A voluntarily confined soldier.

A kind hearted taxi driver.

And a smart mouthed kid.

Erik and Charles had formed something of a team. Us band of others collected together for a purpose that's been cleverly disguised as something for ourselves, rather than just a whim of the US government. There was a possibility it could serve as both.

"I'm very happy that this is the time I chose to join you," I said, gesturing my half empty glass of wine towards Charles. "There's nothing quite like northern Alberta in the fall."

He smiled and lifted his own glass of whisky and clinked it against mine. "To your first failure."

I drank and to my behest, smiled back. I glanced behind me, and Erik was still out like a light, finally succumbing to his exhaustion on our flight back to DC. The two of them had been running themselves ragged, recruiting all over the country and it seemed like it had finally caught up with him. There had been a couple of rejections before this one, but the rough cigar smoking lumberjack really rubbed me the wrong way. Although who was he to be blamed, brushing off three strangers that accosted him in the middle of rural Canada. Still, I did not appreciate the rudeness.

"And to your many." I gestured towards Charles again and finished off my drink before setting it aside. I leaned back into my seat, closed my eyes, and turned my attention to the hum of the engine, feeling the energy that pulsed throughout the plane. As I relaxed into the plush padding, my joints and muscles felt loose and easy. The third glass of pinot gris maybe wasn't the best decision.

They surprised me, Erik and Charles. For as long as I could remember Erik had been on high alert. Back straight, eyes forward, completely focused on our mission. Never distracted. Erik was still as focused as ever, but I had not seen him like this for a long time, and even then it was only for a sliver of a second when we had first immigrated to America. There had been a youthfulness there, an unknowing reliance upon the world for what is right, that only ones that had childhoods possess. It was of course quickly snuffed out and we turned right back to Europe to start our journey, our hunt. It wasn't the same, how could it be, but I could see it in him again.

Erik saw something in Charles. I wasn't sure what it was exactly. He still annoyed me with his unwavering earnestness.

There was some sort of camaraderie there. Something that I could never offer Erik. As much as I wanted him to view me as an equal, I was still his little sister. I felt almost relieved for him. As if I let out a large breath of air I had been holding in for too long.

"Charles," I said without meaning to, thoughts still meandering, and body still loose.

"Yes?" He answered my non-question. I could hear him set a book down, his body adjusting to turn to me. He always paid too much attention, so intensely, and I was glad that I had succumbed to the wine so I wouldn't be forced to meet his eye.

"Thank you," I let myself say.

"Oh?"

I dragged my teeth against my bottom lip and took a moment in an attempt to articulate my thoughts.

"We don't… I think…." I sighed, body over mind, and reluctantly opened my eyes. He stared back at me in not so much a questioning way, but that frustratingly easy acceptance he seemed to always convey. I continued, "Erik. I think he thinks. He's never-He views you as a uh…"

"A mate?" Charles finished my thought, with a wry smile and a finger to his temple.

I shook my head and tapped my forehead. "Some privacy?"

He let out a small breath of laughter and put his hand down. "Sorry, force of habit."

"But yes…trust is a rare thing for him. So, thank you."

"Oh," Charles said, surprised. The quiet hum of the engine filled the space between us.

"Oh yes, um," Charles continued, running a hand through his hair. The lowlights of the plane revealed a faint flush on his cheeks. He was either caught off guard or like myself had one too many drinks. My own face began to warm. It was true that on this trip or just in general I was still a tad cold to the mind reader. I could have stood to be a little bit more kind to him.

He nodded and gripped at the glass in front of him. "Thank you for saying that Lena, I truly appreciate it." Clearing his voice he went on. "I want to thank you as well. I am thankful that you are here. That you are with us."

"Ah-I.." A you're welcome was caught in my throat. "It's nothing."

My being here was no great labor. They were going to get Schmidt and that was all I ever wanted to do. The others were here for the right reason. They weren't here for vengeance, but rather compassion, to help. To be there for each other. Maybe it was to finally not be alone, but they at the very least deserved that. They deserved so much more than what had been given to them.

"I'm not here to be thanked," I said. The others deserved the thank yous and the platitudes. They were good people.

"We're playing a dangerous game here, Charles. We have watchful eyes. They know about us now. That we're not some weird scientific once in a millenia anomaly. That we're not in the wings and waiting to don blue tights and a red cape. We're needed at the moment, but what happens after? When they decide we're no longer needed?"

In the short time I had known Charles, In the small things I have learned of him, I knew one thing for sure. He was a fool.

"We'll prove ourselves," he said, sincere.

He was an optimistic fool.

Blitz.

I assumed Raven had rummaged through a German dictionary and found the word thinking herself clever. Maybe she had either forgotten or disregarded the negative connotations of what The Blitz was. After all, we were all children during the war. Children forget a lot of things as they grow, willingly or unwillingly.

Erik had quickly grown tired of my referring to him as Magneto, giving me an increasingly exasperated look each time I did, which didn't help him, in fact it had the opposite effect. I did think I crossed the line at Mr. Magneto and then further pushed him with Sir Magneto.

