Disclaimer: I do not own Xmen, only my OCs

I got the idea after reading an illustrated version of Coppelia and consecutively watching X2, and as most fanfiction writers do, developed the urge to write a story vaguely based on the connecting stimuli I want to spent a lot of time developing my characters, so any romance and such may not appear for a while. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

"Fucking hell, why do you always paint Euro brats from civilisations that shitted in pots?"

"Is that a yes for darker ear shading then?"

"If you mean with a black magic marker, then yeah, go crazy." A raised eyebrow and shrug was Giselle's only response. Her weak reaction left Erin to continue to prod her further. "You couldn't for once paint something cool, like a tank or someone with tats. Dudes who died with flowers stuck to their chests aren't exactly interesting."

"This painting is a commission, so obviously someone does find it interesting; sorry for not painting prostitutes with stretchers and snake bites." Erin narrowed her made up eyes at her sister's muted sarcasm.

"Well at least you read that encyclopaedia on piercings I got you. Though I was hoping you'd get the hint to realise you won't go to hell for getting anything other than your 'lopes done."

Giselle grimaced, turning back to work on adding her signature to her artwork. She had asked Erin to review a near complete oil painting of a man in a French revolutionary jacket, before the edges of the canvas were ready to be cleaned and the tape removed. Yet again, it was piece that would no doubt make a few hundred dollars, which would be safely deposited in her bank account. Of course, later she would pretend that it had sold online for a lower price, so Erin wouldn't rant at her for acting like a middle aged woman saving for her pension.

The older blonde would most likely prove her point by droning on about the latest mosh pit she had rocked at for the next long, one-sided conversation. Like all of the stories that Erin told Giselle, it would involve wild, inebriated stories of sneaking out and getting something unmentionable tattooed, pierced or exposed to a hopefully disease free partner. That's the sort of person Erin was; impulsive, aggressive, living by the mantra 'YOLO', no matter how much she said she hated 'fucking dickless hipsters'. Everything about her was a statement, a message or warning, depending on the receiver. The girl in question was extremely pale with brown freckles on her arms and nose, with a tiny frame that was made for wearing low rise jeans and cut up, tight band tops. Her hair, once a dirty yellow at birth, was now bleached and buzzed at the sides into a mullet, the front tipped black and long enough to tickle her plucked brows. She often wore dark makeup around her eyes, ignoring her lips due to her snake bites and habit of raping every male's mouth at a glance. Giselle thought that she was very Avril Lavigne-esk with her dark eyes, even if they did dull their blue hue; however she never mentioned this to Erin, because she would then go on about how the singer was a sell out, and so on.

Her interests lay in things that would give her instant pleasure, like (usually) soft drugs, nightclubs and riding her motorcycle. As far as Giselle knew, her aspirations ranged from becoming famous in a rock band to leading a citywide march against the anti enter abused minority group here, even going to space. However considering Erin once tried to literally stick a ruler down her old Physics teacher's throat for giving her detention, the final was unlikely.

Giselle on the other hand, was one of those girls who 'dabbled' in everything that was considered a fine art to know, and would be far more comfortable (in Erin's opinion) in the Georgian era somewhere in Surrey with a large family in an estate, not in the concrete apartment complex in New York, with foster parents and Erin. The blonde often criticized her 'sister's' appearance, which was too much like the Disney princesses she made an effort to sneer at. Giselle looked like one of the creamy portraits of royal princesses she painted, with dewy skin, full lips and a classic bone structure whose harshness was hidden by plump baby cheeks. Her hair was long and thick, curling in odd directions that would only vaguely be tamed if she slept with in a braid. Again, her figure contrasted Erin's model like structure, being far more voluptuous and preferring pretty dresses with lace and bows. Her eyes were the shape of almonds, passively blue, lighting up in the presence of a book rather than loud company; she used to be irritated by their ability to bled in with her face, as boys used to always talk about Erin's sapphire gems when she was dating them, and Erin had at one point found amusement in telling her that her eyes were actually green, and that she was colour blind. While petty and obviously an attempt to rustle Giselle's usually well kept feathers, she disliked people making her doubt her perception of herself, when she spent so much time observing others. She was independent and had a knack for being knowledgeable on most things; people always were surprised by her deductions, enough to earn her a Sherlock birthday card a few years ago.

