She could remember when Ana had long hair that tumbled down her back when she released it from her ponytails, knots, and buns—always with that decorative blade acting like a simple hair piece. She had always liked Ana's hair—an odd shade that looked brown in the dim light and under sunlight looked like dark blonde—and when they had shared a room in the compound, she had often put braids and such in Ana's hair—like she heard and read about girls doing on sleepovers, something she had never done as she always shifted back to her base form in her sleep—and Ana hadn't complained, barely winced when she accidently pulled too harsh on her hair. It was odd seeing Ana's hair so short, short enough that it showed a hint of curls at the end that were normally only visible after Ana had taken down her hair or after she had showered and her hair still damp.
Ana was her first friend outside of Charles really. Erik was more distance, more serious, and only acted as a personally confidence coach for her sometimes. Alex was mostly a loner, he had spent years with only Ana and Erik around him, and Raven suspected that Alex kind of resented having to share them with others.
Hank had always been more than a friend, she had been attracted to him when she first saw him and that grew when she realised that he, a fellow mutant, knew just how she felt about wanting to be normal, to fit in.
(Even amongst the freaks, she was a freak)
Ana though, she wasn't distance like Erik and though she preferred spells of time alone, she wasn't as much as a loner as Alex. Ana wasn't highly intelligent like Charles and Hank, who made most people feel stupid by just speaking something remotely simple to them, nor did she attempt to shield her like Charles had done since they had met as children.
Raven admired Ana, perhaps more than she ever had Charles because of the simple fact that Ana was female, and she knew that Ana would do anything to keep them safe—as shown when she tried to protect them from Shaw—though she would never coddle them, she would state the facts of things bluntly and not try to sugar-coat things like Charles would in the name of protecting them.
Perhaps that's why Raven trusted Ana so much, perhaps that's why she found herself in the shadows of Ana's room, watching as the older woman made faces as she attempted to find music she liked on the radio that she had placed on her bedside table.
Ana's room was different than the others, it was further away and was one of the smaller bedrooms in the manor. Her curtains were almost constantly drawn—"I'm like a vampire, I hate the sun," she had confined with a wink—and her bed was never made—"Why make it when I'm just going to mess it up again?" she had asked when Charles had chided her like Ana was a child and he her parent—and against the walls were metal bookcases that Erik had made for her—"Oi, I want some bookcases," "Do I look like a carpenter?" "No, but you look like someone that would love to bend these sheets of metal into bookcases so he doesn't suffer the wrath of his dear friend," "You're threat wasn't at all subtle," "It wasn't meant to be, now do it," "Fine,"—cramped with books and she knew that wardrobes were empty as Ana only had jeans, t-shirts and underwear that she was perfectly happy stuffing into draws and only took care enough to hang her leather jacket off a hook.
She didn't bother with extra things that she didn't need—"I once worked in the government as an Agent, you learn not to have much things that you can't take with you in case you have a sudden assignment or need to leave a base quickly," she had explained, "When were you in the government before?" Erik had asked very curious and with a frown, "I'm a lot older than I look," she had simply replied to Erik's frustration—and the only things she really took care of were her weapons—a gun in her bedside draw, a knife strapped on the inside her wrist that with a certain twist could unhinge itself so she could thrust her hand out and stab someone, a locked solid wooden box filled with her other weapons at the foot of her bed with all the locks and joints made out of wood—and her leather jacket as even her large amount of simple jewellery was carelessly discarded on the top of her dresser.
Her room was rather simple really, with only the things she really needed or wanted in it. She didn't really attempt to hide anything, just like she never attempted to hide her thoughts that she voiced or how she felt about certain things.
"If you're trying to sneak up on me," Ana's dry tone broke her from her thoughts—it was so strange how such a soft voice could be so cutting and dry with such apparent ease. "I would advise you wait till I'm weapon-less so you have a better chance."
"You're never without a weapon," Raven pointed out as she stepped in the dim light.
