Author's Note: Wow. :) I'm really happy that you guys seem to like the story so far. I'm so happy that I actually wrote out this update in maybe three hours. Thanks so much for the reviews, favorites, and alerts, guys. I highly appreciate it. :) So I'll admit there's a bit of a longer Miranda scene in here. It's more to introduce her and a bit of her background, because trust me, there's a few things you don't know about her yet. There's a bit more Erik/Miranda if you squint, but it's going to take awhile to get to that point. I'm going to milk their relationship's development for all its worth. Next chapter is more Erik.

I don't own X-Men. God, I wish I did. We would have had a Deadpool movie by now. And Bobby would actually be in-character in the movies. And we would have Rogue/Gambit. But I don't own X-Men. Oh, well.

Please review. I told you, the more reviews, the quicker the updates. See? I kept my promise. :) So please review, and give comments, suggestions, and what you'd like to see between Erik and Miranda.

Turning Tables
Erik glared at her. "You haven't even heard my plan yet." "I don't need to. It involves boats and a sociopathic doctor. It won't end well." With a partner in his vendetta against Shaw, Erik Lensherr thought things would change. He was right. Erik/OC

Chapter 1

Geneva, Switzerland
1962

Over the past four years, Miranda Hanson had spent a lot of time in a number of different bars. To her, they all shared the same dank and musty smell that half reminded her of home and half made her want to throw up. But despite the smell and questionable occupants, they were where most of the information had been gathered for her and her partner.

It had been nearly three years since their meeting, and though it had been shaky for the first year, the partnership between Erik and Miranda was finally yielding some results in their quest to find Schmidt. The problem now was finding where he would be now.

But today, for once, wasn't about Schmidt.

Miranda buried her hands in the long black coat she had on, moving quickly through the sunny streets to the bar that she had heard about. Her fingers fiddled with the wedding ring that had been tied into the coat pocket, a reminder of the past and why she was still living. It was also to remind her of what she was going to find someday, the murder that she would someday commit.

It made her feel guiltier than she should have been.

She pushed those thoughts from her head as the dim bar, the door swinging shut behind her. Miranda's green eyes narrowed as she scanned the dark interior of the building, but light up in surprise and even a bit of happiness as she finally located the person she had agreed to meet with today.

He wasn't very old, only twenty at the very most. His hair was a mop of dark brown locks, and though she couldn't see his eyes, she knew they were a dark chocolate brown that always seemed to be laughing. For a moment, Miranda worked up at the courage that she knew would be needed. This was not going to be easy, especially after the events that had occurred since she had last seen him.

She took a deep breath before crossing the space from the door to the bar, ignoring the looks from drunk patrons. "Hello, Daniel," she greeted as she sat down next to him, surprising him.

He jumped slightly at the sound of her voice, his head snapping to look at her. His eyes were the same color that they always had been, and she felt a dull thud of pain deep within her chest. They were the same color that she had woken up to for a year, so different from the dead brown that she had looked into that fateful night years before.

"Miranda," he greeted back, his body relaxing. An encouraging grin lit up his face, and the dull pain sharpened.

Despite that, however, she still hugged him back when he stood up and wrapped his arms around him. As much as she tried to fight it, a smile crossed her face as she was reminded of happier days.

"How are you?" Daniel asked, his eyes curious as he looked her over. "I haven't seen you since the funeral."

Miranda nodded, slightly glad that she had not flinched at the mention of the funeral. "I'm fine," she said, pushing a smile onto her face. "Traveling is so much fun, and Erik is great…"

"Your boyfriend, right?" Daniel asked, a strange look coming over his face. He turned to the bartender. "A beer and a brandy, please." He looked at him. "Your mom mentioned you were traveling with a guy. She didn't say whether you were serious or not."

"It's complicated," Miranda lied, her insides twisting. She was lying to someone who she had known all of her life. She couldn't tell him the truth. It was already complicated enough with just her and Erik.

Daniel nodded as the bartender brought the two drinks over. Miranda managed to sip at her drink, as Daniel took a good drink of his. He placed his glass back on the counter as he looked back at Miranda. "When did you meet Erik, anyway?" he asked curiously.

"Barcelona," Miranda replied, glad to be finally telling something of the truth. "We were both on vacation, we met, and found out that we were traveling. We decided to stick together, keep each other company."

That was closer to the truth. Not very, but close enough for Miranda's stomach to stop twisting with guilt. What was she supposed to tell Daniel? He had a normal life. Miranda had lost her normal life the night that Schmidt had walked in and taken it away from her. He had taken everything away from her that night.

She wouldn't let him take away the peace that Daniel clearly held about his brother's murder.

Daniel looked at her, a calm smile on his face. "I think that David would be happy for you," he finally said after a few silent minutes. "He wouldn't want you to spend the rest of your life alone. I bet he would have gotten along great with Erik."

