AN: I couldn't get this idea out of my head so I decided to write it out. I'm nowhere near happy with this but I have this weird urge to get it out there so it's over and done with. Don't know if I should continue. I have some ideas for the future but it's up to the reader's response if I should write more. This is my first time writing the X-Men: First Class characters so let me know if they seem OOC or anything. Cheers!

Summary: To say the least, I was beyond shocked to suddenly find myself fifty years in the past, and even more so to realize that it wasn't my earth's past, but that of a comic book's. With nothing more than a pinch of lunacy and a heaping of desperation, I decided to look up the only person whom I thought could help me get home. "Do you think Xavier's in the phone book…?" Charles/OC

The World is You

Chapter One: No Turning Back

It may sound like a total cliché but if I had known that morning what was going to take place, I'd have stayed in bed all day, watching soaps and crappy talk shows. But of course, I didn't know and therefore no precautionary measures were taken, assuming the sanctity of my apartment would have stopped… whatever the hell it was. I just went about my day like any other Uni student during finals week: reluctantly and full of dread.

I had to drag myself out of bed, having pulled an all-nighter finishing papers and studying (staring at my notes and telling myself that I'll pass). My lethargy in making breakfast (aka: toast) and sitting at the kitchen table for a half hour doing nothing but 'waking up' made me incredibly behind schedule. And so, I found myself running out the door with my hair in a giant knot on my head and my shoes mismatched—one was a sneaker and the other a faux leather creeper. Hey, I was in a rush! At least they were both black; if I were lucky everyone will be too worried about failing the exam to notice.

If only I had known that making an ass out of myself would soon be the least of my worries…

I made it to a crosswalk, waiting as anxiously as possible for the light to change. C'mon, c'mon. I had about—I checked my phone—twenty minutes to get to NYU's campus. I could do it if I power-walked. I had before. In lesser time. I'd be fine. Get to class out of breath and a little sweaty but hey, I'd make it.

And I'd pass. I reminded myself that I only need a C to pass HIS2000. Only a C. Only a C. You can totally wing it and get a C.

The light changed green, indicating for us pedestrians to cross, and I was quickly pushed along by the throng of hurried people. A horn blared, jarring me from my thoughts. I turned to look at a man in a FedEx truck, middle aged and angry. He shouted something out his window, making a 'get the hell out of the road' gesture with his hand.

I rolled my eyes and carried on. Damn impatient driver.

When my foot touched the sidewalk, I looked at my phone again. Nineteen minutes til class. Could I go for coffee? My answer was an immediate 'yes'. I pulled my friend Nikki up on my phone contacts, making to text her.

Hey. Meet me for a coffee?

Send.

She'd agree. Nikki couldn't pass up a good coffee, or the cute guy that worked at the Dunkin Donuts. After he'd written 'Have an awesome day' on her receipt a week ago, she'd been convinced he liked her.

My phone beeped and I glanced at it with a frown.

Message Failed.

What?

I had no reception. Great. I had full bars just a few moments ago! I saw it when I checked the time! I growled in annoyance, holding my cell over my head in the hopes that I'd see a bar magically appear.

"Watch where you're going!" a man muttered, crashing into me."Stupid kid."

Kid? I'm a goddamn adult with an almost Bachelor's Degree!

I turned and glared at his retreating form, giving up on my phone. Rude.

"Yeah, you too, pal!" I shouted at the guy, already down the block. He glanced over his shoulder to shoot me a disapproving look through his thick glasses. It struck me as odd. The jerk was young and admittedly kind of handsome, but those bug-eyed horn rims made him look so out of place. Like he was from one of those old sitcoms.

And then, since my eyes weren't glued to the screen of my cell, I noticed just how odd everyone looked. I had to stop just to stare and wonder. Everyone's clothes were so outdated—high-waisted pants, shirts tucked in, bright colors, horrific patterns… vests. And don't even get me started on the hair.

Was there some kind of a weird protest going on? Or an event? I remembered one time where all these people suddenly took off their pants on the subway and pretended like they weren't in only their underwear. But there was no organization to the masses. They didn't seem to be in a group or heading to a gig. They were just going about their business.

Are they filming a movie here or something? No, there're no cameras. Well, not that I can see.

As unsettled as I felt, I managed to shrug it off, or at least ignore the people. Until the Dunkin Donuts disappeared. Not literally but, well, kind of. I stood where it should have been, about a block from NYU, but instead was a small diner. A really retro looking diner.

