This was kind of a random story inspired by a fan fiction, or two, that I read. They really should have put her and Quicksilver in one of the movies.
Rain splattered against the windows, and the low rumble of thunder could be heard. Bittersweet that was the word, Magneto thought. He had lost his wife and welcomed his children in the
same week. Of course, he hadn't even seen them yet. "Twins," he had been informed, "a boy and a girl." He paced down the corridor of the hospital, and used his control of metal to cause the door to swing open. "Ah, hello, my friend," a voice greeted, Xavier had come to keep an eye on the two until their father arrived. He had brought along a new mutant, a white
haired, blue eyed girl named Ororo Munroe, a.k.a. Storm. Apparently, she had the ability to control weather. A mutant-tolerant family in the U.S. had adopted her. As Xavier's first student, she marked the beginning of a school for mutants. Ororo was holding one of the infants, while a doctor carried the other. "I'll be right back," the woman said handing him
his daughter as she left. The little girl, who had been smiling happily a moment before, whimpered slightly as he took her. "Here," Storm said, "take Pietro for a moment." Switching the twins, she spoke gently to his the child, in an attempt to quiet her. She began to cry anyway. Her brother appeared unaffected by whatever was bothering his sister. He laughed and
smiled at his father. Already he had silver hair, while fine black hair covered the girl's head. Wanda eventually calmed down, though she continued to watch him, her blue eyes worried.
"Ok, here she is. She's just not used to you yet, don't let it bother you." As the weather witch tried to hand her over a second time, a cup sitting on the table exploded, sending fragments of glass flying at them. The next instant, they changed course and begin to swirl around in the air, before reforming into a new structure. Magneto glanced at Xavier, who had watched the demonstration thoughtfully.
"Interesting, her powers appear to have temporarily appeared during infancy, unusual, but not unheard of." A crack appeared in the ceiling as she stirred uneasily in his arms. "They
might manifest earlier than expected, at seven maybe eight years of age. She's going to be powerful, that's obvious." Though ceasing to cry, she continued staring at him, in an eerily solemn way.
Then she seemed to change her mind, and reached out toward him. Her small hand came to rest clutching one of his gloved fingers. She smiled uncertainly, but seemed a lot more at ease
when she was returned to the doctor. Several years passed, but his daughter never lost that intent, calculating gaze, though it came out only when he was around. She seemed to know something that he didn't, and it bothered him.
Her powers embodied themselves early, like the Professor had predicted. Yes, they were somewhat unstable. Anytime that they were not under her control, they tended to strike out most severely during fits of angry.
When he would admonish her, the Look would flicker faintly in her eyes. "Yes, father," she would grumble reluctantly. Then she would head off to play some game or
other with Pietro. She seemed most comfortable around him; the two were inseparable friends. Sadly, Pietro never understood her distress either, though he would often ask her what was bothering her.
The girl never could give an answer herself. One day after a particularly bad outburst, he took them for a drive. He had known it would come to this for a long time. As she was dragged
away, sobbing, by the asylum workers, he suddenly realized why she had whimpered when he first held her. It was as though she had sensed her fate from the day she was born. He and Pietro got back into the car and drove away. At last it made sense, her birth had been bittersweet for her as well.