Call My Bluff

[Magda Eisenhardt]

Charles spoke of his plan, and Magda wondered if it could really be that simple? Yet she knew inside her that it would not be. They had been the same species last time. Humans killing humans. They had used appearance, religion, and race. Magda feared that the only thing that would come of humans learning about mutants, would be another war. And that was the source of her nightmares. How could they stop them if humans united? They would not be able too. There was none of them strong enough to stand up.

"I will pray that you are right, even if experience has shown me what fear can make a person do." In the camps. In the war. In the years after the camps and war when the people who were taking care of her did things to survive. Evil things. "This gives the cards more meaning though." She tried to make sure her voice was lighter, "About not missing the warning. Perhaps this is what they could mean. Just be careful." Because apart of her believed that if it could be done, Charles would be the only one who could do it. He had a charisma about him. A hopeful charm that might win people over.

Turning she put on a small pot with the sauce, so it could heat, before turning back to him. "I hope you've not lost your hunger with these dark talks. Food is almost done." She was trying to bring the conversation back to something lighter. Picking up the shrimp, she drained the soaking sauce and added them to the cheese sauce.

[x]

“I will pray that you are right,” Magda responded, her mind full of fear of a world where humans did not accept mutants, “even if experience has shown me what fear can make a person do.”

Yes, fear was the enemy. Fear, far more than any human. Mutants were not exempt from the control of fear, and they most certainly would not be exempt from doing horrible things if driven to such lengths by their fears.

“This gives the cards more meaning, though,” she continued, making a considerable effort to lightening her voice. “About not missing the warning. Perhaps this is what they could mean. Just be careful.”

“Perhaps," Charles agreed. He hoped not, though; the two possible futures the cards had predicted indicated a risk Charles wasn’t quite sure he’d be willing to take. Difficult times, she’d said. If by ‘difficult times’ she’d been referring to a possible premature revelation of mutants, then he couldn’t be sure what would happen.

“I hope you’ve not lost your hunger with these dark talks,” Magda chirped, switching topics to something she hoped was more pleasant. She took the shrimp and drained the soaking sauce before adding them to something else.

“Oh, no,” he assured. “Not at all! I’m used to theoretical discussion and all of the directions they may take, so I can assure you I am perfectly fine.”

He leaned against a counter, thinking up other possible topics that would offer for a more light-hearted conversation.

“Though, if I recall, you were interested in how Raven and I met?”

[Magda Eisenhardt]

“Not at all! I’m used to theoretical discussion and all of the directions they may take, so I can assure you I am perfectly fine.” Magda doubted that she ever would be used to such talks--even if the topic was something she didn't fear. Politics, and educational pursuits. It all felt very over head head. She'd never been to school, or learned anything formally. It make Charles seem overly smart--brilliant in fact. But not in the snooty way, but in a charming way.

Magda pulled out the bread from the over, and sat it int he middle of the small table. It was a more of a cake really, after adding the cream and fruit. It could cool while they ate, and be a good after supper way to enjoy something sweet. Magda ate a lot, and never hid it from anyone.

“Though, if I recall, you were interested in how Raven and I met?” Magda's face brightened, exited by the idea of a story with a happy ending--happy because they had made their own family. "Yes! I would love to hear the story. I have to admit that it does have me eager to hear." Pulling two square plates from the rack, she put the shrimp fettuccine alfredo equally on both, and sat them on the table. Pulling forks from a drawer, she also put them beside the plates. Pulling two cups from the cabinet, she opened the small fridge, "I have more tea, water or white wine." She didn't drink anything overly alcoholic, and liked instead the lighter wines.

[x]

His choice in topic change was obviously well received, judging from how her face brightened when he brought it up.

“Yes,” she agreed as she pulled plates out and dished up the food. “I would love to hear the story. I have to admit that it does have me eager to hear.”

She pulled out the necessary utensils and cups, adding them to the table setting.

“I have more tea, water, or white wine,” she offered, opening her fridge.