In that moment, I seriously considered just going back to my apartment and telling the teacher I was sick. But I just wanted to cure my caffine fix and be done with school. So, I stuck out the weirdness and headed inside.

A bell dinged. Oh my god, it was even weirder inside. They had a jukebox. Like a proper-looking one, not one of those cheap replicas. Despite my better judgment, I peeked inside it and to my surprise, found mostly songs I'd never heard of. Okay, I get it. It's a 60's themed diner, but how the hell do you do the 60's without The Beatles in your jukebox?

I went up to the counter, and hopped onto a bar stool.

"What can I get you?" asked a waiter in white.

"Coffee, please. Cream and sugar."

He nodded and turned away. A family and a few other people were seated in booths, just as strange as the people outside. The waiter set a white cup and saucer in front of me.

"Thanks."

I sipped it carefully as it was steaming but ended up burning my tongue anyway. I hissed in pain, setting the cup down.

"Careful, I make 'em hot," he said.

Too late.

"Yeah, I noticed," I replied. I took a smaller sip this time.

Light conversation and the drone of a TV filled the silence. I cleared my throat. "So… don't like The Beatles?" I asked, thumbing at the jukebox.

"Who?"

"The Beatles," I laughed. "The band…?"

The waiter snorted. "Never heard of them."

My brows furrowed. But, fan or not, everyone's at least heard of The Beatles... I started to get the feeling that I was in the middle of an elaborate prank. Seriously, have I been set up on one of those TV shows? Is Nikki behind all this? Or Ted?

I leaned on the counter, deciding to watch the TV mounted in the corner of the room. It was black and white, of course.

"… no reports have been made as of yet, but tensions between the United States and the Soviet Union have only grown stronger. It seems the attempts at…"

Oh, I know this!. That's from the Cold War, holy crap! Geez, this diner went all out on the historically accurate aspect. What a small world; we covered Cold War in HIS2000. Hope that isn't on the final. Oh fuck. My final! I quickly checked my phone—two minutes! What the fuck! Oh my god!

"Uh, sir. Can I have the bill?"

"You need a bill for a coffee?" he asked dryly.

I sighed. "Fine. What do I owe you?" I asked, digging out my wallet.

"Fifteen cents."

I looked up at him, incredulously. "Fifteen cents?"

"Hey, you don't like our prices, you can go somewhere else," he said defensively. "Won't find a ten cent joint in ten blocks."

I blinked. Was he serious?

Final. Right. Whatever. I handed him a one dollar bill. "Keep the change," I called, jumping off the stool to leave.

"Hey, hey! Whoa, what is this?"

I whipped around to glare at him. I'm going to be late! "What?"

"I said, 'What is this?'" the waiter asked again, holding up my dollar.

I shook my head. "A buck. I said you could keep the change."

"This ain't no American dollar," the waiter huffed, coming out from behind the counter. "What is this? A counterfeit?"

"No! Are you nuts?"

"Are you a counterfeiter?"

"No!"

"Is there a problem, sir?" asked a customer, standing from his seat.

"Yeah! This broad's giving me fake money!"

"It isn't fake! Look, I don't have time for this crap," I growled, turning away.

"Oh, no you don't!" the waiter huffed, trying to grab my arm.

"Don't touch me!" I shouted, jerking away.

"Do you want me to call the police?" the customer asked.

"Yeah. There's a pay phone right over there. You a communist?"

"I-"

My heart was hammering. This wasn't acting. These people weren't joking.

Thier voices turned to white noise. I turned and ran, the bell sounding loudly, drowned out by the waiter's shouts. "Stop her! She didn't pay!"

"She's a counterfeiter!"

"She might be a spy!"

Oh my god! Oh my god!

Were they chasing me? I didn't dare look back. Was I safe? I kept going until I was out of breath and sure no one was after me. I crouched in an alley (not my brightest idea) to try and regain my composure.

"What the hell is going on?" I panted.

It was like I was in the Twilight Zone!

There was no way this was real. It couldn't be! I was- I was in- It's scary how quickly my mind gave up on logic, or at least that my logic seemed, well, illogical. My only rational explanation was that I suddenly time traveled. Somehow. Without knowing it. I kept slipping into denial, clinging to desperate notions of this all being a giant prank. This couldn't be real.

I checked my phone. No signal.

I felt like Marty McFly. Only without a clue or someone to help explain shit to me.

