"Overture"

An introduction to something more substantial.

Marianne had almost finished putting the books away when she heard the front door open.

Her entire body went ice cold. She made a quick gesture, and the wooden ladder that was - luckily - in the same aisle as her flew across the floor to her. She dropped onto the top of the ladder, and the rest of the books floating around her crammed into whichever empty spots were closest to them. She winced slightly as she shoved the books into already too tight spaces. She'd fix them later.

"Anyone home?" A male voice called out. Just as soon as it had, a man walked into the aisle she was in. He brightened up when he saw her. "Oh, good!"

Marianne sighed. He couldn't have seen anything. It definitely would not have been good for a stranger to see several books levitating several feet off the floor. It would have been worse for a stranger to see Marianne herself floating several feet off the floor, one leg over the other as though she were sitting on air.

"I'm sorry, sir, but the store is closed right now," Marianne said, beginning to climb down the ladder.

"Would you like some help getting down?" The man asked, already moving forward to assist her. Marianne held out a hand, stopping him from coming any closer. Instead, he hovered rather anxiously behind her, looking concerned. But Marianne finished climbing down by herself, and then she turned to examine at the man before her.

He was short, about the same height she would be if she hadn't been wearing heels. As it was, he was an inch shorter. He had a feminine appearance, to be quite frank; his thick, wavy brown hair and crystal blue eyes were not helping. Marianne had to admit (reluctantly), he was rather pretty. He was dressed in unwrinkled slacks and a dark blue sweater, underneath a grey tweed coat, giving him the appearance of a very young professor - he couldn't have been any older than her own thirty-one years.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said, not feeling sorry at all, "but as I said, the store is closed. I could have sworn I locked the door - I must have forgotten." Marianne knew for a fact she had locked the front door.

The man didn't seem very bothered by this. "Is that a French accent I hear?" He asked, sounding amused. He himself had an obviously British accent. "I have to say, I didn't expect to find a French woman here, of all places."

Marianne frowned at him. "I never expected to see a Brit in my shop. We don't get many limeys around here."

To her surprise, he laughed, not offended in the slightest. "I suppose you wouldn't!" He stuck his hand out to her. "Charles Xavier, lovely to meet you. It really is," he added, looking her up and down. His eyes seemed to be most drawn to her legs, visible from the knee down.

Marianne didn't take his hand. She stuck her hands into the pockets of her skirt (where is it, where is it - ah, found it) and glared into his eyes, once they came back up to meet hers. "Sir, as I've already said-"

"Charles, there you are." Another chill ran up Marianne's spine as another man came around the corner and joined them, standing next to Charles. This man was tall - he stood, at most, a foot over both her and Charles - and was as masculine as Charles was feminine. He had lines and angles where Charles had curves - short, straight dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and a black turtleneck sweater (barely hiding a muscular build underneath) under a brown leather jacket all added to his... intense appearance. Marianne wouldn't have been surprised to learn he had once killed a man - or several.

"Ah, Erik." Charles smiled at his partner. "I was wondering where you had wandered off to."

"I'm sure you were," Erik said with a smirk. He was scrutinizing Marianne with cold eyes, and Marianne gripped the object hidden in her pockets even tighter. Charles, perhaps, but Erik, less likely. "Is this who we're looking for?"

"Why, yes, I believe it is," Charles said with a smile as he turned back to her. She didn't like how either of them were looking at her. "We're alone in here, aren't we, love? We don't want any interruptions."

Marianne felt a third chill go up her spine at his words and she drew herself up to her full heigh. She was suddenly all too aware of the small confinements between the two shelves and the lack of space between herself and the two men. I knew it. Her mind began to play different scenes, all of the things they could have been planning, each scenario worse than the next. With her powers she could fight them off, but if they somehow managed to take her down before she could-

Charles's smile dropped immediately, as though he knew what she was thinking. "Oh, ma'am, I'm sorry, we're not here to-" he began as he took a step towards her. She glared at him, taking only a minute step back. The ladder behind Marianne began to tremble, but only she noticed.

"Charles, unless you want to end up with a knife in your gut, I'd suggest taking a step back," Erik informed him.

Charles froze, then turned to Erik with wide eyes. Erik looked amused - perhaps because Marianne's expression matched Charles's.

"You-" Charles's head swivelled around, back to Marianne, with the same shocked face. He did as Erik had told him, after a moment.

"How did you know that?" Marianne demanded.

Erik smirked at her. "It's a gift of mine."

