Thank you to all who have read so far. This was a get it out my head story so I figured I'd share it and see how far it goes :) Thanks again!

After surviving the gas chambers, I was taken in for questioning. Nobody survived the gas chamber. Nobody. Ever. And surviving meant you were both a threat and phenomenon. Questioning turned into testing which meant seeing how much I could handle. Shot, burned, beaten, poisoned, gassed, you name it they put me through it. And I always came back. I always healed. And each time I'd wake up to the shocked faces of police and doctors. They demanded answers to questions I couldn't answer. Apparently, there had been another unusual case with a boy who had bent the fences and they were convinced that I was associated with him but when brought face to face, I hadn't seen him a day in my life. All I knew was that I was a strange seventeen year old who could not die and could heal very fast. I didn't get a chance to talk to the boy. All we did was exchange the same scared looks but in a odd way find relief that were not the only one with strange abilities.

When the camps were finally liberated and the war had ended, I was found in a cell deep underground. I was questioned by different authorities but had chosen to lie to avoid further testing. However, one of the original doctors told them about my 'mutation', as they called it, and swore up and down that I could not be killed. One of the officers smirked at the doctor then held a gun up to me.

I braced myself for the pain but before he pulled the trigger, he whispered, "Stay down." Before I could even register what he said, a shot rang out against the cement walls and a familiar searing pain went through the side of my head. Voices around the room spoke loudly but I kept my eyes closed and did what the man instructed me to do. I felt my body healing itself and hoped that they would leave before they saw that I was fine. The man that shot me chastised the officers and doctors and ordered that I be sent to the morgue. I was placed on a stretcher and covered. Despite the objections from the people that were testing on me, I was sent away. I laid there for a long time, wondering what I was going to do when suddenly the white sheet was yanked back and I was staring into the face of the man that shot me.

"Come." He instructed with a thick German accent then looked around to make sure everything was clear.

I obeyed him hesitantly down a large corridor. At the end was a large door and he stopped there. He handed me a bag then said in a hushed tone, "Go."

I looked at him fearfully. "Where?"

"Anywhere. As far as anyone knows, you are survivor of the camps, have no family left, and are looking for a fresh start." He narrows his eyes at me and says in a warning tone. "Nothing more. Do not say a word to anyone. You have seen what they can do. If you do not wish to be another experiment, I suggest you keep your special...abilities...to yourself. Understood?"

Still trembling, I heed the man's warning and ask no further questions though I had a million. "Understood." I whisper then go to step outside. I look back at the man and try to sound sincere though I was terrified. "Thank you."

The man's eyes soften as he nods. "Go and be well, Anna." He says softly.

Tears prick my eyes but I step outside into the unknown and began to run. I never looked back at Auschwitz. Not once. From there, I was nothing more than a terrified seventeen year old girl who had survived what they called the holocaust. I looked for family, friends, anyone that I knew but they were all gone. I shared my story with only a select few which included a family in Poland that took me in and gave me a fresh start. But even them I did not say a word about how I survived. It was bad enough that I couldn't explain why I didn't have any scars. Needless to say, my time there was limited to a few years as I noticed that I was not aging and I did not want to risk being caught again. That was how I lived for the next several years. Bouncing around from home to home, never staying in one place. I met several people, good and bad and decided that it was best to stay away from them all. I eventually moved to America in the 90s, trying to run away and forget about all that happened in Europe.

I made little connections in America. I became hard and would not allow anyone close. I didn't want to be hurt and I didn't want to hurt anyone else. I took it that I was somehow cursed until I discovered that there were other mutants alive, each having unique abilities. I came to the conclusion that I had the better end of the stick as aside from not being able to age or die, I looked pretty normal and there were definitely those who did not look...normal. I tried to stay as low as possible and it worked for a long time. Until they found me.

