Call My Bluff

[Magda Eisenhardt]

“Well, a few hundred out of around seven billion isn’t really all that many,” Magda let out a long slow breath when he said that, trying to take in what these numbers meant. It was getting easier to think now that she was sitting, and she could think and not try to think and stand at the same time. Hundreds. And he had thought that he was all alone in the world. Yet he wasn't, and it was more then just her out there. Magda also noticed that with so many, that so far none of the powers had even come close to matching others. What could the others do?

“--and, if my theory is correct, that number is only going to increase in the years to come.” Magda had not heard the first part of what he said, as she was so caught up in the numbers of it, but these words caught on. More?! MORE! There would be more?!

It was his later words that she had to think about right now. Feeling more steady she looked at Charles, and felt her heart jump in alarm, though this time the rest of her did not panic. What he was asking was dangerous. "Please sit," She gestured to the other end of the couch and turned to face the younger man once he had.

"Your the second mutant I have met too." And she had never thought to meet another one again. "I just do not know yet if I can go deeper in to this world." The strange new one that she was only half sure she even understood or wanted too. "Perhaps we should just start with this afternoon? Would you like to stay for a supper? I can cook, and we can talk and go from there." She could ask her questions, and decide later.

[x]

“Please, sit,” Magda said, gesturing to the other end of the couch.

Charles took her up on her offer, settling himself down opposite her. He sincerely hoped she would take him up on his offer; with so few of their kind actually in existence, the instinct to form groups and stick together was strong.

“You’re the second mutant I have met, too,” she confirmed. “I just do not now yet if I can go deeper into this world.”

He nodded in understanding. Magda’s hesitance to so much as acknowledge her own mutation was proof enough in Charles’s opinion that she wasn’t entirely ready to group together. But he was determined to ensure that she at the very least had a friend whom she could contact if she needed help.

“Perhaps we should just start with this afternoon? Would you like to stay for supper? I can cook, and we can talk and go from there.”

Well, as far as he could recall, he didn’t actually have anything scheduled for his conference tonight. There were a few non-compulsory presentations going on, but none of them on a topic that interested him more than conversing with Magda. (The fact that he and Raven lived off of take-out menus and junk food had absolutely nothing to do with his decision making whatsoever.)

“So long as I don’t impose, I would love to stay for dinner.”

[Magda Eisenhardt]

HE agreed to stay for supper, and Magda nodded. "I have a small kitchen in the back. It's mostly used to prepare the herbs, and some of the ointments that I sale, but we can go back there." She wasn't inviting him back to her home, even if he was 'like her', she knew the risks of inviting strangers to her home.

Still she didn't stand up--not because she couldn't but because she wasn't sure if he'd want to eat now, or wait. Besides, he just sat down, she could wait and offer to cook something shortly. "Eisenhardt," Surely he could read her mind and know what that meant, but she still explained allowed, "My name is Magda Eisenhardt." It was more trust then she'd put in anyone for years.

Trusting people was hard for her, but he already knew that much and she might as well try. "You can call me Magda, though it's been almost five years since anyone called me that. It almost feel alien just saying it allowed. When I came here, and had no paper work, they asked me my name. I lied. Because someone else." Because of her history, her powers, her former lover. Because of her fear of all these things. Magda was ruled by fear. She hated being so afraid but she had learned to live with it.

[x]

“I have a small kitchen in the back,” Magda said with a nod. “It’s mostly used to prepare the herbs, and some of the ointments I sell, but we can go back there.”

Charles nodded in agreement. He had to admit, he was more than a slight bit curious about what it was that she did. Not even just her mutation, but how she made her living. She mentioned herbs and ointments, as well the tea and the card readings.

“Eisenhardt,” she said, somewhat suddenly. “My name is Magda Eisenhardt.”

Her actual name, the one he’d picked up on accident. A rather impressive display of trust, considering how she’d reacted when he’d unintentionally called her by it.

“You can call me Magda, though it’s been almost five years since anyone called me that. It almost feels alien just saying it aloud,” she continued, and Charles let her say her piece. “When I came here, and had no paperwork, they asked me for my name. I lied. Because someone else.”

