I tried my hand at a DC story, and I really think I could have done a lot better than what I came up with. So, here I am, trying my hand at a Marvel story and praying that it'll turn out better, with a less rushed pace, a longer time span, and much more depth.

Hopefully you enjoy this first chapter!

P.S - the lack of Alex/OC stories is astounding. He's such a good character; you can really go deep into the way his mind works and stuff, instead of almost skimming over all the interesting and realistic things about him like they did in First Class. Anyhoos.

DISCLAIMER: The only thing I own in terms of this story is Evelyn and the plot points specific to her.

Chapter 1: Visitors?

His coat of white should have meant that he was the embodiment of peace, of innocence and purity and everything good in this world, but he contradicted that in any and every way he could. His greasy, greying hair was pulled tightly back into a ponytail, stretching his wrinkled skin to make him even more gruesome looking, while black eyes peered out from underneath thin eyebrows, speaking only of ill intentions. A fat tongue darted out to wet his cracked lips, the corners turning up into a cruel smirk. "Sweet Evelyn," he muttered, "Today is the day that you cooperate with us."

It was the same threatening remark as it was in all the previous sessions, and he knew it was a lie, but he enjoyed people squirming under his menacing tone and look so much that the remark came instinctively to him. Unfortunately for him, he did not get such a reaction in these particular sessions; however, he would persevere until he was satisfied - he was infuriatingly patient in that sense. "Let us begin with this: why do you think you are here?" he asked. Kindness was coating his tone, painting over the malice in order to hide it from observers.

"I don't know."

His finger twitched almost unnoticeably, but his associate caught the movement and pressed a finger down on the button. A buzzing noise echoed around the room, mingling with the quiet grunt that escaped my throat and the rustling of my gown against the chair as I jerked painfully.

"There is obviously a reason, Evelyn. If there wasn't something wrong with you, you wouldn't be here. What do you think it is?" He started to circle the chair like a predator circles his prey, looming over me with those black eyes and that deceiving coat.

"There's nothing wrong with me."

"Turn up the voltage and shock her again."

I exhaled slowly, closing my eyes as his associate flicked the switch for the next shock level, and relaxed my body. I was ready when the buzzer sounded again and pain shot through me like a bolt of lightning. The hairs on my arm stood on edge and an ache was threatening to set into my muscles, but I refused to react externally to his punishment. I would not be the source of any satisfaction for this monster.

"Denial is unhealthy, Evelyn," he scolded, cocking his head at an angle as he stared. "It can do more harm than good in the long run."

My jaw clenched and I glared back at him. "I will not let you torture me into obedience," I spat quietly, unblinking. "There is nothing wrong with me."

He tutted disappointedly, acting hurt. "Sweet Evelyn, this is not torture at all! This is a treatment to help you think straight, to make you healthy again." He turned to his associate and nodded, lips twitching just barely at the sound of the switch being flipped. But it didn't stop there.

My face paled as switch after switch was flipped, his expression growing more and more disturbingly excited as they were. "You'll kill me if you aren't careful," I told him, voice steady.

His face darkened as he grinned sinisterly, bowing his head to look at me better. "Oh, Evelyn, I'm not going to kill you," he replied. "However, whether you will be to blame is still to be decided. Do you want to die, Evelyn?"

"Yes."

The scream ripped at the flesh of my throat as it tore out of my mouth, my back arching rigidly and my muscles simultaneously clenching and tensing against the searing, agonising-

I shot up off my thin mattress, clenching the sheets in one hand and my erratically thumping chest in the other. The flimsy gown covering my body clung to me like a second skin, drenched in a cold sweat, while my bark-brown hair stuck to my neck and shoulders. My breaths came heavily and uneven and my thoughts were completely jumbled as memories shot through me like the electric shocks, leaving behind just as much damage.

"Hey!" a gruff voice snapped, accompanied by a baton hitting the doorframe noisily. "Get your skinny ass out of bed before I drag you out myself."