Marianne eyed him for a moment, before pulling her switchblade out of her pocket. She held it up for them both to see, pressing the button and flipping out the blade. "A handy gift, though not for me." She examined her knife, running her finger along the edge. She wondered how Erik had known. She gave no signs that she carried a knife. Had he expected her to have a weapon? An odd thing to expect of a woman you had just met. Perhaps if he had known her for longer, he may have been able to guess she carried a knife wherever she went, but he had known immediately. How had he known?

"Perhaps not for you," Erik agreed, as though they were speaking about something as simple as the weather. "But definitely for my friend."

Marianne shrugged. In all likelihood, stabbing the men would have been a last resort, only after using her powers to throw her bookshelf on top of them. No need to kill anyone so quickly - it was enough that no one would believe them if they said she had thrown a bookshelf at them. Still, it was good to have a physical weapon on hand at all times.

"Why do you have that?" Charles demanded, eyes flicking from Marianne to the knife in her hand.

Marianne raised an eyebrow. "As a precaution." In case two strange men come into my store after I know I've locked the door, refuse to leave when I've told them the store is closed, make eyes at me, and then ask me if I'm alone, she thought.

Charles opened his mouth, but then closed it. Looking sheepish, he brought his pointer and his middle fingers up to his temple. Marianne frowned at him. What is he doing?

Then his voice was echoing through her mind. 'You are absolutely right. This isn't going the way I had planned it to, I'm terribly sorry, Ms. Ouellet.'

Marianne almost screamed.

Instead, her hand flew to her mouth. "How did you do that?" She whispered, lowering her hand a bit so her voice would not be muffled.

"So now you decide to say something," Erik said, shaking his head, "but when she was obviously frightened by us-"

"How was I to know?" Charles asked, rather defensively. "Her thoughts are a mix of French and English and I don't speak French-"

"You could have paid attention to how she was glaring at us-"

"I asked you a question," Marianne interrupted, eyes narrowing when they didn't answer her. "How did you do that?" Her mind was racing; she had heard Charles's voice in her mind. She hadn't imagined it - it had been too clear, too real for her to have imagined it. He had spoken to her, in her head. And he said her thoughts were a 'mix' of French and English, which was definitely true, and he couldn't have known that unless- and Erik had known about the knife in her pocket and had said it was a gift of his but that might mean-

"You're like me," Marianne answered her own question. The brazenness of her statement alarmed her; what if she was wrong? What if they were normal people and she was imagining things and she had just outed herself? What if they-

"I assure you, Ms. Ouellet, we are not here to harm you," Charles said. He still had his fingers to his temple, and was looking concerned. "I must apologize for the way we acted when we came in-"

"We?"

"You scared her too, Erik. You scare everyone. Either way, I am very sorry if we frightened you." He chuckled, a little nervously. "I appreciate you not stabbing me in self-defence."

Marianne stared at Charles. She looked at Erik. Then she turned back to Charles. Finally, she opened her mouth. "So, if you are not here to-" she waved her hand vaguely, symbolizing whatever crime she had imagined, "then why have you broken into my shop after it closed for the day? I know I locked my door," she added, with a pointed look at Charles.

"We didn't break in, that would imply a forceful entry," Erik corrected. "I unlocked the door and we came in peacefully."

"Regardless," Marianne said, annoyance rising in the place of whatever fear was left, "of how you came into my store, you came in after it was closed and refused to leave, and you still have not confirmed my statement. You are like me, yes or no?"

"How else could I have unlocked a locked door?" Erik asked, a sly smile on his face. He raised his hand, twisting it slightly; the blade of Marianne's knife flicked back into place. She had not done that.

Then, without warning, the knife was pulled from her hand. As she watched, transfixed, Erik waved his hand and the knife floated up, twirling around in the air, before coming back down into her open palm.

She had not done that, either.

Marianne looked down at her knife. She could hardly dare to believe it. There were others like her. She was not alone in her strangeness, her uniqueness.

She had never been alone as a child. She had four younger sisters and a brother only a year younger than her. She had had friends, a family; she had never been alone. But even so, being the only one out of everyone she had ever known to be able to do the things she could do had been something no amount of friends or siblings could heal. She loved, yes, and she was loved. But there had never been anyone like her, and she had always felt a sense of loneliness because of it.

But these men were proof she wasn't alone.

"You were never alone." Charles's voice was kinder than she had expected it to be.

She took a deep breath, then let it out in the form of a sigh. I was never alone, She thought.

Marianne looked up to face the two men with a calm stare. "So, your powers are," she gestured from Erik to herself, "like mine?"

"Not quite," Charles said, looking relieved that this encounter had turned around for the better. "Erik's powers are similar to yours, but he manipulates magnetic fields. You have telekinesis - that is, you can control everything."