He gave a small nod in understanding. While he had no idea what it was like to live under an assumed name, he could feel the fear and the distaste she felt for all that she feared.

“It’s a lovely name, Magda, really. Though, if you don’t mind my asking, was there any particular reason you picked the alias that you did?”

[Magda Eisenhardt]

“It’s a lovely name, Magda, really.” She smiled softly when he said it, but she was still growing used to hearing it. "Thank you." He continued on, "Though, if you don’t mind my asking, was there any particular reason you picked the alias that you did?" There was, and Magda tried not to think about it. Because it was painful, and changing her name had been apart of her plan to escape the heartbreak. "I liked the name Isabelle, it seemed both common and different. Then I took his name as my family name . . . the other like you."

Another topic she had never spoke of to anyone since she had left the hotel that last day. "It didn't end well, but I . . . I loved him very much. It seemed a way to keep him close, since he would not let me be apart of his life." Taking in a sloe deep breath she forced a smile to her lips, "I apologize if you are looking for something charming or happy. Most my stories do not end well."

"Tell me of you, Mr. Xavier." She asked, trying to learn more of him too. "How does one come to know so much, but not having met many." How did he even know there were hundreds?

[x]

“I liked the name Isabelle,” Magda responded, “it seemed both common and different. Then I took his name as my family name...the other like you.”

Charles nodded in comprehension. Very few actually picked new names at random; there was always some sort of symbolism or personal meaning to the names taken. The concept of identity may be one that could remain constantly in flux—having a shape-shifter for a sister had taught him that—but there was still a core element to who one was that affected all other decisions made.

“It didn’t end well,” she continued, “but I...I loved him very much. It seemed like a way to keep him close, since he would not let me be a part of his life.”

His heart went out to her, it truly did. It was a difficult subject for her, no doubt, if the emotions rolling off of her were any indication.

“I apologize if you are looking for something charming or happy. Most of my stories do not end well,” Magda offered, giving him a thin, forced smile.

He gave her as comforting a smile as he could in response. Charles honestly didn’t expect happy stories for the majority of mutants; not all of them could be as lucky as he had been, having grown up in a semi-stable home, or as Raven had been, picking the kitchen of a sympathetic little boy that fateful night.

“Tell me of you, Mr. Xavier,” she asked, switching the focus of the conversation back to him. “How does one come to know so much, but not having met many?”

“Well, firstly, if I can call you Magda, then you are perfectly welcome to call me Charles,” he began with a smile. “And as for what I know, well, a great deal of it is taken from genetic mutation in its historical context and with no small amount of filling in the gaps. Mother Nature has strange ways of working her will, it seems; when a species is primed to make the next jump on their evolutionary ladder, it’s never simply one mutated specimen. True, it is entirely likely that all mutants can trace their roots back to one particular common ancestor—our own genetic Adam and Eve, if you will—but according to my research, the sorts of mutations that we possess were jumpstarted by the onset of the nuclear age. In other words, either we ourselves were exposed to excess radiation or one of our ancestors were.”

Perhaps it was even a combination of both, in the case of some. Charles tried not to think of his own childhood, of the lab and the needles and the pain.

“My apologies; I can get a bit carried away when discussing mutation and evolution.” He chuckled a bit at it. “Raven complains relentlessly about it, actually.”

[Magda Eisenhardt]

“Well, firstly, if I can call you Magda, then you are perfectly welcome to call me Charles,” Magda smiled and looked away, while nodding her head. That was easy, but she'd not wanted to over step. Some gadjos were unliking of the informality of people using their first names as if she knew them. With her culture they never used last names. She only had one for paper work and travel reasons, and then later she picked one because America needed her to have one. She never thought of the name unless she had too. "I can do that," She told him, looking back while he continued.

And she tried her best to follow it, but Magda had no formal education. She was smart, but knew that she was more life smart then academically gifted. Though from his words, she could tell Charles was. “--In other words, either we ourselves were exposed to excess radiation or one of our ancestors were.” That almost bothered her, thinking that she'd been exposed to something dangerous.