The two girls were technically sisters, though not by blood. Erin was 2 years older, with a chip on her shoulder and was constantly returning to their foster home after various events that lead her many ex-foster families scarred and slightly violated of their perception of 'innocent' children.

Giselle had barely spoken to her for many years at the foster home, only properly conversing with her when they both were sent to share the same foster parents, Jill and Thomas Stonewall, two Republican, rural New Jersey natives that worked at dull corporate firms. They were nice enough, strict and proper, though lacking the paternal instinct to make them beloved. The Stonewalls were a confusing mix between being reserved yet opinionated; Jill believed that she was indeed their mother, but would offer nothing but smile as long as they obeyed; she had a knack for aggravating Erin, which lead to loud, hysterical arguments. Thomas, on the other hand, rarely contributed to conversations or engagements, occasionally shutting everyone up with a cold command or glare; Erin spent many an hour insisting to Giselle that he was a misogynistic asshole who would sell his family if he needed to, and unfortunately Giselle had to agree with her. Thomas essentially creeped her out; he wasn't a pervert, or rude to them, or inappropriate in any way. The man simply radiated hostility, flashing red lights in Giselle's mind; unlike Erin, she resorted to avoid any unnecessary attention and concentrate on her duties as a highschooler.

At first, living together seemed like it would be the death of them all. The older of the two awoke the household everyday to a new prank, be it vomit in the kitchen from a late night out or the police knocking to tell the Stonewalls that 30oz of weed had been discovered in her locker at school. For the first 2 months, Erin ignored Giselle, only blaming her crimes on her when she needed to. That tactic didn't work so well though, especially when Giselle started writing a log of her day every hour with her doings, going into horribly uncharacteristic detail until Erin couldn't take anymore of her reciting each entry to her after dinner. In truth, Giselle had been surprised it had worked at all; she simply took the opportunity of the sudden immunity to form a truce of sorts with Erin and their foster parents, keeping interaction with them to a minimum. In all actuality, she had humbled Erin's original opinion of her as a push over. Giselle was quiet and innocent looking, and people tended to overlook her. Erin had soon learnt to be wary of Giselle's knack for knowing how to get under your skin if you attacked her. The Sherlock card that sat on her dresser was scarily accurate.

Giselle was an anomaly in the household. She mutely existed there, contributing nothing but pleasantries and submissiveness to Jill's control freak demands. All of her art equipment, books, clothes, ect. were from the money Giselle had made herself, usually from her artwork. Occasionally she busked, though she only did it a few times to break her guttural fear of crowds. New York was admittedly a fun place to be; everything you needed was in reach, apart from privacy. When she did leave her cocoon of a dwelling, she ventured to the deli across the street, the library or the dance studio she had been frequenting since she was 8; it was a joy for her that she had managed to keep it up, especially now that she had been en pointe for over 2 years.

The only habit that she was scolded for by the Stonewalls was of picking the oddest places in the house to relax. Sometimes she read with a book, other times she would spend hours just thinking, occasionally with her logbook to write them down. Thomas had discovered this first, when he found her sitting in the crook of the staircase, staring at nothing, her eyes alight with the discovery of some unfathomable secret. He had nearly fallen over in the darkness with the hot soup he liked to have after Skype conference meetings in his study. Giselle had been told off after giving a weak explanation, and had reverted to going to the nearby park to sit under a tree, or by the duck pond with the lilies.

Erin didn't understand Giselle at all. At first she loathed her, with her irritating baby face and interest in everything that Erin thought boring; it was like she was created to oppose and reject her idea of what people should be like in the moving modern world. The brunette spoke softly, only bold with her words when she stated her opinions or rebuttals. She was like an itch you couldn't reach, couldn't forget. Erin wanted to scream at her to be fucking normal, to get pissed and not to be so interested in dead people from the past in her history books, like a normal teenager.

