I was lost, and then you were found

[Magda Eisenhardt]

Magda lifted the knife and cut the skin away, while her hand grew wet from the all the stickiness seeping out. Cutting a chunk out, she lifted it to her lips and savored the taste. "These peaches smell so good." She told the woman who owned a small stall in a local farmer's market. "And taste even better." Smiling with a small amount of amusement, she took the offered napkin and cleaned her hands, then bought a small basket to bring back to the place she was staying in.

There was a unveiling of a memorial tomorrow, and on the wall would be names of the dead from the war. She prayed with each passing moment that his name would not be there. The boy, who she didn't know if he survived to be a man. Erik.

She was staying a a shelter, and shared her peaches that night. The following morning when everyone crowded in to look for their love one's names she moved toward the wall. Her fingers moved over it, trailing each name. Her parents and tribe were not on the wall, for not every name could be hold--but by some blessed star, neither was his.

Moving back from it, she moved down the steps in a daze, feeling both grateful that his name was never on any wall, or in any list--but also a bit of despair . . . because if his name was on a list, then at least she would know what became of him.

[Erik Lehnsherr]

Today was a memorial for all those who had died in the war, particularly those in the concentration camps. Erik was going no only to join in the collective mourning, but also, to find out more about Shaw. Since the moment he was released, he was consumed with vengeance. He was fixated on finding Shaw, and killing him. The man had killed his mother, tortured him, and murdered countless other people. He deserved nothing less than death. As Erik made his way to the gathering, he glanced down at the coin in the palm of his hand, something he kept to this day as a reminder. Not that he needed a physical reminder for it was permanently burned in his memory. Never the less, he clutched it tightly, tucking it back into his pocket as he raised his eyes to see the large crowd. They were all here for the same purpose, but one that differed from his own.

He did not get in the core of the crowd. He stood in the back, his eyes scanning over the people who were here. While there were painful memories embedded in his mind, there was also another person's name who was always there. It had not been forgotten, and he doubted he would ever let it slip from his mind. It was all he held on to; for during his time in the camp, she was his strength and the only thing that had kept him going. But alas, the world was filled with far too much hate and evil to allow himself such hope of seeing her. Which was why he was more focused on Shaw. On looking to see if the man would be mentioned by anyone, known by anyone. He began to walk around, still staying away from the center of the gathering, and just eying the large group of people, his ears attentively listening to various conversations of those he passed by.

[Magda Eisenhardt]

Magda walked from the wall, and tried to think of any other place to look. Maybe she could write yet another letter to the people who put up the wall, and ask if a name had been left off or found after the wall was made. Yet she had written so many, it seemed impossible to ever find him.

After she had grown to an age were she could take care of herself, she had gone looking to see if she could find him. The boy who's face never left her. The child would be a man now, if he lived. There had been so many hours that she'd tried to age the face. He would be tall she guessed, dark hair; but what then? Her eyes found a man she was passing, his face mostly blocked bu his glasses, and hat. Would he be imposing and strong like this man? Looking from him her gaze found a broken looking man, who had survived the war, but wore the effort on his body; and she wondered if he would be more like the later.

Lifting her hand to brush her hair back, Magda knew she might never find out.

[Erik Lehnsherr]

Thus far, Erik was not having much luck. He had not overheard anything, nor was there anyone here whom he could find useful information from. And he was looking at as much as he could, and listening as intently as he could. Seeing the range of reactions from former prisoners and those who lost loved ones was truly tragic, but that was not why he was here. The revenge was foremost in his mind and clouded any devastation or sadness that he felt. When Shaw was dead, perhaps he would experience the other emotions that were currently being suppressed. As he continued to weave through the crowd, he just so happened to glance at someone passing him, and his gaze just so happened to rest on the number tattooed on her arm. Every prisoner from the camps had a number on their arm, for they were branded with it upon entry of the camp. It was what the digits of the numbers were that caused him to suddenly freeze. It seemed that fate did not bring him here to find out information on Shaw. No. Fate had an entirely different plan.

