A/N:

Hey! I'm Jude. This is my first story on FanFiction. My twin sister Astraea's Judgement died in April, and I've been going through bouts of depression, so at best, my posting will be sporadic. I also have dyslexia, so bear with me on the grammatical and spelling mistikes. Spell checker is my one true love…

It is not my intention to make light of the events of the Holocaust, and if I offend anyone in any way, feel free to bring it to my attention, and I shall attempt to correct my blunder.

Disclaimer: I do not claim to own X-men, no matter how much I'd wish to… which is almost as much as I wish Cold Play would give me a private concert.

Prolog: Auschwitz-Birkenau, 1941.

Tziporah Setz was scared. The cart she was in was crowded beyond belief, filled to the brim with nervous people. They were told that they were being taken to a camp called Auschwitz, where they would live for an unidentified amount of time. Tziporah was young, only six, and did not understand why her papa and her were forced to leave their home in Berlin. She did not understand that as she looked tearfully up at her father, it might be the last time she saw him alive.

"All out!" shouted a voice in German.

As she left the cart, Tziporah saw a sign that read: Arbeit Macht Frei. Work will make you free.

They were divided in two; men to one side and women to the other. They were degraded and humiliated, branded like cattle.

407365

Her name was stripped from her, replaced with a number. She was no longer Tziporah Setz in the eyes of her captors. She was 407365. Nothing more, nothing less.

There was a smell coming from a building near the showers that was sickening, a burning meat type scent that emitted from some smoke stacks. Tziporah was terrified when she was told she would have to take a shower in the smelly building.

"Tziporah! Tziporah! Tziporah! Run! They are going to kill you! Tziporah! Tzi-"

She turned in time to see her Papa, who had been screaming and crying for her to be killed by an SS officer.

Tziporah trembled in shock, tears coursing down her cheeks in silent disbelief. And then she screamed.

Plants came alive, attacking the soldiers who tried to grab her. Trees sprung from the ground, strangling soldiers as they came, and grass and weeds tied them down to the ground. The earth began creaking and shifting around her, causing terror and panic among the Nazi's.

From behind a window, a man with glasses and a mustache smiled pleasantly as he watched the destruction below. His happiness ended when a soldier brought up his gun, and shot the little girl through her heart.

The girl fell to the ground, blood pooling around her. The earth stopped moving and the plants stopped growing at the moment of the little girl's death. Dr. Schmidt cursed and raged, until he noticed something extraordinary. The little girl was moving.

Tziporah felt wrong. All she remembered was rage, and the feeling of a terrible power coursing through her when a starburst of pain radiated through her body and everything went black. She looked down at her blood colored chest, lifting her shirt to see what was underneath. A puckered scar rested directly on her heart.

'What was she?' thought Tziporah terrified, 'what was happening?'

A handsome man crouched before her, smiling disarmingly as he took her hand and ruffled her shorn hair.

"Hello, my child. I am Dr. Schmidt. What is your name?"

"Tziporah… Setz." She stuttered through hiccups and tears.

"Well, Tziporah, you and I are going to have some fun, aren't we?"

A feeling of dark foreboding ran through the small girl as she saw Schmidt's smile.

"So much fun indeed," he said, chuckling.

1944: Auschwitz-Birkenau

Erik Lensherr was twelve when he was brought before Dr. Schmidt, after having made the metal gates of the camp bend as he was separated from his family. He was twelve when he was forced to either make a coin move, or watch his mother die. He was twelve when he failed, and he was twelve when he killed the two soldiers that had held his mother still before she was murdered by the Doctor.

Erik was twelve when he met a nine year old girl, covered in scars, and unable to talk due to the removal of her voice box. He almost exploded when the same, emaciated, tortured girl hugged him, as if to tell him that it would be all right. His hatred for the doctor grew when he learned that her name was Tziporah Setz, and she had been six when the doctor had started experimenting on her due to her unkillable (A/N: I know unkillable isn't a word but whatever :P) nature.

