Altschmerz: a sense of weariness with the same old problems that you've always had.

"So, Moira, what have you been up to?" Irene asked, sitting in the front seat next to the redhead, who was at the wheel. In the back sat Charles and Erik, both of them silently brooding.

Charles hadn't been happy when Moira had invited her friend to sit in the front with her, and had found himself relegated to the backseat with Erik. He clearly felt he'd been usurped, previously having been Moira's favourite. However, true to form, she hadn't noticed anything, unlike Irene who could sense him sulking.

"Well, for the last few weeks I've been working with Charles to find and stop Shaw, but before that I was investigating several high level members of the CIA and FBI." She explained, shaking her head.

"What, like, Internal Affairs?" Irene said, feeling sorry for her. It would have exactly made the woman popular within the agency.

"Yeah. After we, um, finished with Murray, I got lumped with them. That's how I found out about Shaw."

Irene nodded. Yet again her thoughts returned to Arthur Murray, and as conversation in the car stagnated, she found herself lost in memories once again.

She had been called into the office early that day. Bates had told her they'd caught a big one, and she'd want to be involved, so she had thrown on her suit in rather a hurry today. She carefully smoothed her collar, adjusting her jacket as she waited for her boss to show up. He wasn't usually so late.

Bates wandered through the door, his gaze locking onto her.

"Allen, where's the boss?" He said, sounding slightly out of breath. Her partner was always hurrying somewhere or other.

"I was just about to ask you that. He should be here soon. You know what's going on?" She asked, looking up at the taller man.

"No, I was just passing on what Robertson told me."

At that moment, an older man stepped through the door. He was the typical, paunchy, bald, middle-aged man that worked at the Bureau. He motioned for the pair to follow him into his office.

"What's going on, sir?" Bates asked, taking a seat across from Special Agent Robertson.

"An old serial killer has resurfaced, and we've taken the case over from the NYPD. Allen, Bates, I'm choosing to hand this one over to you guys, but be warned, we're dealing with 'The Doctor'. I want you to keep your personal feelings out of it, is that understood Allen?

Irene felt her blood go cold, freezing in her seat. 'The Doctor.'

"Irene?"

"Irene?" A voice called out to her, and she was roused from her daydream. She started slightly, turning to see Erik staring back at her.

"Huh? What's going on?"

He rolled his eyes, "We're here. Charles and Moira have already gone in."

"Oh. Sorry." She offered him a sheepish smile, which he ignored, sighing as he strode away towards the concrete facility.

Erik shook his head as he walked away from the woman, unable to believe that she was supposed to be some kind of incredible FBI agent. She just seemed like some ditsy, out of touch, untrained child to him. Not that she was that much younger than himself.

But in some ways that made it even worse. Getting lost daydreaming? He had thought people grew out of that at 10 years old, not 30.

He had been decently interested to meet her when Charles had first found her on Cerebro.

"She's an FBI agent, and a mutant, just imagine what a great asset she'll be."

Yeah. What a great asset they'd found.

It wasn't her mutation that made her hate him. "Well, that wasn't strictly true." He thought, remembering when she had used her powers on him back in New York.

He'd never felt like that before, unable to stop himself from openly sobbing in front of others? It was unheard of for him. And then, the next minute, he'd been grinning like an idiot. But what he really hated wasn't the reaction he'd had, but what had caused the reaction.

It was like she'd reached inside of his mind and pulled the most powerful memory she could find to the forefront. Until it was all he could think about, and he couldn't control himself. It wasn't like when Charles messed around in his head (although he couldn't say he particularly enjoyed that either). It was so much worse. He just couldn't believe she'd done that to him, made him relive all those things for the sake of her little party trick.

At points it hadn't even been like he was seeing the memory in his head. It was like it was real, and he could see and touch the people in the memories.

Usually, he'd be excited to find out the extent of her powers, to find out what she could do. But he just found himself hating her instead, hating that smug smirk she'd worn when she released him, so proud of the torment she'd caused.

He didn't trust her. How could he? She was FBI for crying out loud, who says she isn't some sort of spy, trying to destroy them. Sure, Charles could read minds, but who was to say that she didn't have some sort of way of blocking them? It was not entirely out of the range of possibility.

So for now he closed himself off from her, unable to look at the woman without being sickened by her.

Irene watched as he left, releasing a sigh of her own as she muttered under her breath, "What a dickhead."

