Instinct

The gun is light in her grip. Small enough for her to comfortably wrap her fingers around. Her other hand grips Alex’s elbow, fingers carving grooves into the skin there. They will bruise but she has other things on her mind.

Emma glances over her shoulder as they pass through the lab’s threshold and into the elevator bay. Moira flanks her on the left and stumbling behind her is Erik. Without Shaw to lean on he sways dangerously. His skin is taut and bloodless under the fluorescent lights. He leans heavily on the doorframe, mouth moving slightly but lacking the energy to make a sound.

She tightens her grip on the gun. It will not be useful for long. There is no way to gage how powerful he is right now. The tug she felt minutes ago is certainly an indication but not enough to know. She has to find out.

She turns back to face the elevators. Alex pulls to a stop beside her, arm tugging against her grip, eyes fixed back the way they have come. On the two bodies visible through the door. On his father fighting to stay upright.

“Moira,” she motions, “Do you have control of…?”

“Of course.” Moira cuts her off. “I just called it. I take it you want a full…”

“Of course.” Emma mimics, a small smile easing onto her lips.

Control. It is a precious commodity and one that she deals so well in. Moira’s efficiency is a welcome addition to her process. She spares a quick nod of acknowledgement as the elevator doors open before her.

Time to prove she has surpassed Shaw. That she can harness his raw discovery. His creation. Time to move out from under his shadow. For all his manipulations and ambition it is her who is still standing. As a tribute she will even indulge in a little of his treasured theatrics.

After all, this is a special moment.

Alex’s breath catches when his father sinks to his knees in the lab doorway. He watches his legs crumple while his arms barely break his fall.

“Dad!” Erik barely glances up at the call. His shoulders are shuddering with painful breaths and Alex has to be there. He has to be there to help his father pull himself together again. Nobody should see him like this. Alone. Exposed.

A sharp tug on his elbow brings him back around to Emma. She does not spare him a glance as she steers him into the small box of the elevator.

“Wait here Alex.” Her tone is clipped as she directs him to the far corner of the space. The gun in her hand does not waver and she is standing so close the barrel is almost touching his skin.

Quicker than he can react she has snapped a metal ring around his wrist and is leaning across to secure it to the railing attached to the elevator walls. Click. Handcuffs. He tugs against the binding out of reflex but all he gets is a sharp pain as the links pull taut.

He looks up angrily but Emma is already exiting the elevator. Her back is to him and he has been forgotten.

“Erik.” She speaks louder than necessary, snagging his father’s drifting attention. “This project has been in progress for a very long time and I need a result.” She paces forwards, bearing down on Erik’s hunched figure. “If I leave this at Shaw’s wild experiments then everything we have accomplished will be rejected, unsanctioned.” Her brow furrows for a moment before she carefully adjusts her expression. “But if I give the Department something useful. A weapon. Then this is legitimized. A sanctioned trial. And a success.”

She stands only a couple of feet from Erik. His eyes are raised to meet hers. “I don’t have the time to coax it out of you Erik. This isn’t one of our sessions.” Her lips press together in a cruel line. “Don’t forget that you still have something to lose.” She steps aside and Alex can see his father unobstructed. He tugs again on the handcuffs. There is nowhere to go and too much distance between them.

Emma leans down, her words firm.

“I need you to do one more thing for me Erik. I need you to stop this elevator.”

Erik claws his way out of a haze. His limbs are heavy, beyond his power to control. Like mud is sucking him downwards. Shaw. Shaw is dead. He was breathing, his skin warm beneath Erik’s hand and now he is dead on the ground. The moment he has allowed himself to imagine only in the darkest throws of his nightmares. Or maybe his dreams. Shaw is dead. But this is not a dream.

He pulls himself up through the humming around him, from his leg, through the throbbing in his head, into the room his world has narrowed to. To Frost and her gun and her words that burn him. To Alex.

“I need you to stop this elevator.”

Alex is struggling frantically now and Erik recognizes the desperation. He felt it in the dark with Shaw. In their apartment when the man’s claws were at Alex’s throat.

He sees it in the harsh red lines appearing at his son’s wrist, in his terrified eyes.

Most of all he feels it in his own weary, aching chest because he understands what she means. She is asking the impossible. She is asking and he must do it. He has to. Or Alex will die.

He does not plead for her to stop. He has said please enough today. It has fallen on deaf ears. She turns away from him and he fixes his eyes on Alex. On his terrified, struggling son and lets the floodgates open.

The humming is in his head, behind his eyes, travelling all the way down his left leg. It feels electric on his fingertips. He lets it take over until it is more than humming, more than a roar. Until it is a symphony.

“Drop it, Moira.” Emma’s voice cuts through. A blade severing his calm.

There is a terrible wrenching, breaking, snapping sound and he feels it in his core.

The elevator drops from sight.

Alex screams.

There is an empty space where the elevator used to be.

Erik leaps for it.