You can all thank the lovely "cherryorpeach" for this chapter arriving so quickly. Her review made my day and practically threw gasoline on a fire.

"If I got rid of my demons, I'd lose my angels."

-Tennessee Williams

Steve had not been given the opportunity to say anything on the matter of Nikki's tattoo that night. He had scrambled for something to say, but no words came to his mind that didn't sound too forward. Nikki and Bali had both gone upstairs to bed with tired 'good night's the second they had finished. Not wanting to wake either of them up at that late of an hour, he had trudged up the stairs to his own room and collapsed onto the mattress. Sleep evaded him entirely that night.

He lay on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. Too many thoughts ran through his head for him to even think of rest. Was the tattoo real? Surely it was a fake made to pay homage to someone close to her – a grandmother, perhaps. Nikki couldn't have been old. There was no feasible way for her to have gotten the serial number from the Nazi camps.

The soft sound of footsteps broke his reverie and he turned to glance at his closed door. He waited for the sound to go farther down the hall, listening for where the person might be going. Five steps down the hall and two steps around the corner before a door opened, it was Nikki going to the rec room.

Pushing off the blankets, Steve sat up and walked towards the door. Maybe he could put to rest his curiosities. He grabbed a white undershirt to pull on and stepped out into the empty hall. The sound of the punching bag, though the sound was carefully muffled to keep from waking anyone, could be heard where he walked.

Nikki was, in fact, inside the rec room. Her hands were wrapped and her hair pulled back in a fishtail braid. She looked up from the punching bag as he walked in, offering him a faint smile in greeting. He kept walking until he could lean against the partition wall and clearly see her face.

"You don't sleep very well, do you?"

"I could say the same about you," he pointed out. "Working late, saving people in the middle of the night, getting up early for a work out…"

"I have trouble sleeping sometimes."

He nodded in understanding, watching as she threw her punches with more force as she spoke those words. They fell quiet for a few minutes as Steve struggled with what to say next. It didn't seem to matter, either way, as there was nothing awkward about the silence between them.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

Nikki raised an eyebrow at his words, but gave a short nod, "Ask away."

"Last night, when Bali was removing the bullet from your arm, I noticed a tattoo on your arm."

Her punch landed halfway off the punching bag, causing her to stumble for a second. There was something stiff in her posture as she righted herself.

"Lots of people have tattoos," she said with a shrug.

He leveled his gaze at her, watching as she pointedly avoided his gaze, "I'd prefer it if you didn't deflect."

She looked at him incredulously, reminding Steve of what Remy had said about her poker face, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"It reads Z10375. It's not a cartoon character or some cheesy quote," he pointed out. "It's a brand."

Something dark flashed in her eyes, "No one knows that better than I do."

"How did you get a Nazi serial number on your arm, Nikki?"

She gave a resigned sigh, moving to lean against the wall beside him, "The same way everyone with a similar tattoo gets it: at a concentration camp. The Nazis tagged and slaughtered my people like animals, myself included. It's not something I like to remember."

He had known, deep down, that it was the most obvious answer. It still came as a bit of a surprise. There was a bitterness in her tone as though the words tasted foul on her tongue. And yet there was something about the tattoo that was nagging Steve. He had seen a few before, some that were just a string of numbers and a few with triangles beneath, but he had never seen one that started with a letter.

"You're not Jewish…"

The laugh she gave him in response was harsh and unamused, "The Jews weren't the only ones to be taken away. They called us 'Zigeuner'. A word that might as well mean 'pig'."

"You're a gypsy," he muttered, watching as she almost flinched at the word. "How old are you?"

"Thirty-nine, today," she answered.

"But there's no-"

"I was born in 1938."

Her words caused his jaw to snap shut. She was twenty years younger than him. He reeled at the information, trying to understand what that meant. It was unlikely that she had gone through anything like what had preserved him for nearly seventy years. Was it possible that she was using her mutation to make herself look young? That didn't sound plausible, either. Vanity didn't seem to be one of her traits.

"How is that possible?"

"Remember when you first arrived here?" she asked. "Do you remember what you asked me?"

"I asked you why I had never come across mutants before and you told me that the answer took a lot to wrap my head around."

"I wasn't lying. You've never seen mutants before because they don't exist in this world. Until now, apparently. Your appearance threw us all for a loop."

"Wait, how-"

"Turns out, this universe isn't the only one in existence," she explained. "From the way Bali explained it to me is that there is no certain future. There are possibilities which become probabilities which in turn become realities. This one that we're living in right now, it's just one reality in several dozen. None of us are actually from this reality.

"Do you remember a few years back when that big alien invasion attacked New York and some group called the Avengers popped up and saved the city? We didn't have aliens or superheroes in our reality. Our reality had mutants. A friend of mine, Dmitri, he could cross the barriers between realities. He's the one who brought us here."

Steve felt a bit like his head was spinning. Mutations causing humans with superpowers had been one thing. He had, after all, spent time around Dr. Banner, and understood a little about how such a thing could occur. But multiple realities? It sounded like nothing he had ever heard before.

