A/N: Greetings! Sorry this took a while to come out, been one helluva week! So, I would like to once again thank everyone for reading and reviewing. At the time this chapter was published, there were over 1,200 hits to this story. I'm not sure what that's like compared to other stories, but I, for one, am thrilled beyond words. Thank you!

Thanks again to my ever-fabulous and smiley-loving Beta, Valkyrie-Pleasant!

Oh, and in case anyone has or hasn't noticed, all of the chapter titles are just random song titles that have very little to do with the story. I basically just hit shuffle on my iPod and pick a title that kinda sorta fits :P

R&R Please :)

By the time we had all arrived at Mr. Garber's division facility, the sun had risen and was shining brightly down on us, the warm rays hitting my skin felt very relaxing and cosy. The facility itself I could see was quite large, light grey stucco finished the exterior of the building and the smoothed cement driveway and walkways added an extra little touch. The building was located somewhere on the outskirts of Richmond, Virginia, which meant thatthe surrounding area was bright green grass and tall trees that were, due to the season, bare of many leaves. It was scenic, almost making you forget that you were in a secret government facility.

We all followed Mr. Garber inside; he was explaining that he dealt with 'paranormal' research and security, which of course I already knew. What I didn't know, was that Shaw has been working with the Russian government the past few years.

"So were to be the CIA's new mutant division, yeah?" Charles asked somewhat casually.

"Something like that," was Garber's reply.

He led us down one of the corridors, passing some familiar faces of various security personnel wearing black suits. I had met a number of the agents that frequented this division briefly before at the CIA Headquarters. I rarely spoke more than a few words with them, simply handed off a schedule, agenda change or something to that affect. To be perfectly honest, they all kind of seemed the same to me; straight-faced, arrogant and took their job and themselves very, very seriously. Boring, was my initial thought. But deep down I knew that very few emotion-driven, bubbly people made it in the CIA line of work, especially if you were out in the field. I realized a while ago that you had to have a certain level of callousness to work for the government, although it took me some time to be able to admit that to myself, about myself.

Even though this was my first time actually at the facility, I knew a fair amount about the place. There were a few different areas within the main building; this included a few offices/conference rooms, a sort of campus with a number of individual rooms for staff, a kitchen and recreation room and one really large laboratory. I was sure there were some other areas, none of which were deemed important enough for a meagre assistant like me.

Right now, we were all headed to the lab, which I was rather excited to be inside for the first time. Garber was in front of our little group, with Charles and Moira listening intently to whatever he was saying and not paying attention to much else. Whereas Raven, Erik and I were bringing up the rear, somewhat distracted by our surroundings.
We turned down a hallway a bit narrower than the last one that had big, steel double doors at the end. "Alright, this is our laboratory. All I ask is that you try not to touch anything," Garber requested before opening door and leading us through into the giant room. The ceilings were extremely high, the walls and floor were bare cement. At one end of the room there was a massive ventilation fan in the wall, which was currently still, unmoving.

Also in the room was a boy, he was tall and quite lean, with chestnut brown hair and glasses. He was young, and while most thought he was some sort of prodigy, I had a suspicion he was a mutant. As soon as we got close, I knew my hunches were right.

Before we were all introduced, the young man directed our attention to what we learned was the model of a modernized jet. "It's, uh, supersonic. The most advanced plane ever built," he told us while walking us through the room. "You should see it in real life. It's incredible."

"Hank," Garber interrupted, "These are the special new recruits I was telling you about. This is Hank McCoy, one of our most talented researchers."
He gave a shy smile before Charles went up and shook his hand, "How wonderful! Another mutant, already here. Why didn't you say?"

Garber looked confused, "Say what?"

That awkward moment when…

Charles exhaled loudly, "Because you don't know," he murmured. He turned to face Hank, "I am so, so terribly sorry."

The man in black stepped slowly towards the young scientist, "Hank?"

Hank shifted nervously, "You didn't ask, so I didn't tell."

Garber looked over in my direction suddenly, "Did you know about this, Mia?"

"Um, no," I stuttered a bit, "I mean, I kind of wondered but I couldn't know for sure unless I was actually around him." I then looked passed Garber and over to McCoy, "It's nice to finally meet you in person, Hank."

He raised one of his hands, giving a small wave and a bashful smile, "Likewise."

Of course, being Mr. Garber's assistant, I knew all about Hank McCoy and had even had the pleasure of speaking with him on the phone with him a couple times. He had never come to the Headquarters thought, at least not when I was there; he was a researcher for a covert CIA division, not an agent.

