It was appalling how many Nazi escaped justice, but it gave them a way to make money. Ana, Erik and now Alex was Nazi hunters. They did bring in a fair number of Nazis alive so governments over looked the ones that they brought in dead—better a dead Nazi than another Hitler was the common thought—and they were recognised as Nazi hunters and thus giving more lee-way than if they were just vigilantes after Nazis.

They also made a tidy sum when taking the gold that they sometimes stock-piled.

Unfortunately some bankers tended to be annoying when they went to exchange their gold for actual money, and some were even more annoying when they were just trying to get some information.

Ana lazily kicked her legs over the side of the chair so she was sat side-ways in it. The banker manager didn't know if he should shot her a look or keep his gaze on Erik—he should keep his gaze on Erik as he had gained a few cruel traits over the years and didn't like when some people played dumb.

Any other person would be worried that they had helped culture Erik's cruelty if they were like her, but she knew he could have, and would have, become cruel without her presence and she was actually the one that told him to stop if he went to over bored—which was something very hypocritical of her as she often went too far.

"Do you know our terms, sir?" the manger asked Erik.

"And you should know ours," Erik reached out for one of the pictures, giving it a curious once-over before he lifted his head to smile at the banker. "This gold is what remains of my people. Melted from the possession, torn from their teeth. This is blood money."

Ana shifted slightly, a half-smile on her face when the man glanced at her nervously.

"And you're going to help us find the bastards responsible for it," Erik told him simply.

She wasn't surprised when the man reached for a panic button, it was predictable that he would attempt something like that. You didn't need to be a genius or have real fore-knowledge if you watch people enough. Most were horribly predictable really.

Erik wagged his finger at the man like a disapproving parent as he used the metal in the man's watch to stop him from touching the button.

She let out a little laugh as Erik made the banker hit himself as Erik stood smoothly.

"Don't push that alarm," Erik told him. "I want Schmidt. Klaus Schmidt. You will tell me where he is."

"Our clients don't provide addresses, we're not that—"

"Sort of bank?" Erik finished as he reached out with his power. "Metal fillings, huh?" The man cried out in pain, hand moving to his mouth as if that could stop Erik. "Not gold? Worried someone might steal them?"

The man's gaze darted around Erik and stared pleadingly at her. She smiled almost happily at him and withdrew a knife from around her ankle and began playing with it.

"Trust me, you got the better option," she told him simply as his eyes went impossibly wide.

Feeling almost playful, she flicked her tongue over the sharp edge of her knife, letting it catch and bleed for a brief moment before it healed seamlessly.

"Argentina! Schmidt is in Argentina! Villa Gesell! Please!"

For a brief moment it looked like Erik wasn't going to stop but he did when one of the metal fillings came out and landed easily in his hand.

It looked like Erik was just going to turn away.

"Erik," Ana prompted and Erik almost sighed.

"Thank you," he said without a hint of real sincerity. "I would love to kill you."

Erik reached out with one of his hands and Ana easily got to her feet and put her hand in his as they began to walk away.

"So mark my words, if you warn anyone I'm coming…" he paused and smiled at him as they stopped at the door. "I will find you."

"And this time I will play with you," Ana promised.


I would explain what happened when we got to there but I'm sure you already knew that. So perhaps I should start off again in Florida, in the great USA.


Ana grimaced as she stared at the dark waters and Erik almost smiled at her fear because some things never truly changed.

Alex reached out and she slid her hand into his and he helped her into the boat that they were burrowing.

"I guess I'm on my own?" Erik asked as he zipped up his wet-suit.

"You know I can't swim," she told him as she settled behind the wheel of the boat and began steering away from the dock and closer towards the boat that they knew Schmidt was on.

"You also get sea-sick the moment you step on to a boat and yet that doesn't stop you driving a one," Erik countered as he sat on the edge of the boat.

"The things I suffer for you," she lamented and smiled at his small chuckle though it soon died as a nervous tension filled him as he stared towards where Schmidt's boat was.

"Be careful," she told him and he gave a little salute as he let himself fall backwards into the waters below.

"Is this a good idea?" Alex asked almost nervously as he tried to see through the dark at Erik.

"Careful, you almost sound if you care about him," she teased but became serious soon after. "No, but he needs to do this."

Alex shot her a look before turning to face where Schmidt's ship was.


Charles was actually surprised that a boat was already speeding towards them, even more surprised that it wasn't one of the CIA boats but apparently Erik's friends considering how he didn't attempt to fight Charles off again and instead reached up as the boat pulled to a stop beside them.

A woman reached out, a relieved 'Erik' slipping past her lips as they clasped forearms and she hurled him up and into the boat.