"I know," Nikki remarked, watching him carefully. "It takes a minute to work through the whole thing."

"Why would you come here?" he asked, turning to face her. "There's no one like you here. Why would you want to come here?"

"That's exactly why we came here. In my world, humans have come to hate mutants. They think we're dangerous and have been searching for a way to kill us for years. We've been on the brink of war since I was young. But there are already special people here. This is a world of gods and heroes, and people love them. It's safer here for us."

Steve's stomach twisted in knots as she spoke. She had no idea what was watching her kind in this world. She thought it was safe, and he was leading her on in that belief. What would happen when S.H.I.E.L.D. decided the passive approach wasn't enough? What would become of Nikki's family when reconnaissance stopped keeping the agency appeased?

"The initial plan was to send us for a few years," she continued. "We were going to test the waters, see if it was completely safe for us to exist here. But Dmitri disappeared a year ago and we've been stranded here as much as the rest of the mutants have been stranded there."

"But that doesn't explain how you're only thirty-nine."

She laughed lowly, "That's the part I don't entirely understand, either. It was 1973 when we left our reality, but it was 2011 when we arrived here. As far as I can tell, Dmitri can get the place perfectly, but he can't find the correct time. We think that's why we haven't seen him in so long. I wouldn't be surprised if he can't pinpoint exactly where we are in time."

"You would have been a child in the camps," he breathed, his mind going back to the few camps he and the Howling Commandos had run across.

"I was six when they first took my family and I," she answered, her eyes turned downward to stare at the floor. "The only reason I survived was because they learned my father was a mutant and so thought that my sister and I might be, as well."

"Is that why Hannah-?"

"Hannah's not my biological sister," Nikki corrected, looking embarrassed. "My sister died long ago at Auschwitz. But when I found Hannah, it was like looking at an old photograph. I couldn't leave her where she was. I'd never been able to save any of my family, and it seemed like I was being given a second chance. Especially after Anya."

Steve watched as Nikki got a faraway sort of look in her eyes, as though she wasn't really there with him.

"Anya was the name of your daughter," he said, though it was more of a question.

Her eyes snapped up to his, "How do you know about that?"

"Pietro mentioned that you had a daughter."

There was a moment of silence as Nikki looked away slightly, a dull pain in her brown eyes, "Yes. Her name was Anya."

"What happened to her?"

There was a guilty edge to her expression when she whispered, "Don't ask that of me, Steve."

She blamed herself for something that wasn't her fault and, between you and me, I don't think she's ever forgiven herself. The words echoed around in Steve's head like a broken record. She didn't meet his eyes, instead choosing to stare down at the floor with clenched fists. He didn't bother pressuring her for an answer. It was clear in Nikki's eyes that she didn't want to talk about it. Besides, he would rather not open up old wounds too deeply. He, instead, offered a half-smile as he looked at her.

"I take it your name's not really Nikki Whitfield, then."

"I'm afraid not," she answered, though her tone was flat.

"Do the kids know?"

"No," she said as she met his gaze at last. "And I'd prefer it if it stayed that way."

"Your secret's safe with me," he promised, trying not to wince at the lie.

Silence fell between them once more, though it was surprisingly not as tense as Steve had been expecting. They stood side by side against the wall, their arms nearly touching, and said nothing. It was oddly comforting and he could have sworn the wall between them had crumbled entirely.

"Magda."

The word broke Steve's train of thought and he had to turn to look at her before he seemed to catch up with what she had said.

"What?"

"My name," she explained, offering him a smile. "It's Magda Eisenhardt. Needless to say, it's not exactly inconspicuous."

Steve shrugged, "It suits you more than 'Nikki' does."

Her eyes widened in surprise, and he smiled in response.

"Thank you for telling me."

An amused ghost of a smile played across her lips. There was an edge of relief in her expression, as though the simple act of confiding in him had lifted a weight off her shoulders. Though she had not told him everything, and Steve guessed they would have been there much longer if she had, it was a surprising gesture coming from her.

The door crashing open caused both of them to jump and, not a second later, Pietro was standing before them with a broad grin on his face. Nikki gave an exasperated sigh at the sight of him.

"Pietro, what have I told you about running inside?" she asked, her tone equal parts long-suffering and forgiving. "You're going to put scorch marks in the floor again."

"I wasn't going that fast," he protested.

"You never think you're going that fast," a voice called from the hall.

All three turned to see Wanda come walking in, accompanied by the rest of the mutants. Several of the teens were holding boxes wrapped in newspapers. Leigh and Ariana, on the other hand, were both carrying a large serving dish which displayed a lopsided and messily iced cake.

"Happy birthday, Nikki!" Remy laughed, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "One more year and you'll hit the big four-oh. But don't worry, we'll all still love you when you're old and haggard."

"Seven years I've known you and you still don't know when to shut up," she retorted, cuffing the back of his head with a good-natured smile.