Stay calm, Viv. Just stay calm.

Time travel isn't possible. There must be some explanation. There must be.

Even then, I didn't quite believe myself.

I stood and let my hair down, hoping that it'd be enough of a change in my appearence to keep anyone from the diner from recognizing me. After smoothing down my fringe, I left the alley, glancing around nervously.

Calm. Calm is key.

NYU. I don't know why I kept heading to school but it seemed like if I held onto my routine, things would work themselves out. But they didn't.

I felt like an alien. Or a fish in a shark tank. All of these people scared me, going about their lives, not knowing how bizarre they were, not knowing that they shouldn't be here, walking around like this was possible. These aren't actors.

"I'm in the sixties," I told myself, trying to make light of it before I royally freaked out. "I time traveled but I'll be fine. You know, maybe I haven't even woken up. Maybe I'm still sleeping and my alarm's about to go off... Any minute now."

Please, wake up.

The campus loomed in front of me, offering only a minimal amount of comfort. Sure, the building was familiar. But everything else about it was foreign and unsettling. I ambled through the halls, undisturbed. I was surprised that people couldn't tell how out of place I was in my dark denim jeans, blue top and mismatched shoes. I felt like there should be a neon sign over my head reading: 'not one of us'.

I approached my classroom slowly, watching the professor lecture. Not my professor. Not my class.

I stared, feeling dread creep over me. Not my school. Not my time.

"Can I help you, miss?"

The professor was watching me. I was just lurking outside the doorway. I shook my head. "No," I replied quietly. "I don't think anyone can…"

I retreated to the university library, the high cavernous room acting as a safety bubble. I sat at a table, head in my hands, trying not to think.I wanted to melt into the books so I wouldn't have to deal with this and make choices. I just wanted to sit here forever and not worry about the world outside. But I knew I couldn't live in here. Or even loiter for too long. They'll find out I'm not a student. Oh shit, I'm not even a legal citizen. My social security number isn't valid. My driver's license, state ID: all void. I didn't exist.

I didn't exist.

I should have just skipped class. I pinched the bridge of my nose. I should have stayed in bed and been a lazy bum.

How?

How could this have happened? When did it happen? I'm sure everything had been normal when I left my apartment. The people seemed normal. I think. I crossed the street, the guy bumped into me. No, even then it was weird. He was weird. What happened before that? Was there a clue before him?

My phone…

I noticed the signal went dead when I crossed the street. That must have been when it happened. But that makes no sense! How does crossing a street make me go back—what? Fifty years? It had happened so quickly and subtly, I hadn't even noticed the switch. I simply crossed the busy New York street and by the time I reached the other side, I was very far from home.

"I'm so screwed."

Two guys sat at the end of my table, talking excitedly. They looked like nerds. Well, sixties nerds, I guess. I ignored them as they got louder.

How easy is it to fake an identity? It cant be that… Oh, hell, I'm screwed. I really am. I'm smack in the middle of the Cold War without an identity! They'll think I'm a Soviet spy for fuck's sake!

I groaned.

Please, wake up!

My head hit the table as I let myself wallow.

"…And I personally think the theory's spot on. I always said there's other life forms, maybe extraterrestrials but, you know—"

"Are you pulling my leg? The guy's crazy."

"Crazy? I'll have you know, Josh, that people thought Einstein was crazy and he's the greatest mind the world's ever seen!"

"Man, don't talk to me about Einstein… I live and breathe Einstein," said the other guy. "But this limey dude?"

"Hey! Be fair."

"I am being fair."

"No, you're not. You're not. Mark my words, Xavier is the next Einstein. You heard it here first."

"Oh, come off it."

"I won't come off it. I'm going to find a good picture of Prof. Charles Xavier and hang it in our dorm."

"On your side."

"Right next to Einstein."

"No, way. Next to Galileo, maybe."

Wait. I lifted my head, the gears whirring in my mind. I turned to look at the boys. "Did you say Charles Xavier...?"

My voice made them both stop. They shared a glance and a giddy smirk. Great, ones that aren't used to female interaction.

"Yeah?"

I jumped up and was beside them. "The Charles Xavier? As in the ...mutant?"

"You've heard about his theory on mutations?" the one asked excitedly, not hearing me right.

"Uh, yeah. Right. You mean… he's... real?"

"I… don't understand."

