Streets of Fandom, Late Thursday Night

[icecoldfrost]

Going to Fast Eddie's to decompress had a been brilliant idea. Emma had played pool, eaten burgers that could probably induce a heart-attack just by looking at them, and it was a place that was the complete and total opposite of anything to do with her family.

What hadn't been her smartest moment was not paying attention when she left, not remembering that Winston didn't play by other people's rules. And he wasn't done with his middle daughter yet today. Not by far. And Emma was so wrapped up in going over everything she'd spoken with Miss Cabot about that she didn't notice the figure headed towards her, apparently absorbed in a newspaper.

Winston Frost	Winston waited until Emma was almost past him before grabbing her arm, jerking her about to face him as he dropped his paper. "Look at you," he said scornfully, taking in her jeans and Slayers tshirt with a mixture of disappointment and disgust. "You're a Frost, Emma. Going to a place like this? Dressed like that? It's beneath you, and an insult to your family. Not even Cordelia has lowered herself to dive bars."
Emma Grace Frost	"Instead, she plays dealer with her family and sells Hazel's meds to her friends. So much better than going out for a burger," Emma replied through gritted teeth. "She's the one that provided Christian with drugs, or did you forget about that? I wonder what she's slipping to Adrienne and Hazel these days." "Now get your hands off me."
Winston	Winston responded by tightening his grip. "You will not take that tone with me, young lady," he replied. "Youthful rebellion is one thing, and I admire how you've tried out outmaneuver me, quite creatively, even, but enough with the amateur theatrics. I am your father and I will have the respect I am due."
Emma	"Father?" she asked, half-laughing. "I don't think you've been a father to me since I was five or so. I would doubt that we were related, except that mother loves you too much to ever cheat. Don't ask me why."
Winston	Winston dropped her arm and Emma staggered back a half-step, only to regain her balance right as his hand connected with her face. "You will not talk about your mother like that, Emma Grace," he informed her, casually slinging his hands into his pockets. "Especially not since you refuse to tell me what happened that night, to put her in this condition."
Emma	Emma's hand flew to her cheek, face registering shock. It was not unheard of for Winston to resort to violence with his children, but it was rare and never in public. He almost never dirtied his own hands, often leaving it to Bryce. Although as she looked around, Emma was starting to realize how isolated they were. He'd waited here for her. And waiting always made Winston angry. Even if she telepathically yelled for help now, it would take at least fifteen minuets for someone to get to her. "I told you," she said, mind racing wildly. Tell the truth. With Winston, it was always best if you told the truth, or as much of it that was true as possible. "I don't know what happened." True, then. Only mostly-true now. Emma had severely traumatized Hazel by using her powers, albeit accidentally. The seizure, her turning out to the world, the whole thing was Emma's fault, even if she hadn't meant to do it.
Winston	Caught up in guilt for a moment, she didn't even see the second slap coming. "You are lying to me," Winston stated. "That's...disappointing. I know we don't always see eye-to-eye, Emma, but you have never outright lied to me before." "Evaded, yes. Snuck out, of course. You're a willful child, and I was pleased to discover you had a backbone underneath that desperate desire for approval. But I will not tolerate being lied to. You are better than all this and I only want what's best for you."
Emma	Emma was sorely tempted to give him the whole truth, but she was rather sure her lawyer would frown on her frying Winston's brain right there and then. And outing herself as a mutant would only give him more ammunition. "You want what's best for you," she retorted, straightening up and looking him right in the eyes, ignoring the pain in her arm and on her face. "How long would I stay at Frost House, if I came home willingly? You could have sought out a specialist for 'crazy little Emma,' but instead I know you were signing the papers to send me to Snow Valley Pavilion - oh, I'm sorry, the Clinic. If you cared about what was best for me, you would have sought out someone like Charles Xavier, who leads the field in mental trauma. I had to read about him in the paper, Daddy. Hear things second hand. But you were too embarrassed that yet another one of your children was some sort of failure." Emma would have hated Xavier and his methods, from what she'd seen and heard, but Winston could have at least tried to get her help.
Winston	"Let a quack like Xavier near one of my children?" The look of surprise and protectiveness on Winston's face almost gave Emma pause. Almost. "I wasn't going to let some touchy-feely New Age charlatan poke at you, Emma. You were over-stressed after the shock of Hazel's seizure and everything with Christian. You tried so hard, sweetheart, but I made a mistake. You weren't quite ready to deal with everything that came with being named the heir, let alone Adrienne's antagonism." "I had hopes that the Pavilion would give you a quiet place, away from the house, where you could get your balance back while I dealt with your sister. You didn't need therapy, just a quiet place where no one would bother you, especially not the newspapers. You being selected and announced as CEO-in-training for Frost Technologies...it was big news. The reporters never would have left you alone if we'd sent you anywhere other than the Snow Valley Clinic."
Emma	Emma just stared at him for a moment, desperately wanting to believe him. To be six years old again and believe in him. Sadly, both experience and her powers wouldn't let her. "Then we have nothing more to discuss," she stated, not taking her eyes off him as she reached in her back pocket for her phone. Thankfully, she had programmed some numbers into her phone, and it was simple to use the speed-dial to call the person she needed. "Miss Cabot? It's Emma Frost. I'm sorry to call you at such a late hour at home, but do you mind if I come over? I'm afraid it's rather important," she said into the phone, not breaking eye-contact as fury rose in her father's face. You don't talk about the family to strangers. It was an old rule, one understood by all of the Boston elite. Hell, every family all over the world with the same standings as the Frosts had that same rule. Fight all you want internally, but you don't take it public. Well, Emma was about to take this particular skeleton in the closet public. She didn't have to deal with Winston's lies, his temper, the manipulations, or the abuse - emotional or physical - any more. "I hope you own a camera, as there's something you need to see." Winston strode forward, hand out to yank the phone away from her, but Emma quickly took a step to the side. Not back. She was not backing down from him. "Oh, it appears that Winston has something to say. Winston, did you really want my phone? Are you going to talk to Miss Cabot, my lawyer?"
Winston	As appealing as shaking some sense into his daughter was, tonight was at an end. There was no way to end this conversation without breaking her right now, and that was not what Winston wanted. He wanted Emma back at Frost House, where she belonged, not broken because he'd lost his temper. "Yes," he replied, raising his voice slightly. "Tell your Miss Cabot that I look forward to seeing her in court. Perhaps we can arrange for some sort of visitation once you're home." It would be quite satisfactory, to rub salt in the wound for both of them of how soundly they'd failed to stop him. "Goodnight, Emma. I'll see you tomorrow."

[OOC: NFI & NFB since the squirrels would be in bed. This post contains violence and references to previous incidents of emotional and physical abuse, as well as references to drug abuse. The Frost clan isn't exactly a healthy group of people.]