"Don't listen to him, Nik," Douglas snapped, a crooked smile on his face. "He's just jealous because you're prettier than he is."

Remy gave an indignant 'hey!' as Nikki shook her head at the two. A hand tapped Steve's shoulder and he looked down, meeting the eyes of Wanda Maximoff as she offered him a paper plate. As he took it with a smile, she stood on her toes to whisper in his ear.

"Pietro told me what you did," she told him. "Thanks, Steve."

She walked off to join her twin before he could reply. A hand slammed into his back, with too much force behind what was supposed to be a friendly gesture, and he stumbled forward a step. Bali grinned apologetically, his arm around Hannah's waist.

"Did you bake this?" Nikki asked, dragging Steve's attention back to the kids and their wobbling cake.

A proud smile crossed Leigh's face, "Mmm-hmm. Ariana and Hannah helped."

"Made it from scratch," Ariana added. "We were going to add matches, since we don't have any candles, but they kept burning out."

Nikki swiped a finger across one of the stripes of icing and took a taste, "Who needs candles when the cake tastes this good?"

Both kids beamed at her words, and Steve couldn't help but smile at the sight. Nikki looked around the room, an unreadable emotion in her eyes, as she took in all the wrapped presents.

"Is this all for me?"

"Every single one!" Tandy exclaimed.

"How did you pay for all of this?"

"Well, Remy, Bali, and Hannah all bought their own presents. Steve helped a little with the rest," Pietro explained.

The fifteen-year-old yelped sharply as Kurt elbowed him in the ribs. Pietro shot an irritable look at the German, but withered under his accusatory gaze.

"Steve paid for them all," Kurt corrected.

Nikki turned to look at him then, her eyes wide in shock. It was perhaps the most open he had ever seen her expression. He offered a smile and a shrug, hoping to convey the idea that it wasn't a big deal. Whether she got his message or not, he didn't know, but she seemed to think it was either way.

"Open mine first!"

Pietro shoved the thin present into Nikki's hands before she could even open her mouth. She fumbled with it for an instant, taken aback by the speed of the action. Her mouth curled up into a broad smile, her head shaking ever so slightly in amusement as she pulled away the newspaper.

Her fingers stilled as she pulled enough paper away to see the picture on the cover of the DVD she held. The smile slowly fell from her face, her eyes wide in shock as she stared down at it. Everyone fell silent as she pulled the rest of the paper off, revealing the title. There was a faraway look to her expression, as though she wasn't really in the same room as the rest of them, and she ran her thumb over the red and gold lettering.

Pietro's face fell, replaced by a look of worry, "Nikki? Is it not okay? We can take it back, if you want."

It was only when he reached out to her that she seemed to snap out of it. She looked up from the DVD, meeting Pietro's green-grey eyes. Kneeling down to look at him at eye-level, she put a hand on his shoulder, smiling broadly. Gone was the hollow expression that had dominated her features when she had first realized what movie it was.

"No," she whispered. "It's thoughtful and perfect. Thank you, Pietro."

She pulled him into a hug, her head resting on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. There was something about the way she held him that struck Steve by surprise. It almost looked as though she was starved for touch.

Agent Jasper Sitwell was not used to being called up to the offices of the higher ranking agents. In fact, he would have much rather preferred to altogether avoid the offices of any S.H.I.E.L.D. divisions that required offices at all. He wasn't a field agent, by any means, but he enjoyed the open labs of the R&D and intel department. His fingers tightened on the tablet he held as he knocked on the office door.

"Come in."

Sitwell entered immediately, ready to get out as soon as he could, "I brought the files you asked for, sir."

Alexander Pierce glanced up from his laptop, a half-smile crossing his face, "Thank you, Agent Sitwell."

The agent remained where he was, waiting to be dismissed. He refused to immediately turn around to leave and subsequently make an ass of himself. The words spoken to him, however, were not those he had hoped for.

"What is your impression of Captain Rogers' reports on the Alchemist and the other so-called mutants?"

Sitwell offered a tight smile, "My clearance level is not high enough to know the details on the Alchemist mission, sir."

"Off the record, Jasper."

In an instant, the agent's entire demeanor changed. The long-suffering, almost meek espionage agent and science expert disappeared. A critical, disciplined man with little to fear had taken his place.

"The Alchemist's abilities are virtually unlimited in potential. Her only weakness is her stubborn sense of morality. With the proper training, she could be a valuable asset. Many of the other mutants display similar potential, particularly Hannah Whitfield. In my personal opinion, all it would take for the Alchemist to become what we need is a little push."

"What would you suggest?"

"Is the World Security Council still pushing for Director Fury to make a move?"

"Yes."

"Then we should make a move."

Pierce was silent for a minute before giving a sharp nod, "That will be all, agent."

And, with that, Sitwell fell back into his more unassuming image. He nodded his head in understanding.

"Of course, sir."

With nothing more to be said, the agent turned around and walked out of the office.