I steadied myself and looked out through the caged window at the top of the door, seeing only one guard and no other form of life. "Why?" It was clearly the middle of the night; I didn't trust these guys to be alone with me and not take advantage of that.

"You've got visitors," he replied reluctantly, still as pissy as ever – possibly even more.

Then the words sunk in. Visitors? That was as likely as me getting the hell out of this place, which was not likely at all, unfortunately. I couldn't understand who knew enough about me to discover I was here and why they would then want to speak to me. I hadn't had contact with someone other than an employee here or a patient in over seven years; who would want to visit me? It was incomprehensible.

Nevertheless, I dazedly stood and walked over to the door, slipping out when the guard unlocked it. His baton pressed threateningly into my back the whole way through the pale, sterile corridors, his footsteps squeaking on the pristine floor while my bare feet padded silently. You'd think that with all the doctors rambling on about how they wanted to help you and how they wanted to make you better again, they'd have some more pleasant attendees to escort you around the building; but, no, they were all leering assholes who got off on being unfair and cruel to the helpless patients. It made my blood boil.

When we finally came to the Visitors' Room, I halted and stared. There was a large pane of thick, bulletproof glass that ran down the length of the room, splitting it in half. Walls intersected it at different distances to create private booths, while desks stuck out either side of it. In one of the booths there was a man sitting watching me, wearing expensive clothing with his brown hair smoothed on his head. I could see my reflection in the glass separating us: the dishevelled, brown hair; blank, dark eyes; and simple, unflattering – but still exposing – gown. I looked like a beggar compared to this man.

The guard shoved me forward and I took a seat at the desk, studying the man intensely. What did someone like him have to do with a "mentally unstable" patient like me? I noticed another man standing a while behind the seated one, this one standing up against the back wall with his hands in his pockets. Who was he, a bodyguard? I nearly snorted at the thought; there was no way I'd be able to get through this glass to the smaller man, so there was really no point.

"Hello, Evelyn," the seated man said gently, in a voice that sounded calming and comforting. I refused to be lured into a sense of false security, however. "My name is Charles Xavier." He was an Englishman in America, probably here for business of some sort – so why the hell was he sitting opposite me? "I'm currently working with the CIA, and I need your help."

I was hallucinating, or having a very realistic dream. I had to be. There was no reason for someone from the government to come down and speak to little old me. Unless- "What do you want from me?"

He frowned slightly at the harsh tone of my voice, obviously expecting me to have been calmed by his. "You have certain characteristics that we believe can help us defeat our enemy." My heart started thumping loudly in my chest, panic seeping into my bones.

They knew.

They knew about me and they wanted to take me away to kill me, rid the world of my freakish presence. "Believe me, I'm not here to hurt you," he said, placing a hand flat on the desk as he leaned forward, blue eyes shining compassionately.

"I'm not worried about that," I lied.

He smiled then, in an I-know-more-than-you-think way. "The reason I know you have these characteristics is because I am like you." He took his hand off the desk to lean against his temple, eyes flickering to the guard behind me. "Leave us." I quirked an eyebrow doubtfully, but the guard turned and walked out of the room, baffling me and sending me further into the inescapable depths of panic. Who was he that he had such influence over these guards? They never left a patient's side in case there was a chance for them to display their superiority. "What I'm going to tell you will come as a shock, Evelyn. It's only natural." I looked at him warily, readying myself to flee. "I am a telepath; I can read, communicate with, and control minds."

I stared at him. I stared at him for a long time. Then I got angry. "Bullshit," I muttered, standing up and turning my back on him.

"Evelyn, I am not lying."

My body froze, muscles tensing in angry disbelief. That voice, his voice, had come from inside my head. He was inside my head. That was my one sanctuary, the one place I could retreat to without anyone hurting me, and he was inside of it, talking so calmly and so ignorantly to me. Rage contorted my features and I looked at him over my shoulder. "Stay the fuck outta my head," I snarled. Then I walked away.

"I know how you feel."