She wandered to the boot and used all the force she could muster to wrench it upwards. Then she grabbed her bag, and slammed the metal closed.

She made her way up towards the facility, pushing the door open, and was happy to see Moira and Charles stood talking. She was even more happy to see that Erik was nowhere in sight.

"Irene, perfect timing, my sisters coming to show you to your room."

"Sister?"

As if summoned by those words, a beautiful young woman appeared around the corner, smiling brightly as she saw Charles. The look then turned into curiosity when she saw someone she hadn't met before.

"Charles," She said, going in to hug her brother tightly, before standing back and turning back to Irene.

"You're Irene right? I'm Raven." She said, sticking her hand out for the woman to shake. .

"Uh, yes, how'd you know?"

The girl laughed, "This one told me he was going to find a mutant called Irene.." She pointed at her brother, and Irene nodded knowingly. And then a question came to mind and she whipped around to face Charles.

"Wait, how did you find me?" She asked. But Raven didn't leave her brother any time to answer.

"The CIA have this big machine called Cerebro that amplifies Charles' powers. He can detect mutants from roughly 500 miles away when he uses it." She smiled, clearly proud of her brother's abilities. And she certainly had reason to be.

"So when you bumped into me-"

Charles cut her off, "I happened to be looking for you, yes. It's lucky I heard you thinking about the FBI and clocked you were a mutant, otherwise we may not have found you until tomorrow morning."

"Huh. Fair enough."

"Anyway, I think that's enough questions for now. Raven, make sure she makes it to her room safely. Moira?" Charles tapped the redheaded woman on the shoulder and she waved goodbye to her friend, before following him down the corridor.

"Come on, your rooms this way." Irene picked up her bags and began to follow the young girl down the corridor.

"So Raven, are you a 'mutant' too?" She asked.

"Yeah," she grinned impishly, "Wanna see?" Irene nodded.

Suddenly, Raven's body began to flicker, scales of blue moving down her form. Her blonde hair disappeared as did her clothes and curves. Instead she became more masculine, her hair darker and shorter. She had transformed into a carbon copy of her brother.

"Woah." Irene said, unable to fathom what she had just witnessed.

Raven seemed to bask in the attention from the older woman, replying in a perfect imitation of Charles' voice, "Pretty cool right?"

"So you can change into anyone?" Irene queried, tilting her head to watch as she transformed back into her original form.

"Yep. Anyone." Raven responded, this time morphing her face into Irene's.

Her jaw dropped, "That's amazing." She moved her head to stare forwards, and she was met with the sight of the same concrete corridors.

The pair fell silent, Irene taking the time to inspect what she could see of the facility. It seemed to be pretty standard. Cold, but trying to make up for it with random potted foliage.

"It's not exactly cosy here, is it?" Raven said.

"Not really. But I'm pretty much used to it, I used to practically live in places like this."

"Huh?"

"Oh, did Charles not tell you that part? I'm former FBI, Moira and I used to work together." She smiled softly at the younger girl, watching as her eyes seemed to grow to the size of saucers. Raven only broke her reverential eye contact when she realised they had reached Irene's room.

"This is you. You're the last one they're bringing back so everyone's super excited to meet you. Feel free to join us in the common area if you want. Or you don't have to."

"That's a very kind offer. I'll see you there in a minute." Raven nodded at her, grinned and quickly walked away.

Irene opened the door, taking a second to glance around her room. It was of a similar style to the rest of the building, with a small bed in the corner, a dresser opposite and a tiny wooden desk by the door. She quickly chucked her bag onto the bed, and took a second to lay down and relax. It felt like it'd been years since she'd done that.

She thought back to the day's events. Her home had been broken into, she'd been recruited into some sort of CIA mutant division and flown 350 miles to some facility in the middle of nowhere. Thinking about it in that way, she felt like an idiot for even agreeing to come.

"Maybe I should just leave now." She thought, "I doubt they'll be very excited to hear exactly why I was discharged."

It was only a matter of time before they'd find out she was a liability, powers or no powers.

And what on earth even were her powers? All this time she'd thought she was alone, cursed by god with awful 'abilities'. And then all of a sudden, Charles was swooping in, telling her that she was blessed with a 'mutation'. And that there were hundreds out in the world just like her. Well, from what she had found out so far, there were hundreds out there with more useful abilities than her.