I stood straighter. What the hell…? He couldn't be the same Charles Xavier from… from the comics. This couldn't be happening… Time travel, I could deal with—not really. But this… What even was this? Have I been sucked into a comic book?

"Are you okay?"

"Huh?"

"Are you okay?"

I nodded, dumbly.

Please, wake up now!

"Uh… I think… I need to find him."

"Who?"

"Professor X…avier," I coughed. "Xavier."

"Why do you need to find him?"

"Business," I said quickly. "Do you think he's in the phone book…?"

The more talkative of the two answered. "Unlisted. But I know where he lives," he said proudly. "Had to go through a few back doors..."

His friend shot him a look.

"What? I've sent him a few hypotheses…"

"Where does he live?"

"Here, let me look," he said, flipping through a copybook. I saw newspaper clippings and scribbled notes. I stopped him, my eyes catching an image. My fingers grazed the newspaper article, trailing across the picture. It was him. Good god, it was him. A black and white photo of him in a graduation robe and cap.

"Just like the movie…" I whispered.

"That's him leaving Oxford," the guy explained. "Not too long ago, actually."

My shoulders slumped. "He's in England, then?"

"Don't think so. Not anymore, I think… I don't stalk his whereabouts or anything though! I'm not obsessed!" he said defensively.

"Of course not," I dismissed. "You were getting me his address?"

"Right. Here we go," he said, pointing to his scribbled writing. 1407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Center.

"Salem…? That's not in Massachusetts, is it?"

"Wha? No! That's North Salem. Here in New York," he explained. "Up in Westchester?"

"Westchester! That's like seventy miles away! How the hell do I get there?"

"Do you drive?"

"Don't have a car…"

"Oh…."

"It's really that important you see him?" asked the other guy who had been silent until now.

I looked at him somberly. I couldn't explain it, but knowing that Charles Xavier existed gave me hope. I knew him. Well, knew of him. And that was more than I could say about creating an identity in the 60's. Yeah, he was a total stranger but he was my best chance."Yeah… It is…"

He reached into his pocket and laid a card on the table. "Take my bus pass, then. It expires in a few days but it should get you to Westchester."

I slid it off the table, and held onto it for dear life. "Thank you," I told him sincerely. "I'm Vivian, by the way."

"I'm Mickey."

"Josh."

The rocking of the bus lulled my body into a trance, but my mind stayed alert. I couldn't grasp what was happening. I couldn't bring myself to accept this bizarre and impossible turn of events. I woke up for finals and walked into a comic book. Or something like that. I think it was the subtly that really got me. There was no swirling vortex of doom or bright light or tricked out Delorean. I just casually slipped into another universe.

Things could have been worse, I suppose. I could have ended up somewhere more dangerous (as if a country under threat of a nuclear attack was safe). Okay, I could have ended up in a place where I had absolutely no clue of what was happening. I was fairly familiar with the X-Men, Nikki having gotten me into it when the first movie came out. Granted, I wasn't an expert, but I had enough trivia stored away. I hope.

All I knew was if anyone could help me, it had to be Prof X. He was basically the Gandalf of the Marvel world, right? Well. He was smart and science-y. He could whip up a time machine or… Alright. It was a total stab in the dark. But honestly, I couldn't think of anyone else to go to. And was too terrified to think up a Plan B should this not work out.

This was my forth bus in almost two hours, and my butt was sleeping. I pulled a crumbled piece of paper out of my pocket, on it was written the address of the X-mansion. I feel pretentious calling it that.

The squeal of brakes made me groan as the bus slowed. I was more than halfway there but the last bit was all on foot. And my legs were dead. I sighed and got off, along with three other people, at a place called Purdy's. I started down a long road, a very very long road that I was supposed to follow the rest of the way. I tried not to think about how much I had left to go. I had to have been walking for an hour. My legs were tired and my pace had slowed considerably. I was surrounded on both sides by trees and could hear the feint sound of water. There was supposed to be a reservoir close by.

The sound of a motor crept up behind me. I glanced back to see a mint green station wagon. I continued walking, stepping onto the grass, to get out of its way.

"Hey," called a woman's voice.

I turned back around to find a young blonde leaning out of the driver's window. Her hair flipped up at the ends in a single wave and the pink lips were spread in a smile. She stopped the car beside me. "Where you heading?"

"North Salem," I said automatically, then pulled out the crumbled paper from my pocket. "Uh, Greymalkin Lane?"