“My apologies; I can get a bit carried away when discussing mutation and evolution.” "No, I asked, it's fine really!" She just had not expected his answer. “Raven complains relentlessly about it, actually.” That gave her a smile. "You seem very fond of her." Magda knew how important family was. "You two are very lucky to not have to do this alone."

[x]

“You seem very fond of her,” Magda said with a smile. “You two are very lucky to not have to do this alone.”

Charles had to agree; sometimes he’d wonder where he and Raven would be if their paths hadn’t converged that fateful night in his kitchen. Over the years, he had come up with a number of different scenarios, but none of them were particularly pleasant for either of them. “Lucky” was really the only word to describe Raven and himself; they were certainly lucky to have found each other.

Other mutants were likely less lucky in how their lives had gone; Magda was probably just one story out of hundreds. How many of their kind had been born to lower classes than he, or born to war-torn countries or families who considered their existence a liability rather than an asset? It was part of the reason he wanted so badly to raise public awareness about mutation, to make it so that any mutant, regardless of the circumstances of his or her birth, could have a shot at a better life.

So he smiled, thoughts returning to Raven. His beloved little sister with an extraordinary mutation, who he feared constantly would be discovered and taken away from him. He wasn’t naïve; he was well aware of what the public reaction would be to her natural blue form. The very idea of her being discovered before the seeds for public understanding were at the very least sown was a reoccurring theme in his worst nightmares.

“I am,” he responded. “For the longest time, it’s been just her and me. Her mutation is fantastic, and her natural form is striking, but I fear constantly what a premature discovery could mean for her. As much as I hope for the contrary, I doubt the general public would be as awed by her as I am.”

[Magda Eisenhardt]

He spoke about having fear of what might happen to his sister--who he clearly loved dearly--and Magda could relate. She had seen what others would do to someone who was different. To a child! The evils one man could do while 'wanting to know how it worked'. She could understand the constant fear, for she had lived it. At first for the child in the camps (and later the man he would be) and now for herself.

"I fear you might be right." She admitted, "I was in Poland when my family was taken to camp called Auschwitz. We were different, you see. Not mutant, but not what they saw as normal. My greatest fear is ending up there again, or somewhere similar. Because I can't my name, and my life but I am still different." And she feared it, fear what men could do when united behind their hate and fear. "I was elven when I was there, and I've spent my life trying to avoid going back." Even though the war had ended the camps.

She was still afraid that one day someone would find her, find out about her, and she would end up hunted and hated again. Magda wanted nothing more then to live her life in peace. Maybe with a family, if she was lucky. Without fear. She had yet to find a place without fear. "Your sister seems like she has it harder then yourself." Them, but she still wasn't completely admitting her powers. "She is luck to have a brother who cares for her. . . . . Do mutants run in families?" Would her children be cursed with this too?

[x]

“I fear you might be right,” Magda admitted, and Charles caught flashes of her memories. “I was in Poland when my family was taken to camp called Auschwitz.”

A Holocaust survivor. Poor Magda really had seen the worst of human nature, hadn’t she?

“We were different, you see,” she continued. “Not mutant, but not what they saw as normal. My greatest fear is ending up there again, or somewhere similar. Because I can change my name, and my life, but I am still different. I was eleven when I was there, and I’ve spent my life trying to avoid going back.”

Charles would be the first to admit that humanity was as capable of all the horrors of hell just as they were of the most wonderful miracles. He was a telepath; he was privy to both the darkest, most depraved thoughts of humanity as well as the ones that shone with love and care and compassion. And yet, he still found himself left aghast when confronted with those dark, terrible thoughts. Humanity could be so much better, so much more, that it pained him to see them fall short of such wonder.

“Your sister seems like she has it harder than yourself,” Magda said, changing the subject and Charles let her. He honestly had no idea what to say to give her hope that humanity would learn its lesson. “She is lucky to have a brother who cares for her. Do mutants run in families?”

