well – that part is true.’
Charles recoiled.
‘That’s – that’s insane!’ he burst out before he could stop himself, his eyes wide. ‘Completely and utterly insane! Worse than that – it’s wrong! It’s experimenting on human beings! It’s – it’s kidnapping and – and prostitution, and-’ he looked at Emma with wide, horrified eyes. ‘Do they even consent? Can they consent?’
Emma was regarding him patiently, not seeming in the least bit put out by Charles’s horror and disgust.
‘Of course they consent,’ she said coolly after Charles had quietened. ‘I know what you may think of us, Mr. Xavier, but we are not monsters. We do have a strict standard of ethics here that we follow very closely.’ Something flickered in her expression. ‘Unless, of course, it is necessary to do otherwise. But I assure you, every single one of our Actives – that is to say, our Dolls – has agreed to be where they are now.’
Charles couldn’t stop himself from scoffing at that.
‘I can’t say I believe that,’ he said grimly, shaking his head. ‘I can’t see why anyone in their right mind would sign away their lives – sign away their bodies, their minds – and do so voluntarily.’
Emma raised an eyebrow.
‘Can you not, Mr. Xavier?’ she asked sweetly.
But Charles was paying no attention to her tone.
‘No,’ he said resolutely. ‘There must be something else. There’s agreement, and then there is agreement under duress. No one sane would agree to what you are asking them to do. No one.’
Emma looked thoughtful.
‘It’s true what you say,’ she said, sitting back in her chair, ‘And it’s true that we only choose to make our offer to those who are in … very particular circumstances. But believe me when I say, Charles,’ here she looked at him pointedly, ‘that the majority of our contracts were signed without hesitation or regret and that, even whilst fully comprehending what they were signing up for, each one of our Actives found our offer infinitely more attractive and desirable than their alternatives.’
Charles swallowed. His tightly-wound control was beginning to unravel and he was becoming all too aware of the thunderous beating of his heart. At any other time he might have greatly desired to know more but now he just felt sick and scared and exhausted.
‘Why are you telling me this?’ he asked desolately, balling his hands into fists. ‘I don’t understand – what are you getting at? Why is this even relevant?’
Emma paused at that and looked at Charles with an almost sympathetic expression on her face.
‘Charles,’ she said quietly, ‘I think you already know.’
Charles’s mouth was dry. He licked his lips nervously but there didn’t seem to be any moisture anywhere in his mouth.
‘But it’s not-’ he started haltingly. ‘She wouldn’t-’ He swallowed.
Emma watched him emotionlessly.
Charles licked his lips and tried again.
‘If you’re trying to tell me that my sister – that Raven – is somehow involved … that she agreed to something like this, then you are out of your mind. Completely and utterly barking.’
Still Emma watched him, unmoving.
‘No,’ Charles shook his head resolutely, trying to prevent his heart from sinking, ‘No, I won’t believe it. Raven’s – she’s Raven. She wouldn’t agree to anything like this. Not without-’ he swallowed, ‘Not without telling me first.’
Emma made a humming noise low in her throat. ‘Perhaps,’ she said delicately, her eyelashes lowered, ‘you don’t know your sister as well as you thought you did.’
Charles’s lips twisted into a grimace. That much, it seemed, was now obvious.
‘So that’s it then,’ he said dully, ‘This is where she has been all this time. Kept here and brainwashed and made to-’ he barely contained the dry sob that had risen up in his throat ‘-made to do god knows what in the meantime. Is that it?’
Emma watched him carefully before dipping her head in a nod.
‘She has been safe,’ she said quietly. It didn’t make Charles feel any better – nor was it meant to – but the words still held some sort of reassurance. ‘She has not been exposed to any sort of harm, I promise you. She knows nothing and feels nothing. When her contract ends she will be none the wiser … it will be like none of this ever happened.’
Charles let out a choked laugh.
‘Her contract … and when will that be?’