I had had a bad feeling that I was going to be found sooner or later. I became paranoid and hardly came out of hiding. But the big bad wolf had found me regardless of my precautions and like in Auschwitz, I was forced to undergo experimentation. I was told not to worry. I was told a lot of things. That I wouldn't be harmed and that everything that I would go through be for a greater purpose. I was told anything from that my DNA would have the possibility to cure deadly diseases such as cancer, that I was the hope the world had been looking for and that with science the possibilities were limitless. I became their pin cushion and guinea pig for a lot of things that I was left in the dark with. They discovered that I could be weakened, to the point of sleep, but that I always came back. Those experiments were hard and painful. To the point that I was begging them to stop but they only increased.

I don't know how long I was there, the days began to run into each other and I had finally given up hope. I relented to their experiments, mostly being due to being drugged up anyway. I was counting the specks on the ceiling when one day I heard a voice in my head. Thinking it was a dream or hallucinations, I dismissed them but they became more frequent. It was foggy though, like a distant voice in the wind. I couldn't completely make them out. Later on, I would realize that it was none other than Charles Xavier or Professor X as we so lovingly called him.

The day I was rescued was chaotic. I didn't know it at the time but I was being prepped to be turned into a dangerous weapon and there would be little to nothing left of my old self. I was hooked up to a lot of machines, ready to be submerged in water, my biggest fear, when the alarms went off. Shortly after, I heard a lot of screaming, fighting, and gunfire. The men that were in control of my procedure were dragged out and I saw the faint shadow of a man with claws fighting his way through. Terrified, I busted out of the contraption that was holding me and ran. Again, I heard the voice that was telling me to stay calm and trust the man with the claws, which I quickly dismissed after seeing the way he fought. I ran as far as I could go until I reached a dead end and collapsed. I crawled over to a corner behind a generator and gasped for air. I had no clothes and was doing what I could to stay covered. Again, the voice in my head said that I was okay, that I was being rescued, and to trust them. I dared not to move, I was tired and felt extremely vulnerable.

Suddenly, I see the man with the claws come around, looking for me. He turned his head, locking eyes with me, and paused. I backed up against the wall even more, covering myself the best I could. His eyes...I'll never forget them. Angry, sad, sympathetic, and a bit desperate. He retracts his claws and holds up his hands. "It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you." He says slowly. I don't say a word, making my distrust very clear. He takes off his leather jacket and hands it to me. "Here." He holds it out but I look at it as if it's a snake ready to bite. "It's okay." He insists.

I finally take it and he looks away as I slip it on. It swallows me and for that I'm grateful. I look up at him, still unable to find my words. I then see a few others show up. Mutants, I notice. They share a look with me then with the man who gave me the jacket. I shrink back again and he motions for them to take a step back then turns his attention to me.

"Listen, I know you're probably scared the hell out of your mind. Got every reason to be." He kneels down in front of me. This time I don't flinch. "I've been where you are. It ain't fun and you're gonna have a lot of questions. But these people," he nods towards the others. "they can help you."

"There's been a lot of people who have tried to 'help' me." I speak for the first time, still eyeing them suspiciously.

His eyes soften a bit. "I know." A loud noise echoes through the halls and a woman with white hair hurries over to us.

"We need to go. Now!" She says hurriedly.

The man looks back at me with a slightly fearful expression. "You can stay and face this alone or, you can come with us." I was heavily conflicted and didn't know what to do. He held out his hand. "Trust me, you don't want to face this alone."

The weightiness in his voice and the look in his eyes is what finally led me to take the stranger's hand. I was trembling fiercely and all he offered was a quick faint smile before I was scooped up and carried out. The escape was terrifying, too many close calls, but once we were out, that was the last time I was there as a prisoner.

Our time on the roof was limited and it felt too short. I'd stay up there for hours if Logan would but these days, it's just too hard on him. So I wordlessly climb down first to help him down as much as I can or rather as much as he'll let me . I don't miss the pained face he makes getting down nor the unusual sounds in his breathing. I offer an arm out but he keeps going, ignoring my help.

I had a feeling we wouldn't be going up to the roof as much any more.

"Gotta go check on Charles." He mumbles over his shoulder once we're inside.

