I was lost, and then you were found

[Magda Eisenhardt]

Magda waited for her mind to steady, and rubbed her palms on her shirt covered thighs to try to steady herself for thinking of these things. "My mother died earlier in our . . . . in the camp." Shifting in the chair she couldn't look at him while she spoke, "That last day, my father was among the first to be lined up and shot." She could still his his body jerk and fall. "So one of the men who was his friend pulled me out after you stopped the bullet. There was chaos, and confusion. We managed to get out."

She wondered if he had seen her begging her own people to get him too. "They couldn't even get the others out. Only use few." Because they were close enough to make a run for it. "We hid. Left the country, and hid. Never stayed in one place. We were always afraid. Always hungry."

But she was moving on to better times, and her body relaxed some. "I left when I was able, as many did. I went back." Her eyes lifted to his, "But when I got there my people were just names on a wall, and you and all traces of what they were doing to you and the others were gone. So whenever I hear of another wall, or list of new names; I go looking for you. Always praying that I would find something."

"Instead you found me."

[Erik Lehnsherr]

Erik listened quietly, but attentively, as she began to explain what had happened following the war. She, as so many others, had lost their families. His mother had been shot before his eyes, and his father had been gassed in a chamber. Magda shared similar losses, her mother and father both murdered at the hands of evil. He wished he had been able to save them all. Even though they were homo sapiens, his anger for the men at the camp trumped his hatred for homo sapiens. He knew what persecution was, for he was subject to it from two different fronts: his religion and heritage, and his mutant abilities. He was however, glad that she had made it out. All this time, he had feared the worst. He had only been able to help one person in that camp. But with what Shaw had unleashed inside Erik . . . well, Erik planned to show him the repercussions of his experiment and torture.

She had spoken of how she'd been looking for him. The irony. For he had found her without looking for her. And at a time when he was fixated on finding someone else. He had discovered what Shaw was. He was far more than a scientist; far more than what he had let on in the camp. His mind would always be filled with thoughts of him, yet right now, he was taking in her story, her past, what had happened after the last time he saw her. He remained quiet for a short while. The war had destroyed so many lives with death. Even those that survived, were suffering the aftermath of it. "Many have suffered at the hands of men," he spoke, his words starting to reveal his hatred for them. Though it was a mutant who had tortured him, it was humans who had started the war. "And they will continue to," he added. Unless something was done. What that something was, he did not know. For his priorities lay in his own personal vendetta. "Are you with your people now?" He asked, wondering if she had come with them, or if she had come here on her own. Looking for him. Should he feel guilty for not having tried to find her? He was unsure what emotions he should be feeling right now. Thus, the most dominant one being, conflicted.

[Magda Eisenhardt]

"No, I am not." Magda admitted, "We were not longer a people. Just a small group of us. Every now and then someone would leave or join us. We no longer traveled were their was work and money but ran in fear. When I was able I too left . . . and even among us there was darkness." Her words trailed off as she looked away and stared at the floor for a long few moments, then she shivered before pulling her arms around her. Evil was everywhere it seemed.

"I travel alone now mostly, sometimes join us with others going the same way. I will set up a booth sometimes to make money, reading palms, or telling the future--whatever the locals will foolishly believe I am telling--and when I find good herbs I can make some things to sell. It's not a perfect life, but I needed to do somethings before I could try to move on." Mainly find him, though looking for him had not controlled her life, it had dominated her decisions of where she went, and how long she stayed.

Looking at him, she knew her question would be a hard one. "What happened to you after I left?" She asked, before adding on, "I was so afraid I'd find that they'd killed you for helping me. I begged them to help you escape too but they just pulled me and ran with me."

[Erik Lehnsherr]

She had lost her people, and Erik knew that feeling. It was one that he wished she had been spared from. She had told him of how gypsies traveled together, and were practically their own community. They were very close knit, and for her to lose that . . . well, it further proved just how devastating the war was, including the aftermath of it. He did not know what to say; what words to use to comfort her. He had none. How could he attempt to comfort another when his own soul was so broken. So any attempt to grant her peace were lost, for he was not the person to do so. Even if part of him wished he could be. She then asked him what had happened to him, expressing her fear that they had killed him after having helped her. They had tried. But because of his angered state, he had killed them before they were able to cause him any further harm. He had destroyed the lab in his fit of anger, and quickly escaped after that. But, telling her where his focus was now, was a tad bit difficult. It was long. Complicated. And at the same time, not so complicated for perhaps she of all people would understand. "I escaped shortly after you," he began to say, not about to elaborate in the past several years, but giving her some form of an answer.