I stopped, closing my eyes against my irritation as I sighed deeply. When I recomposed myself I turned to face them again, looking at the new speaker. It was the taller man that had been standing against the wall, but he was now next to the small one, wearing just as expensive clothes, looking just as sharp. "Really?" I replied sarcastically, looking him over again. "I'm sure you do."

"You don't want him in your head because that's all you have left," he told me, cold, grey eyes piercing into my soul.

I scowled. "I guess you're some mind controller too, huh?"

He shook his head. "No, I just felt the same way when I met him."

My frown deepened. Then he angled his wrist towards me and pulled up his sleeve, exposing a tattooed series of numbers on his skin. It took me a moment to realise what they meant; we had a couple of patients like him here. "What happened?" I asked, turning to face them fully.

"A doctor discovered my mutation and experimented on me," he replied, pulling his sleeve back down.

"Mutation?" I repeated, the word feeling foreign on my tongue.

"Your mutation is your set of... inhuman characteristics. For example, my mutation is telepathy," Xavier answered my unspoken question, "And Erik's is the manipulation of metal."

"Why can't you just control your enemy's mind? Why do you need me?"

"Shaw is also a mutant, like us, and he is very dangerous; he has followers, we're uncertain of how many at the moment, but that means that it will be difficult getting close enough to stop him, especially since there is another telepath with him who is able to block my mutation from reaching him."

So, now there were at least four people in the world like me, with strange abilities like mine. Except, there was one problem: "I don't even know what my mutation is; how can I possibly help you?"

Charles smiled softly. "I can tell you what it is."

I quirked an eyebrow. "But there's a catch, right?"

"You'll have to let me inside your mind to look at your memories."

I sighed heavily, rubbing my face. "And why can't I figure it out from them?"

"You were young when your mutation first triggered, you didn't understand what had happened or that you had even done anything. That ignorance might blind you again." I was going to challenge his word choice of "might" then and suggest that there was a chance I would find it, but he spoke before I could. "I swear to you, Evelyn, I won't do anything else in your mind." The sincere and genuine look on his face was chipping at my reluctance to the point that I was seriously considering giving him permission. Then Erik spoke again.

"You can trust us, Evelyn."

My resolve broke and I found myself sitting in front of them again. "You only look for my mutation; try anything else and I'm gone." I didn't know if my threat would even spark some obedience in him – who knew if I actually was important enough to them that they wouldn't risk losing my help?

His fingers came up to his temple again and his bright blue eyes bore into my brown ones, staring into my soul. I felt exposed and vulnerable, but I longed to know what my mutation was. For the years I was locked in my cell at the back of the building, I could always feel something pulsing beyond the back wall when my emotions peaked. I would latch onto the sensation, aware of the fact that I was making something happen, but I never knew what it was. Finally, I was about to find out.

Charles blinked and lowered his fingers, eyes bright with anticipation. "I'm not sure what the extent of your mutation is – although I'm certain you can be a very powerful mutant," he told me.

"But do you know what it is?" I demanded, subconsciously leaning forward.

"It is plant manipulation," he smiled. "When it first showed itself, all that happened was you made a flower grow from a seed to its full form in less than ten seconds, but, with some training, you could have control over so much more."

I leaned back in my seat, staring at him. The pulsing through the wall was the life of plants I was feeling, and I was controlling them. "Well, shit," I muttered, my eyebrows rising. A sudden longing to go outside and test this mutation of mine overwhelmed me, and I shifted in my seat.

"If you come with us, I promise you I will help you as much as I can to develop your mutation. You will be with other young mutants like yourself, you'll have a family, and you might just save millions of lives from a third World War."

I looked between the two men, curiosity burning like a bonfire in my stomach. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't quell it, and then words were tumbling from my lips: "I'm gonna hold you to that, Xavier."

He grinned brilliantly. "Please, call me Charles."

Please leave a review - they are immeasurably helpful; I need to know what erbody thinks of my story so far!

I'll hopefully see you again for a second chapter. Until then, stay fab.