A/N: 'The World Turned Upside Down' is based on a few comic plot arcs, most notably 'House of M' and 'Age of X'. Geez, what is it with X-men comics and using single letters? Still, I wanted to give a 'First Class' take on it, as well was doing a Charles/Moira. I tend not to do requests, but like 'Because of Her' this pairing was requested, so here's a shoutout to OKgirlymmm!
October 20, 1952
Erik turned in his hotel key in the lobby. The television was blaring loudly and he tried to ignore it. He finished paying his bill and signing his false name. With everything in order he set out. The fresh air in the street was a welcome contrast from the inside of the hotel. It had been musty, smelling like someone had died. From the condition of the hotel someone probably had.
Outside it was cold. He was accustomed to the cold, but New York City had its own ideas about the temperature. Erik shook his head and took off down the back street. He knew it wasn't safe to walk these streets alone at night, but common danger had never worried him. The metal coins in his pocket and buttons on his coat, no matter how few in number, had always been more than enough to defend him.
He walked around the street corner, stepping on a piece of newspaper. He looked down. The headline simply read 'SENATOR KELLY DENIES MUTANT EXISTENCE.' Erik snorted at the piece of newspaper, crushing it with extra vigor beneath his heel. If he'd had the time he would burn it into ashes.
His education had been rudimentary, but he figured he was always good at measuring public opinion. The first time he saw a headline with the word 'mutant' in it, even if it was only a mention of an urban legend, he knew to get out of the city. Sometimes he'd simply left the country entirely, like he was doing at the moment.
The world was changing rapidly. Erik, whose early years had been full of a kindness that had dissipated into a nightmare, understood that better than anything. Everything was built on shifting grounds. He'd watched as the world had gone from denying the existence of mutants to recognizing it as a threat. Even while the politicians argued that there was no such thing as a mutant Erik knew better. He kept his ear to the ground and thus had heard whispers of doors knocked on in the middle of the night and people taken away.
It was always easy to pick out the politicians responsible. In every television broadcast he'd seen the hard edge in their eyes as they declared that they believed there was no mutant menace. He saw the frenzied delight in their eyes when they spoke of making sure that, even if by some bizarre chance there was, their people would never face such a threat. It was a cruel look, one that knew exactly how evil it was.
Erik knew the look too well. It was something he had seen in himself, reflected in the pool of Shaw's blood when he was twelve years old. The man had thought he could keep the fear that Erik had in him as a permanent feature. He thought it would be the only protection against his powers he'd need. Then one day he had calmly turned his head and had one of the tools that Shaw was about to use on him rip through his eye.
He'd thought that he'd seen the last of such people when he'd been taken from the camps. It seemed that there was no shortage of them though. Response to mutants had been, in any country he'd visited, overwhelmingly negative. Divisions had been set up to hunt them down and 'contain' them. Erik had been contained before. Never again.
The world was closing its doors to his kind, even if most of the world didn't know about it. The fact that he had a kind in and of itself was strange, but it was true. There were people out there who were being hunted down and taken away systematically. No one knew what happened to the ones that were taken, not really. There were reports about research on the mutant condition, and he knew exactly what that phrase meant.
Slowly he was beginning to get the idea that they had to cleave together or die. There were hundreds, no, thousands in the very least, of them out there. Surely not all of them would go like lambs to the slaughter? Surely at least some of them, if not the majority, would be as determined to survive as he was. He hadn't gone through everything that he had as a child to die from the exact thing he'd escaped.
He pulled up his coat collar against the wind and walked into the street. It was time to leave America. He had lingered there too long as it was. Erik had thought, foolishly as he saw now, that such a big country would have a higher concentration of mutants. That he stood a chance of finding some that would fight back there.
America had not been his only consideration. He'd considered Russia and China, but the situations there were too unpredictable. Besides, he didn't speak the native languages. Even his English was rather accented and could be halting when he became too angry. In America he had duties to perform, things he had to discharge.