"Oh, you're in Salem now, hun," she replied. "But you've got a long way to go."

"I know…"

"Want a lift?"

My legs, had they mouths would have shouted out before I could manage. "Yes, please!"

She laughed, leaning over to unlock the passenger door. "Hop in."

I plopped onto the fuzzy seat cover and the second my knees bent, I felt relief.

"Name's Carolyn," the woman smiled.

"Vivian."

She wore a pair of baggy pants, orange with pink designs, and a white blouse. It was gag-worthy but I was too grateful to judge her fashion. Hell, my clothes were probably plain and ugly to her!

"You're so lost, aren't you?" she said to me, not looking away from the road.

"How can you tell?" I drawled.

Carolyn gave a short laugh. "That lost look in your eye."

Did I really look that helpless?

"So, what brings you up here? You look like a city girl to me."

"It's… complicated."

"A man," Carolyn grinned, knowingly.

I snorted.

"I'm right though," she said. "What's his name? You can tell a lot about a person from their name. Like you. Vivian says to me… passionate. And wild."

Riiight.

I decided to humor her. She was saving me two hours of walking. "His name's Charles."

"Charles," she repeated. "What about Charlie?"

"No… I don't think so. Just Charles."

"Hm. You know what that says to me? Sunflowers."

"Sunflowers…?"

"Mhm. When I hear the name Charles, I see sunflowers in a grassy meadow… under a warm sun."

"Uh…huh."

Tiny patters of rain hit the windshield and roof. Perfect.

"Vivian and Charles. I like how your names flow. There's an energy between them. Like two rivers merging to form a beautiful ocean..." Carolyn looked at me with a sly grin. "If you know what I mean."

"It's not like that."

"Is he a doctor? A lot of doctors up here. And farmers."

"He's… a professor," I sighed.

"Mmm, an older man."

"He's not that much older than me… I think."

"Nothing wrong with that. It's all about love, sweetie."

"No, really. There's nothing romantic between us. I've never even met him."

"Oh? Charles must be special for you to go all this way just to see him."

I looked out the window at the passing trees and the raindrops rolling down the glass. "You've no idea…"

Carolyn grinned at my reflection.

The sky was darkening by the time we stopped at Graymalkin Lane. "Sorry, I don't have an umbrella. You okay from here?"

"Yeah. This is great. Thanks again, Carolyn."

"No problem, babe. Give your Charles a kiss from me."

I didn't respond, simply waving as she drove off, leaving me standing along a dirt road. As I headed down the lane, as my luck would have it, the rain started to pick up. Great. Petrichor filled my nostrils with each breath, the soothing smell trying to counteract my bad nerves. When I reached the gates at 1407, it was full out storming, thunder rumbling and quick flashes of lightning. It was like an omen of my arrival. I stood at the iron gates for moment, uncaring about being pelted with rain and wind. At the top of the gates was a twisted 'X', and on the wall to the side was a plaque which read: Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

This is really happening.

My stomach was in knots as I pushed open the gates, surprised that they weren't locked. Each step was an effort, as fight or flight raged within me. And it was a winding stretch of a driveway, of course, giving me all the needed time to freak myself out.

Oh, what was I doing?

To say I was soaked was a gross understatement. After god knows how long I'd been walking, my hair and clothes had surpassed the capacity to absorb any more water. Had it not been for my stubborn refusal to abandon my bag, I'd have tossed it away and been pounds lighter. But no, instead, I hobbled on, stumbling under the weight of not only my wet clothes but also the impending sense of fear.

I was alone in every sense of the word. And it frightened me.

What if they turned me away?

What if they aren't the X-Men at all and this is all some weird mistake? I'd be totally screwed.

What do I even say to him? Oh, hi, I come from the future, but not your future. I'm from an entirely different universe. I come in peace.

I groaned.

Wing it. As always, I can wing it.

Finally, through the darkness of the overcast evening, I saw it: Xavier's mansion. It was gorgeous but its wealth and power only made me uneasy. I stared up at the darkened windows as I approached, trying to see if I saw anyone. I didn't. When, I reached the front doors, I simply stood there, unmoving. I couldn't bring myself to knock yet I berated my cowardice. I didn't come all this way for nothing! I had to knock!

What if he couldn't help me?

What if he didn't believe me…?

I leaned against the wall, the wind sending the rain sideways to meet me. Just knock!

