Title: Fragile
Fandom: Generation X (X-Men)
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Sean/Emma
Rating: Soft R/M
Summary: He knows she's fragile, but so, too, is his sense of keeping calm... and keeping another woman from ripping him to shreds!
Word Count: 1,378
Written For: Fan FlashWorks 389: Fragile
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.








She was fragile. She acted as though no one could see it -- she believed they could not, that she hid it perfectly as she always had --, but he had seen her tears. He remembered how she had cried when she had awakened to find her beloved Hellions destroyed, slaughtered in a bloodbath in an act of nothing more than vengeance that had been aimed at her. He remembered, when he saw her beautiful, blue eyes have that faraway, despondent look of memory and swirling emotions come over them, how much his own heart had ached for her in those moments. How very different she was from the woman almost everyone else loved to hate, or at least it seemed like they did. He remembered how his own heart still ached for her.

His own fiancé could not stand her. Moira constantly berated Charles for having chosen Emma as his co-headmistress. She abhorred the idea that such a hoor -- her words behind closed doors, never his -- worked so closely day and night with her husband-to-be. Sean could overlook that anger and prejudice, because he knew it had to be hard for her. Emma was such a beautiful -- no, honestly, that word came short to describing her beautiful -- She was a glorious piece of womanhood! But Moira was his woman. She was the one to whom he had devoted himself, and he would always stay true to her.

It still hurt, however, to hear the others speak of Emma in the ways they did. Oh, of course, she pretended not to care, but everyone in a while, he'd witness the telltale flicker in her eyes. Even more seldomly, she'd broadcast a thought into his mind in the psychic link they so often used when teaching, guarding, and protecting the children. She didn't know why Charles had chosen her for this job any more than Lady Moira did, but he did. He understood.

After all, he himself had been a villain when Charles had first reached out to him. He could have easily gone the way of his brother if Charles had not cared, if he had not worked with him over the years. This wasn't just a test for Emma -- it was a test for him as well. It was a test to see not just how much he could do to guard and cultivate the children but for her as well. He was a redeemed villain. Could he do the same for a known liar, murderer, and yes, even prostitute?

He doubted it quite often, especially when he had Moira yelling at him over the wires to stay away from Emma and only work with her. He couldn't do that. He shouldn't have to do it! He'd not picked the woman after all; Charles had. Beyond that, Moira and Charles were still friends after all these years -- he'd never asked her, nor would he, to end her friendship with a man they both admired --, and they'd almost been wed! Why, if they had not, if she had not sequestered herself away on Muir Isle to find a bloody cure long before she'd actually contracted the virus, he may well never have proposed to her himself! She might have very well have married ol' Charlie instead, and although the two would never have settled down, they might well have been in it for the long run with a passel of kids. They already shared one boy after all, no matter how crazy that poor child had ended up turning out.

He sighed, looking down at the tray in his hands. It wasn't fair. It really wasn't fair. If Moira had stayed with Charles instead of locking herself away to find the cure, she might even have never come down with the bloody virus herself. But he'd learned over the years to be a man of honor. When everything else was said and done, when the history books were being written long after bodies were cold and decomposed down into the ground, the only thing a bloke had left was his honor.

The rose was too much, he thought, but he hadn't plucked it himself. Jono had, almost as though he knew what today was. He'd seen him chatting with Bumpkin in the garden earlier, before he'd come and made the suggestion that Sean give the rose to Emma. He'd assured him he'd take the blame, if anything was said (even though that was bound to upset young Miss Guthrie) for they both knew Moira would have his guts if she ever learned he'd given the White Queen a rose. Blimey, she'd already tried to demand his job far too many times --

Had Bumpkin told him? Sean wondered, giving his head a firm shake. It wasn't like the old butler to speak of his employer's secrets. He loved Emma. He'd never known anyone else who thought so highly of their employer, but Emma had saved him from a life in the sewers, just as she'd fought so hard over the years to free all other endangered mutants upon which she'd come, especially those who did not have another soul to fight for them. He remembered her records, remembered how her own parents had shut her away in a mental asylum when she'd come into her powers and refused to just be another Frost child doing their bidding. She'd stood up for herself, and for her brothers, and her parents had locked her away, later being revealed to have been mutants all along themselves.

He gave himself another firm shake. Emma's family was just about as bloody messed up as his, but it wouldn't do to allow her to catch him reminiscing about the things he'd read on her. He'd certainly done his research, too, since Charles had partnered them together and knew more than most just how much the White Queen, or the Frost Queen as most of the kids called her behind her back, genuinely cared. He knew, too, that she feared she cared far too much and that caring would only lead her to being hurt again or, worse, more deaths.

His fingers tightened around the silver tray for a moment, his teeth grinding. He'd never allow that to happen -- not to her or to these children! If Charles had meant to find someone who would fight to the death for her and these kids, which Sean knew he had, he'd certainly found the right person!

Forcing himself to calm, Sean counted to ten in his head before removing a hand from the tray and knocking on Emma's door. He'd half expected to find her waiting, angry at him that he'd been brooding on her, but instead, at first, there was no answer. On the third note, her voice finally blasted him mentally: GO AWAY

"Come on, Em. Ye haven't eaten all day." Silence. "I made supper." More silence. "Th' kids thought I should bring it tae ye. Jono even sent a rose." When she still did not respond again, he sighed, his shoulder sagging, "I can leave it out here fer ye if'n ye want." He started to bend to lay the tray outside her door.

That was when her bedroom door finally opened. Suddenly, Sean found himself eye-level with her slender waist and the core of womanhood he knew pulsed red-hot right underneath the sheer, slim fabric of her silk sheet. He bolted back upright, the top of his head almost connecting with her breasts. She was completely naked beneath her sheet, but as bright, red color filled his face, he saw the bright red of her eyes and knew instantly that she'd been crying. It wasn't surprising, given what day it was.

He held out the platter. "Here, lass. Ye need tae eat somethin'."

"Why, thank you, Mister Cassidy." She smiled as though she'd not been spending the last several hours crying, grieving for her first team of students. "Are you sure I can't offer you a night cap?"

"Absolutely." He thrust the tray at her and all but ran the moment she accepted it. At least that should get some food down the fiery, glorious woman, but Glory Be if Moira ever found out!



The End