Set during in X-Men: First Class; so only read this if you have seen the film! I saw it, twice, over the weekend and I loved it that much it inspired me to write this!

I don't know where it'll end up, so, keep reading to find out! I have exams coming up as well so I don't know how often I can update, sorry :(

All characters, scenes and plots in this are (sadly) the property of Marvel and their relevant associates. Any original characters, scenes and plots are of my own creation and not taken from anyone else.

ENJOY!


You don't know what it is like to experience true fear until you have lived through it. My name is Evelyn Gray, I am a mutant and this is the story of how my life changed forever.I was eighteen when my abilities fully discerned themselves, but I was eight when they first revealed themselves.

From the very little that I remember, I believe that my childhood was a happy; carefree one, the memories that sometimes plague me seem happy anyway - in the park playing with our dog, Pablo - I never found out what happened to him - buying sweets with my brother and he urging me to bribe the shopkeeper with a sweet, innocent look so as he gave me an extra liquorish whip or two - I lived in Berlin with my father and two, very much older brothers, Paul who was twenty four and Michael who was nineteen. After Michael was born our mother was told that she could have no more children, that her chance for having her much wanted daughter was over, so when she became pregnant with me, ten years later, I was considered to be somewhat of a miracle; my father called me his little wunderkind. But she had died in giving birth to me; I never knew her.

Michael was the one I was closest to, he was my best friend as well as my big brother. Paul had joined the army at eighteen, just before the war broke out, I was three, don't get me wrong I loved him also - he would always bring back amazing presents from wherever his regiment had been - but I felt closest to Michael who had practically raised me, seeing as our father had to work at the café. But he left for University to study Accounting in September 1943, after taking a year out to work for out father; I never saw him again.

What with Paul in the army and knowing nothing but war since I was three, I can't remember a time when there weren't soldiers roaming the streets, the odd tank swarmed with tired soldiers, merry men who were on leave or were having one last night out before leaving for the front again.

We were Jews; my father owned a café where he would sometimes serve free tea to the soldier's who had just returned from the front. I remembered that I used to help him, or just dally around the shop with skipping rope in hand ready to proudly show off my newly learnt skill to the brave soldiers who would always clap and cheer me when I had finished and curtsied. My father was very proud to be a German, which is why he gave the tea and cakes freely. He was a proud old soldier who had fought for his beloved country in the last war, but he had sustained an injury which had caused the Doctor to amputate his left leg from the knee down in later life; if he had both I'm sure he would not have hesitated to have signed up this time.

The soldiers seemed nice, until I was eight and they came to take us away.