His head began to hurt, an ache that matched the one in his heart. He wanted nothing more than to find a bar and drink the night away. Knowing the city he was in though he knew it for the bad idea that it was. His funds were also low and he would need to keep moving if he wanted to stop his childhood from repeating itself.
The wind picked up and he glanced at his watch. A boat was taking off in two hours that he planned to stow away on. The only reason he'd checked out so soon from his hotel was because he was trying to eliminate any possibility of being followed. He didn't have any reason to suspect anyone was, but he'd been running for long enough to know that you should always take precautions.
Next to him a streetlight went on. He passed two cops, not glancing up. The trick, he'd learned, was to act as though you'd seen them but couldn't see what they had to do with you. If you tried too hard to look like you were ignoring them, or didn't care, then you'd make yourself a target. Erik had no wish to add more blood on his hands that would only provide a trail for the Mutant Response Division to follow.
He'd already had a few run-ins with them, and it wasn't something that he wished to repeat. It had been easier to escape the last few times, now that it was alone. He'd been forced to lose what he'd had, to lose everything, but it was easier to fight back and run now. In his pockets he felt the metal bend with his rage.
He pressed his hands to his temples. He needed to push away his feelings and figure out his next move. It was how he'd survived so long; by being one step ahead of the rest. If he stopped, even for a moment, then he knew that everything would catch up with him. No matter how internally muddled he was he knew that he didn't want to go back to some cell, taken out every few days to be examined.
Ah yes, there was that wasn't there? He was a mutant, part of a small and hunted community. That was his only connection to anyone. It was almost as depressing as thinking about what he had lost, but it was something to go on. Erik wasn't one to chase hope, but this was a solid fact. He just hoped that everyone wasn't as scared as he'd seen.
Charles couldn't believe his bad luck. Life hadn't exactly been easy for the past few days, but this was a new low. He knew he shouldn't have pressed his luck once he'd gotten those tickets to New Jersey. Instead he'd had to follow the agent and try to figure out what the Division was up to. Raven really was right; he needed to focus on the small picture before he looked at the big one.
An aching feeling started up in his chest as he thought of his sister. He hadn't just put himself in danger; he'd dragged her down with him. He reached out mentally to Raven back at the hotel, praying that she would hear him. The feeling in his mind faded, leaving him with the knowledge that he was just out of range. He cursed under his breath. That meant that if he didn't get out of this there would be no one to warn her of what had happened.
Behind him he heard the pounding of feet. Taking a deep breath he vaulted around the corner. He had never been particularly athletic, more of an academic who sat inside reading in the library during recess, and it was going to be his downfall. As loathe as he was to admit it his stepbrother had been right in one respect; he probably should have put his books down once in a while to build some muscle.
The Mutant Response Division. It sounded like something out of a comic book, and a cheap one at that. That was how they had introduced themselves after kicking down the door though. Good thing they hadn't expected the bed sheet rope out the window, even though they should have, or otherwise they would have never made it out of Westchester. It was still very comicky though.
Charles grimaced. Despite his situation he could, at least, appreciate the irony of it all. He was starting to realize how much his life was mirroring those penny pages of color. Yet, there was nothing glamorous about running for your life across the state with your baby sister and hiding in a city on dwindling funds.
To think, five days ago his life had been normal. Yes, it had been troubled. He had heard whispers. Nothing had been definite; people believed that people with special powers were confined to fiction and urban legends. However, the newest urban legends had begun to take a decidedly darker tone.
Raven had, of course, discussed them with him. Even for her young age she was observent, keen to pick up trouble. Despite his own inner misgivings he'd told Raven that they weren't anything to worry about. Even he knew that there were too many of these rumors to ignore. Still, nothing seemed obvious. Charles had believed that they had been careful enough to hide what they were until they figured out a plan.