This time, Raven stepped towards him, "So your mutation is, what, you're super smart?"

"I'll say, Hank here graduated from Harvard at the age of 15," Charles piped in for him.

Hank, disregarding what Charles had said, kept his eyes on Raven, "I- I wish that's all it was."

"You're among friends now, Hank, you can show off," Charles reassured him, while Moira joined the others around Hank. I stayed back and so did Erik as he leaned casually against a railing, arms crossed over his chest.

Hank seemed to think for but a moment, before he kicked off his shoes. I raised my eyebrow, curious as to what his other power might be. Hank bent down and removed his socks, revealing very peculiar feet. I squinted and leaned forward a bit to get a better look. They were quite large, and almost looked like hands. The toes were long and appeared very dexterous, able to move flexibly and individually. My eyes grew wide and I inhaled sharply, immediately looking down at my feet. They still looked normal, tucked securely in my stilettos. Luckily for me, I only seem to output my the abilities I absorb when I consciously try to channel them. I sighed in relief, which seemed to catch the attention of Erik as he grinned smugly and chuckled a bit. I shot him a dangerous glare; a wise person never mocks someone who's overtired. Maybe showing him my mutation last night wasn't the greatest idea...

I peered once again to Hank's direction, every seemed quite enthralled with his mutation and even I had to admit it was rather intriguing. He timidly ushered everyone off to off to the side a bit then quickly flipped up and grabbed hold of the model plane with his feet, suspending him upside down. There were a number of gasps throughout the group, including one from me as I took a couple steps towards Hank, amazed by his capabilities. Even Erik seemed a bit more interested now, although Raven seemed the most interested. I rolled my eyes at her, hoping no one would notice, and very happy I no longer had the heart of a teenage girl.

We didn't stay in the lab much longer; Hank insisted that he had work that he needed to get done. So, Garber decided to show us the living quarters of the facility. Once we got to that part of the building the décor changed noticeably. The walls were still mostly white and neutral but there were splashes of funky colours here and there. The furniture was more trendy and modern and in the rec room there were several entertainment amenities, such as a pinball machine and a stereo. We walked on through down a hallway off the main area in the wing, there were several doors on both sides and I assumed that these were the bedrooms.

"Alright so, thankfully, we have enough living space here for all of you to have separate rooms. Most of our security staff don't stay here for more than 12 hours a shift and currently Hank is the only researcher working this week. So you have this area mostly to yourselves," My boss revealed, I'm sure to all of our satisfaction.

Everyone went off to claim their own room, but before I could, Mr. Garber stopped me and Moira. "Your rooms are just at the front here. I called two of the agents here last night to retrieve a few changes of clothes for you and some other conveniences until you're able to go back to your own homes. In the meantime, I have some business to attend to back at Headquarters, and I trust I can leave you two in charge," he directed, eyes moving back and forth between us as we both echoed affirmative answers. He then lifted the lapel of his suit jacket, dug his hand in the inside pocket and produced what looked like 2 key cards. "Here," he said handing one to each of us, "These will give you access to the entire building. It's not that I don't trust the others, but since you two already work for the Central Intelligence Agency, I feel like I can permit you to have clearance to the whole facility, especially since I'll be gone 'til tomorrow morning." Again we both nodded, accepting the responsibility at hand.

With that he left the two of us, no doubt making his way to the building's exit.

I smiled genuinely at Moira before I excused myself and went into my new room. The area of the room itself was pretty plain. The walls were a cream colour and the furniture was made from a dark wood, the fabrics and accents a light green. As promised, there were some articles of clothing folded neatly on top of the bed. Before examining them more closely, I concluded that taking a shower would be a better priority right now. Fortunately, there was an en-suite in my room. I locked my bedroom door, ensuring nobody else would come in while I showered. Unless of course Erik is more of a pervert than I guessed, I thought, then shaking the idea out of my head.

I entered the bathroom, the colour scheme similar as to the one in the actual bedroom. Cream walls and tile with a few green towels hanging on a rack beside the shower stall. I slid open the door to the shower and twisted the knobs, turning the water on. I closed the door and undressed, waiting for the water to get to the right temperature. Putting my old clothes in a hamper by the sink, I hopped in the shower, the warm water soothing my tired body. The body wash, shampoo and conditioner were generic, but I was still thankful to feel fresh and clean. I took my time in the shower, stepping out only after I felt completely relaxed. And when I did get out, instead of getting myself ready, I dried off as much as I could, slipped on a robe and crawled into the queen-sized bed; a nap being the only thing I really wanted at the moment. Not long after I snuggled under the blankets, I felt my eyelids begin to get heavy and moments later I was fast asleep.