God, he's a telepath, he probably already knows I'm out here, making a fool of myself! I stomped my foot. Fine. With that thought and to spare myself further humiliation, I wrung out the worst of the water from my hair, raised my fist, and knocked.

I waited.

There was no reply. It couldn't be that late… only—I checked my phone—5:42 PM. Maybe my knock was too soft? It was a huge place, after all. Maybe I should just go while I have the chance...? No. There's no turning back now.

I knocked again, louder.

What if he was still in England? Or somewhere else? Like recruiting people? Crap. Oh my god, what if I came all this way to be stuck outside like a hobo? Maybe I could break in? Oh, yeah, break into a house full of mutants, real smart. I never should have gotten out of bed!

The door opened. Light flooded the porch and momentarily blinded me, having grown used to the dark of night. Then my vision cleared and I focused on the man in the doorway.

"Can I help you?" he asked gruffly, sounding as if he'd hope I'd say 'no'.

My stomach squirmed, looking up at an irritated-looking Erik Lehnsherr. Not who I was expecting.

I took a step back, trying to compose myself. "I'm looking for Charles Xavier?" I said, my voice sounding distant and uncertain.

He didn't budge, eying me in all my soppy wet glory. "And you would be…?"

"Someone about to catch pneumonia," I replied, unable to stop the hostile tone in my voice. Exhaustion and anxiety were wearing on me. "Can I see him?"

When he didn't move, I sighed. "Please. It's really important."

Erik paused before finally stepping aside. I was aware of him staring at me as he shut the door. The locks clicked into place; I didn't see him reach for them. Erik half circled me, looking more like a bird of prey assessing if it could snatch a pidgeon from the air. He was on guard. Alright, I was suspicious; I'll give him that. Arriving in the middle of a thunder storm like something from a Gothic novel. And why the hell did I refer to myself as a pidgeon?

"This way," he instructed, going on ahead of me into a parlor.

"Erik?" came another man's voice, one that I recnognized. "Who is it you have with you?" he asked before I even stepped into the room. And when I did, Charles' gaze fell on me from over the chessboard. I froze.

"She didn't say," Erik replied, shooting me a glance. "She wanted you."

"Charles Xavier," he said, standing and offering me a hand which I took; it was much warmer than mine.

"Yeah. I know who you are," I replied, with a shaky smile.

His brows furrowed, looking thoughtful. "Yes, of course."

"I'm Vivian Brooks."

He gave me a cordial smile, though concern was still in his startlingly blue eyes. "What can I do for you, Miss Brooks?"

I stared at him, completely at a loss for words. "I don't know."

Charles frowned. "Why did you wish to see me?"

I stupidly felt like crying. But I didn't. I shook my head.

The men shared a meaningful look, before Charles gently took my arm. "Here, why don't you sit by the fire? You're freezing."

He led me over to a couch, and offered me a blanket. I wrapped it around my shoulders, feeling guilty for dripping all over his house.

Charles sat across from me and Erik off to the side, watching us from a distance. He made me uneasy. I could tell he already didn't trust me, or like me, for the matter. I saw Charles follow my gaze.

"We'll be fine, Erik," he told his friend. "Thank you."

The pair of them locked eyes for a moment longer than normal, and I imagined they were exchanging thoughts. Then the moment broke and Erik pursed his lips, leaving us without another word and shutting the parlor doors. I felt lighter after his leaving. I never really had it out for Magneto but I had to admit, he was damn intimidating.

"Tell me what's troubling you," Charles said softly, and that small encouragement was all I needed. Everything just came pouring out of me in a mess of words.

"I'm sorry I didn't know where to go o-or what to do. I just—you're the only person I could think of who could help or really the only person I know! Well, I don't know you, exactly, but uh I sort of do—"

"Miss Brooks, please calm down."

"Vivian."

"Vivian," Charles corrected. "I want to help you, but you must tell me how," he said, bringing a hand to the side of his face, fingers grazing his temple.

His fingers grazing his temple?

"Whoa!" I cried, leaping up and startling him. "The hell are you doing?!"

He looked at me with wide eyes. "Sorry?"

"You were doing the thing…!"

Charles stood as well. "What thing?"

"The mind thing!"

His eyes narrowed slightly, and I realized that may not have been the best thing to let slip. Charles stared, his mouth agape. "Who are you…?"

I looked at him and felt like crumbling. Oh, hell. I had nothing left to lose. There was no turning back now. I shrugged and answered as honestly as I could, "Someone very lost…"