Marianne gave him a look. She did not need to be told what she could do. "And you, you can read minds, I suppose?"

Charles nodded. "Yes. Telepathy, you see. I can read minds, speak to people through their mind, all sorts of things." He tapped his finger to his head. "Very useful."

"Although apparently, your limitations lie in whether or not you can understand the language the person thinks in." Erik chuckled at her comment.

"Yes, admittedly, that is a flaw in my abilities," Charles admitted, though she could hear a trace of reluctance in his voice. Reluctant to admit his own flaws, was he? "Well, yes, I suppose I am."

Marianne twitched slightly. It was strange, knowing someone was capable of reading her mind.

Charles nodded. "It is a strange thing to think about, and most people would be uncomfortable with it - which is why I make a point to not do so without good reason. Now, enough about me, we are here to talk about you, my dear. That is," he added, "if you don't want us to leave." He looked as though he would be very disappointed if she did, actually, want them to leave.

"Which would be understandable, considering," Erik said, with a pointed look at the back of Charles's head.

Marianne crossed her arms, and considered. Looking at the two of them now, with the knowledge she had (however minimal it was), there wasn't the threat of two strange men against her alone. Charles had seemed genuinely distressed to learn what she had thought they were here for; Erik didn't sound like he would be offended if she did ask them to leave, like he understood the panic she had been feeling. For whatever strange reason, despite the distrust she had held for both of them only minutes before, she now felt as though she could trust them enough to know they wouldn't hurt her.

And they were like her. She had never met anyone like her. She may never again get the chance to be with others like her if she turned them away now.

Finally, Marianne nodded. "You may stay."

Charles beamed at her. She could help but return it with a smile of her own, an honest smile she only gave to a select few. It didn't go unnoticed, under her eyes, how Charles's smile slackened and a light shade of pink rose to his cheeks when she did so. She didn't need to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking - it was not the first time her smile had dazzled a man, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Charles averted his eyes from hers, for the first time since he had come in. Had he read her mind? Good. She wanted him to know she knew.

She looked to Erik, who looked unfazed. "This shouldn't be spoken of in a public place. Especially if you unlocked the front door," she added. "Come on. I live above the store."

She turned to lead them to the back room, where the stairs to her apartment above were located, when Erik said, "Charles may know your name, but I'm afraid I don't."

Marianne stopped, and turned around again. She stuck out her hand. "Marianne Ouellet."

Erik reached and took her hand into his own strong, larger one. "Erik Lehnsherr."

"Would you like some tea?" Marianne asked them as they stepped into her living room. Her apartment was small, not as large as her bookstore downstairs was, but Marianne had done her best to make the small space as cozy and home-ey as possible. And, if you asked her, she had succeeded. "I usually make some for myself after work anyway, so it's no trouble."

When she turned to look at them, Erik gave a brief nod. Charles smiled at her. "That would be wonderful, love."

Marianne wondered if it was a British thing, or just a personal habit to call her 'love'.

"A little bit of both."

Marianne halted mid-step, then turned and gave Charles a look. He didn't notice - he was looking around her apartment. Trying to avoid her eye, or curious to see how she lived? With a shrug of her shoulders, she pointed to her couch in the corner of the room. They couldn't have missed it, it was the first thing you saw when you came through the front door. "Please, take a seat."

As Erik and Charles sat down, Marianne stood over the small bookshelf next to the couch. On top of the shelf were several photos in picture frames, from throughout the years. She pressed her pointer and middle fingers to her lips and then pressed them to the picture at the front of the group. "Hello, mon amour." The sight of Lawrence's smile warmed her heart, as it always did after a long day at work. His eyes, despite the lack of colour in the photo, still had the spark they had held in real life, and it always made her feel better.

"Your husband?" Charles asked; she looked over to him, smiled, and nodded. No doubt he already knew; he had read her mind, he could see into her memories, he knew everything about her and they had only met ten minutes ago.

"You're married?" Erik asked, sounding surprised.

Marianne's smile tightened slightly. "I was." She turned back to the photo, absentmindedly running her fingers over the edges of the frame. She didn't see it, but Erik's eyes softened as he watched her.

Clearing her throat, Marianne removed her gaze from the photo and turned to face the two men. "I mean, I suppose it makes sense." On the other side of the room, in her kitchen, a cabinet door opened and a kettle drifted into the sink. "There are thousands of people in this world, I knew I could not be the only one with my abilities, but it is completely different to meet others for yourself."