Eventually however, Erin learnt to live with Giselle. Her feelings were still there, but subdued. Oddly enough, Giselle actually noticed that Erin actively sought her out nowadays, interested in conversing, even if it did end with Giselle disagreeing with her entirely. That was the critical thing to Erin; she wasn't used to people disagreeing with her, especially someone her age. She had a hardcore reputation, always giving her opinion on every discrimination, pop culture, social happening, you name it. Perhaps that's why she didn't just pummel Giselle's face in (apart from the girl being 5'10). No one ever rained on her parade quite like her, with a solid argument and fireproof reasoning behind her conflicting opinion. It was like being in court with the devil. Because the harmless Giselle spent her time learning everything she could, about people, places, academia, the arts, even social interaction and reading people's body language, though the last one she didn't mention often in an effort to not freak out the people she did converse with. She was the one you didn't notice, until it was too late. Erin's moto may have been a fucked up version of YOLO, but Giselle's was 'knowledge is power'.

It was November time when Giselle finally agreed to go to a nightclub with Erin. She wasn't sure why Erin asked her, considering that she spent her time complaining about her preferring Debussy to dubstep. Perhaps she liked her company? Now there's a laugh. Unfortunately, Giselle knew why she agreed. Despite her rather cosy, lady like lifestyle, she had to admit that being a sexy girl in a hot, tight dress dancing the night away was a temptation. It was like forbidden fruit. It wasn't her style, she knew she'd never be that sort of girl, but she had to be able to know that from first hand experience. Every experience was useful, even if it would end up her with her dragging Erin's sorry butt home stinking of jagar bombs.

"Erin, is this ok?" Giselle cautiously walked into their shared room, clad in a pair of black leggings and a sparkling, modestly cut blouse.

"Holy fuck, you look like Whoopy from Sister Act! It's a nightclub, not a nunnery, ok?"

"I'd rather not look like I'm from a brothel. Wait, did you just reference a musical? That wasn't Rocky Horror?" Giselle's eyes widened in genuine surprise. She had been trying to convince Erin of the wonders of musicals for years, but was only ever met with comments that made Giselle question Erin's love of gays.

"I don't live in a cave, Jizz."

"Don't call me that, I'd rather not be associated with a man's bodily fluid."

"Just because you're too good for his shit."

"Refrain from continuing this topic or I'll tell Thomas that we're not going to your friends house for the night, but to a haven of strobe lights and-"

"FINE BITCH"

"Giselle."

"What?"

"I'm not a female dog, I'm your legal sister. A human by the name Giselle."

"Fuck you."

"No thank you, you're not even gay anyway." Erin scowled, taking a deep breath for assault.

"I told everyone ages ago, I'm bi, bitch. You're homophobic, aren't you?"

"Hardly. Who a person coerces for sexual pleasure with is none of my business. I however, know for a fact that you've only ever been with males, and the only girl crush you have is on Kate Moss."

"Fuck off! I know who I am, who I chose to fuck is my choice." Unfortunately, Giselle had learnt that Erin loved attention, and was one of those whiney teens that created their own drama to captivate their audiences. Erin chose to play to modern feminist (who always had a shag on the side), having been to a bunch of Gay Pride parades and protests in favour of mutants. She viciously forced her opinions down on others, ironically reminding Giselle of the stubborn republicans (like the Stonewalls) Erin hated so much. While Giselle had no qualms with mutants, black people, gay people, ect., she didn't broadcast it nation wide. In fact, she thought it rather low that Erin would be one of those hypocritical teens who faked being gay to gain a few prorights brownie points.

However, this was a conversation that had been frequented before, so Giselle ignored Erin's death glare and changed into another outfit. Eventually Erin inspected it, deemed it prudish and forced Giselle into a blue dress with rhinestone detailing. It was horribly short on her taller posture, but she soon stopped complaining when she noticed that she actually looked…rather hot actually. Her breasts and hips flared the dress over her in an out of fashion hourglass shape, and if she left her hair down in its brown curtain, she looked…wild? She shouldn't be described like that, but that was how she felt. Either way, she could still hide behind her locks if need be. The dress really was short though; it looked like it would ride up to her waist like a rubber band…