“In many ways, I suppose she does,” Charles admitted. “In others, there may be room for debate. It all depends on one’s perspective. And really, of the two of us, I do believe I’m the lucky one. Of all the kitchens in Westchester, she broke into mine. I shudder to think of what may have become of us if we hadn’t found each other that night.”

It wasn’t a pleasant line of thought and as such, he tried to stray from it as much as he could. Raven had found his kitchen and that was what truly mattered.

“As for mutations running in families,” Charles continued, “I do believe that would be the case. Exactly how that would occur, I haven’t yet been able to determine. I’m the only mutant in my biological family—that I’m aware of—and I haven’t met others, so my data pool is a bit slim, however I do have a wealth of historical evidence that would indicate the heritability of genetic mutations such as ours.”

It was actually an interesting idea. While marriage and children was something Charles intended for later in his life, perhaps after he’d acquired his PhD in genetics and gotten a stable teaching position, it wasn’t something that fully or frequently occupied his mind. Would any children he might one day father have a genetic mutation such as his? Would they be telepaths as well, or develop another sort of mutation? How similar would their mutations be to his own?

[Magda Eisenhardt]

Magda watched him for a moment, while trying to recall if he had said anything about his sister not being his sister of blood. "Broke into your kitchen?" She asked, trying to make sense of the story. "You found her? She is not of your blood?" Which almost made their bond seem more special to Magda. To find someone who you made your family, and someone you could bond with, rely on, and help you deal with the fears you have was . . . . was rare and to be treasured.

Asking about his past with his sister, also let her distract herself from his answer. Any child she had would be a mutant. Magda had assumed as much, but hearing it still hurt. She wanted children, very much so, but they didn't seem in the cards for her. Perhaps that was a good thing, if this was the only life she could give them. "I think this is a story I should hear while cooking. Is your sister close? She could join us." Magda offered, both wanting to met the girl, and not wanting to be rude. Besides, if she wanted to feed them both before it got too late, it was time that she began.

[x]

“Broke into your kitchen?” Magda was clearly confused, and Charles quickly recalled his previous interactions with her and realized that he had not, in fact, informed her that Raven was his sister by choice rather than blood. “You found her? She is not of your blood?”

“Ah, yes,” Charles responded with a sheepish grin. “I suppose I did forget to mention that, didn't I?”

“I think this is a story I should hear while cooking,” Magda decided, and Charles nodded in agreement. “Is your sister close? She could join us.”

“I’m afraid she’s back at Oxford,” he answered with a small grimace. “Actually, she’s all too eager to be rid of me for the week. Something about staying out late and drinking as she pleases while her old fart of a brother wastes his youth listening to boring lectures.” He laughed a bit at the memory, Raven all but shoving him out the door with that teasing smirk of hers on her face. “And yes, perhaps starting dinner would be a good idea. Is there anything you’d like for me to help with?”

Charles stood up as he asked. While he may be her guest, he did believe in helping as much as he was able. No such thing as a free lunch and all that.

[Magda Eisenhardt]

He stood up while explaining that his sister wasn't with him, and what she was doing back him. Magda found herself smiling, for it seemed so normal and easy for them. To be mutant and live with the humans. She envied them for their ease, even if it was only in how they looked at their lives. They were together, and for them nothing else mattered. How lucky they were to have found each other in a world that seemed to make everything else against them. "I'm sure she is up to all sorts of trouble while you're away. I even believe there is a saying. I forget most of it. Something about the cat being away, and the mice enjoying the time to be free?"

“And yes, perhaps starting dinner would be a good idea. Is there anything you’d like for me to help with?” Magda gestured toward the kitchen, before leading the way. Normally she would tell him that he was her guest and not to worry about it, but Magda hopes she could learn a bit more about him by how he moved around a kitchen.

"Do you cook?" She asked, while opening some cabinets to see what she had to cook. "Is there anything you will not eat, or cannot eat?" Thankfully with her there was nothing she could not or would not eat. After years of being hungry, Magda was proud to say that she was stable enough to afford food and she loved it. She ate all the time. Wanted to try every food out there! It was her passion! One of the few she had left.