She had after all, told him. "As many others, lived from street to street." No home. No family. He had just been a young boy, but one who's survival was fueled by anger and revenge. He looked off to the distance, thinking about the past years, uncovering one truth after another about Shaw, his real name included in that list. "He had taken my humanity from me," he continued, because Erik was not human. He was a mutant. And Shaw, was Erik's creator. He had unleashed the beast within him. And now, would suffer at his hands. So while his words held literal meaning, it could also suggest a far more philosophical one and he was not about to explain which one he meant it as. Snapping back into the current moment, and not wishing to talk of Shaw, he moved closer to her, pulling his seat closer so that he was sitting directly in front of her. He slightly leaned forward, extending his hands a little so that his palms were facing up. "Tell me, what do you see?" he said, referring to her abilities to read palms and such, in almost a teasing way but also with truth. His expression held less of a teasing one and more of an intrigued and curious one. He knew that her people did read fortunes; perhaps have a sense of auras surrounding a person. In truth, it was about trying to see what she could sense about him; if she could see past his guarded expression. She had seen him at his worst, seen him when he'd been emotionally vulnerable as a boy. And despite their long time apart, he believed she still knew him better than anyone else.

[Magda Eisenhardt]

Magda could tell that he did not wish to speak of his life, and the details of it. For it he only gave her the quick detainees story. Still she could understand for if anyone had asked her the same question he had done, then her answer would have been the same. She escaped with aid of another prisoner, and lived as best she could int he shadow of a war.

His words of losing his humanity hurt her, and she bit her lip to keep from showing just how much. Then he moved closer, and asked what she saw. Instead of looking at his hand, she wrapped both of her's around his, and looked into his eyes. "I do not need to read the lines of your palm to know that you've not escaped what he did to you. Nor do I need it to know that you are dead inside, Erik--" For she assumed that was what he meant with his words on losing his humanity. "--I could see that part is not true, because of how you look at me."

"You're alive." Letting his hand go, she moved her hands to his cheeks, wanting him to hear her words however much he would. "That is the first step to beating it, to stay alive. The rest you can gain with time." Her hands dropped back down to his, and after a few seconds she turned his palm to her gaze.

She traced his lifeline, the largest and deepest line of the palm. Looking back up at him she spoke again, "There is much anger here." She'd learn to read what a palm said about a person, and how to phrase things to make it seem like she could see their life there. Small cuts, how rough a palm might be or even how soft. All said something. Tracing toward his finger, leaving the lines behind she looked over the pad of his finger. "You've not let go." Looking up at him, she held his hand tighter, unwilling to loose the contact. "He wanted you because of your powers. Do you . . . are they . . . still apart of you?" His fingers did not look like he's spent his life working, toiling in manual labor. Which meant he could be using them still to keep from doing it on his own.

[Erik Lehnsherr]

She proved how well she knew him. She was able to see past the guarded expression he constantly wore. Able to determine what was deep within him, without having seen him these past several years. She recognized the way he looked at her and that . . . left him concerned. Because he did not want to feel for her what he did. He wanted to live this life of solitude so that all his attentions could be focused on Shaw. Yet, here she was. And he found it difficult to even consider walking away from her. She was so convinced that he was alive, and part of him knew he wasn't. Not in the way that a living man should be. He did not know what his life would be after his vengeance was satisfied. Each time she touched him reminded him of the man he could not be. The man that he was robbed of being. And he could not decide if that was a good or bad thing. When her hands fell back to his, he looked down at them, watching her trace his lines, hearing her speak true words. He was angry. He had not let go. And then, she questioned his powers.