"Yes, I understand completely," Charles agreed, although he seemed a little distracted now as he watched the kettle, now filled with water, float onto the kitchen stove. His entire face seemed to light up with utter delight when the sink's faucet turned off and the stovetop turned on without being touched.

"I never knew there could be others like myself," Erik said. "Not until I met Charles." He, like Charles, watched Marianne's display of her powers with fascination, but he was not nearly as open with his excitement. He was smiling - that seemed to be the extent of it.

Marianne couldn't help but smile as well. She turned to the small square table in between her kitchen and living room (which had no wall or divider between them) and picked up one of the two chairs. She set it back down right in front of the couch, sat down, crossed one knee over the other and leaned forward. "Now, tell me, what is this all about?"

What came next was an explanation long enough to allow time for the water to finish boiling. In between sips of tea, once it was finished and Marianne summoned the cups over (Erik had to take over the explanation at that point, as Charles had gotten distracted again by the kettle pouring tea into three separate cups on the other side of the room) (he had started talking about how amazing her telekinesis was and how it looked like she had brought the objects to life and they were doing everything on their own instead of being controlled by her from afar and- Erik had cut him off at this point), the two of them had explained everything she needed to hear.

"So." Marianne placed her empty cup in the air. Never mind the table, she thought, regardless of the fact that the table was within arms reach and she could have put her cup down on it instead. "If I understand completely - and stop me if I am wrong - there is a small group of other mutants, being led by a man called Sebastian Shaw. And you believe he and his team are doing something," she vaguely waved her hand in the air, "that you believe to be endangering humanity or the world itself."

"We don't believe so, we know so," Erik corrected, his voice tight. His shoulders were tense and his fists clenched tight, and they had been since Sebastian Shaw had come into the conversation. Marianne suspected, with a hint of concern, Erik and Shaw had some sort of history, beyond what they were telling her now.

"We - and a friend of ours, Moira MacTaggert - believe he is responsible for the recent placing of nuclear missiles in Turkey," Charles explained.

Marianne nodded in understanding. "And what you and the CIA are doing is gathering up other mutants to create a team, training them, and hoping you can all take down Shaw, saving the world."

"That's the plan, yes."

"Although we haven't begun training yet," Erik said. "And we don't have a large group of them yet. Right now we have about," he tilted his head in thought, "seven other mutants, including Charles and myself."

"We're planning on finding more, of course," Charles continued. "There's another mutant in this very city, other than yourself, who we're planning on talking to next. And there's even more, out there, waiting for us. And you're one of them."

Marianne nodded. "And so, you've come to try and... Recruit me to help save the world?"

"Yes." Erik leaned forward, looking right into her eyes. "Ms. Ouellet, your powers are phenomenal. You could tip the scale in our favour in the fight against Shaw."

"You are making a large assumption, based solely on what you have seen before you." Marianne inclined her head towards the kitchen. "You've seen very little of what I can do."

"I've seen into your mind," Charles reminded her, leaning forward as well. "I know you can do far more than you believe, with the right training."

"Is that so?"

"Yes," Charles said firmly. "If you would only let us help you, we could unlock your potential."

"What if I have already unlocked my own potential?" Marianne asked with a raised eyebrow.

Charles gave a chuckle. "All the better for us, then."

He didn't think she had reached her full potential, did he? He was humouring her. Perhaps she hadn't in his eyes, but what she could do was enough for her life.

"So, what do you say, love?" Charles asked, leaning back in his seat. He looked so unbelievably cocky.

"No."

Marianne said it in the flattest tone imaginable, and there were no words to describe the delight she felt when the smile dropped from Charles's face.

She stood up, picked up her teacup from where it was still hanging in the air, took Erik's empty cup when he offered it to her, and walked to the kitchen, Charles' cup bobbing in the air as it followed her.

And so Charles and Erik have joined the story, and they did not get off to the best start with Marianne. This was something I thought of when I was reading some other First Class stories on here, where Erik and Charles come off as sort of skeevy. And also there's the fact that they definitely could come off as a little creepy to the mutants they're recruiting if they come at a bad time.

Also, if you think Charles came off as arrogant, that's good, because that's what I was trying to do. In this movie, Charles definitely had an arrogant asshole vibe to him, and so I intentionally made him kind of an asshole. Don't get me wrong, I love him! But he is definitely pretty arrogant.

Hope you liked this chapter! Don't be shy, leave a comment, please. Let me know what you thought - if you liked it, why you liked it, whether or not you thought Charles and Erik were In Character (That's definitely important, so let me know your thoughts on that), your thoughts on what may come in the future? Anything. I appreciate all and any comments left on my stories.