[x]

“I’m sure she is up to all sorts of trouble while you are away,” Magda teased. “I even believe there is a saying. I forget most of it. Something about the cat being away and the mice enjoying the time to be free?”

He laughed and nodded. “Yes, ‘while the cat is away, the mice will play,’ is the full saying, I believe.”

“Do you cook,” she asked as she led him into her kitchen. “Is there anything you will not eat, or cannot eat?”

Charles offered up a sheepish grin. “I can, but not all that well, I’m afraid. Raven and I live off of take out more often than not. As for dietary restrictions, I haven’t come across any. As of yet, at any rate.”

He could feel her sense of pride when it came to food; unsurprising, given her background. Charles allowed himself to bask in her pride and contentment. He always enjoyed being around people when they spoke on or engaged in an activity or a subject they thoroughly enjoyed. The energy they gave off was exhilarating and if he wasn’t careful, he could come off with a sort of contact-high. But it was such a wonderful feeling; if it could be bottled and sold as a drug, no doubt Charles would have surrendered to it long ago.

“I take it you enjoy cooking?”

[Magda Eisenhardt]

“Yes,‘while the cat is away, the mice will play,’ is the full saying, I believe.” She laughed, "Yes! That is the saying. I like that one." It was funny. Magda rummaged around a bit more before finding what she wanted. This meal would be quick, easy, and filling. Turning to the small fridge she pulled out some shrimp, and a bottle of homemade dressing. "Pull the tails off and soak them in this." She asked of him, planning to put him to work. She worked late in the afternoon sometimes, as that was when business was better. Never liking to skip a meal she often had quick things she could fix here between customers.

When he joked about eating out more then cooking, Magda wrinkled her noise and made a (joking) disapproving face. It was the most relaxed gestured she had made since meeting him, but this was an easy topic for her. She did love food. The smells, the tastes the colors. So much evil in this world, but there was one thing that could bring everyone together--food.

“I take it you enjoy cooking?” Laughing softly, while she rolled some dough out into a long rectangle, Magda could not felt but to feel at ease. When talking about her past, mutants, the future, politics . . . . it left uncertain feelings with her. Yet this topic . . . it was easy. "My family was poor before the war, and I never went without food but there was never a lot. During the camps . . . and after them, times where hard." There was a dip in her happiness at the words, but as she moved past the reminders it became easy to regain the glee of her passion.

"I ended up going out on my own, and when I came to see that I could spend my coin how I wished--I decided I wanted to eat. And I never stopped!" She teased. "I traveled all over for a while and tried every food I could think of. When I came here, I learned to cook. My first few meals were horrid! But after, I became better. I wanted to try everything, so I learned to cook everything."

Looking back over at him, as she began to spread cream over the dough, Magda blushed slightly, "My mouth has run away with me." Meaning she said too much without knowing if he even wished to hear.

[x]

“Yes! That is the saying,” Magda agreed, laughing. “I like that one.”

Charles stood to the side as she bustled about her kitchen, not wishing to impose any further than he likely already had.

“Pull the tails off and soak them in this,” Magda instructed, pulling out some shrimp and a bottle of dressing.

He gave a brief nod before going to do exactly as she’d instructed. She gave a brief sense of teasing disapproval when he mentioned subsisting on take-out, and Charles laughed a bit in response. Cooking was probably a skill Charles should have spent more time working on in his life, but between the maids and how busy he tried to keep himself (staying as far away from the estate for as long as he could feasibly manage had been a prudent method of survival after Kurt and Cain became fixed members of the household), learning how to not set off the fire alarm every time he got a bit peckish hadn’t really been very high on his to-do list.

“My family was poor before the war,” she explained as she rolled out some dough, “and I never went without food, but there was never a lot. During the camps, and after them, times were hard.”

