A/N: This is pretty much alternate universe and partly based on the book "Boy in the striped pyjama's". It's first part (for now) takes place during the Holocaust with Erik already transferred to Auswitsch. I would like to make clear I'm aware of the fact Erik was called Max during his youth, but to keep this understandable for people who did not read the comics I will just use the name Erik Lensherr.
Disclaimer: Characters and ideas belong to Marvel, plotting belongs to me.
Chapter One: The refugee.
Charles Francis Xavier happened to peek through the west window of the mansion that afternoon.
He and his mother had moved to this - considerably large - house after his father had been placed as a lawyer to serve Johann Schmidt, a doctor and man of honor - they said.
Charles had been told the camp was a temporary place for refugees of Poland and Germany - but off course he knew better.
He heard the silent pleadings to a God he did not know, he did not understand. But he knew the people who the pleadings belonged to had faith in Him, and so Charles tended to accept the fact there might be something up there he didn t see yet. At least it gave them hope.
Please, set us free. I beg you, my children They have been awfull, save my little Marie Mein Schatz.
At night, Charles laid listening to the voices, dreams and nightmares. Sometimes he would drift of into a world of blurry visions and wake up screaming. The maid, Anne, would sit by his side.
Everything is alright, Charlie. She would say. Everything is alright. Maybe it was the familiarity of the words, or perhaps just Charles early knowledge of a foreign language like German, that one afternoon he caught a soft women s voice in his mind.
Alles ist gut, Erik. Alles ist gut.
He moved his gaze from the book he had been reading to determine if the voice came from the camp at the western side of the house, when for one terrible moment his mind went black.
A terrible pain shot through his head, which made him collapse to the ground. He caught the feeling of panic in a mind that resembled his own, but was way more damaged.
MAMA!
The silent cry rung in his ears as Charles crawled up and ran to a window in the west wing, climbing up to look outside. The camp laid there in its horrifying silence, like always.
But he knew what he heard, and something in his mind had decided he would find the source of the unknown scream for help, the reason for the black moment of his telepathy.
Charles had always known he was different, he needed no one to guide him. In fact, he had never needed anyone to guide him.
Charles, dinner! Anne s soothing voice came from downstairs and he descended, stepping into the kitchen hiding his shock pretty well, while the maid brushed his hair behind his ear.
Now, it will be a quiet dinner, your parents have been invited to Herr Schmidt s dinner, so it s just the two of us. She served his dinner and sat beside him, guarding as always. Sometimes he caught her thoughts, which were worried and randomly blurred through her unconsciousness.
Who is in the western camp? He found himself, between two spoons of mashed potato, asking the question he had asked himself for days.
Anne glared at him, her mind speaking more than her body language.
Don t ask, don t tell.
People. She answered in the end. People, like you and me. It was soothing at least to know that Anne didn t see them as rats, even though Charles wouldn t realize what her words meant until much later.
Later that evening, after Anne left him in his bed with a warm glass of milk and a book full of fairy tales, he drew up his knees against his chest. In his mind he tried to form the face of the boy who screamed - he was sure it had been a boy. A mind resembling his own that much, it almost felt natural to search for the presence of the others mind once again.
I m sorry Mama, I m so sorry.. Ich liebe dich.. Ich liebe dich, Mama.
Charles could feel the other s agony, the other s tears. He silently slipped out of his bed, wrapping himself in one of his old sweaters before sneaking down the stairs.
Leaving the mansion without Anne s noticing was easy. A house so big, with rooms so countless - he could sense her presence in the dining room, rippled words came through her mind.
Heatcliff said Katie wondered
He left her in peace, reading Wuthering Heights for the third time and got out through the backdoor of the kitchen.
The night was chilling cold and he drew the large cardigan more close around him to shield his skin. As a rich kid he wasn t used to much. Not this much, in any case. There was ice crawling up the windows, the sound of chattering teeth in his mind.
Have to get out, have to.
Charles pressed his fingertips against his temple when sensing the pleasantly familiar presence once again. He located the young voice near to the mansion, he felt fingers digging in the dirt.
His steps became faster, almost running. Silence had always been his strong point and he was merely a shadow as he crossed the field until reaching the fence he saw so often from the windows of the west wing.
Have to get out.. have-
Suddenly, a wave of shock went through both their minds. Charles had to steady himself onto the branches of a still young tree.
Go away! A soft hissing voice emerged from behind the fence, trying desperately to sound demanding. In Charles head, who could sense almost every emotion, it sounded full of fear.
Who are you? I said go away! Charles was too late to sense the string of haywire that snapped and wrapped loosely around his throat, the points brushing over his skin.
Metal. The metal moved out of nowhere.
I am not afraid to kill. I am not afraid of you. Charles spoke, holding his breath to keep the haywire from damaging his skin.
A boy emerged from the shadows. He was thin, his hair filthy, at some places fallen out. His cheeks were hollow and his fingers black from digging the dirt.
They looked at eachother. Charles tried to concentrate on the unknown mind, rather than the haywire threatening to kill him.
He found an amount of pain too full of agony to touch, so he let go of the others thoughts and decided to soothe him instead.
Erik. He projected into his others mind. I am like you.
He didn t know how he realized, but assumed he had always known he wasn t the only one. He sensed a mind that was the same.
And it appeared he had been right.