For a moment, Miranda mulled it over. And then, she burst out laughing. It was the most genuine laugh that she had given since the night she had met Schmidt. Even the idea of her passionate and hot-tempered husband meeting the intense and serious Erik made her completely lose herself in laughter.

"I doubt it," Miranda finally said, shaking her head, the light-hearted grin still on her face. "I seriously doubt it."

"They're that different?" asked Daniel, smiling slightly at the show of Miranda's laughter.

"Like fire and ice," Miranda replied, nodding slightly.

"I think I can guess which is which," Daniel muttered, rolling his eyes.

A silence descended between the two for a few minutes. It wasn't awkward or uncomfortable. It was a silence full of memories of their mutual past, of a happier time, of a cheerful brunette man with a love of life who had had his ripped away too soon. That man had left behind so much, but those memories of him were now the only thing tying Daniel and Miranda together.

Daniel broke the silence before looking at her. "Look, I know it's not my place to go here," he finally admitted. His voice lowered to a point where Miranda had to strain to hear it. "Because honestly, I know that this is all way above my head. But I know, Miranda."

Miranda faked a frown as her heartbeat accelerated. "Know what?" she asked calmly. Every cell in her body felt cornered, and she knew that she wasn't going to like what happened here.

"That you haven't been traveling around for the past few years just to see Europe."

Her heartbeat accelerated further.

"That Erik isn't your boyfriend or even anything romantic."

Her blood turned to ice.

"That you're going after David's murderer."

She felt faint.

"I know everything."

For a moment, she was dumbstruck. That was rare enough on itself. Miranda could usually react quickly to any situation, whether it was the right or wrong way to do so. But now, confronted by the fact that someone other than herself or Erik knew the truth, she was frozen. She hadn't wanted anyone else to know. This was her own journey, and she had to do this her way. This was Erik's journey, and he had to do it alone.

It just so happened that their journeys paralleled the other's.

Miranda swallowed. "How did you find out?" she asked, her voice harder than steel.

Daniel, to his credit, didn't flinch. "I did my research. I used my head." He sighed before looking at her. "That's why I called you here today."

"Why did you, then?" Miranda asked, a bit of anger creeping into her voice. "Daniel, every minute this happens is a minute that Schmidt is getting away with murder. Not just David's, but hundreds of other people." She began to stand, but Daniel grabbed her arm.

"I'm not going to pretend that I'm not angry," he snapped at her, pulling her back to sit down. "David was my best friend, Miranda. He was my brother. But I'm not going to pretend that I have any chance against him. I don't know how, but you and your friend… you do."

Miranda watched him carefully. "Why did you want to meet me, then?"

Daniel glanced around before putting his hand in his left pocket. He pulled out several pieces of Switzerland's currency, despite the fact that he and Miranda had barely had any of their drinks. He walked out calmly, and Miranda frowned at his back for a second before following him.

Daniel had stopped a few yards down the street, facing her. She stopped in front of him, and the two stared at each other for a moment. They both knew it would be the last time they would ever see each other. They wouldn't have any need after this point.

Daniel pulled out a piece of paper before handing it to her. She unfolded it and took a good look at it. "It's a bank," she finally said, confusion in her voice. "And the name of one of its employees?"

Daniel nodded. "It's a bank where Schmidt does business," he explained as Miranda looked up sharply. "Don't ask how I got it. If I tell you, it's going to put a few lives in serious danger from him. But if you're going to find where he is from anyone, it's going to be the man who's name was reading."

She looked at him. "Thank you," she whispered after a few seconds, after struggling to find the words she needed to say.

Daniel nodded calmly. "Take care of yourself." He turned around and began to walk away. For a few seconds, she watched as he walk away. One question still burned in her mind, and she knew she had to ask him before he left her life for good.

"Daniel."

Daniel stopped, but didn't turn around.

"Why?" Miranda asked finally. She didn't understand why he would do this for her.

"Because, Miranda," he finally replied. He turned back to look at her, and the resemblance he held to David nearly stabbed her in the gut with regret. "You lost your husband. But don't forget one thing." Their eyes met, green on brown, and Miranda knew she would never forget her brother-in-law's final words. "I lost my brother, too."

His words echoed in her mind long after they both had left.

Hotel rooms were nothing new to Erik Lensherr. He hadn't had a home since his hunt for Schmidt had begun, and he held serious doubts that he would ever find one again. He was too restless and too full of the knowledge that home could be taken away from him just as quickly as his life could. He had lost his home once, and he would not go through that experience again.

For the last few years, hotel rooms had been the one thing that resembled home.

Hotel rooms with one bed, however, were another story.

If there was anything that Erik and Miranda both hated, it was any hotel room that only had one bed.

Erik was so much taller than Miranda that he would end up hogging most of the bed. Miranda twisted and turned most of the time, and usually kicked Erik hard enough for him to have bruises by the time he woke up. They already had the ability to get on each other's nerves like no other could. They didn't need to encourage that talent by sharing a bed.