His gaze remained on her hands. He was not ashamed of what he could do. In fact, he used it to instill fear in others. That was what Shaw had wanted after all, wasn't it? For him to be unleashed; to break the young boy into an uncontrolled frenzy of anger. To give him as much possible pain as he could so that his powers would be exposed. Well, Erik was going to return that favor to Shaw. So he could not, would not, reject his powers. She was one of the first people to really know what he was, and that part of him had not changed. It had only become stronger. His eyes stayed fix on her hands, and without verbally answering her question, he used his abilities to pull out the coin from his pocket. It floated in the air, toward his hand where he gently placed it in the palm of his hand that she still held. Looking at the coin for some time, he finally raised his gaze to look back up into her eyes. "He created what I am." Erik was not dismissive of that, but nor was he grateful for the methods Shaw had used. "And he will be destroyed by it." He could no longer prolong telling her. For she would be able to see it in his eyes whenever Shaw's name was brought up.

[Magda Eisenhardt]

Without moving he pulled a coin from his pocket and moved it to his hand, resting it in the palm, as a way of confirming his powers were still apart of him. He also confirmed that he had not let the past go, but was seeking it out. Seeking HIM out. Her hands tightened while not looking away from the coin. "I had hoped to hear of his death." She admitted, knowing that if he was alive he could be out there doing it to someone else right now.

Looking from the coin, and up to his face, Magda realized he was going to kill him. Apart of her wished to tell him not too, but she knew it wasn't her place. She was still a stronger to him in anyways, even if they shared a profound past. "Just do not let is destroy you in the process." She asked of him. "For I like to know that you are alive, and out in the world somewhere. That not everything precious dead in that evil place."

Using her hands to wrap his fingers around the coin, she lifted his hand up and kissed his knuckles. "I never did thank you for what you did for me, and please know if you ever need anything you can come to me. I will do whatever I can to help you."

[Erik Lehnsherr]

She spoke of how she had hoped to hear of his death, and soon enough, she would. Or so he hoped. She asked that he not let it destroy him, and he made no such promise. While he did not have the desire to die, he would take whatever risk necessary to kill Shaw. Yet hearing her say these words . . . made him realize that perhaps there was something in his life worth living for. He watched her raise his hands to her lips, brushing against his knuckles, offering her help should he ever require it. Why was this suddenly feeling like goodbye? He was unsure whether it was displaced paranoia suddenly filling his mind, or whether she was preparing to part ways with him, now that she knew of his mission. He was not sure he was ready to let her go. And that fact along, concerned him.

"You owe me nothing," he told her, stating it as a fact rather than an assurance. Should he ever need her help with anything, it would not be because of reciprocity, but because she would be one of the few people he trusted. "Freeing someone from persecution does not merit gratitude because if someone is able to do so, then they should without seeking reward." Had he been able to do more, he would have. Had he been stronger, he would have ripped the building apart, killing everyone in his path and saving what prisoners were left from death. His words weren't meant to make him sound noble or heroic. He was neither. He was a mutant with the ability to stop humans from murdering innocent people. To withhold these abilities and use them for nothing, was the greatest crime of all. He continued to look at her, taking in her sight and her presence. "What will you do now?" He asked. She knew of his plans, what were hers? He found himself surprised at his own question, for it was the intentions behind asking them that surprised him. He asked of her plans, because he wanted her to stay with him. Not knowing how to say this, he picked a far more simple sentence to say.

[Magda Eisenhardt]

"I owe you my life, Erik, and to me that is not nothing." It was the greatest thing she had. "And I did not ask to offer you a reward, I offered because there was once when you were the only friend I had, and even still today you mean the world to me. The memory of you, and your kindness, your bravery, was what help me over come a lot of things in my life. . . . and I want to return the favor."

He had also asked her what she would do next, but she didn't know. Right now she was not thinking of beyond the next hour, beyond the time stolen here with him in this room. "I do not know." Magda admitted, "Stay here for as long as you are. Try to see you some more if you have time. Then go wherever I feel like." Her tone turned teasing, "It's not in my blood to stand still too long. I want to see the world."