‘Five years,’ Emma answered softly, and Charles closed his eyes in pain. ‘Each contract that we make is for five years. Miss Darkholme has only covered a few months of that time so far.’
‘There must be a way out of this,’ Charles said, shaking his head and desperately trying not to think of what they were making his sister – his sweet, baby sister – do in the name of the Dollhouse. ‘I’ll do anything – I’ll keep quiet, I’ll do as you ask - I will pay you anything you want – just let her go. Please let Raven go.’
But Emma was shaking her head.
‘I am sorry,’ she said, and her mouth was drawn up tightly even if her face gave nothing else away, ‘But I am afraid that I cannot do that. The Shaw Foundation is not in need of money and in any case, an Active is worth far more to us than … well, most things. I am sorry, Charles, but there is nothing that I can do.’
Charles was on the verge of despair when Emma’s eyes suddenly lifted up to meet his own, and he felt his heart begin to beat faster.
‘There is nothing I can do,’ Emma repeated slowly, eyes all but drilling into Charles, ‘Unless …’ She paused.
Charles’s fingernails were now digging viciously into his palms and the desk was cutting into his sternum as he pressed himself against the table, leaning forward in desperate anticipation.
Emma watched him, an odd sort of expression on her face. She sighed then, and briefly closed her eyes. When she opened them she was once again cold and distant, seemingly as void of emotion as an ice sculpture.
‘I will make you an offer, Charles,’ she said, her eyes fixed upon his. ‘But you ought to know that this is not something that I do everyday. Nor do I do it lightly.’ She paused. ‘It just so happens that our … needs coincide at this point in time. So I will make you a deal, Charles – and bear in mind that this is the only way that your sister will be able to leave us for the next four and a half years.’
Charles was already nodding, prepared to do anything for the return of his sister.
‘As I said before,’ Emma said calmly, ‘Our Actives are our most valued assets. Each Active is worth more to us than the collected fortunes of a small country. The only thing that would make any transaction worthwhile,’ and here her eyes were once again boring deep into Charles and her next words were said in clear and deliberate tones, ‘would be a trade of equal value.’
A slight crease appeared on Charles’s forehead even as something in his gut twisted unpleasantly.
‘A trade of equal value …’ he repeated slowly, a frown on his face.
‘Yes,’ Emma said softly. ‘Value for value. Like for like.’ She paused. ‘Active for Active.’
Charles’s blood ran cold.
‘You want someone to replace her?’ he choked out, feeling horrified. ‘You want someone else to take her place?’
Emma stared back at him, unperturbed and unblinking.
‘That is up to you,’ she said evenly. ‘I am merely giving you an option.’
Charles licked his lips, trying to calm himself. A few things were beginning to click into place now.
‘Me,’ he rasped out, his voice dry, ‘You want – you are suggesting that I should exchange myself for my sister.’
Emma’s expression did not alter.
Charles ran a hand over his face, squeezing his eyes tightly together.
‘This is madness,’ he breathed. ‘I – I love my sister, but what you are asking – what you are asking is too much. It’s – five years!’
‘Four years and eight months,’ Emma corrected him.
A hysterical laugh bubbled out of Charles’s throat at that.
‘I’m not sure that makes a difference,’ he said, the laugh suddenly changing into a sob. ‘Five years … why would Raven agree to such a thing?’
Emma met his eyes.
‘For you,’ she said quietly. ‘She agreed to do it for you.’ She waited patiently as Charles let out something that could have been a sob of despair. ‘She would probably have agreed even otherwise – the prison sentence for breaking into our facility is not a light one, I can tell you – but what really clinched it was the idea that by doing so, she had ruined your reputation and career. After all, what on earth would people say if they found out that the sister of the notable scientist Charles Xavier was caught breaking into the offices of his rivals?’
Charles almost jerked to his feet at that, but his constraints stopped him.
‘You – you …’ he was trembling all over. ‘You used me! You used me to get to her, and now you are doing the same in reverse! Is this how you do business, Miss Frost?’ he spat, ‘By cold-hearted manipulation? With blackmail and threats and emotional duress?’