He turned around, seeing the back of her head and realizing that he was losing her in the crowd. He quickly began to make it way through it, lightly pushing his way through, trying not to lose sight of her. Could it truly be her? Was she really here? He would never forget that number. For every day that he saw her, for all those years, he had memorized it. And surely, he was not seeing things. His mind was not that far gone that he would be hallucinating. His urgency to see if it was really her became greater and he pushed through the crowd more desperately, and continued to do so until he was right behind her and they had a little space around them. He didn't even know what to say. He could only see the back of her head, and she was walking away. So he had to say something. Anything. If this truly was her, he couldn't lose her again. And there was only one way to assure that. "Magda."

[Magda Eisenhardt]

Magda heard her name called by a voice she did not know, and paused, looking back over her shoulder without fully turning. It was the man with the had and sunglasses, the one's whos face she could not fully see. Only his strong jaw, and cheeks. "Yes?" She asked, her heart beating a little faster for some odd reason. How did this man know her? She had not melted into many societies after leaving her tribe, so it surely wasn't social.

She turned to face him, and waited to see what he would say. While she did her eyes flickered over him. He was tall, maybe a few inched above her, and what hair she could could see was dark. . . . For a moment her heart skipped a painful beat. She had just been thinking that Erik would look the same, but there were many tall dark haired men here. Very, very many. And none of them would be Erik.

Still, she wanted it to be. Wanted him to have over come so much, and appear to be stronger for it. "Do you know me?" She asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

[Erik Lehnsherr]

She answered him, and asked if he knew her, and all he could do was stare at her, dumbfounded. He knew he should say something, answer her, but he was too much in shock. It was her. He knew it. He could feel it. He took his sunglasses off, and for the first time in years, since he had left the camp, he let an emotion apart from anger and hate, slip into his eyes and expression. How long it had been since he had seen her. He had hoped that she made it out alive, not knowing if she'd made it to safety amidst all the chaos. But she had. And, she was beautiful. Far more beautiful than Erik could have ever envisioned her to be. She had been his savior during a time where he believed there was nothing to live for. Though now he lived for vengeance, seeing her reminded him what else, who else he had lived for.

He took a few steps toward her, realizing that he was just standing there, staring, he needed to snap out of it and expose himself. He opened his mouth to speak and at first, no sound came out. But he had to let it. He may never get this chance again. "It's me," he said in a low voice, still trying to process who was standing before him. Knowing that his words could be far too general, he needed to further explain. "Erik," he finished, finally making himself known. He didn't need to glance at her numbers again, for he could feel it in his heart; one that suddenly held another emotion, apart from vengeance.

[Magda Eisenhardt]

The man removed his glasses and she inhaled a deep slow inautoable gasp. His eyes. She had never forgotten them. How haunted but strong they looked. It also let her see his face, and while years had been good to him, she could see see the outline of who he--NO! STOP! Don't get your hopes up. Don't do it!

Lifting her hand she covered her lips trying to hold back everything but then he stepped forward and spoke. Erik! A sob broke from her lips as everything she had been holding in for years--the fear for the little boy who had been kind in the face of his own destruction, the little boy who saved her--came washing over her.

Opening her eyes she looked up at him, moving closer to him too. "I have been looking for you, for so very long." She admitted, so overwhelmed at seeing him. Lifting a shaking hand she touched his arm, feeling how real and warm he felt, she found herself crying again. "I feared you were dead."

[Erik Lehnsherr]

He could not stop staring at her. He could not let his eyes look away for even a moment, for he feared she would somehow disappear. She told him that she had been looking for him, and he wished he could have sworn the same. Swore that he'd been spending every moment of every day looking for her. Instead, it had been Shaw that he was hunting. What he could promise her was that his mind was never fully vacant of her. Of the time they shared together, however dark and grim the circumstances were, he would always cherish her company in whatever form it had come. He knew it was dangerous to let himself feel anything but hatred, yet he couldn't help it. Not when it came to her. He slowly raised a hand to her cheek, allowing it to rest there for a few moments before lowering it once more.

