Work Text:
One More Morning
by Pirate Turner
She descended the winding staircase in a billow of white silks that swirled temptingly around her luscious body, her beautiful face completely void of any and all hints of the thoughts that ran unbidden through her mind. They called her cruel; merciless; cold-hearted; the meanest bitch that had ever worn the X. Though they had never dared to say it to her face, she didn't have to read their thoughts to know what they thought of her. It was in their voice when she scolded them and in their eyes when they looked at her. Had they been any one else, it would not have mattered, but they were her students -- her students that she loved and feared losing with every breath.
They thought that she was heartless; she sometimes wished it were so. She had been heartless once, but that had been a long time ago -- long before the massacre of her beloved Hellions. Of course, though, none of the X-people, least of all her own team, would ever know that. They would always think she was heartless and cared only for her own self, and though it pained her greatly, she would let them continue to think that. At least then, they would not know. They would not know that she loved each and every one of them. They would not know that her heart was alive, let alone that they were the reason that it still beat, still ached, still felt, still loved.
She would teach them all that she could, no matter how much or how loudly they complained, but there would always be a great many things that they would never know, that no one would. They would never know how deeply she felt for all of them. They would never know that her heart ached almost blindingly every time that she came close to losing just one of them. They would never know that she still silently cried herself to sleep every night. They would never know the constant fear that she lived every moment in -- the fear that she would finally break down and let them know how she truly felt only to be spurned or, even worse, laughed at; the fear that she would fail them in the end; the fear that she would lose them just as she had every one else she had ever dared to care for. They must not know, and therefore they never would.
As she neared her classroom, she thought of him -- the man that she shared this school and their students' lives with; the man who she cared more deeply for than any other being that she had ever loved; the man who still loved another and, she knew, always would. Everything that their students must never know, she knew he also could never learn of only in his case, there was an even harder secret to keep. She knew their students had somehow already learned that one particular truth a long time ago. She did not know why they had never bothered to tell him but was thankful that they hadn't for if he ever learned of how she truly felt for him, her entire world would come crashing down around her ears. At all costs, she must keep that secret no matter what for a single slip of the tongue could send one of them packing from the school. She knew it took both of them to run the school and keep their students alive, and without either of them there, the world around them would crumple and her life would no longer hold any meaning.
He must never know . . . She stepped into the classroom, a smile on her face that perfectly hid everything that she was truly feeling. Taking a silent breath, she braced herself before beginning to turn her head to face her students for the first time that day. A sound behind her interrupted her thoughts, however, and a warm hand pressed gently against the small of her back, sending thrills racing through her entire being.
She looked up only to find his Irish eyes gazing deeply into hers, and for just a moment, she began to wonder if he already knew everything that she was fighting so hard to keep hidden. However, then, in his sexy brogue, as he pulled the door shut behind them, he assuringly spoke the simple greeting that told her that everything would be all right, at least for that moment, and that they had all made it through another night: "Top o' mornin' tae ye, lass." He smiled, and her breath caught in her throat as she could feel herself melting.
Suddenly, a paper airplane flew right between their faces, and both heads snapped to glare accusingly at Angelo who looked sheepishly back at his headmasters. Inwardly, however, Emma finally began to relax slightly as one more morning with those she loved more than life itself yet would never dare tell began. "Angelo," she said in the harsh, icy tone that she knew was expected of her, "I'll see you after class."
The End