Professor X was almost too simple. Charles' title and last initial? Not that mine was much more complex, but it was catchy, if that was what they were going for. It made me think of a villain in a Dick Tracy comic, but he was here he was, playing something of a vigilante.

Charles sat silently as we rode the old cargo truck through rural Russia. His face was blank, I couldn't tell if he was calm or nervous.

I sat between him and Erik, and watched my breath dissipate into the cold winter air, trying to hold back a shiver. I tapped a nail against the worn wood bench out of habit, a small ball of anxiety pulsed in my chest. At this point I was used to feeling this way before each encounter Erik and I faced. This feeling was my companion during each calm before the storm. Although it was always just me and Erik. I never had to think of anyone besides us, and here we were sitting with other people, soldiers, Moira riding up front, and Charles here beside me.

Erik placed a warm hand on top of mine, stilling my tapping finger. I looked at him and he continued looking forward, a steely expression similar to Charles. I knew he was calm though. He always was before things like these.

A knock sounded behind us and I moved aside to let up the wood panel.

"We got a problem," The driver said.

"What?" Erik responded.

"I'm so sorry," Moira answered. "This wasn't on the map."

We looked through the panel opening and a checkpoint was ahead of us, surrounded by soviet soldiers.

"No matter what happens, I'll take care of this, alright?" Charles said, tone sure.

We swung the wood panel back and he turned to address the soldiers with us. "Now, listen to me. Do not move and do not make a sound."

The truck slowed to a stop and I listened as the driver explained himself to the checkpoint guard and then he proceeded to get out, following their demand to open the back. A dog barked and footsteps grew closer to the back of the cargo truck.

Instinctually our soldiers got in a ready position, guns pointing at the entry. Charles got up to settle them. "Easy, easy," he said. "Take it easy, chaps."

I held a breath as the metal latch squeaked. Next to me, Erik was tense, his arm holding me back protectively. The doors opened to no reaction. The driver looked almost mystified to see nothing in the back, and the guard reported to his comrades that there wasn't anything back there.

As soon as the metal latch squeaked back into place, doors closed, a collective sigh of relief was let out by all of us. Charles fell into his seat, deflated. I took long breaths in an attempt to slow my rapidly beating heart and tried to think of nothing as we continued on our way.

We finally reached our destination in a densely wooded hill that looked down on the compound, supposedly where Schmidt, or known to them as Shaw, would be. Stealthily, Erik, Charles, Moira, the driver, and I crawled to the edge to better observe the comings and goings of the large estate. Soldiers guarded in close perimeter and barbed wire laced through walls and fencing. For a couple hours we laid on our stomachs, peering over a patch of dirt, to keep watch.

The air grew colder as the day went on, and the wet grass started to dampen my clothing. I was accustomed to long and uncomfortable stakeouts due to the nature of my brother and I's little hobby, but I was beginning to feel strangely impatient. Erik and I often operated on hunches and whispers of information from people we managed to get to talk, but here we were sitting in the cold and wet waiting in vain for Shaw to show up thanks to the brilliant CIA.

Just in time a helicopter arrived, flying down to land in front of the gate. The blonde telepath who was with Shaw on the boat got out to be quickly welcomed through the gate and onto the estate.

Erik stirred from his position, removing his binoculars. "Where's Shaw?" he asked, sounding just as impatient as I was feeling.

'I don't know," Charles said. "But if she's a telepath and I read her, she'll know we're here." He recalibrated in a flash of a moment and lifted a finger to his temple. "Let me try something else."

I kept watch of the woman as Charles tried his something else. She was greeted by an older, higher ranking official, and then ushered into the building, his arm wrapped around her back.

"He's not coming," Charles reported, shaking his head slightly. He turned to Moira. "So, what now, boss?"

"Now nothing. We're here for Shaw. Mission aborted," Moira said, resigned.

"No, that can't be," I balked, frustrated. All this waiting for nothing, with one his people right down the hill.

"I'm sorry, Lena," Moira said. "That's how it is."

"The hell it is," Erik said, getting up before Moira set a restraining hand on him. He pointed down at the compound. "She's his right-hand woman. That's good enough for me."

"The CIA invading the home of a senior Soviet official. Are you crazy?" Moira asked, incredulous.

"I'm not CIA," Erik replied, jumping up and running off before I could react. Charles called out for him to no avail.

I looked in the direction where Erik had run off to and then to Moira and Charles, their faces in disbelief.

Charles met my eye and his widened. "Lena, don't-", he said as he attempted to reach for me before I pushed myself off the ground. It was together or nothing for me and Erik, and I wouldn't allow him to go without me, not for this.

"Sorry," I said, unapologetic. I ran after Erik as quickly as I could and made solid ground as he soon came back into my view. Erik paused to manipulate the barbed wire to wrap around the guards and flung their guns out from under them, knocking them out with them in the process. He made quick work of the guards, rendering them all useless before they knew what hit them.