A fresh burst of sympathy washed over him, and he tried not to wince at the reminder of how much suffering Magda had faced in her life. Those had been terrible times; it had been the Blitz that had prompted his family to flee to the comparable safety of the United States rather than remain in England. He’d only been about five or six years old at the time, but he still remembered his mother dragging him away from the windows and his father ushering them out to the bomb shelter. He could still remember the mental chaos of London, how he cried every time a bombing occurred, even passing out once or twice when he felt someone die on the periphery of his reach. Westchester had been heaven in comparison, though it had been a brief period of blissful transition from one nightmare into an even worse one.

"I ended up going out on my own,” his host continued, and Charles yanked himself out of his own memories and returned his focus to the present; “and when I came to see that I could spend my coin how I wished--I decided I wanted to eat. And I never stopped!"

She had a teasing lilt to her voice, and Charles let himself laugh. He loved hearing people speak of their passions; and for Magda, food was as much her passion as genetics was his.

"I traveled all over for a while and tried every food I could think of. When I came here, I learned to cook. My first few meals were horrid! But after, I became better. I wanted to try everything, so I learned to cook everything." She seemed to have caught herself in her narration, and blushed in embarrassment. “My mouth has run away with me.”

“No, not at all,” Charles assured. “I promise you, my dear, I very much enjoy hearing you speak—particularly about something you obviously care a great deal for. There’s a certain sort of energy that people give off when they get to talk about their passions in life, one that I very much enjoy coming across.”

He offered her as sincere a smile as he could. “Never feel that you have to rein yourself in when you’re around me, Magda. You’ve a right to be proud of what you are good at.”

There was little sadder than seeing so much passion in someone's mind, only for them to downplay it with their words.  So often there was so little to actually be happy about, and Charles viewed it as an affront of the worst kind when people belittled the passions of others. 

[Magda Eisenhardt]

“No, not at all,” He assured her, and Magda felt a little better for having run away with her talking. She put in a layer of black, blue, and read berries, before rolling up the dough and putting it into a small oven. While he talked she began boiling the water, and getting everything ready to cook the pasta part of the little meal. “I promise you, my dear, I very much enjoy hearing you speak—particularly about something you obviously care a great deal for. There’s a certain sort of energy that people give off when they get to talk about their passions in life, one that I very much enjoy coming across.”

His words seemed like they made sense, being he could read minds. She imagined it a horrid power for someone to have. To know what people really thought of you, should it be unkind. Apart of her felt bad for him, but the other part envied him. He had such a confidence and easy grace with himself. He didn't seem to live with the crippling fear she did. His words explained why he would enjoy time around someone with happier thoughts, or when they were in a good mood, or talking like she was.

"I cannot read people as you, but even I can understand wanting to be around someone with good energy rather then bad ones." Turning to face him once again, she felt relaxed still, even with the topic veering away from food. "I do not even think that is only a mutant wish. But a human one. It just . . . . put something in the air. When someone is happy, and passionate. Makes everything seem lighter. Better." She was agreeing with him.

"You know my passion, but I have to wonder what yours is?" Clearly it wasn't food or he would not eat so much take out. She could also tell he was very close to his sister. Did he play an sports? Take passion from his studies?

[x]

“I cannot read people as you do,” Magda replied as she started on another part of the meal, “but even I can understand wanting to be around someone with good energy rather than bad ones.”

Charles felt a low hum of a relaxed state coming from her. It calmed him as well, giving him a stronger foundation for keeping himself in a relatively contented state. It was a great deal easier to remain calm when he didn’t have to block high-intensity emotions.

“I do not even think that is only a mutant wish, but a human one. It just...puts something in the air. When someone is happy, and passionate. Makes everything seem lighter. Better.”

He hummed in agreement. The only negative emotion he’d ever come across that was at all tolerable was anger; it was a clean emotion, one that burned in the human mind with the sort of purity that fire seemed to have. And yet, for all its cleanness, it was still a draining emotion and one that tinted the air with the psychological equivalents of ash and smoke.

“You know my passion, but I have to wonder what yours is?”