Wine was always pleasant, but he made a point of leaving the alcohol to the pubs he frequented in Oxford. There was always the lingering image of his mother when he indulged too often, which was always enough to temper his hand when not surrounded by the pleasant, hazy buzz of a pub full of people in various stages of drunkenness.

“I’ll take some more tea, if you’d be so kind,” he answered, taking a seat. “It smells wonderful, Magda."

He paused for a moment, debating whether or not to just begin or to wait until she'd joined him at the table.  Charles had never cared much for prolonged periods of silence, so he decided to just start. 

“As for Raven, well, we were rather young when we first met—I was only about ten years old. She’d been on her own for some time prior to then, and she’d been reduced to stealing the basic essentials just to get by.

“She wasn’t quite as quiet as she’d intended, and I woke up. At that point, I was working on shielding, trying to ensure that I didn’t intrude on anyone’s private thoughts unintentionally, so I wasn’t aware that she was like me at first. I’d been concerned that a burglar had broken in, or a deserter from the army. Imagine my surprise when I find my own mother rooting around in the kitchen!”

He could smile and laugh about it in hindsight. When he was young, however, he’d been exasperated, concerned, and cautious. Even back then, his mother had loved the bottle far more than she’d ever loved him.

“It was odd, you see, because my mother never went into the kitchen. She came from old money, much like my father, and had been brought up to be mistress of a household rather than of a kitchen. That night was the first time I’d ever seen her in the kitchen.

“But, it wasn’t entirely without a possible explanation,” he explained. “My mother was...she tended to...that is, she didn’t quite acknowledge her limits when it came to certain drinks, so I reached out to brush against her mind, just to ensure that she was okay and see if she needed any help getting to bed. As you can probably guess, I brushed against a completely unfamiliar mind.”

To this day, he could still remember the pain and anger he’d felt in that moment. Had it been anyone else, had Raven adapted any other disguise, he would have just erased her mind and sent her away. But it had been too painful: the visage of his mother, who had always held him at arms’ length for as long as he’d been a telepath, smiling at him and offering to make him hot chocolate—things she’d never done and never would do—it had all deserved revenge. So he’d reached out, he’d wanted to make the intruder suffer for the pain, but before he could really even start, his mother’s face had melted away into a blue-skinned little girl with golden eyes and shockingly red hair.

“I tried to break into her mind,” he admitted. “Had she taken on anyone else’s form, I would have likely just sent her away. But, I’ll admit I was more than a bit upset. I’m actually quite glad for that, in hindsight, because when I retaliated, she shifted back into her natural form. I could scarcely believe my eyes.”

The relief, the cool flood of wonder that had extinguished his ire as completely as it had burned, had nearly been enough to knock him off his feet. A mantra of notalonenotalone she’shereshe’sreali’mnotalone had filled his mind that night, and it had never really gone away.

“I couldn’t send her away after that. She looked younger than me, hardly more than seven or eight, and I just couldn’t send her away to keep scavenging just to survive. Raven was the first mutant I’d ever known, and I wanted to help her. So, I offered her a home.”

And he thanked a god he didn’t fully believe in every day that she said yes.

[Magda Eisenhardt]

Magda begin making the tea while he told the story. She had assumed the story would be a completely happy one, but she was surprised to find that Charles held some other emotions to the memory too. She could hear it in his voice when he spoke of his mother. It was why she silently changed her mind from the wine she was planning to enjoy to the tea that she'd enjoy just as much. Hearing about his world felt as if it belonged on another planet almost. The life of the rich. She thought of her own childhood--fond memories--of her mother teaching her to cook over the open fire. The songs they had sang together as a whole group.

She had assumed that because he was young, white and rich that he had the classic family--but she could tell she was wrong. Reaching over, Magda took his hand and gave it a squeeze, "You took in a girl who was lost and hid from you the only way she knew how. I knew you were a good man, Charles. You probably saved her life." A child on the streets. It was horrible to imagine. How many others had run away and were left with nothing? He had taken in one of his own, seemly with no questions asked. How many others could admit the same? None. Not even her.