[Erik Lehnsherr]

She claimed that she owed him her life. And then spoke on to describe him possessing so many traits that he did not. He was neither of those things, especially not right now. He could not be the person she needed, and while it meant more to him than he thought capable that she held on to him for all these years . . . it was false of who he was now. "You already have," he told her. "At Auschwitz." For all those things that she now said he was to her, she had been for him. She had shown him kindness, bravery, compassion; so many things that he would not have survived without. Day after day he would see her, and it had been his only saving grace in such a hell they'd been trapped in.

So the favor was already repaid. Her answer to his question filled him with relief, that she was hoping to stay here in town, and wanted to see him more often. He wanted to just blurt out that she stay with him, but he was not sure he could make such an invitation. However the rationality as to why was slipping away each moment longer he spent with her. Their intentions and priorities were so different. While she wanted to see the world, he was but not out of want, out of necessity. "Where have you been so far?" He asked, trying to push the conversation away from anything that would make him ask her to stay with him.

[Magda Eisenhardt]

She saved him there? It wasn't enough. She wanted to so ever so much more for him. Return the favor of risking his life for her own. "I only wish I had been braver, and could have done more." Like he had, by risking his life for the change that she might not die right then.

And to answer his later question, "Everywhere. I never stay still. There would be too many places to name." A night here, a night there. Keep moving, keep hiding, keep looking for him. "Still, there is much to see." Her fingers ran over his skin where they were still touching. "What about you? Gadjo aren't really known for being vagabonds. What do you do for a job? Where do you call home?"

[Erik Lehnsherr]

She expressed her desire to have been able to do more. "There was nothing more you could have done," he told her. He could have, because he was a mutant. She could not have, because she lacked the gifts that his kind were given. Still, she had done so much for him and he was not quick to forget that despite her difference in race. She then answered his question regarding where she had been thus far and she seemed to have explored the world rather extensively. Her own questions were difficult to answer, because they all centered around his desire to kill Shaw. It prevented him from having a permanent residence; prevented him from holding a proper job; and prevent him from earning an income.

"Nothing," he said, answered her first question. "And no where," he answered again, knowing both responses were vague, but never the less true. "My objective has been to find him." She would know who he was referring to. "And I will not stop until I do." Meaning, he would not settle anywhere. It seemed settling down was in neither of their natures. Hers for cultural purposes, him, for reasons that were developed rather than naturally ingrained. "We do share a similar fascination with traveling though," he said, trying to ever so slightly shift the mood from discussing something as dark as his need for revenge. Their fascination was again, for rather different reasons. "My work has led he throughout various parts of the world as well." His 'work'. His obsession.

[Magda Eisenhardt]

His words describing his life made it sound as if the only thing he did was move to a place look for that evil man, and move again to the next lead. Was that all his life was? One lead after the next? "That sounds lonely, Erik." She admitted to him, wondering where he found his joy, or what he did during his free time.

She knew the war had hurt many, but hearing how much he was still effected by it hurt. She had feared she would find him physically broken from his time in the camp, odd how he had only grown stronger from it, but it was mental scars that tormented him more then she would have imagined.

[Erik Lehnsherr]

Lonely. He had not thought of it that way. It was not about being lonely. It was about bringing Shaw to justice. He was not under any false illusions. He knew that this anger that ate at his soul was not healthy. But he also knew that the only remedy was by killing him. After that, he would concern himself with everything else he needed to. But until then, he only wanted Shaw dead. He needed Shaw dead. Yet having her here now, felt . . . right. And it shouldn't. He should not want her to be here. He should not want her to stay. He should not want . . . her. In so many ways. Emotionally. Physically.

He just looked at her, trying to control himself and remain composed. Perhaps he should ask her to leave. Or offer her a room he could pay for. He couldn't say that it was a lonely life but nor could he say that it wasn't. Because everything felt different with her here. Her words played over in his mind. Loneliness implied that he needed someone, and he did not need anyone. Yet why did that want for her, now transform into a need for her. He leaned forward, and more forward, trying to make himself stop but by the time his lips reached her, decided that it was pointless. So he let himself react, kissing her deeply and for once, letting go of every ounce of logic in his brain.

[Magda Eisenhardt]

Magda wasn't sure how he would react to her calling his life lonely, but it wasn't him kissing her. He moved forward slowly until his lips touched hers, and it felt so very right. As if this was what she had been waiting years for. Lifting her hands from his own, she touched his cheeks once again, and let the kiss linger, and deepen.