He didn't know what to say. Still, after making himself known to her, he was at a loss for words. She was far better at expressing himself vocally than he was right now, though the emotions he saw in her face, the tears in her eyes, made it clear that she too was still processing their reunion. "Where have you been?" He asked, not even sure what specifically he meant by that question. He hadn't been actively looking for her as much as he should have been, yet he also meant just . . . he didn't even know. Where was she living? What had she been doing all this time? Why hadn't he sought her out sooner? Would he have been able to find her? So many questions, and yet none of them seemed overly relevant right now. What mattered was that she was here, in his presence; they were reunited. 

[Magda Eisenhardt]

Where had seen been? "It's a long story, and one I fear I am unable to tell at the moment." Because she was so overwhelmed by seeing him! He'd recognized her! How had he'd done that! She reached up to clear her eyes, and glanced around to see if anyone was waiting on him to rejoin them but it appeared there was no one, though more then a few eyes watched their reunion with bitter sweet looks on their faces.

"Are you here alone?" She asked, wondering so many things about his life. "Can we step away to talk for a while?" She dared not let him go for fear she'd never see him again. Erik was alive! And he looked better then she'd ever dreamed! Strong and strong, and . . . . alive! So very, very alive!

[Erik Lehnsherr]

Suddenly all his plans for finding Shaw seemed to be put on hold. Because he wanted to spend time with her. He wanted to know where she had been on all this time; what she had been doing. And hearing her say that it was a long story, made him all the more intrigued. She asked if he was here alone, and whether they could step away to talk. He would like that. He wanted that. Their conversation would not be one that should be had in public. He wanted to sit down with her, really talk to her not engage in casual small talk. Her questions were allowing him to slowly snap out of whatever trance was hindering his ability to speak, and actually answer her questions.

"I am," he told her. And her suggestion to step away somewhere to talk suggested that she was here by herself as well. "I have a room in a hotel not far from here," he told her. Because of his mission, he tended to be rather transient. And that was the way it would have to remain until his mission was complete. "Unless there is another location you would prefer?" Meaning, if she had her own place here or if she was only in town for the memorial. Either way, he did not want to part ways with her. He did not want to reschedule. He wanted to speak to her now, feeling a strong need for her -- a need he had never felt for anyone else.

[Magda Eisenhardt]

She smiled a bright but emotional smile. "Yes, that will be perfect." Though she knew it was scandalous to be see going into an unmarried mans' hotel room-she didn't care. "It will allow us to speak freely without fear of who might over hear." Because she wanted to ask him what had become of him, but feared the answers; and knew that a public place was no place for such a question.

Though she didn't move after agreeing to leave with him, as she could only stare up at him. The little boy who was beaten and starves and forced to live in hell---now was a man. And he wasn't a weak looking man, or one who looked broken--he was so alive looking. Nothing like the ghost she feared to find. "I....I am sorry, I should not keep staring but I find that I am afraid to look away, for fear I'd lose you again." Blinking rapidly for a moment she fought the new onslaught of tears. "I was here to look for your name on a wall of the dead, but instead I flesh."

[Erik Lehnsherr]

He gave a small, slight smile when she agreed to the location he had proposed. It was all he had to offer. His life did not entail a great deal to offer, not with what his current focus was. She apologized for staring, and she did not need to. For when he'd first laid eyes on her, he could not tear his gaze away. "My name would would have been there, were it not for you." Because she had saved him, in a way that no one else had or ever could. "Come," he said, wanting to speak with her in private, rather than in the middle of the street.

Shaw was not far from his mind, but he would for go this opportunity that may further guide him on his path, if it meant being able to spend time with her. It had been so long. Too long. Standing closely next to her, he began to walk in the general direct of the hotel. He was once again, trying to find the suitable words to say. Trying to think of what words he should prioritize in this moment. "Have you been well?" He asked, finding the question odd in his mind. It was so casual. So, generic. Indicating nothing that their past together entailed. But he supposed, it was a start.

[Magda Eisenhardt]

She disagreed, for she had done nothing to help him, only looking for him when it was over. He had saved her! Magda had often feared they'd have killed him for that, but he was living proof that miracles did happen. "Mine as well, had it not been for you." That was something she had never forgotten, and even to this day felt the fear; at first for herself, but when he stopped the bullet--for him.