She wasn't as tall as Erik, taller than Raven and near to Charles' own height. Her long hair had been pulled back in a simple ponytail and strands framed her pretty defined features, her hair an odd caramel colour.

A blonde man was the one who helped him up, board-shoulder with short hair and almost stormy blue eyes. He easily pulled Charles up and into the boat and took a step back away from him, almost flanking the woman, and scowling at him wearily.

A brief brush at his surface thoughts told Charles that the man, an Alex Summers, didn't trust Charles and also wondered how he had gotten Erik to stop almost killing himself.

Charles may have gone further if the woman hadn't turned to him and handed him a towel. Glacier blue clashed with pale sky blue and Charles couldn't stop himself for looking.


"I'm sorry for bringing up bad-memories," a bald older version of what he realised with a start was himself spoke.


The sprawling grounds of Xavier manor was filled with children, mutants, and it was beautiful. It was a school, a safe haven for all their kind.


A gruff man stood next to his older self as they watched the woman and others training their powers against simulated enemies and she glanced up with a smile and the man, Logan, returned it.


"You're one of us," Logan told her simply and he could feel her yearning, how she wished it was true, how she wished she was one of them and thus never had to leave them but that wasn't her fate.

"No I'm not," she said sadly as she pressed a kiss to his rough cheek, eyes wet as she took her bags and knew she was walking away from the best things that had happened to her in years.


A young girl stared at her with scared bright green eyes as she huddled behind the form of a young boy and her heart clenched. They were too young to know such fear, too young to be in this hell hole.

She was perhaps a bit too brutal when she killed one of their guards in front of them, but she doesn't regret it and wouldn't ever as hesitate hands slid trustingly in her own and she sworn she would keep them safe.


She was dying, laying in the arms of one of her friends, and all she could think of was that at least she was home. Professor, if you can hear me, please take care of them, was her final thoughts as she drifted.


"Stop," it was a command, an order and Charles complied without question as he pulled back from her mind, her impossible memories and his gaze stayed fixed on her face.

She hadn't shouted, hadn't lashed out in anger like he almost expected her too. She stood in front of him, towel still outstretched for him, defiant and proud despite the bitter tears trailing down her face and she met his eyes squarely, without fear and without the respect that tinted her memories of his older self.

This woman—Hope, Ana—was broken in a way that Charles had never seen before and yet she wore the broken pieces of her heart proudly on her sleeve as a badge so everyone could see she had survived Hell twice and hadn't succumbed.

This woman with her fierce—duo-coloured eyes, glacier eyes—eyes looked at him, the young face of a man that she once respected and loved dearly and almost felt nothing because he wasn't the same man she had once known and was simply a stranger.

This woman had come to terms with seeing familiar strangers and yet didn't back away from the heart-break it would surely cause her.

This woman was impossible, everything he knew told him what she apparently went through couldn't be real but the evidence was in her memories.

"Stay out of my head," her voice was hard yet even. "You will not like what you find."

This woman was different from the woman in her memories, the woman that his other self-had seemingly known well. She was less raging, her anger more icy and controlled. This was a woman that had hardened herself against her past—both pasts—and was a survivor, a woman that was going to do anything in her power to keep the dark fates she knew would befall on the people she had loved fiercely and she would save them from it as best she could despite the fact that they weren't the people she loved.

"I'm sorry for bringing up bad-memories," he echoed his other—future, past—self and she glared at him, eyes icy but he could almost see part of her recoil, at seeing a familiar stranger speak those words to her again.

"Ana?" Erik asked worriedly as he rested his hand on one of her slender shoulders as Charles took the towel from her hand.

Alex crowded closer to Ana, eyes burning into Charles' face as his distrust grew.

"I'm fine," Ana dismissed though neither of the men were fooled. "We've just come to an understanding."

Charles reached up to rub at his hair fiercely and knew what she meant. If he talked about what he had seen in her head, she would hurt him badly—not enough to kill him as she wanted to see him grow into the man she had once known—and if he kept his mouth shut, then she would work with him. Help him learn from his mistakes before it could happen perhaps?

She hadn't let him see many of her memories, she had been consciously attempting not to think about them so he wouldn't know but she had lost control the moment she met his gaze, and only let him briefly glimpse at some of them, a short glimpse into the future and her past.

He wouldn't speak a word of what he saw in those brief moments in her mind, despite just meeting her and getting a glimpse in her mind, he knew he could trust her and that she was a good person underneath it all.

And so was the start of an uneasy friendship that would grow in strength and comfort as the years past and they both grew older and matured.