When he cried that first night in his cell, she tugged on his striped sleeve and beckoned him to watch. Wiping away his tears he watched in amazement as a flower grew from a small patch of dirt in her cell. She smiled at him and gave him the flower, motioning for him to smell it.

It smelled like home, and all things good in the world, it took him away from his plastic cell and into the past where Auschwitz was only a nightmare that his Mama would sooth away with a kiss.

It was then that Erik Lensherr vowed to get vengeance for both him and this sweet little girl, even if it was the last thing he would ever do.

Auschwitz-Birkenau: January 18, 1945:

Something was happening, thought Erik, listlessly, as he snuggled closer to Tziporah. The Nazi's were abandoning the camp, and forcing all of those able to move on a death march. Erik did not even contemplate such an idea as to leave. He could barely move, and he feared that Zippy's unkillability was at its end. He could feel every bone in her body, and could see all the scars that peeked out from under her torn and shoddy clothes.

Erik was terrified at the thought of Tziporah dying, of leaving him alone in this hell. She was his life line, his only reason to survive. Schmidt had left earlier in the morning along with the SS officers that lead the death march. It was only him and Zippy left in their torture chamber.

"Hold on, Zippy, just a little longer!" he whispered before he broke into a coughing fit.

Auschwitz-Birkenau: January 27, 1945:

Erik knew that he could not last much longer. He had forced himself to the little hole in the wall of their cell to gather snow for them to drink, but he could not force himself to move any longer.

It was over for him and Zippy.

He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of the eternal flower Zippy had made him when he first arrived. It was wilting badly, showing the state its creator was in. Whenever Tziporah was killed during Schmidt's experiments, the flower would die, but when she came back to life, it would come alive again.

It was almost dead. Permanently.

"I…love…you…big…brother…"

"I…love you…too, Zippy."

And suddenly the quiet was shattered. The sound of Russian voices was heard throughout the camp, causing all in it to still with that lost emotion called hope.

Hours later, a Russian commander asked what was in that small building over by the end of the row of buildings. A prisoner spoke, with tears in his eyes.

"It is a torture house for two little children. A little girl and a little boy! Their screams shattered the nights, their voices crying out for help!" the man spoke, his weak frame shaking from the memories. "One, the little girl, has been here for four years! Four years! And then the little boy… just last year! They tore him from his family and into that horrible building!"

The Russian commander swallowed; pale at the explanation.

He yelled for some soldiers to follow him into the building. They were not prepared for what was in there. An office room was adjacent to a torture chamber. Gleaming metal saws and knifes shined ominously in the light, blood covered the table in the middle of the room, and on the floor. A file cabinet stood open and empty in the corner.

"My God!" was heard unanimously throughout the room. Only Mengele could compare to this.

The commander hesitantly noticed a door that went from the torture chamber to a connecting room. He opened, scared of what he would find.

A heartbreaking sight was before him. Two little children lay huddled together, skeletally thin and covered in scars and fresh cuts. He knelt down next to them, and cried for those poor, poor children.

As he cried, he noticed the faintest rise and fall of their chests. They were still alive! He ordered his men, some of whom had silent tears running from their eyes to get the children to help. He picked up the smallest one, terrified at how light she was. He spoke to her as he cradled her in his arms, carrying her out of that horrid building. He almost smiled as he felt the little girl clutch tightly to his jacket, but it came out as a grimace instead.

He saw so many horrors on that day, but the children, all of them, stuck with him the most.

It was touch and go, but slowly and surely, the two children gained weight and recovered; physically at least.

Mentally, poor little Tziporah Setz and Erik Lensherr would never be the same.

One would go down a path of darkness, his only light a little girl who clung to his hand, while the other would follow her brother to hell and back.

Soooooo…. I may have been slightly depressed when I thought of this, but it has been bugging me ever since that little annoying plot bunny started jumping around in my head.

Please read and review, and please, if you see anything I could improve upon, please critique!

But take note, all ye flamers: GTHAGAL… Go To Hell And Get A Life.

3

Jude