She walked him, purposefully letting herself brush his arm every now and then to for the thrill of touching him. The reminder that he was alive. He asked her if she was well, and Magda smiled knowing that it meant so much more. "Yes, I have been lucky when many were not." Many died, both in that camp or in the war. "And you well." Very well. "I never imagined you would look so well." So handsome. "I mean . . . " That was slightly embarrassing, so she laughed softly, shaking her head at her own words. "I mean I feared that if I ever did see you again, that I would not find you looking like this." But broken.

[Erik Lehnsherr]

Erik had never forgotten many images he had witnessed at the camp, as well as the pain he had experienced. One such vision was the sight of a gun being pointed at her; a line up of prisoners being disposed of as if they were garbage. It had been too much to bare and too much to allow happen. He had not had great control over his powers. Even now, he sometimes could not control his emotions causing his surroundings to reflect that lack of control. Had he only been able to save his mother the same way he had saved Magda, things could have been different. But Shaw had murdered her, in the name of science -- as he so often said. So, yes. Magda was right. So many had died at the camps. And Erik planned to avenge those deaths with the murder of a single man: Sebastian Shaw, and all the Nazis he was murdering along the way of his journey to find him. His smile remained when she reacted to her own words. He found nothing wrong with them of course, for the feeling was mutual.

Seeing her, how beautiful she had become, just reminded him of the depth of the beauty she possessed. It was not merely an outward one, it was inner too. Even though she said he looked well, he also knew that it was only his appearance that may have looked well. For inside, he was a very different man. She would soon learn of where his intentions lay; what he had dedicated the past few years of his life doing. His priorities. But not right now. He wanted to rejoice in finding her, trying to prolong how long it would take them to realize that perhaps, their paths were meant to cross but not remain together. He turned his head to look at her, memorizing the way she looked so he could forever capture this moment in his mind. "I never doubted your beauty," he began to tell her, looking forward again at the road ahead of them. "But nor had my mere imagination served you justice." For he had imagined her often. Of how she would look. Where she was. Whether she was well, whether she was . . . he had not let his mind wander to the worst possibility. There had to be some hope left in the world; a reminder of something good that had not ended in tragedy.

[Magda Eisenhardt]

His words made her blush--which was not something she had thought she could ever really do again. Not after all she had seen in her life time. Yet with a few moments, and some pretty words Magda felt her cheeks heat. Perhaps because it was him. Or because with the way he looked at her, it felt true. She reached up to brush her hair back, once again, running her fingers through it.

"You imagined me?" She asked, knowing he had made an impact on her life but not having known how big or small she was in his. Magda had thought of him every night. Every single one. Praying he was alive, somewhere, and FREE. No longer that evil man's experiment. She could still see him as he was the first time she saw him. A boy, so small. Thin. He was on the floor when she took the food into his room. With no guards watching, she quickly had sat the food down, and helped him to the bed. Later when she came for the empty plates he had not eaten. So she hid his bread under his pillow for when he could better handle the food.

[Erik Lehnsherr]

Erik's small smiled remained at her question. Her inquiry of him having imagined her. She was always in his mind, somewhere. Even if Shaw tended to dominate most of his thoughts, she was whom he thought of when he needed solace; when he needed peace; even when he just needed to sleep. With all the hate that had corrupted his heart and soul, all channeled toward one man, she was the only thing that kept him from crossing that line of insanity. "All the time," he answered honestly. "And yet not nearly enough." Another truth. She was always there, but he had not prioritized finding her. She was forever in his heart, wherever it was still beating. He knew he was not the man he should be but this was the man he felt he was meant to be. The war had done this to him. Shaw had done this to him. So whatever happened afterwards, was all done in the name of justice.

As they arrived at the hotel, he held the door open for her and made his way to the elevator, pushing the button. It did not take long for it to arrive and he allowed her to step in first before joining her and getting them to the desired room. He opened the door for her, once again, waiting for her to enter before he did the same, closing the door behind them. He set his hand on the side table, briefly glancing at his briefcase which contained all his files on Shaw thus far. He had not yet put them up on the wall, and perhaps that was for the best, considering she was here now. He wouldn't be able to hide it from her for long, but for now, it was not about Shaw. It was about them. "How far are you staying?" He asked, wondering if she was anywhere nearby, or quite a distance from here.