I don't respond but stop in the kitchen area and prop myself at the table. I both watch as Logan snatches up the white bag containing the seizure pills, not bothering to make small talk with us. Deep in thought, a cup of hot tea and a small bowl of fruit appears in front of me.

I look up and see Caliban nod towards it. "Thanks." I thank him as I nibble on a strawberry.

He offers a small smile then goes back to chopping vegetables. "How did it go up there?" He asks curiously.

I shrug. "Better than earlier. We actually talked a little bit. Wasn't much but I'll take it." I answer.

"Least he talked to you. He barely says more than a few words to me much less apologize or talk about the important things." He says with a bit of bitterness in his voice.

I take a sip of my tea. "Don't take it personally, Cal. It's just how he is. It's sometimes like pulling teeth getting him to talk to me and I've known him for years." I try to assure him.

Caliban sighs and shakes his head. "Well, we all need to start communicating better around here if this is gonna work out. There's some things we need to straighten out."

I give him a curious look. "Like what?"

"Like the fact that the meds that he got won't last us through the week and it's not even the right kind." He replies.

"What do you mean?" I ask worriedly.

Caliban stops and looks at me. "Ibuprofen, Anna. That's what he got."

I close my eyes and rub the bridge of my nose. "Shit." I mumble.

"Yeah, 'shit' is right. You know what happens if he doesn't have the right stuff. But he wouldn't know because he can't read the bottle." He says frustrated. "And while we're talking about Charles, we need to embrace the fact that he's asking questions that all of us are either avoiding or don't know how to answer. He's getting antsy being locked up-"

"Do you have an answer to all of these problems you're bringing up?" I snap impatiently.

"No, I-"

"Then shut up!" I nearly yell.

Caliban slams down his cup. "Don't be like him, Anna. You can't both ignore what's going on here. Now, I'm trying to help you." He says firmly.

"This is not helping, Cal. I don't have answers for you. I wish I did but I don't. I'm trying to figure things out too and I'm getting nowhere." I say frustrated.

"It's because we need Logan to step up too."

This isn't going anywhere. "Jeez, we have this conversation like once a week. I'm trying. I honestly am trying to get through to him but you know how he is." I sigh. "Honestly, I don't think he's doing it on purpose. I think it's because he doesn't know what to do himself."

"Is it that or that he's too scared?"

I ponder the question a moment before answering. "Both." I answer quietly. "That's why he shuts down. That's why he drinks and works. That's why he ignores our questions and doesn't talk. Fear and pain, they go hand in hand. He's gone through so much that it's easier to zone out and numb it than face it. Then on top of that he's dying."

Caliban's face softens then he looks down. "That's such a heavy burden to bare alone."

I nod. "That's the only way he knows how to though, Caliban. He's done it that way for so long that he doesn't know any other way." I sigh heavily. "Earlier he told me that if I didn't like what was going on to leave."

Caliban looked slightly shocked. "Anna-"

I hold up a hand. "He doesn't mean it. He never does. Hell, in many ways I can relate. I haven't gone through half the shit he's gone through but I know what it's like to be alone. Which is why I refuse to leave him and why I'm still trying to figure out how to help him. The only solution I've come up with so far is just...being there."

Caliban's anger starts to fade a little bit. "I'll try to be more understanding. I want to help. All of you. But as I said, there's things we need to try to face. Even if it's a little bit at a time. We can't keep living this way." He says sincerely.

"I know," is the only thing I can really say in response before I decide to get up. Just in time too because I hear arguing all the way from across the plant. "Duty calls." I say with a small smirk.

Caliban nods then says after me, "He's lucky, you know." I turn around. "To have you. Both of them are. I can see how much you mean to each other."

I offer a faint smile. "More than you know." I whisper then leave the room.

Across the plant, I hear the arguing getting louder and more intense. I hurry over and yank open the door just in time to see Charles fall on his back in his wheelchair.

I gasp and cover my mouth. Logan looks back at me for a brief second. "What are you doing to me?" Charles asks brokenly.

