III.
They decide to find mutants to join their G-men force in the CIA on their own. Hannah McCoy, a young scientist and fellow mutant, has designed this machine called Cerebro. It will enhance Charlene's talents, and help her and Erika find where the other mutants of the world are hiding.
They meet many people: a bouncer at a strip club who calls himself Angel, a mutant who has wings like a dragonfly and can spit acid; a taxi cab driver named Amanda who has gained the nickname Darwin due to her ability to adapt to anything; a young blonde girl at an all-woman prison who prefers solitary confinement because she thinks she is dangerous, and her name is Alexandra, but likes to be called Alex; and then there is Seana, who can project sonic waves from her mouth, her wavy strawberry-blonde hair blowing back and her freckles scrunching up as she does so.
They are an amazing group of people, each and every last one of them.
Ray comes up beside Charlene and gives her a hug. "You did it, sister," he teases, laughing. "Look at all the people we have to help us, now!"
Erika is less optimistic than the young blond man who hides his blue skin and red hair and yellow eyes. "They are hardly experienced at all, and this is the only the beginning. If we want to go up against Sebrina and her minions, then we have to get stronger, and more in control of our gifts." And with that, she stalks out of the room, leaving everyone else behind.
Ray turns to Charlene. "Want me to talk to her?" he asks. He transforms into a CIA agent. "Or perhaps coax her?" and he pounds a fist into his other hand, a smirk on his borrowed face.
"Ray!" Charlene scolds, smacking her brother's arm. "That is hardly appropriate!"
Ray shifts back, his smile fading. "I was only kidding," he replies in a mumble. He shakes his head and turns to Hannah, who blushes on sight. "I need to talk to Hannah about my blood, anyway. There could be use for my appearance-changing mutation." He waves and starts to walk toward the spectacled, pigtailed brunette. "See you later, Charley!"
"Yeah, yeah," the telepath retorts with a half-smile. She turns and walks again, headed in the direction Erika left in. The others they have gathered are relaxing in a lounge room with large windows and a mini-bar (mostly non-alcoholic) and complete with pinball games. She leaves them behind in search of her metal-controlling friend.
She finds the young German-Jew woman by herself, her knees drawn up to her chest where she rests against a wall in her dark guest bedroom. Charlene doesn't even knock; simply lets herself in, slipping past the wooden door and closing it behind her.
"What's wrong, Erika?"
"There's another war coming," the other woman retorts coldly. She looks up from her knees to send Charlene a frightening look, one that sends a shiver down the telepath's spine with how intense and grave it is, how malicious. "And I'm torn between desperately wanting to be a part of it and desperately wanting to run away from it."
Charlene opts to sit on the floor before Erika, her own legs in an open pretzel, her hands laced together and in the triangle of her lap. "I can understand that," Charlene agrees quietly. "But I don't think it will be a war, Erika. I believe that there will be conflict, yes, but not flat-out war. War means that both sides are parallel, and that they are aiming for a goal. That isn't happening here. Instead, we are getting rebellion and fear, but soon enough, I truly think there will be resolve."
"I'm not so sure," Erika scoffs in reply. "If anything, it will be a disaster. A disaster between mutants and humans for decades to come. I can practically see it happening, Charlene: another Holocaust all over again, humans wiping out mutants because they hate them and are afraid of the unknown. And this time, I am not going to be a victim. Once, and never again," she utters in a low, furious tone. Her hand idly moves to stroke the number on her left forearm, on the tender skin aligned with her palm.
Impulsively, Charlene's hands dart out and she tenderly grabs Erika's wrist, her other hand clasping the other woman's. "Erika, please!" she cries, her eyes locked with the other woman's, and her voice firm. "Don't think that way! We are going to do good, you and I. We have allies, friends, who will help us defeat Shaw and her gang of miscreants. And you won't need to feel like you're a victim again because we are going to have the humans see what good we can do after we stop Shaw, and they will come to accept us."
"What makes you think so, and have so much blind faith in their kind? Humans are inferior, Charlene. They will never be the better men."
"But we can be. We can be the better women. We can show them all," Charlene says passionately, and she leans in a bit, getting on her knees. "You will see, too, my friend. I can show you that we're in this together." And, before she can second-guess what her heart is telling her to do, Charlene presses onward and places her lips over Erika's.
Erika has been raped, not kissed. Erika has been tortured, not loved. Sebrina was like an evil stepmother after the heartless bitch killed Erika's father. Erika has never has a sister, or a true friend. She doesn't understand this, doesn't know why is feels safe (perhaps because Charlene is a girl and can't pierce her forcefully the way a man can? Perhaps because Charlene is understanding and helpful, unlike Sebrina Shaw?), or why it feels… nice. Comforting, gentle.
Erika's lips part and Charlene takes this evident relaxing movement as permission to start moving her lips over Erika's, bringing the slightly older woman closer and wrapping her arms around her.
Erika freezes again, making a muffled mmf! sound as her hands stiffen in Charlene's grasp, and she starts to breathe heavier when Charlene's breasts press against Erika's shins where the telepath leans over her. Her eyes flutter, and she finally gives in, exhaling through her nose and flicking out her tongue to taste the hints of vanilla lip balm on Charlene's lips. Erika brings her arms around the other brunette's back, and feels Charlene play with her hair in kind.
Erika's legs relax to side between Charlene's, and Charlene scoots closer, nearly in Erika's lap, as they continue to kiss, Erika's hands timid and unsure, Charlene's hands careful and caring.
When they finally part, their hearts racing and their breath coming out in little gasps, their gazes reconnect, and wordlessly, Erika asks, What does this mean?
It means that I have all the more reason to keep my promise, Erika hears in her head as a response, Charlene's voice just as clear as if she had spoken it aloud. I will never leave you to be alone, Erika. I'm here for you. I understand you. And I don't know if you can feel it, but I care for you a great deal. I feel as though I've always known you.
Erika smiles wryly. "Only because you've been inside my head, Charlene. How very impolite of you to have that advantage."
Charlene laughs, a light, happy sound, and nods. She moves to rest beside Erika against the wall, her hand lacing their fingers together between them. "Touché, my dear. But you will get to know me soon enough. I am not a very complex person like yourself."
"I'd think not. You are quite boring," Erika teases with a serious, careless tone, "But I like you nonetheless."
"I'm glad," Charlene whispers, and with that, she leans in and gives Erika another peck on the cheek. The twenty-six year old smiles. "May I sleep in your room tonight? Mine is so far, and I think a game of chess would be lovely."
"I suppose I can allow that," Erika teases again, but this time, a smile tugs on her lips.