Her resolve to change again was cracked when Erin snorted and told her she looked fat. Giselle knew she was lying from the fidgeting fingers and pursed lips of jealousy Erin sported, which fuelled her usually monotone ego enough to give a sarcastic thank you and find a matching winter coat. So she looked nice in something other than egg blue sundresses. She could get used to this. As long as she remembered to pull her dress down every few steps, walk in a straight line with her ominous heels like Erin had told her to, and make sure no one spiked her drink, she would be fine. Giselle was smart. She listened attentively in all of the Personal and Social Learning lectures about substance abuse and birth control at school, even though she had to agree with Erin that she wasn't losing her virginity anytime soon. Maybe after uni, time of to travel, attaining a job… At this point she was mildly worried about being a 40 year old virgin.

The girls didn't need to get a taxi, as a bunch of Erin's friends drove up at 10 to pick them up. The car was hot with Velcro carpeting, and Giselle was wedged in the middle of Joe, lizzie and Dan, who were already high and ignoring her in favour of disgussing the nightclub they were going to. Apparently it wasn't the greatest of places, Giselle gathered. It seem to be known for being the crime scene of a few courtcases that had appeared in the newspaper, though that only seemed to excite Erin's friends even more.

When they drove up to the club, Giselle also noted from the small talk with the bouncer, that they were regulars. They did have to wait in line, but only for 5 or so minutes.

Inside, pulsing lights illuminated the throbbing dancing of tightly clothed bodies, gyrating against each other in time with the music, so loud that Giselle couldn't work out the pitch of it, but instead could feel the vibrations of the bass from the speakers. She was pulled to the bar, refused to dance and was left their with a barely alcoholic beverage while the others disappeared from view. She awkwardly pulled down the helm of her dress again, wanting nothing but to find a way out. Her head hurt from the stink of sweat and spirits, and she hated the self-loathing, which she wasn't well acquainted with, showing up. She was naïve, she could see that now; to think that she'd be able to just turn up in a tight dress, with enough confidence to dance like J-Lo and be the desire of every guy here. Even the bartender was ignoring her but for the look of pity he shot at her. Giselle was glued to her barstool, legs crossed and watching the dance floor, internally arguing with herself on what to do. Eventually she took to her favourite habit of watching people, make notes of their body language; in the tightly packed, hormonal crowd, the usual signs of sexual interest and rejection were amplified.

Possibly an hour passed, before Giselle decided that the night, while an experience she knew she was intrigued by, was now fruitless. She couldn't hide at the bar any longer, envying the girls who were condiment enough to assert themselves in the club. She wasn't sure whether Erin was even here or not, but knew she could make her own way back; after all, she never seemed to have a problem sneaking back home on her own before.

Giselle on the other hand, wasn't even sure where in New York they were, and was quite frankly terrified of walking home alone in the dark. She was fairly sporty, but only really at dance. The only remotely aggressive hobby she had was Judo classes, but that was when she was in Elementary school. She sat there for another few minutes, panicking at what to do, when she saw Erin molesting someone with her tongue against a wall close by.

Up close, Giselle realised that her partner was Dan, his ginger hair slicked down by sweat and saliva. Not one for public displays of affection, Giselle yelled Erin's name a few times, before 'gently' pushing Dan and pulling Erin away to the exit.

"What the fuck? You just cost me-"

"A night in bed with someone you won't remember tomorrow, the lost is tragic! Look Erin, I want to go home, and I don't know where that is exactly." Finally they made in outside, Giselle practically gasping as her sense of hearing returned to her. The freezing night air assaulted her body, asserting her into her usually level headedness. Erin on the other hand…

"Seriously?" She slurred, "why don't you go back and get some action, loosen that tight ass of yours?"

"Erin, please. I'm tired, cold and I want to go home. You know I can't go by myself, and you've drunk too much anyway, I can't leave you alone."

Erin pulled out a chipped nail venomously. "Listen you frigid-"

But she never got to finish her insult, as a man slung a heavy arm around her, licked her earlobe, and whispered something that caught Erin's feral attention. She forgot me a wrapped herself around the man, only to recoil when the state of his inebriation was obvious. Giselle saw that he was a good deal older than them, rough looking, and leaning on Erin for support. She was a tiny bit surprised when even Erin realised that the man was being a bit to handsy, and tried pulling him off. He growled at her, muttering things he wanted to do to her, until Giselle thrust the brute of her weight into a charge that caused him to let go and stagger back a few steps.