The current room was nondescript compared to most, especially considering the volume of rooms that Erik had slept in over the course of the past years. He would admit that it had a wonderful view. A desk was cluttered with supplies and papers, all research gathered by Erik and Miranda. The wall above it was covered in pictures and a map. It was their guide to where Schmidt had been, and the most recent addition to their collection had pointed to Geneva. Two green chairs were on the far side of the bed, their backs to the window.

Unluckily for both, the hotel room in Geneva, Switzerland, had only one bed.

Luckily for Erik, however, Miranda had gone out.

He spent the time she was gone the way he usually did. He would think of everything, of what lead was being chased down, where they might go next, and most of all, how it all would end. Usually, every second spent with his partner meant they were planning, packing, or plotting their next step. The were two allies with a common goal. He would never admit it verbally to her, but they were two friends with a common interest.

Today, he thought of how it would end.

The coin floated between the fingers of his hands. It was the same coin that had been with him since the beginning. It had sat on the desk while his mother had been murdered feet behind him. It had been there when he had been liberated from the camp, and it had been with him when Erik had promised himself that his mother would be avenged.

His attention was grasped by a hand-sketched portrait of Schmidt. It was him to a perfect degree. Miranda had mentioned to him that she had drawn it in the weeks following her husband's murder. She had always been artistic, and this time, her artistic ability had captured the face of a murderer.

It was the face of their target.

The coin floated between his fingers as he thought. The more he thought of what had occurred through the years, the higher his rage became. His blue eyes narrowed at the sketch as he thought of his mother, the camps, and the horrors that Schmidt had done to him in those camps.

And then, the rage broke.

As the door to the hotel room opened, he flicked his fingers sharply, launching the coin hard against the room. It landed in the wall right in the forehead of Miranda's sketch of Schmidt.

A few seconds later, Erik looked calmly towards the door, where Miranda stood, watching him with a raised eyebrow. "If you do that to him, I won't complain about not being the one to kill him," she told him calmly, setting her black bag back on the table as she locked the door behind her.

"If I can find a way, it will be more brutal," he promised.

Miranda smirked and rolled her eyes. "Whatever works," she told him. She pulled off the black coat, shaking her hair out of the tight ponytail as she removed the piece of cloth tying her hair back. "You didn't sleep last night," she mentioned as she crossed the room, sitting in the green chair farthest away from Erik.

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever gave you that idea?" he asked dryly.

"I know you, Erik," she reminded him. He noticed she was playing with a piece of paper in her hand. "And I know you had that nightmare again."

Damn her. She was too observant of everything around her. So many times it had helped them in their quest to find the murderer of their families. But there were times, such at this, that it worked against Erik in the worst possible way. She had her own nightmares. He noticed them. He would mention them.

But that didn't mean that he didn't hate when she brought up his.

Erik sighed, frustration heard in his voice as he asked, "Why do I ever tell you anything?"

"Because we're stuck together in this until Schmidt is dead," she replied calmly. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she challenged him to protest that.

He didn't.

She shook her head before looking at the coin, still trapped in the wall. She stood up before walking over to the sketch, regarding it with a critical eye. "I'm never going to forget his face," she admitted quietly. "Years from now, if it's all over, I won't forget it."

The silence Miranda received told her that it was the same for him.

She pulled the coin out of the wall after give a hard tug. She held the coin in her hands, looking it over, before glancing at Erik. She tossed it at him, and it gently floated through the air, landing to rest in his palm. She smirked before looking at the piece of paper. She moved back to the other side of the room, sitting in the chair closer to Erik.

She handed over the piece of paper, and he frowned as he read over it. "What does this have to do with anything?" he asked.

"Everything," Miranda replied simply.

"Do you care to explain?" Erik asked, looking at her with a familiar frown.

"He knows where Schmidt is," Miranda answered.

The reaction was instantaneous. Erik's body tensed, and his eyes lit up in surprise before turning sharply to a calm Miranda. Her body remained relaxed, and she just watched him for a few minutes. She stood up before smiling at him, clearly beyond pleased with herself.

"The bank opens in about an hour," she told him. "I think the husband and wife ploy will work," she added. "And pack everything up. We leave as soon as we get the information."

Erik smirked at her. "What makes you think you're in charge?" he demanded.

"I'm a female. Moreover, I'm the one that actually can be calm out of the two of us. I'm automatically in charge," she replied immediately. She strode towards the bathroom before turning around to direct her self-satisfied smirk towards him. "And besides, if you were in charge, we would be dead." She raised an eyebrow as he chuckled. "Don't deny it, Lensherr."

"I'm not, Hanson," Erik replied, squeezing the coin in his hand as he reread the paper. "Go get ready. Today, we're actually going to get somewhere in this crusade."

Miranda rolled her eyes. "It's about time."