When I woke up, I tried to keep my eyes closed before I groggily decided it was time to get up. Begrudgingly, I threw the covers off and sauntered into the bathroom. I rubbed my eyes and looked in the mirror, my hair was a mess. That's what you get for going to sleep with wet hair, I reminded myself.

I opened one of the drawers under the sink and to my surprise and delight found a curling iron and some makeup. Plugging in the curling iron, waiting for it to heat up, I went back into the bedroom and took a better look at the clothes provided for me; a black turtleneck and black, wide-legged pants. A little boring, but I guess that's what happens when men pick out clothes. I sighed and got dressed, noting that the outfit fit rather well. I wasn't too surprised though, working for a government agency did mean that they had your weight, height and all those fun things on file.

When I was dressed and back in the bathroom, I didn't spend all that much time on my hair and makeup; after all I would be trying to sleep again later tonight so there was no point in getting too dolled up. I simply made sure I looked presentable and then ventured out of my room.

I wandered out into the den to find it empty, but when I looked out the window I could see it was very dark outside. Way to oversleep, I sighed.

Then I got an idea. I meandered to the South wing of the facility, where the offices and whatnot were located. All the doors were closed, and the halls were mostly vacant except for the occasional security guard here and there. I came to what was more or less the lobby at the front of the building and glanced around. There, to my left, was the door I was seeking; the sign next to the door read 'Archives' in bold print. Beside the door handle was a security card reader and I smiled to myself, enjoying one of the perks of working for the CIA. I swiped my key card, heard a beep followed by the sound of the door unlocking itself.

I marched inside the room, making sure the door locked behind me. Inside the long room, grey filing cabinets covered most of the wall space. I let out a big sigh, wondering how long it would take me to find the specific file I wanted. As I got a closer look, each drawer had a tiny label on it right above the handle, categorizing each cabinet. I investigated each one systematically until I found the one I hoped was the correct one. The label only had one letter on it: 'L'.

With a creaky groan the cabinet drawer slid open revealing hundreds of meticulously organized manila folders. I began rummaging through all of them, my fingers quickly fumbling with every one of the files. I bit my lip anxiously, having wanted to look through this file for ages but never having the privacy or opportunity to do so.

Finally, I came to one; it said 'Lockhart' on the side and wasted no time in pulling it out. I took a deep breath and flipped it open; yearning to see what was inside the rather thick file.

I started skimming down the first page, but before I could get far I heard the sound of a metal click, and the door unexpectedly flew open. Startled, and afraid that I was caught, I rapidly closed the file and turned around, feebly attempting to hide the folder behind my back. To my astonishment, it was Erik, amusement extremely apparent on his face.

I frowned, "What the hell are you doing?"

He smirked, his calculating eyes looking directly at mine, "I could ask you the same thing."

"Well, unlike you, I actually am allowed to be in here."

The man took a step forward, letting the door shut behind him. "Then why do you look like a child who just got caught with her hand inside the cookie jar?" He countered, his German accent making him roll his 'r's ever so slightly.

I narrowed my eyes and then looked away, not being able to come up with a witty response.

He chuckled and walked over to another file cabinet. I glimpsed back over to him and noticed he had a briefcase in his other hand, "You know, technically, I am cleared to look at most of these files. You, on the other hand, aren't."

"And tell me what were you planning on doing about it?" He looked at me almost as if he was daring me to do something.

"Nothing," I replied innocently, "I just want to know what exactly it is that you want."

He laughed as he began searching through one of the drawers, "You can want as much as you like, I'm not telling."

"You do realize that I could just find out without you having to tell me," I challenged.

He stopped what he was doing and faced me, his expression cold. Without him saying a word, I realized it would be better if I didn't overstep my boundaries. Sighing in defeat, I leaned against one of the cabinets, reopened the folder in my hands and began reading.

I peered up at him to see that he was now reading a folder; I presumed the one he had been searching for. I looked back down, and saw out of the corner of my eye that Erik was holding a file that with the name 'Sebastian Shaw.'

"Why are you so interested in Shaw?" I asked, genuinely curious. I had thought that I would be the most concerned about him here, though I doubted I would ever show it.
Instead of answering me right away, he placed his briefcase on top of the cabinet beside me and flicked open the locks, carefully placing the file in the case before locking it again. My eyes followed him as he walked towards the door, "You don't want to know." And with that, he opened the door and left.

Little does he know…