Giselle felt the blood drain from her face when the man turned on her with wild eyes and backhanded her. She fell to the floor and her eyes sting with shame and shock. She had to get up, do something before he ran off with Erin. Giselle pulled herself from the ground. She was already noting that a double blow to his temples and groin (like she was taught at Judo) would incapacitate him enough to grab Erin and run, when she heard the man's gargled scream. Erin's hands were thrust in his face, and sickly green mist covering them and the man's head. The blonde herself was screaming in attack, like a crazed animal. The man jerked and huge boils erupted all over him, his breathing hitching and heavy, until Erin ripped her hands away and he slumped to the floor with a groan.

Screaming from the people outside the club pulled Erin out of her trance. She ran past Giselle, pulling her by the wrist and hurtling away from the crowd that was forming around the body of their attacker. They could here shouts from the pursuers, but still ran, pumped by their fear induced adrenaline rush for another few blocks after they were no longer being followed. Erin pulled them in front of a slowing taxi, which beeped at them angrily and only calmed when Erin and Giselle entered it. The cab ride home was void of conversation. Giselle could barely concentrate on what happened, and the driver seemed to sense from their heavy breathing and terrified faces not to ask.

Erin was… a mutant? Did she already know, Giselle mused. No, she was in shock as well, still blankly staring in front of them. What had she done? Green smoke, sizzling flesh and moaning. Had she burnt him? It was almost like…

A sickness.

Yes that was it! Giselle was certain of it know the thought had come. The man had obtained angry welts and boils, like some sort of violent plague when Erin touched him. It was in the air as well, that stinking sense of dread that hung around dying people and slums.

Erin threw the driver his money and scrambled after Giselle onto the pavement outside their apartment complex. Both girls looked around them with worry, as if the whole world knew about what had just happened. Erin cursed when her shaking hands fumbled with the keys, and shook so much that she didn't even acknowledge Giselle when she took the keys herself and open the door. She locked all the locks on the door and made her way to their room, thankful that the Stonewalls were out at a company dinner. They made their way through the apartment in the darkness.

Giselle found her bed and fell into it. "Oh god…" She tried to steady her breathing, hand on chest. "Erin…"

Silence. Then the lights suddenly were flicked on, revealing the distressed mutant in the doorway. She wasn't looking at Giselle, her face hidden down from view. Her voice was rough and… threatening. "What."

"Are you ok?"

The blonde's head snapped up, her gaze making Giselle flinch. "What the fuck do you think?"

Giselle couldn't find the words to answer. She just shook her head in fatigue, proceeding to pull off her clothes and walk into their shared bathroom. Usually she was sensitive about her modesty, but never particularly bothered with Erin if she walked in by accident while she changed. However know all she could think about was how dirty she felt. Giselle wordlessly made her way to the shower, shuddering when the water hit her skin. Through the lime scale on the glass, she could make out Erin's form in front of her.

Neither of them said a word for a long time.

Giselle got out, dried herself off and sandwiched herself under the pink covers of her welcoming bed. She heard Erin splash water on her face, emerging with a cloth to aggressively rub off her makeup. Instead of making her own way to bed, she looked at Giselle, long and hard. Both of their poker faces were like steel.

Giselle's eyes followed Erin's as she made her way towards the bed and knelt in front of Giselle's head, so that they were eye to eye, only inches apart. The smell of soap battled against the odour of alcohol and damp clothing from Erin.

"What will you do Giselle?"

"Nothing."

"…nothing?"

"Did you expect me to burn you at the stake?"

A snort. That was good. Humour was the way to tame Erin, as long as it wasn't too obviously in her expense. Giselle continued onwards, her voice soft and controlled. "Was that the first time?"

"Kind of." Neither of them said anything, until Erin shifted on her knees and broke the silence again. "A little while ago, this homo with some freaky skin disease grabbed my arm, and I just…absorbed it."

"You cured him? Like a healer?"

"No."

"Tell me more."

"Why fuck should I?"

