xp_logs | LOG: Manuel and Emma "Don't Give Up"

Who: Manuel de la Rocha, Emma Frost
What: They discuss Manuel's future, and what options he has available to him
Where: The Psi-Proof Room (The Box)
When: Friday morning before Emma leaves for London.

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Manuel is sitting on the edge of the cot in the psi-proof chamber, staring at his feet. He hasn't moved in hours, or so the security camera say. The poker table is gone, pushed to one side of the room to make room for the bed and nightstand. A pile of clothes, presumably dirty, is piled in one corner.

Emma steps up to the door of the chamber and presses the entry request button. Usually when she heads in here, she has students with her, so she puts on her poker face before the poker starts. This time, she's alone, and she doesn't need to disguise the slight queasiness she feels about going in to the chamber and rendering herself headblind.

Manuel stirs faintly, shifting his gaze from the tops of his loafers towards the door. After a few very long moments, he lurches to his feet and shuffles over to the door to open it. "Si?" he says dispiritedly, lacking any sign of his usual fire.

Emma looks at her crestfallen knight and lets out a sorry sigh. "Oh, Manuel," she says. She almost feels like offering him a hug, but she doesn't do hugs. "Can I come in, darling?"

Manuel takes a few steps back, allowing Emma access to the chamber. ~Enter.~ he says, again in Castillian. ~Have you come to punish me? To castigate me for being what I am?~

Emma's own Castillian is more than a little rusty when she can't telepathically crib from the native speaker. As the door to the chamber slides shut behind her, she feels the last whispers of psionic noise guttering away from her, and her heart sinks. // "I'm not going to punish you, Manuel," she answers in English. "This wasn't my idea, darling, believe me."

Manuel actually perks up a bit at that news - his expression goes from crestfallen to merely sad. "It is so hard to think in here." he complains in English, sitting back down on the edge of his unmade cot. "Am I to spend forever here?"

Emma looks around at the bare metallic walls with an undisguised mix of contempt and discomfort. She grabs a foldaway chair from the wall and sets it up, then sits down directly opposite Manuel, less than a foot away. "We'll get you out of here," she promises. "It'll take a little while. I still have to go to Europe tomorrow. The other students are depending on me. But we'll get you out of here, I promise."

Manuel looks at Emma, and almost bursts into tears. "Why am I here? What did I do that was wrong?"

Emma reaches across a little tentatively, because offering comfort isn't one of her strong points. She squeezes Manuel's wrist gently. "You fucked up, darling," she says. "You let that psycho bitch in Betsy's head play you."

"I didn't have a choice. She put me back in that place, and made me relive it over and over until I did what she wanted. The second time, I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't. If I thought about it, or tried to speak about it, I choked." he says, sniffling. " I fought her, I did..."

Emma frowns. It's a long time since she's seen Manuel like this, and the memories it brings to mind aren't ones she wants to hug close to her chest. All thoughts of pushing Manuel down a staircase are being chased from her head. He's not being manipulative now. He doesn't have the strength to be anything but honest. "I believe you, Manuel," she says. "But you've scared and upset a lot of people, and we have to do something to make it right."

“They hate me, don't they?" he asks forlornly. "They always wind up hating me. I don't know why, but they do. Even when I try to help, to bring happiness, they still hate me for it. What _GOOD_ is this power if every time I use it people hate me?"

"You were dealt a dangerous hand, Manuel. People rarely know themselves beyond what they feel from moment to moment. They aren't sophisticated enough for that. What you do, it challenges them to their very core. It makes them feel vulnerable and exposed in a way that claws or light shows or an extra limb or two never will." She studies Manuel's frown. "It's a phenomenal power, but if you use it too freely, you'll only end up hurting others and hurting yourself."

"If I use it _at all_, you mean. Isn't that why I'm here, really? Because I used my power? Because I dared to take some pride in being a mutant? Being what I am? At this point, I half-expect the orderlies - you know which ones - to come through that door and give me oblivion." he says, scrubbing at his eyes with closed fists. "It's not fair!"