"Exactly," Ana glanced over with glacier eyes, "I try my best not to be unaware, even in my own room," she paused as her gaze drifted up and down Raven's body as if she just realised Raven's state of dress though Raven doubted that was the case. "Trying the naturist look, Raven? You'll give poor Hank a stroke, Sean a nosebleed and might actually make Alex blush."
There, that was why Raven had come to Ana. No comment about her being in her base form (as Ana had coined it so long again it seemed), no thoughtless remark about her being beautiful in her usual disguise of normalcy, no demand to put clothes on and her eyes merely met Raven's golden eyes squarely, not once drifting away like she couldn't stand to look at Raven.
She was just Ana and that was what Raven needed. Not Hank's self-loathing that made him unable to see that they shouldn't have to change, not Erik's confusing words that somehow helped her accept herself just that little bit more and also demanded her to face the truth, not Charles' disapproving tone and shifting glaze.
"No," Raven was startled by how stern and yet almost panicked Ana sounded. "No, bad, bad, no crying, I don't do crying,"
Her hand moved almost by itself so she could touch her cheek and she was surprised to find she was crying, just like Ana had said.
Ana made a face as she strode across the room towards her, the overly large t-shirt that she slept in easily showed off her long toned legs, and tugged Raven to her bed where they sat, Raven curled into Ana as she cried and hiccupped for a reason she couldn't understand.
"Why don't you do crying?"
"Mm?" Ana asked sleepily as she slowly opened her eyes, Raven was still curled into her but they were now under the covers and warm which was a recipe for sleep.
"Why don't you do crying?" Raven repeated, a curious tone to her still rather hoarse voice.
"I never told you about how Shaw knew I was a mutant, did I?" Ana asked, her gaze fixed on the plain ceiling as she felt Raven's head shake. "I was young, tiny, and had been found by a Nazi convoy in occupied Poland. I'm not sure why I was there nor how I got there," she paused as she thought back to the first disorienting moments when she woke up by the side of a road—in a bloody dress of all things—and how her stomach seemed to drop when she realised that she was surrounded by Nazis—again. "I was taken to Auschwitz and was considered useless for labour so they made me line up with other woman—most had small children—and the sick and elderly."
Raven stayed very still as she realised where the story was going.
"We were told that we were going to have a shower—no one was fooled but the children—and we were herded to the chambers, after being crudely branded like cattle, and after we stripped we were locked into one of the chambers," Ana paused, a faraway look on her face. "So many of the women were crying, which made the children cry, and others banged against the door and walls with pleas of mercy. I sat by an old woman and simply watched them break down in fear—I had never liked crying, but I downright hated it in those moments. Then the gas came bellowing in, black and choking, and the screams started. I will never forget those screams."
For a long moment there was no talking, only the radio still played in the background, as Ana remembered and Raven was struck silence by horror and guilt.
"I won't tell you how they died, nor will I tell you what it felt like going through that. When they finally opened the doors, confident that all of us were dead, they were surprised that I was still alive, hale like I had never breathed in poisonous gas," a chuckle let her lips then. "I had never seen a metal door close so fast in my life. I had frightened them," there was a vicious delight in those words, "I shouldn't be alive and yet I was," pale eyes glanced down at her for a moment, a dark humour glittering out of them. "I began singing about bottles of beer to frighten them more—"
"You sang?" Raven blurted out, interrupting Ana.
"Badly," Ana laughed seemingly unaware that Raven was now considering the state of her friend's sanity before she suddenly sobered. "Then he came, he was called Klaus Schmidt then, and he gave me my name, Anastasia. I won't tell you about all the things he put me through in the name of 'helping me' as it would cause you nightmares—it sometimes causes me nightmares," she added when Raven opened her mouth to argue or something and Raven's mouth shut with a click. "Since then, my tolerates for crying has become non-existent."
"Yet you still have a soft-side," Raven mused. "Though Erik and Alex would have us all believe that you're a sadistic."
"Well they're not lying," Ana chuckled. "When you go through all the shit I've been through, you find it hard to be soft and kind."
Raven kept silent, her mind filling with questions but she knew she wouldn't like the answers that Ana would give her—Ana would always answer their questions even if it hurt them or horrified them because that was the type of person she was.