Giselle supressed the urge to roll her eyes. "What possible harm could it do?"

"You could call the police, or tell the foster fuckers."

"And what would be the point in that? I have no qualms with mutants, you know that. I'm just curious; if you didn't heal him, then…?"

"It didn't go away, the disease he had, I kinda..It stayed inside of me, like I was keeping a record of it. I was so freaked out, I just ran home and nothing happened again until a week ago."

"Did you absorb another illness?" Giselle shifted to sit up, so that Erin knew she had my undivided attention; Giselle knew that this was one of those times Erin just needed to talk about and for her to give comfort, even if she did bite the hand of the one feeding her afterwards.

"Yeah. This kid at school, you know Robert McGuiness in your year, he was going home after chunning up in class. I was walking past him when he was leaving the school gates, and bumped his shoulder, then that green fog appeared, and he was fine."

"He didn't see what you did, did he?"

"No, I just kept walking like nothing happened. He didn't notice anything other than suddenly feeling better."

"So tonight….you transferred a disease. Was it the one the homeless man had? Was his that fierce?"

"…I don't…No. I mean, yes."

"Have you collected a mental disease as well? Be clear, Erin."

She snarled at Giselle, who in turn simply quirked an eyebrow in tentative amusement. "Do you want me to tell you or not?" Erin continued when she said nothing more. "It was like I chose that particular disease, instead of Robert's vomiting. But it wasn't like that with the homeless dude. It was like I sped up the process."

"And made it more vicious."

"Yeah."

Giselle lay back down, still facing Erin. "Are you…"

"I don't regret it. That fucker was gonna rape me if I said no."

"Fair enough."

"Are you gonna tell anyone?"

"It is not my place to say."

Erin snorted weakly. "For once I'm not irritated at the Mary Poppins manners."

"I suppose I should be grateful." Giselle quietly observed Erin for a moment, before slowly tucking a strand of her overgrown mullet back. The blonde merely watched her warily, accepting her mute reassurance of their truce. "Please don't hurt people when they don't deserve it, Erin."

Erin didn't say anything back. She waited for Giselle to close her drooping eyes, then made her way to her own bed, tucking the offending spandex dress under to hide from Jill and Thomas.

Giselle suspected that they would turn up. She had heard about a group of mutants who worked for their rights alongside humans under a Professor Charles Xavier. She had read a paper of his on the mind-set of sociopaths, though admittedly understood it only partially, and had seen an advert for him to appear on TV to talk about mutant rights and such. She learnt from a google search that many people either blamed or thanked this group of vigilanties for stopping the odd thunderstorm at the statue of liberty a few months ago.

According to wiki, the Professor lived in a large mansion outside the city, the headmaster and guardian to children a range of ages at the 'Xavier Institute For Gifted Children'. A few online journalists were speculating about the whether it was an actual school or not, especially since no one who worked there would speak to the press at all. There was a high security wall around it, with acres of land between that and the main building, along with the large foliage of forest trees.

The seclusion of the school struck Giselle. 'Gifted children'. A school run by a telepath, safe from the press and anti mutant rioters. They all spelt it out to Giselle.

It was a school for mutants.

Could they sense Erin's awakened X gene? Giselle wouldn't put it past them, in fact she was certain that there would be a knock at the door from them any day.

She was right as usual.

It was two days later, on a Sunday afternoon when Jill Stonewall opened the door to a bald man in a wheelchair and a young man with red hued glasses. Being a follower of the anti mutant FoH with Thomas, she recognised Charles Xavier almost instantly, and started hysterically calling for Thomas to get rid of them.

Erin and Giselle were in the kitchen when they heard Thomas's raised voice and another male one trying to sooth him, obviously unsuccessfully. After a lot of muffled bantering, the door to the kitchen opened and let in their visitors and the Stonewalls.

Thomas's gaze shocked Giselle, the sheer ferocity that bubbled when he looked at Erin. "You. I knew you were trouble, how could we have been so stupid to think that this wasn't the reason."

"Nooooo, it couldn't have been the fact that I like fucking around to piss you off." Erin snarled back.

Jill let out a squeal at the profanity. "Giselle, honey, get away from her! These people will take her far away from here, don't worry."