"No," Emma says softly. She lets out another soft sigh. "Life rarely is, darling. All men are not created equal. Your powers are not your fault. How you apply them, though, Manuel, that's very much for you to decide. As for the orderlies, they're not coming, I promise you that. You're not a prisoner. You can leave this room - and this school - any time you want."

"They lock the door." he says, nodding at the offending instrument. "I have nowhere else to go. No funds, no income save from Hellfire, no means. I've lived on the streets before - I don't want to have to do it again. But, if they are going to put drugs inside of me, and experiment on me, will you help me get out? Please?"

Emma looks him square in the eyes. "Without hesitation," she says. "If they tried anything without your consent, Manuel, I would get you out of here even if I had to take down Charles and his racist hick brother to do it. But it won't come to that. That isn't how Charles does things. We'll find a non-invasive solution. Something that will keep your feelings and their feelings separate."

Manuel clenches his fists and punches the covers to his cot. "I have TRIED! But who am I without Them? They define me."

"You're Manuel de la Rocha," Emma replies with a stern tone. "And if you don't know who that is, then it's damn well time you found out."

"Manuel was fourteen when his life changed forever." Manuel shoots back, finally showing some passion and fire in his voice. "Now, he's a voice among many, one more color on the palette."

"Well, Emma was fifteen when her daddy sent her to the asylum, Manuel, and look at the bitch now," Emma scowls. "I thought you were a survivor, Manuel, not a charity case."

"Empath is a survivor. Empath endures. Manuel is scared, though." he says, completely missing the context of what he just said.

Emma narrows her eyes. "Empath is a little mask you wear to make you feel like a man," she says coldly. "Manuel is a prince, who could one day be a king, just as soon as he learns what it means to behave like one."

Manuel does an admirable job at looking confused. "I'm sorry?" he asks. "I'm not sure I understood that."

"You can survive as a coward and a wretch, Manuel, or you excel by combining strength with grace." She sits back in her chair, trying to read him without her powers. "If you sit here snivelling, hating the world, you'll just be throwing your life away."

Manuel looks like he's starting to shake off his black depression that gripped him as soon as he was put into the Box and the door locked. "My brain hurts." he comments gracelessly, rubbing at his temples while he stretches out somewhat. "I'm finding it harder and harder to feel much of anything besides sadness and loss."

"I know exactly how that feels, darling. Not only have I been there, I have my own box there." Again, she glances around at the bare walls. The room feels like it's getting smaller all the time. "Manuel, I have to get ready for the trip tomorrow. I'll be gone about ten days, but then I'll be back. I'm not going to abandon you. I will not give up on you." Whether or not it's a promise she can keep, it's one she means. She can't give up on Manuel. She has too much to prove.

Manuel nods slowly. "I will try to hang on for as long as I can. For you, and for me. We are not all that different, you and I." he says with a flash of insight. "And, someday, you will be proud of me. Someday."

"You're damn right I will, darling," Emma smiles. "One day, you may even out-do me. But I wouldn't start counting the days." She rises to her feet. "Would you like me to bring you anything back from Europe?"

"I wish I could go with you. It would be good to see Spain again." he admits wistfully. "You know me, better than anyone else here. You will know what I need. Bring it to me."

"Well, all right, darling, but King Juan Carlos isn't going to give up the crown without a fight." She steps over to the door panel and types in the exit code. "In the meantime, I'll certainly send you a postcard." As the door opens, she turns around and adds wistfully and with genuine affection, "Be strong, darling."

"I will." he says with as much bravado and warmth as he can muster. "Enjoy your trip."

Emma steps out and waves back as the door slides shut. Once the door is closed, she leans back against it, the flood of psionic white noise consuming her once more. How good it feels to be alive again. What hell it must be, to be trapped in that room for so long.

Once Emma is gone, Manuel sinks back onto his cot to stare at the ceiling. The black depression is still there, threatening to drown him in its coils, but now he has a beacon, something to drag him from the darkness and back into the light. It will have to be enough.