The tea finished, and Magda knew she could just reach over and turn it off; but she felt Charles had opened himself to her. Trusted her. And she wanted to do the same. It was hard for her, and her hand shook slightly as she reached her hand out and the stove turned off. It was the most she had ever used her powers before anyone--ever--in her whole life. Charles was the first. "I hope you can save the rest of us, too." She admitted, knowing he had hopes and plans to ease in the idea of mutants.

Turning she picked up the tea, and poured two cups before sitting back at the table so they could eat. "Do you . . . pray of any kind?" She knew many did, and while she still light candles in prayer at times when she felt most lost, Magda wanted to be respectful.

Once they began eating, she tried to remain honest, though the fear of just saying the words allowed almost choked her. "My people . . . We didn't have technology. Everything was basic. Wooden. Simple. It was years after I entered the gadjo world before I found out what I could do." By then she had already seen the hate and evil that humans had toward them. Born of fear. "I was pregnant." Another thing she had never admitted to anyone since. "The father was like us but . . . I never told him that things were happening to me too. I was afraid." Still was. She moved often, never made close friends. The knowlage of what had happened once forever in her mind. The fear of it happening again.

"Some men knew of what he was. They took me and . . . " Had planned to hurt her to get to him, but in the end he'd 'saved' her. Yet they'd pushed her down the steps. "I lost my baby." Looking down at her arm, where they tattoo covered the numbers that had been put on her in the camp. There was her daughter's name. Anya. "I could not admit to him what I was. I loved him. I love him. So very much. But I could not, because I was afraid."

"He left me after. I was human, you see. And he was not." Only she wasn't either. "So you see, I had the chance to do as you did. Only I did not." Not to the man she loved more then herself. She shook her head slowly, "I cannot trust the world as you do. I cannot join you in it." He had offered to let her come back with him, but she already knew what she would do next. She'd disappear again. She felt saver when no one knew what she was, or where she was. "But I will light a candle every night that you make the world safer for all the children like your sister, and my daughter. They need someone to stand up for them. Someone like you, maybe, who can bring peace." If that was even still for them.

[x]

“You took in a girl who was lost and hid from you the only way she knew how,” Magda assured, taking his hand and squeezing it. “I knew you were a good man, Charles. You probably saved her life.”

He offered her a half-smile in return. Her mind was still loud enough for him to catch bits and pieces, as much as he tried not to. She didn’t seem to have much of an opinion of herself, which made him want to dig a bit deeper into her mind because surely she wasn’t giving herself nearly enough credit. Magda returned her attention to the tea, and used her powers to turn the stove off. Charles didn’t need his mutation to recognize the effort it must have taken for her to offer him such trust. He made a note not to abuse it or render it misplaced.

“I hope you can save the rest of us, too.”

A sentiment Charles shared; it was a necessity for him. He had to believe in the best of humanity, that humans and mutants could co-exist and could do so peacefully. Too many lives hung in the balance to be a cynic.

“Do you...pray of any kind?”

“I’ve...never been drawn to religion,” he offered. “My family is traditionally Anglican; Catholic prior to 1534. Neither my mother or father were particularly devout. When my father was still alive, we went at least once a month—my mother’s insistence, keeping up the family image and whatnot.”

Religious faith had never appealed to him, the mystery and grandeur of it something quickly dispelled by his mutation. And when the Markos had become permanent fixtures at Westchester, religion and God had become something abhorrent. To believe in God meant believing that some sentient, all-powerful being had decided that certain children were meant to suffer. That they were meant to bleed and cry with no one to bandage their wounds or dry their tears, with no one capable of protecting them paying them any mind. When emotions and sensations became fully formed thoughts and opinions, belief in a higher power was no longer distasteful and became an impossibility.

“But no, I don’t pray. Never had much of a reason to, I’ll admit.”

“My people,” Magda began, and there was a struggle in her mind to say the words. Charles made sure to give her his undivided attention; whatever Magda was going to say, it was taking a lot for her to say it. “We didn’t have technology. Everything was basic. Wooden. Simple. It was years after I entered the gadjo world before I found out what I could do.”

