A Case of Mistaken Identity, Chapter 8 Disclaimer: The Xmen belong to Marvel, the Coda to Wildstorm, and the story to me. Liz had slept for most of the next day, and Emma had let her friend's body rest for almost 12 hours before she'd consented to ride into town with Remy on that thrice-damned contrivance of his... Liz might enjoy riding on that thing, but Emma was terrified of it, and Remy's lack of caution didn't improve her opinion of motorcycles whatsoever. What ever happened to a nice Rolls Royce or Maserati, for heaven's sake? Emma hated letting Remy think that it was Liz he was brunching with, but it had been a *very* long time since she'd had lunch with a handsome man, for no reason other than to simply go to lunch... It was a painful reminder of just how lonely she was, in her ice palace at the top of the corporate ladder. Of just what she missed in life... It certainly gave her food for thought, and to make up to Liz for missing lunch with her 'friend', Emma suggested that they hit that Cajun spot he'd been going on for the last week about, for supper... But while she was gone, Sir Henry McCoy had snuck into her boathouse quarters with the noblest and most honourable of intentions... He was careful searching for something personal, that would have what he needed to complete his tests. Since she was completely invisible to most of the Shi'ar ultra-tech that Xavier's infirmary and labs boasted, he would have to rely on old fashioned means to run tests on the fair Baroness Braddock. He didn't think she'd appreciate being asked to drop by for a blood sample and such for what he had in mind... He knew something was 'wrong' with her: she had chills in the climatically controlled environment of the lower levels, her appetite was not normal for the parameters established by her previous records, and not to mention that her body temperature was alarmingly low from what Storm and Remy both told him. In fact, it was Remy who'd come to him, after spending several days with her in the bonny Big Apple... She wore her hair draped into an charming chignon knot, but Remy had the opportunity to see the changes in her physiognomy, and his observations had led Hank to wonder if some latent part of her Otherworld heritage was finally manifesting itself... One simply did not grow pointed ears in the space of a few months, nor did one gain _blue_ blood from merely being related to the House of Windsor, and most of the rest of Europe's 'blue-blooded' royalty, for that matter! He wasn't going to say anything to Charles for the moment, the lovely lady simply wasn't his favourite topic when Illyana Rasputin appeared to be ailing with a disease that defied the advanced science the he deliberated over on a diurnal--and more, of late, nocturnal basis... And it was better that way. Lady Braddock was a sore point with Charles. He couldn't read her. Period. She had worked for SHIELD and had reputedly been a premier PsiCorp agent during her tenure. That meant she'd been taught by psychics other than His Baldness, which meant her mind was ostensibly inaccessible to him, much like Emma Frost. And anyone he couldn't read was a threat, particularly a telepath whose formidable faculties could withstand his 'inquires'... So many mysteries, and so little time to contemplate them all, he thought. He heard the throaty rumble of the Gambit's Harley, and took that as an advantageous warning to vacate the premises, before the daunting English- woman returned to her small domicile... Hank was content to return to the lab with the precious strands of amethyst hair he'd collected from her hairbrushes. A few of them should have live follicles with ample amounts of DNA for the Shi'ar lab equipment to examine, while the rest of it was analysed in more traditional Terran methodology. For now, Emma was content to return to the boathouse for a 'nap' after her late night session with Jeanne. That would ensure she and Liz had some privacy, and would content Remy's concerns for her 'bunkie'. She wanted to see for herself, what was going on inside of Lady Jeanne's head... She settled into a comfortable chair beside the ornate Victorian bed where the Duke of Suffolk's younger daughter and heir lay, apparently asleep... She slipped into the outer folds of Jeanne's mind, careful not to 'freeze' everything around her. She was content to let the Mindscape remain peaceful and snow-covered; but as soon she realised it was taking the form of a grave yard at midwinter, with a cold, remote silver moon overhead. It was darker than it looked, and far later than Emma realised when she encountered a redhead in shining, skintight leathers--in a style that reminded her of some of the--er--costumes she used to wear as White Queen... Emma was clad in white, as pristine as the silent snowy hills around them, and silver as the moon above. Her fur trimmed cloak flared in the breeze as she rested against a worn, unmarked marble tombstone. She would wait for the Avatar to notice her... She didn't have long to wait, though, as the dark mirror-image of Jeanne Grey approached her, extending her hand, as though she expected it to be kissed. <> Emma regarded her with cool sea-green eyes, and allowed herself her full measure of regal hauteur, <> She flipped her silver-blonde hair over her shoulders and slowly circled her new companion, measuring her with a detached expression she usually reserved for a new mare she might consider purchasing at Tattersall's in London. Madelyne was rattled by this ice pale woman who regarded her so...strangely. She couldn't put a name to the expression on the White Queen's face, nor to the tone of her mindvoice, but it chilled her and made her feel as though she were a schoolgirl being appraised by an unimpressed teacher... Elsewhere, Phoenix awoke in her room, sun streaming in through her windows to the east, with a funny feeling in the back of her head, She looked closer, trying to discern what stood just in the shadows, <...not so much IN the shadows, as OF them...slipping around my thought probes, somehow! Almost like oil through water, of all things...