[Magda Eisenhardt]

All the time. That made her smile even bright because well, it was true for her as well. She had thought of him and longed to see him. Even if was just to make sure his pain had ended. Being in the elevator with him allowed her to look at him through his reflection of the metal doors--metal doors. Magda wondered if he still could do things, or if he had lost that part of him in the war.

And it reminded her of her own secret.

Once in his room, Magda took a moment to look around it, before walking tot he window to look at the view. Turning she watched him while answering it. "I was a few blocks from the wall last night, but wasn't sure were I'd stay tonight." With a small laugh she continued, "Staying isn't really in my blood." It wasn't homelessness to her people. They traveled, and didn't like staying in one place long.

Stepping closer toward him, she returned his question. "How long are you staying here?" How long before they parted ways.

[Erik Lehnsherr]

Erik watched her move toward the window as he took his jacket off and hung it on the coat hook. She explained that she was a few blocks from the wall, and unsure where she would be staying tonight. Part of him wanted to ask her if she would stay with him. The other part of him knew he could not form such words. While he was a man who planned and strategized, this was not something he could formulate a plan for. She then asked how long he was staying here for. "I am not sure," he answered truthfully. "Perhaps a couple of weeks." Depends how much information he could gather from here. He recalled what she had told him about her people; never settling in one place. He supposed it would have added to the difficulty if he'd attempted to find her. And it was also why he wanted to spend the time they had now together, unsure of when he would see her again.

With her standing near him, he took the opportunity to look at her. Really look at her. Letting himself feel whatever emotions she had caused to stir inside of him. Ones he'd thought himself incapable of feeling. He had wanted to talk to her in private, but now, he didn't know what it was that they need talk about. "I often thought of what I would say to you should we ever meet. Yet now it seems that I can not think of a single thing." What truly mattered right now? What needed to be said? What needed to be understood? He had no answers to any of these questions. They were so different, and yet, for some reason, fate had decided to bring them together now.

[Magda Eisenhardt]

A few weeks! That was wonderful! Perhaps she could ask him to spend some of that time with her? She could stay here that long, and get a glimpse into his life, however much he let her. "Perhaps some of that time can . . . we could see each other again while you're here if you are not busy." He might be here for work, and he might not have much time.

His next words made her forget about however much time they did or didn't have together. "You stole the words right from my head, Erik." For she too could not think of what to say. "I always imagined finding you and asking you so very many things. Yet now here, with you . . . I find my self forgetting every question I wished to ask."

Glancing around the room, her eyes came back to his. "And to be honest . . . some I am afraid to ask." Because she knew the memories would not be ones they wanted to think about. They were dark and cold. The only light in her memories was of him. "Perhaps I should start by telling you of what happened after you saved my life." It would encourage him to talk too. Glancing at the chair, she gestured toward the other one so they could get comfortable. She was used to the outside warmer air, so when she sat, her arms pulled closer to her from the slight cool she felt.

[Erik Lehnsherr]

She suggested spending some time together, and while Erik would like that, he could not promise that. As he previously recognized, he was a man who planned but with Magda, he didn't know. Letting himself feel this for her was dangerous. Even though it was not fully registering in his mind just at, it was always there: she was not a mutant. Still, it currently did not affect his interactions with her nor the emotions her presence elicited in him. She spoke of how she wanted to ask so many questions, afraid to ask certain ones. She was right in feeling such a way. For he suspected that some of the answers she gave him, would not be ones she would want to hear. Particularly, the truth about Shaw -- or as they knew him Doctor Klaus Schmidt.

She motioned to the chairs and he obliged, taking a seat, a silent indicator that he wanted to know more about her and what she had done when released from the camp. "Please," he urged. "I would like to hear it." It mattered to him, even though it shouldn't. He should be focused on what he had dedicated his current life to, but instead, he was more intrigued in hearing about Magda. Was she able to stay safe? Had any Nazis gotten a hold of her? Erik had killed those along his path to finding Shaw, and each time he did, did not feel a single ounce of remorse or regret for his actions. That, was the kind of man he had become and the one he did not know whether she would accept or understand.