Logan's face softens and starts to make his way over. "Charles, come on now-"

A paralyzing wave hits us and I cry out in pain. I can't move, can't breathe, think, can't do anything. It vibrates through me, making me dizzy and feeling like the very energy from me is being sucked out. I hear Logan struggling to get to him and Charles struggling to breathe and ride out the seizure. The pain continues to course through me until my eyes are rolling into the back of my head. My ears ring and I see black spots when suddenly the wave lifts and I fall hard onto the floor. The breath is knocked out of me and I cough violently, trying to get air to come back into my lungs.

"How long have I been here?" I hear Charles ask brokenly.

I tremble on the floor, feeling weak and sick. Logan is breathing heavy too as he picks Charles up and puts him bed. As I focus on healing and getting my strength back, I hear them start to bicker. I pay little attention until I hear Charles say, "Fuck off, Logan." It amuses and shocks me too, still not wrapping my head around the fact that my old friend could have such a potty mouth.

"Oh so you know who I am now?" Logan replies sarcastically.

"I always know who you are, it's just sometimes I don't recognize you." Charles says.

I glance up. What a profound statement that explains all of our relationships with Logan. Even Logan pauses for a moment before instructing him to take his pills. He turns to me and looks slightly worried. "Anna, are you okay?" He moves to help me but I wave him off, still catching my breath.

"I'm fine. Just give me a minute." I say knowing he'll understand. Charles seizures always leave me weak but I eventually gain my strength back from them.

He turns his attention back to Charles. "You leave me alone with that fucking albino. He doesn't listen to me. I know a damn speciation when I see one." He rambles.

Logan and I exchange a look. "What?" he asks incredulously.

"Speciation." Charles replies like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "New mutant. A young one. There are special forces-"

"Forces," Logan repeats while shaking his head.

"They want help." Charles continues.

"Too bad you're not in that business any more." Logan says as he picks up his chair.

"They don't want me. They want you." He says which makes me pause. Logan scoffs. "Oh yes, that's how fucking stupid they are. They're waiting for you at the Statue of Liberty."

"The Statue of Liberty was a long time ago, Charles, a long time ago." Logan tries to explain.

I shake my head, tuning out their banter then roll over and sit up. My hands rub my temples. Ouch. Seizures sucked, big time. I catch the end of Logan's sentence... "We always thought we were part of God's plan. Maybe...we were God's mistake." I swallow hard, digesting his words. They were ones we've all thought, even before mutants started to go extinct.

I look up to see Charles grab Logan's chin. Much like a father would disciplining their children. "What a disappointment you are." My eyes snap open. Even I felt the sting from that one. Logan swipes his hand away but Charles continues. "When I found you you were pursuing a career as a cage fighter. A warm capper to a life as an assassin, hooked on barbiturates. You were an animal. But we took you in. I gave you a family. You and Anna!" Tears threatened my eyes and I let out a shaky breath.

"And they're gone now." Logan says bitterly.
The words hurt. Bad. More so because they were true. The ones who rescued us, gave us a home, a family, gone. Friends, dear comrades. Gone. All because of a horrible accident involving the broken old man in the room. It was such a sore wound for us both and is why we never talk about it.

"Logan...Logan...what did you do? Answer me! Why are we here?" Charles asks frantically.

Logan ignores him, walking past him over to me and offers his hand to help me up. Tears threaten my vision but I hold them back as I wordlessly accept his hand. However, I stand up too quickly, making my vision swim and I nearly lose my balance. Logan catches me, looping his arm around me to keep me steady.

"No one should live like this. Drugged in a fucking tank!" Charles shouts.

"It's for your own good!" Logan says a bit more cruelly than intended.

"Logan..." I whisper, not able to handle hearing him talk to the professor like that. Even more the cries we hear from him as we leave. Once the door was shut behind him, he helps me over to the other side. "That was cruel, Logan." I say quietly.