Over the years she had often wondered how the boy might be as a man, and sometimes she found herself thinking of him romantically, but thinking of him and feeling him kiss her were no were near the same. One was but a girl's dream and the other a very real man. The years and years of worry, and need for answers built from knowing this special boy when she was a child turned into more now. Magda felt overwhelmed and wanted more. Pushing him back without breaking the kiss, she left her own chair, and moved so they were both in his.

[Erik Lehnsherr]

Erik felt her react with equal passion to the kiss. She even moved her position so that she was seated on the chair with him. He continued to deepen the embrace, his hands adjusting her so that she was sitting astride him. He felt a building need for her start to fill his body; one that surpassed a mere kiss. He blocked off his mind from over thinking this and the consequences of what this may be.

All he knew was that right now, he wanted this. And he was indeed a determined man. He dropped the coin to the ground and with his now free hand, slipped it under her skirt. He felt the softness of her skin under his touch, letting his hand caress her thigh, causing his body to heave a little with what he wanted from her.

[Magda Eisenhardt]

She felt his hands on her skin, and Magda broke the kiss to look into his face for a short second, smiling brightly with a pleased chuckle that was half a moan. Her hands moving to his shirt's buttons, pulling them apart more then undoing them one at a time. Her hips wiggles to move closer to his own, as she got the top half of him bared to her sight.

Tossing his shirt away, uncaring that she might winkle his pristine shirt--in fact enjoying the idea of winkling his very clean clothes--Magda then reached for her own shirt, lifting it and tossing it the other way. Her hand reached for the back of his head, while she pulled him forward and lowered her lips to him.

[Erik Lehnsherr]

All Erik could do was watch her as she broke the kiss and began to assist him in undressing; not that he was doing anything to help. Relinquishing control in any aspect of his life was difficult, and yet with her, right now, it felt different. He felt different. As if perhaps Shaw had left a semblance of humanity in him; a semblance of the ability to feel something apart from anger and hate. But he also knew to accredit Shaw with that was wrong. It was thanks to her. When she shifted on him, it only reminded him of how much he wanted her right now; of how that emotional need was a physical one. But he did nothing to quicken the process.

Instead, it was as if he was locked in some sort of trance. He just stared at her, watching her lift her shirt and toss it away. His eyes taking in the sight of her alluring figure, before she distracted him once more by recreating the kiss that had started all this. His hands slid up her now bare back, pressing her closer to him as he deepened the kiss, silently showing her how much he felt for her, and how much he wanted her. Unable to refrain from moving to a location where he could get that, he rose to his feet, his grip going under her legs to support her as he continued to kiss her and led her over to the bed.

[Magda Eisenhardt]

Magda had never fully been with anyone, but she had come close a few times. It left her feeling both confidant and a smallest bit nervous. It was his touch, and the taste of his lips that made the former the dominate emotion, rather then the later. Because there was something about him that made her feel so much more then anything or anyone who'd she'd met before.

He stood, and she laughed out a little squeak, while grasping his shoulders tighter to hang on. When they made it to bed, she pushed on his shoulders to put him on his back, while she stood on her knees above him. Her hands moving from his shoulders, roaming slowly but straight down to the buckle on his trousers before pulling it open as well.

[Erik Lehnsherr]

She pushed on his shoulders, and he complied lying on his back as she was in a more upright position. Her hands went to his trousers to unfasten the buckle. And he could certainly help with this. Besides, he was feeling the strong deprivation of not being able to kiss her or feel her body against his with this physical distance. As she was undoing the fastening, he looked at it and used his abilities to make it unclasp itself and further more, pull out from his pants.

He then looked at her with bit of a smirk, and focused on the convenient metal she wore around her wrists in the form of jewelry. Slightly tilting his head, he forced the bands around her wrist on either side of his head. With her wrists forced here, so was her upper body. And more importantly, their lips were now in close proximity. He found her lips once again, kissing her ardently as his hands went to the fastening of her own skirt and began to open it so that he could pull it off and allow it to join the rest of their discarded clothing.