She did feel guilty; maybe it wasn't the wisest decision to lie to Charles about the extent of her powers.

'It wasn't really lying. Just lying by omission." She'd conveniently left out the part about sensing other emotions. But he never asked, so she didn't see any reason to tell him. To be truthful, she didn't even know the full extent of her powers herself.

Irene sighed, leaning back on the bed, staring up at the grey ceiling. She was strangely starting to regret even getting involved in this whole mess.

Eventually, she forced herself up. It'd only been a few minutes since Raven had left, and she didn't want to leave her waiting much longer. She checked out the rest of her room, opening the door inside to reveal the en suite bathroom, complete with a small shower, almost identical to the one she used to have in her apartment.

She quickly washed her hands, using the cheap soap they'd provided her with. Good to know the CIA weren't spoiling them too much. And then she was striding out of her room, following the sound of young happy voices until she reached what she assumed to be the common area.

"Irene!" Raven waved her over from where she was sitting on the sofa.

Irene moved over to greet them all.

"Everyone, this is Irene, she's new today, and she's from the FBI!" All the young mutants looked at her with shock, some of them confused. She slightly regretted giving Raven that information so willingly.

"Former FBI," She laughed, slightly sheepishly.

"Wait, so why did you leave," One of them asked, a young boy with a shock of ginger hair.

"Long story," She smiled, walking towards the back of the room where she found a small kitchenette area, "This is our food right?"

"Yeah, help yourself." Raven replied.

Irene began searching through the fridge for anything she could find. She eventually landed on a box of eggs and some bread that was on the side. She grabbed a pan and put it on the stove, quickly mixing the egg with some milk and butter she found at the back of the small fridge, filled mainly with junk food. She was absolutely starving, especially since Erik had ruined her dinner back at the apartment.

Eventually she finished her cooking, loading the eggs onto her two pieces of slightly stale brown toast. Then she returned to the sofa, sitting down in the seat Raven had left for her.

The young mutants were in the middle of some play fight, something about which use of potatoes was the best, and Irene sat and watched their smiling faces as they chatted to one another.

"So," The ginger piped up yet again, "We should probably introduce ourselves to the new recruit, huh?"

"Good idea, you go first, Sean." Raven said, eager as ever.

"Ok, I'm Sean, I'm 20, and my mutation is that I can shoot supersonic waves." He said, grinning, clearly proud of himself.

Sat next to him was a girl called Angel, 24, and she had wings that came from her back. Then it was a boy sitting in the corner, looking pretty miserable, but Irene got the feeling he was always like that. He introduced himself as Alex, saying he could use his powers here. Irene nodded, not wanting to press him any further and turned her gaze to the young man beside Raven.

"Oh, I'm Hank, I work here in the CIA's science division and I'm 21." She smiled at him, trying to ease the nerves that were radiating from him. He smiled back but didn't say anymore, so she assumed he didn't have any kind of mutation.

Finally, was a slightly older man, Darwin. He said he was 26, only a few years younger than Irene. He said his mutation meant that he could 'adapt to survive'. Whatever that meant

"It's nice to meet all of you." She said, and then without missing a beat, the mutants started up their buzzing conversation once again.

Irene stayed with them for a bit, occasionally making small talk with the oldest of the group, Darwin, but mostly she sat back and watched.

Sean and Raven were the most hyperactive of the bunch, always the ones talking and asking questions. She could feel their bright emotions radiating off of them, and it was evident that they were enjoying the feeling that came with belonging somewhere.

Hank was quieter, but not sad. He spent most of his time watching Raven, his gaze almost reverential as the girl rambled on. But there was still an underlying anxiety about him, as if he was never truly comfortable in his own skin. Irene could understand that feeling.

Alex seemed entirely separated from the group, and it was as though he had built physical blocks around himself. Occasionally he would interject a word or two into their conversation, but apart from that he was stoic and silent. Angel was similarly silent, but her silence was far more intimidating. It appeared she thought all of this was slightly beneath her, and she was only here to pass the time until a better opportunity came along.

Darwin, however, was her favourite. The man was funny and easy to talk to, not having all the adolescent problems that the others suffered from. She was unsurprised to hear he had been a cab driver in New York, explaining his ease in socialising.

"Wait. Wait, wait, wait. You're saying that you worked for FBI major crimes? Like serial killers and shit?" He asked.