> She crawled out from under the covers, to the end of her bed, only to see a familiar woman with sea-green eyes and silver-blonde hair gazing at her. The future was here, now, in that room, Phoenix realised as she pushed her deep coppery hair out of her golden eyes. The White Queen's mere presence was a portent, a warning of tomorrows that might be, depending on her decisions of the present... Baroness Emma Frost, White Queen of the Hellfire Club, was no stranger to Phoenix...they'd battled on numerous occasions; but somehow, Emma was no threat. Not any more. She could feel it in her mind and her bones, but her psi-whisper wasn't particularly enlightening at first, <> Phoenix reached out to her, wondering who she referred to, <> Phoenix was a telepath, in fact, trained to delve directly and deeply into the mind of her choice, but the White Queen's mind was gone as suddenly as it appeared, in a flash of cold moonlight and a gust of icy winter wind that chilled her to the bone, leaving only a glimmer of truth for Phoenix in its wake... She tumbled off her bed, shivering as she hunted for her bathrobe and slippers. Back in the graveyard, Emma considered what had happened several years ago, when Manhattan had been turned into a veritable Dante's Inferno landscape, <> It was a statement, not a question. Maddie shivered as she felt a cool probe slip into her mind, and a howling gust of wind sent shivers through her as she dared to meet the White Queen's eyes, <> Emma snorted delicately, <> Maddie's eyes snapped open wide, as she registered something in shock, < Emma shrugged nonchalantly, her eyes boring into Maddie's as she weighed her attempts to breach her defenses, <> Maddie raised her hand, a tear sliding down her pale cheek <> Emma shook her head, <> Emma turned away from the Avatar with studied indifference, reminding Maddie of the Snow Queen she'd...Jeanne'd...read about in her fairy tales, the huge moon silhouetting her; making her appear to be one of the marble monuments for the briefest moment, Maddie imagined that she was as cold and hard as any of the heroic effigies around her, <> She reached out and touched Emma's shoulder, pleading with the Snow Queen for another chance to live, to feel the fires of life. The cool sea-green eyes drove into her, as a probe of the purest, coldest ice slammed into the depths of her psyche, <> Emma mimicked one of Liz' moves, seizing the redhead's wrist and turning it into a skilful joint lock, which caught Maddie totally off guard, <> Maddie struggled against the wrist-lock and the icy clutches of the more powerful telepath's mindprobe, she tried to hide her fear of that name and the thought of others like her with bravado, even though she knew the White Queen would be able to see through it, <> Emma's strange fey eyes narrowed as she considered what games Madelyne was trying to play, <> Emma knew as she released Madelyne, what the woman was, and how she got *where* she was... Even if she didn't want to admit it. Jeanne had 'jumped' into Emma's body several months ago, during a terrorist attack at a large diplomatic reception in London, when her own body had been mortally wounded. Jeanne had been just as desperate to live as Madelyne had been, and it was then Emma had discovered Jeanne's secret 'other selves', remnants of the Inferno as the media had called it. And Xavier had cloned another body for his beloved foster daughter, not telling her what he'd done, or where he'd learned to do it... Madelyne was scared enough to make a desperate move, which was what Emma'd hoped for, <> She raved like a drowning woman, begging for salvation, yet pushing away the means to gain it, as she wrapped Emma in a telekinetic field, soaring aloft above the Mindscape's graveyard. What _was_ she? She reached out to touch the infinite again, only to find that she no longer held the White Queen in her kinetic talons.... she thought as she flew across the surface of the Mindscape... Gathering speed, losing her way in the howling blizzard. As always, it seems her shadow precedes her, dimming the cold, harsh glare of the Alps as she remembered them from her honeymoon with Scott, this lonely landscape where her fondest memories began...and where it all started for Madelyne Pryor... she sped without regard for control or her destiny. She was near the speed of sound when she crashed into a peak, slamming into the unrelenting snow, finding herself in an icy wind that burned like fire. She struggled to lift herself out of the crater in the snows, gasping for breath between her sobs, every bone in her body feeling the jolt, She fell back into the snows after she'd drug herself out of the crater, exhausted from the effort, in more agony than she'd ever known, tears of blood slipping down her face as she remembered... <...the fate of some unforgiven orphan of nature, an forsaken child of science--who no creature of heaven or hell will claim?> she asked herself, remembering waking in the creche, to see the insanely brilliant Dr. Nathan Exeter, Maddie remembered the nightmares, about the bird of fire that consumed her, promising her true life, giving her purpose and memories that were never her own. The eternal Phoenix, itself baptising her in fire, promising her a soul. How those memories had given her heart: Capt. Scott Summers, field leader for the X-Forces of Xavier's Institute... How her baby, her little Nathan Christopher Charles had completed the circle so perfectly...it had been so perfect--and like most things too good to be true, it *had* been too perfect. A dream destined to grow into a nightmare. The nightmare had begun when Lady Jeanne had come back, hearty and whole from the dead...a miracle they'd said when they found the energy-cocoon in the bottom of the Thames, near London's docks. When Scott had turned to *Jeanne* after they had 'died' in Dallas, to save the Otherworld archmage, Roma LeFay; and Terra to boot... Said they thought I was dead. Well, they were wrong. If Jeanne could have come back, then so could I, Maddie thought. I knew they were turning to her, when it happened; but then I had Alex, before he turned on me, just like his big brother!! I should have known better than to trust another Summers. HE turned to her, too; not for love, but because she was 'real' and I wasn't. I was just a copy, they said. I was almost glad when it ended..almost. But it had ended, no doubt about that, anymore. I was dead, drowned in darkness and despair...and the next thing I know, I'm back in Switzerland... Montreaux as I recall, in a mountain cabin, staring into the eyes of the light at the end of the tunnel... Emma had found her in a crash-site, lying deathly still with tears of blood staining, drying on her cheeks...