"Why did you come creeping to my room and cry?" Ana asked with a questioning lilt to her voice.
Raven bit her lip as she thought back to what had brought her to Ana's room—and naked none the less.
"Hank finished his cure," she began and Ana cut her off with an understanding sound.
"And because he is a male, he made a hurtful comment without thinking," Ana finished for her and Raven nodded miserably and Ana made a scornful scoff. "Men, fools the lot of them, and yet for some reason we always love at least one of their gender."
"I thought he loved me," Raven admitted in a small voice. "Me, not the looks I was wearing."
Ana sighed, "he does love you, in his own way, but lack of confidence and self-loathing makes it difficult to accept everything that means being a mutant. It's rather sad really."
"Have you ever loved someone?" Raven asked and Ana was quiet for a few beats.
"I once loved someone very much," she admitted quietly. "He was like me in many ways, jagged and jaded, and he accepted me when I was at my most bitchest. I would have done anything for him and he would for me, but I'm not sure if that's the love you mean. I'm sure he saw me as a kid, his own daughter really."
"How did you see him?" Raven asked catching on that Ana hadn't stated how she felt for him and Ana glanced down at her with an amused smirk.
"Clever girl," she praised and Raven almost preened in pride. "I don't know if I loved him like that, I've never loved anyone before. I have loved those I considered my family, I love you people and I think fondly on the few faded memories I have of my mother. But have I ever loved like that? I can't say."
"That seems rather sad," Raven mused and Ana chuckled.
"You're not the first person to say I've a sad life,"
"I didn't mean it like that!" Raven protested.
"But it's true," Ana just smiled and for the first time Raven really looked at Ana and realised how young she looked.
Ana was meant to be the same age as Erik, older than Charles and all of them, but she looked so much younger. There were no frown or smile lines appearing around her eyes, mouth or forehead like Charles and Erik were starting to gain. The only hints of lines happened to appear when she smiled or made a face.
"How old are you?" Raven asked as she stared at Ana's smooth face.
"Why?" Ana asked and Raven realised for the first time that Ana had never truly stated her age.
"You look young, like you're the same age as me and the others, but Erik believes that you're the same age as him and yet your eyes are so much older," Raven explained and Ana smirked.
"Clever girl," Ana praised once again but didn't answer.
Perhaps that was the most telling thing, Ana was a lot older then she looked and wasn't going to admit how old she really was.
Ana, for a while, simply stared down at Raven's sleeping form and decided—promised herself—that she wouldn't let Raven become anything like her.
Ana was broken, ruined in a way that would never be fixed. She was missing pieces and those that had been stuck back together didn't fit right anymore.
She was a product of torture, a result of experimentation. She had been broken down, ripped of everything that had once made her kind or compassionate, filled with molten fury and cold cruelty, and rebuild to be a ruthless weapon.
They had never broken her spirit though, she hadn't let them. She was as stubborn as fuck and wouldn't let anyone break her spirit—break her body? Sure, go ahead, bones and weeping wounds heal. Break her mind? Why not? Who needs to be wholly sane to survive? Break her spirit? Fuck off, she'd kill anyone that attempted to or even started to succeed to.
Ana knew herself, knew that she was cruel and ruthless in a way that would make those around her flinch away from her and stare in absolute fear—even Erik, cruel though he was, didn't have the cold cruelty and ruthlessness that was as much part of her as her blood—and frankly though the thought hurt—why did she always let people in? They always died in the end, always left her, and she could never keep them completely safe—she would gladly see them alive and fearing her then dead and cold.
SHIELD hadn't attempted to curb her ruthlessness or cruelty, they had encouraged her because that had made her good at what she needed to do. They hadn't really attempted to fix her, why should they? She worked perfectly fine as she was.
Xavier had attempted too, but he knew he couldn't. Jean and the others never knew how deeply she was broken. And Logan? He was like her in too many ways and knew it was useless to try to 'fix' her. He had just been there for her, helped her channel her anger so it was a weapon she could use and not be used against her and helped her through the night terrors—nightmares just didn't cover it.