"Yep. I worked there for 6 years. We caught loads of guys you would've heard of on the news." She smiled, thinking of all the friends she had at the Bureau. Especially Bates.

"Woah. That's crazy. So why'd you stop working for them?"

Irene worked to keep her expression from souring. "There was an 'incident' in the field. They put me on 'temporary leave'. But trust me, once you leave the FBI, there isn't much possibility of going back." She decided it was time to deflect the topic of conversation off of herself.

"So, how'd you end up a cab driver?"

Irene spent the next half an hour speaking with Darwin, before she decided it was finally time to call it a night. She bid farewell to the young band of mutants, before trudging her way to bed.

She yawned as she stripped herself of her clothes, before stepping into the cold shower, relishing the way that the cool water cascaded down her body. She grabbed the cheap shampoo and squeezed some into her hand and began to vigorously massage it into her scalp. She sighed, enjoying the feeling of being able to relax on her own for a moment.

Irene was struggling to comprehend exactly how her life had managed to change so quickly yet again. The last time it had been Murray, so not an entirely unexpected turn. But mutants? That was something she had never thought would be on the cards. Sure, she thought her powers were weird, but who was she to question it? She certainly wasn't scientifically inclined enough to conduct her own investigation, and would anyone really believe her when she told them she had magic powers.

"That had been the main problem with the FBI." She thought bitterly. Perhaps if Charles Xavier had completed his research slightly sooner, she would've been able to carry on with her job.

Or perhaps she was always meant to end up here, in the company of other people like her. And it wasn't all that bad. Almost anything was better than rotting away in that blasted apartment, even if it meant spending her time with a ragtag group of teenagers.

She stepped out of the shower, grabbing the towel, and using it to mop up the small drops of water falling from her face onto the tiled floor. She dried herself as quickly as possible, pulling on the pair of baggy pyjama pants and tank top she'd had the foresight to bring into the bathroom with her. Then she twisted her still damp hair into a sort of bun. She was going to have to make do without a hair dryer.

Irene exited the bathroom, making sure she left the door open so that some of the condensation could dissipate. She wandered over to where her bag was still dumped on her bed, rummaging through it until she found the book she was currently trying to wade through. It was supposed to be a thriller, although it was relatively dry compared to the current events of her life.

"Maybe I should write a book about mutants and pretend it isn't based on true events." She thought, laughing softly to herself as she picked up the bag and dropped it on the floor.

She was just about to climb into bed when a knock sounded at her door. She could sense the anger radiating from whoever was behind it.

"Who is it?" She called out.

"Erik. Open the door." Suddenly any peace she had felt had been entirely shattered by the metal-bending man. But she obliged, not wanting him to break the door down if she refused.

"What is it?" She asked, fully intending for her voice to sound harsh.

"Those kids wrecked the living room. Smashed the window, stained all the couches and even chopped a statue in half." His jaw was tense and he stared at her in accusation.

"Um, ok. I don't see what that has to do with me?"

He rolled his eyes, scoffing, "You were with them? You should have been supervising, not letting them run amok!"

Irene was speechless. Was he seriously telling her this was her fault? Did he really believe he had the right to say that to her?

"Yes, I was with them, but when I was there I definitely didn't see them breaking any windows? I left an hour and a half ago, and they seemed perfectly civilised! So I really don't understand what this has to do with me?"

"It has everything to do with you! You're irresponsible!"

At this point she didn't even know what to say.

"Are you on drugs, Erik? I didn't peg you as a drug addict but you never know. Because I'm wondering where you're drawing these insane conclusions from. You've not even known me for 24 hours."

"Yeah? And I didn't even need an hour to work out what kind of a person you are."

"Oh? And what kind of a person is that, Erik?" She said, taking a step towards him, hands on her hips.

"A child. I'm shocked the FBI even let you get past training, because I sure as hell wouldn't. But it seems they realised eventually that you're a liability, which I would say is a good thing, but now we're stuck with you instead." He spat out, getting up in her face.

That was it for Irene.

"Where's your proof that I'm such a liability Erik? Oh right, you don't have any. This is all because someone hurt your precious little man-ego. So you know what, I'm really sorry to have clearly offended you in some way. Maybe next time actually tell me what I've done, instead of acting like a passive aggressive dick!"

She watched as his eyes widened, clearly shocked at her sudden spiel. But he didn't have time to respond, as in the next second, the door was slammed in his face.