“Mine?” Charles shrugged. “Genetics would be the best answer. Oh, I could spend hours talking about it. Everything that we are is the result of genetic mutation! Every natural shade of pigment that colors our hair, our eyes, our skin—all of it the result of a mutated gene here or there. That we stand on two legs and walk, that we speak in words and sentences, our very intelligence and ability to understand any of this—every bit of it is the result of our ancestors experiencing and maintaining one mutated gene after another.”

He finished with the shrimp and turned to face her fully.

“And now, with the emergence of mutations like ours, mankind is entering the next stage of evolution. It’s breathtaking, really.”

It wasn’t just him and Raven; it was Magda, and her former lover. It was any children the four of them might one day have. It was likely hundreds of others other there, finding themselves capable of so much more than they would have ever dreamed, and their children. The next link in the human evolutionary chain, and he was part of it. If that thought wasn’t enough to get one’s heart racing, Charles had no idea what would.

[Magda Eisenhardt]

“And now, with the emergence of mutations like ours, mankind is entering the next stage of evolution. It’s breathtaking, really.” Breathtaking. It was a word that she only knew to describe sights like sunrises and paintings. Never once had she ever heard it used to describe something happening to people, or an event. It was odd to hear, but not in a bad way. He so openly and honestly loved what was happening to them, and him. He saw it with possibilities and passion, almost to the same degree as she saw it with fear.

Turning to face away from him, Magda added in the pasta to the water, and tried to hide her action of lifting her hand to wipe away the single tear that his words had drawn. While not heartbreaking, it was still an emotional thought of how he saw their kind. Her voice was clear however, when she spoke, "If more people thought like you then the world would be a treasured place." But not may did, which was why she didn't feel safe.

Setting her timer, Magda turned to face him once more, no longer feeling the hilt of the emotions. No sign of anything negative on her face. "What do you think the world will do, once they find out about us?" Her experience told her one thing would happen, but she hoped he had something else.

[x]

There was a sudden spike of emotions, and Charles felt his eyes sting from the intensity of it all. It wasn’t that his view on mutants and mutations had saddened or enraged her—quite the opposite—but he could feel the whirlwind of emotions typical of one who had spent life hating or fearing something about oneself, only to find someone who found it priceless. Charles had a habit of seeing beauty and wonder where others wouldn’t; it was a function of his mutation. True, he could see the worst of humanity, but he could also see the best.

It was why he couldn’t allow himself to give up on the dream of acceptance and peaceful coexistence. He knew they were capable of it, humans and mutants.

“If more people thought like you, then the world would be a treasured place,” Magda said, her back to him as she added pasta to the water.

She set the timer and turned to face him, her emotions under control once more.

“What do you think the world will do, once they find out about us?”

“Well, I certainly hope that by the time they do, my work and research has made our existence far less of a shock,” Charles answered.

Preventing shock was the key. If people weren’t shocked by mutants, if they had information on them, if mutants were not the unknown, the risk that they’d react with fear and suspicion would be reduced.

“At the moment, it wouldn’t be very wise to reveal ourselves,” he continued. “There isn’t enough information on mutation. People would panic, their collective fear of the unknown getting the better of them and leading them to commit terrible acts.”

His greatest fear, of course, was what a premature reveal would mean for mutants worldwide. The Soviet Union and the United States were still in the throes of the so-called ‘Cold War,’ the entire world on tenterhooks as the two superpowers played the world’s most dangerous game of Chicken. Revealing the existence of mutants as fact rather than a mere possibility in such an environment was not only less than ideal, but foolhardy and dangerous.

“If we can counteract the fear with logic and reasoning, we can achieve co-existence. After all,” he continued with a smile, “humans and mutants are still the same species. Really, we aren’t all that different.”

That was the point they needed to drive home: humans and mutants were not so different. Of course, there would always be those who would lash out in fear, no matter how much work went into properly exposing mutants, but the entirety of the world was better than that. Humanity could capable of so much good; ordinary people had immense capacities for kindness and compassion. It wouldn’t become a repeat of Hitler and his Third Reich. The world had learned from that travesty.