The continuous footsteps behind him reminded him that no, they hadn't been careful enough. The fact that they were getting closer just told him that he had to hurry it up and figure out something to do. If he was taken on that street then he might as well have sentenced Raven to capture as well. Quickly he went through his options. There weren't very many of them. They couldn't know what his mutation was, could they?
Certainly he knew that his stepfather had always suspected what he was, what the stepdaughter whose records couldn't be traced was. He'd never used his power on him, but he'd known all the same. He was the one who had given them away so their information might include his mutation. Him or his stepbrother. He wasn't sure and it didn't really matter. However, if they didn't know his power than he still had some element of surprise.
Looking over his shoulder Charles put his fingers to his temples. The first MRD officer fell to his feet. Charles managed a smirk before a gunshot chipped the stone next to him. He turned quickly, panting heavily. He was going to have to wait for a more opportune moment to try that again, preferably one where he wasn't such a blatant target.
He turned around another corner and ran straight into a man. They both toppled backwards, Charles hitting his head hard on the pavement. He barely had time to look up and register the shocked and angry look on the other man's face. An apology came to his lips, old habits died hard, but was silenced when he was hit over the head with a nightstick.
He looked up blearily only to have his head jerked back.
"This one went down fairly easy," one said, "I thought he was supposed to be dangerous."
"Well, you know the muties," another said, "You'll learn that they all go down if you hit 'em hard enough."
Charles watched as the man he had run into got to his feet. As Charles searched for the minds of the MRD officers in front of him the man's hands clenched into fists. It was a small detail, but enough for Charles to pause and take notice of it. Just before he could wonder about what was going on the MRD officer's guns flew from their holsters. They hovered in the air for a moment, the safeties clicking off.
The next thing Charles knew the guns were cocked and shots were fired. Each man got one to the arm before the trigger began to pull again. Taking advantage of the opportunity, even if he didn't fully understand it, he reached out into their minds. With one sharp tug he pulled them into unconsciousness.
They fell to the floor, collapsing face-first onto the paved road. Charles looked up at the man, his eyes glaring at the downed officer and his fingers splayed into the air. It didn't take much to figure out that he was in the presence of another mutant. A sense of relief at his near-capture flooded over him, followed quickly by a sense of the sheer unlikeliness of what had just transpired.
The man lowered his hand before casting his gaze over to Charles. For a minute he thought he was being sized up, assessed as a potential threat. It passed quickly though. When it was over the man held out his hand. Charles took it and allowed himself to be helped to his feet. Charles smiled before shaking his head.
"Thank you for that," he said, extending his hand and trying to control his breathing, "Charles Xavier by the way. Telepath."
The man hesitated. Charles didn't blame him; they lived in dangerous times.
"Erik Lensherr," he said, shaking the proffered hand, "Metal. You should watch yourself."
He gave a weak smile, letting go of his hand.
"Who doesn't?"
Erik nodded. Charles ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the nearest wall, sighing.
"You know, I wasn't one hundred percent sure this was real until it happened," he said, "I'm never going to hear the end of it from my sister when I get back. She's going to be very I-told-you-so after she gets done being angry at the risk I was taking. She's very young and doesn't get a lot of opportunities."
He grimaced.
"She does love to gloat when the opportunity arises though," he said.
For a moment Erik's face softened before his brow turned up quizzically.
"Risk?" asked Erik.
He paused and gave a nervous smile.
"I was trying to get information from one of the men at a bar," he said, "Telepath and all. I thought that…it sounds foolish when I say it aloud I know, but I thought that after I got to a secure place I could work on at least damaging these people. Try to get something done. But it backfired. Obviously."
At Erik's raised eyebrow Charles gave a frustrated sigh. Raven had been critical of his ideas to try and put the situation down before it blew out of proportion as well. It couldn't be foolish to decide to stop running could it?"
"You can only run so far before you run out of road," Charles said defensively.
To his surprise a slow smile spread over Erik's face.
"And I thought I was the only one," he said.