I caught up to him as he walked up the steps to the building's entryway. He looked happy to see me and gave me a quick nod before continuing into the building. I followed closely behind him. We rounded a corner and were confronted by two guards. In a rehearsed fashion, as if he was shooing away a fly, he disassembled the guns and knocked them both out with the broken off parts.

We fell back into an old routine, knocking doors down and clearing rooms in an attempt to find the blonde telepath. Erik, taking away guns or whatever weapon the guards had on them, and I, sending a shock of electricity to incapacitate them as we made our way through the long winding halls.

"Wait, wait-" Charles called out from behind us. "I'm coming too."

"To stop us or join us?" I asked, sending a shock to my foot and kicking away a guard as he reached for what was left of his gun.

Charled flinched. "Do I have a choice?" he asked.

I looked at Erik and shrugged. "No," I answered.

"Well…" Charles said, letting the decision be made for him.

"We don't have time for this," Erik said and hurried off, Charles and I followed him.

At last we burst through a pair of large and ornate doors to find the blonde telepath. The soviet official was on the bed, clearly under a visual delusion as he moaned in delight, fondling the air. She sat to the side, partaking in what looked to be a lovely spread of cheese and crackers.

"Nice trick," Charles said.

The official eyes were unclouded and he came to his senses, a frown morphed from his goofy smile. "Who are you?" he demanded in russian. He whipped out a pistol from his side in anger.

"Go to sleep," Charles ordered and the official succumbed to Charles' command.

The woman got up and shifted to her diamond form. "You can stop trying to read my mind, sugar. You're never going to get anything from me while I'm like this," she said as Charles and her began to circle each other.

She stilled for a beat and then eyed the door, leaping to try and escape. I reached out and shocked her, her diamond skin cracking as electricity flowed through her. I let up as she fell to the floor and Erik and Charles dragged her to the end of the bed. Erik wrapped the metal from the bed frame around her arms to restrain her.

"So, then, you can just tell us.," Erik said, between heavy breaths and then tightening the restraints. "Where's Shaw?"

She struggled against the metal and Erik tightened it more and more, then wrapping some around her neck. She began to gasp as the metal rods twisted around her neck.

"Erik," Charles said quietly, as it got tighter and tighter. The cracks in her body started to shatter around her neck. "Erik, that's enough," he warned him.

I stood there as her life tethered between his hands. I didn't know why, but I felt conflicted. This woman was an associate of Shaw, of Schmidt, the man who brought more pain and suffering in our lives than I had ever thought possible to bear. I should have been cheering him on, satisfied to see the life snuff out from her eyes.

"Erik, that's enough," Charles warned him again, louder, more urgent.

I placed a soft hand on his shoulder and I could feel how tense he was, almost vibrating as he breathed heavily.

"Stop, Erik," I said.

Regardless, killing her wasn't the smart thing to do. We needed information and we wouldn't be able to get that from a corpse.

He continued to breath his deep breaths and then relaxed into my touch, bending the metal away from the woman's neck. She immediately shifted back into her human form.

"All yours." He gestured at Charles, turning around and pointedly not looking in my direction. "She won't be shifting into diamond form again," He said, walking over to the spread, leaning over to fix himself a drink and a bite of cracker and pâté. "And if she does, just give her a gentle tap."

I rolled my eyes at his dramatics and sat on the chair opposite of him. Charles knelt and started to investigate, reading through the woman's mind.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" She remarked, smug for being still tied up.

Charles slowly turned to us, stunned. "This is worse than we previously imagined," he said. He turned back to the telepath. "We're taking you with us. The CIA will want to question you themselves."

Calmly, she responded, "Oh, I doubt it. They have bigger things to worry about right now."

The road was bumpy as the cargo truck hurried along to cross the border and reach our plane back to Virginia.

I did not expect anything less of Shaw, he has always been a supremacist. In extremist ideals come extreme solutions. Of course he would be enacting WWIII to create mutant ascendancy.

But what was unexpected was the fact that I was here in an effort to combat it. I did not think so highly of myself that I would be able to do anything to mitigate a potential global disaster. All I wanted was to hunt down one man and it had turned into an international conflict.

I needed a drink.

I reached into my pocket and fished out a pack of Lucky Strike and a zippo, tapping a cigarette out and placing it between my lips, lighting it between bumps. I breathed it in and watched as the hot ash brightened at the end, smoke wafting in front of my face. I didn't smoke often, but this was the kind of day where I made an exception.

"You know Reader's Digest says smoking is bad for your health," Charles said, tapping his knee against mine.

Wordless, I gave him a look. His face was flushed with the cold air, and he looked weathered from the day. I took my lit cigarette and offered it to him. He accepted it with ease and brought it to his lips, inhaling with his eyes closed. He leaned his head back as he exhaled

A quiet laugh escaped from my mouth and he smirked, eyes still closed.

I lit another one as we drove on.

a/n: I'm back! lol, I'm hoping to start updating more often. Hope you all have been well!