Giselle usually mellow expression hardened at Jill's words. She straightened at Erin's side, replying with a stony tone that shocked everyone with its hostility. "The Insitute is merely an few hour's drive away. I would spare the dramatics for the theatre, and the insults for those with reason to administer it."

A tumbleweed would have been fitting for the scene. The shattered glass of the Stonewall's perception of Giselle was hard not to tread on.

"You have been abetting this scum?" Thomas accused.

"Watch your fucking mouth you piece of shit!" Erin roared. She lunged at them, but was grabbed around the waist by the man with red glasses and held back. Erin struggled and screamed for a few seconds before stopping, with wide eyes noticing that Thomas and Jill had stopped moving, along with the ticking of the oven clock and whooshing sound from the open window. The man in the wheelchair rolled forwards a little, with a kindly smile as the other let go of Erin and stood back at his side. Giselle all the while at been as still as a statue, but she proved she was still animate by asking "Was that you, Professor?"

The man in the wheelchair smiled a little more, and nodded. "You are very sharp, my dear. I fear it would be to leave before the authorities are needed."

"Sorry but who are you and how do you know Giselle?" Erin said in an angry tone, still panting from her charge.

"My name is Charles Xavier, and this is Scott Summers, a member of staff at my school. We are mutants, and are here to provide sanctuary to those who need it. Your powers were activated recently Miss Howard, yes? An ability involving the harvesting and administering of ailments. As for how Miss Kraus is aware of us, I believe that is down to detective work and deduction. Sherlock indeed"

Giselle smiled, pride and ego filling with the words of THE Charles Xavier, mutant genius. She wasn't even miffed that he must have read her mind to find that out. "Thank you Professor." She turned to Erin to explain. "Erin, they're not enemies, if I'm correct, they want you to join their school for mutants. You'll be safe, with other children like you. You need to pack and leave as soon as possible. Could you wipe their memories, Professor? Only of this meeting, of course. I don't want to have to verbally duel later on mutant and human rights."

"Fucking republicans." Erin snorted.

Scott Summers spoke for the first time to them. "That's probably a good course of action, however I don't think the Professor will need to wipe their memories of this meeting."

"Perhaps simply make them cooperative on not making a fuss with the authorities, yes." Xavier said.

Giselle furrowed her brow. "I don't understand. Do you want me to have to deal with the aftermath after you leave? They think me a traitor."

"You misunderstand me, my dear. We would like you to join us as well."

It was Erin's turn to answer. "But she's not a mutant!"

"Really? Well must have the wrong Giselle Kraus of New York." Scott said with a contagious smirk. "You're one of us, Giselle."

"I have no abnormal abilities that I know of."

Erin scoffed. "Dude, apart from your ability to be the master of everything!"

"I highly doubt that's anything other than the fact that I actually work, Erin." Giselle retorted. "Wait…did you just pay me a compliment?"

"Meh, you deserved it."

"For…?"

"Standing with me and not Jack 'n' Jill over there." She gestured to the frozen figures.

"Your welcome, then." Giselle turned back to their saviours. "Are you sure I am a mutant? I understand that my genes could be dormant, but then how did – ahh, you did not know about me."

Xavier's eyes twinkled at her quick wit, agreeing with a telepathic thought from Scott. 'She's pretty smart for her age!'

'Indeed, it is likely that her mutation will involve the mind rather than the physical body.'

"Correct again Giselle." He explained for Erin's benefit. "I only sensed your dormant X gene when in your close presence, and even then only because it is close to becoming active. There is little for you here now I think. We can have you settled in by the evening, and you will be safe with people like us, like you said, Giselle."

Giselle was dumbfounded. Her, a mutant! She had been indifferent to them before, but know she knew she was one, she felt…brilliant! She was like a superhero (minus the powers)! Technically, she had the ability to have powers that at the moment were just a little shy. It was odd for her to feel so giddy, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Erin was shocked when the Professor said Giselle was a mutant as well, but then it made sense, considering how clever she was. Maybe she sucked knowledge out of others, like Erin did with diseases?

Giselle released a childish grin. "Well, what are we waiting for then?"