Logan doesn't respond but in his eyes I see that he knows I'm right and feels the same way. Once in the other building, I let go of Logan and head to the bathroom. I quickly go to the sink and start splashing water on my face. I look in the mirror and see that I look tired, worn out. I felt like myself again, the effects of the seizure worn off for the most part. I knew Logan and Caliban would be feeling it though. I sighed, thinking about what just happened. I should've said something. Should've intervened but I couldn't make myself. I was shocked at the words the old man said and the pain hidden in them hurt me deeply. I looked at my reflection. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. I wanted to punch something so hard until my hands bled. But I couldn't do any of those things. Not here. Not now. So I do what I always do. Take the punch and stuff it down even further.

As I leave the bathroom, I pass Logan's section of the room. I see him sitting on his bed, his claws stretched out but one of them not coming out all the way. His face contorts in pain and his breathing is heavy. I approach him slowly from the corner of the room. "Logan," I say softly. He looks at me with heavy eyes. "Are you alright?" I ask. He stares at me with broken eyes then very quickly shakes his head then looks down at his claw. I kneel down next to him. "Let me help." I whisper and he nods. I grab some alcohol from the bathroom then take his hand gently in my own and wrap a towel around the jammed claw. "Take a deep breath." I warn him. He nods then closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

As carefully as I can, I pull the jammed claw out slowly. Logan grits his teeth, shaking as he embraces the pain. I feel his pain and it cuts through me like a knife. I struggle to keep my breath even and my eyes dry as I continue to pull the claw out. It's like reality hitting us both at the same time. We both knew there was something wrong with him. That he was sick and not in good shape. But this was just another piece of reality that made it all seem so definite. I struggle to keep it together as I finally get it all the way out. He's shaking and whimpering slightly from the pain but I feel that it is much more than the physical pain that is hurting him. I let out a shaky breath as I continue to wipe the blood away from his claw and hand. "Okay, um...see if you can retract them." I whisper.

He takes a deep breath then does as I ask with a painful grunt as they slide the rest of the way in. He lets out the breath he'd been holding in but his eyes closed, still shaking slightly. Wordlessly, I thoroughly clean his hands again and dress them neatly. Once I'm done, I sit in silence with him as we both battle with our thoughts. He doesn't tell me to leave so I don't move a muscle, riding this pain out with him. He finally opens his eyes and picks up a liquor bottle and with trembling hands takes a long sip, coughing a bit. Then he picks up his dog tags and looks at them then looks at me wearily. Without any words, I understand what he is saying. I'm tired and broken. I gently touch his arm. "Rest." I whisper.

He looks at me then shakily lays down slowly as I steady his head and keep it from hitting the rail. I help him the rest of the way into bed and pull the covers over his shoulders. I touch his forehead then get up to let him rest. As I go to leave, I jump slightly when a rough hand grabs my own. I look into the broken eyes staring back at me, wordlessly pleading me to stay. Understanding, I sit on the edge of his bed, firmly grabbing one of his hands in my own while the other I gently rest on his forehead, lightly stroking it in a comforting manner. It's in that moment that a lot of things are silently communicated between us. Some things can't be spoken in words. They're too deep. Too painful to describe in words and can only be felt. It was hard to embrace this kind of pain with someone but no one deserved to face it alone. He already has to to some degree as there were areas that I couldn't go with him, demons that I couldn't face.

"I gave you a family."

"And they're gone now."

I close my eyes and grip Logan's hand a little harder remembering his words. I knew the pain behind those words all too well. I could only hope that he knew he wasn't alone. He finally gives into sleep and I feel him relax.

In the moonlight, as shadows flicked by from the train, I look up and silently pray that this isn't where it would end. That by some miracle we would make it out. That something would finally...give. Something. Anything. If not for me, for my friend that meant so much to me. I only had a strand of hope left and I held on to it for dear life.

"I'm still here." I whisper so softly that I don't think he hears.

As tears fall silently, I lean down and kiss his forehead then lean my head down against his. The last thing I remember before sleep took me, I feel his hand squeeze mine slightly.

Thanks again for reading! :) Review!