Emma’s expression immediately turned dark.
‘No, Mr. Xavier,’ she said crisply, and there was an almost bitter look in her eye. ‘No, it is most certainly not.’ She grimaced then. ‘Not usually.’
‘Then why us?’ Charles broke out, looking completely bewildered and unhappy. ‘Why are – why are you doing this?’
Emma only looked back at him, her face a mask that gave away nothing.
‘You need to make a decision, Mr. Xavier,’ she said quietly, looking straight at him. ‘The time to do so is quickly passing.’
‘But it’s not fair,’ Charles whispered, eyes wide and blue and full of misery. ‘It’s not – surely there is some other way!’
But Emma shook her head, cutting off any such hopes.
‘Active for Active,’ she reminded him. ‘Contract for contract.’
Charles swallowed and closed his eyes tight.
‘But five years,’ he muttered, feeling almost suffocated, ‘Five years – surely there is some way … Can it not be lessened?’
Emma’s expression was stern.
‘Four years and eight months,’ she repeated in a monotone. ‘That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.’
Charles opened his mouth, shaking his head in disbelief. Deep in his heart, he knew what his decision would be – he had always known it – but even so he could not bring himself to give in quite so easily.
‘This isn’t-’ he shook his head, trying to deny everything that he had heard, ‘this can’t be real, it just can’t – it’s practically a form of slavery, for God’s sake!’
Miss Frost seemed not to have heard him.
‘Mr. Xavier, I must ask you to make your decision,’ she said steadily.
Charles felt himself beginning to panic.
‘But – I need time!’ he protested, a bead of sweat running down his brow. ‘You can’t just ask me – five years!’
‘Mr. Xavier …’
‘I need time to think, I need time to decide! I-’
‘Now, Charles,’ Emma said firmly, cutting him off before he could go any further. ‘I will give you to the count of three.’
Charles’s jaw dropped open.
‘But this is ludicrous!’ he said with a painfully weak laugh. ‘I can’t just decide in that small space of-‘
‘One.’
‘Oh, honestly, don’t be ridiculous!’ Charles stammered, his heart thundering in his chest. ‘This can’t be legal, I mean, think about it-’
‘Two.’
‘But this is madness! I need more time! I need to think things through and-’
‘Thr-’
‘Wait!’
Emma paused, her mouth still slightly open, as if waiting to finish the syllable.
‘I’ll do it!’ Charles gasped out, his throat tight and the breath heavy in his chest. ‘God damn you, but I’ll do it.’
Emma smiled.
There was a pause.
Then Emma raised her right hand and clicked her fingers.
Charles had barely a moment in which to be bewildered before the door opened and in walked a bland, unobtrusive man carrying a sheaf of papers. He carefully set them down on the table before turning to Miss Frost, who nodded once. The man then turned to Charles and, face still as blank as ever, proceeded to unlock the cuffs from around Charles’s wrists. That done, he once again nodded to Miss Frost before turning and walking out of the door.
Emma waited until the door was shut behind him before turning to the papers in front of her.
‘This is your contract,’ she said briskly. ‘I took the liberty of having it drawn up shortly after I knew of your presence here. I think you will find everything in order.’
Charles, who was rubbing his wrists dazedly, just blinked at her.
‘Read it over,’ Emma said pleasantly, pushing the papers over to him. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll let you take your time.’
Slowly, Charles straightened up, hesitating before he reached over and pulled the papers towards him. They were made of a thick, expensive parchment, the like of which one rarely saw anymore. At any other time, Charles would have been intrigued by this fact but now it only made him feel sick.
He closed his eyes and tried to will the nausea down. There was no point putting this off, he told himself. He had already agreed to it. There was nothing else to be done. He had to do this, for Raven’s sake.
Nerve restored, he opened his eyes.
Then, taking a deep breath, he turned to look down at the papers and began to read.