He nodded, offering her silent encouragement. Whatever she wanted to reveal, that was fine. He wouldn’t pry, wouldn’t try to prod her into giving up anything she didn’t want to. Magda was a nice person; she deserved far more than what she’d endured.

“I was pregnant,” she continued. “The father was like us but...I never told him that things were happening to me, too. I was afraid. Some men knew of what he was. They took me and...” Flashes of memory: she was a weakness they’d planned to exploit, he’d managed to save her but not in time to save the baby. “I lost my baby,” she finished, glancing down at her arm. He resisted the urge to follow her line of vision. “I could not admit to him what I was. I loved him. I love him. So very much. But I could not, because I was afraid.”

Charles took her hand, squeezing it gently in a mirror of her own prior gestures. Her experiences left her with no reason to trust anyone, to believe in a better future. All at once, he was the little boy in the kitchen, confronted with someone he wanted desperately to help. But Magda was not a child. She wasn’t starving or cold, but she was alone, and Charles wanted so much to help her. She didn’t have to be alone; she didn’t have to be afraid. But she was an adult. He couldn’t make her decisions for her, and she had more to consider than Raven had that night so many years ago. The simplicity of childhood didn’t affect them anymore; if Magda decided to go her own way, there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

“He left me, after,” Magda added. “I was human, you see, and he was not. So, you see, I had the chance to do as you did. Only I did not.”

He wanted to point out their situations were completely different. Charles couldn’t imagine how he would have reacted if he had been through what she had. They couldn’t really compare their decisions, not when the circumstances were so drastically different.

“I cannot trust the world as you do. I cannot join you in it.” She shook her head and Charles strengthened his shields a bit from the maelstrom in her mind. “But I will light a candle every night that you make the world safer for all the children like your sister, and my daughter. They need someone to stand up for them. Someone like you, maybe, who can bring peace.”

“They need someone like you, as well, Magda,” he countered, looking her straight in the eye. “We cannot change the past, but we can change the future. You are a wonderful person, Magda, regardless of what else you may believe. What happened to you and your daughter and the man you love was a travesty. But you’ve survived. You’re still here, and you can still do something to ensure that no other young mother suffers as you have.”

He sent a tendril of assurance towards her mind, thumb rubbing small circles into the back of her hand.

“You are capable of so much more than you realize, Magda. As much I would love for you to accompany me to Oxford, to meet my sister, I cannot make that decision for you. If you choose to stay, to continue on your own, that is your choice and I will respect it. But, only on the condition that you allow me to leave you my contact information with the knowledge that you may contact me at anytime, should you ever find yourself in need of a friend or a safe place to stay.”

[Magda Eisenhardt]

“They need someone like you, as well, Magda,” Charles had taken her hand, and even now her fingers were tight around his. Holding on to what strength from them she could gain. Even though she knew that she could gain nothing from him unless she allowed it, and she could feel herself taking in his words but holding them part from her. Wanting them but not waiting to accept them. What good could she ever be to someone? “We cannot change the past, but we can change the future. You are a wonderful person, Magda, regardless of what else you may believe. What happened to you and your daughter and the man you love was a travesty. But you’ve survived. You’re still here, and you can still do something to ensure that no other young mother suffers as you have.” She survived. Had she?

Once she had been alive. She had taken risks. Been bold. Put herself out there for the world to see. She could still see herself, laughing in the streets of Pairs. Dancing in Rome. She had been afraid, but she had been alive. Since then she had learned to be more fearful. Had been given more reason to be afraid. Had learned the cost of loss.

Something touched her. Something comforting almost. At the same time, Charles moved his thumb over her skin in a comforting gesture. He honestly cared so much, and she knew that with this natural empathy for others he would truly create a good world--but she also knew the humans had to accept it.

“But, only on the condition that you allow me to leave you my contact information with the knowledge that you may contact me at anytime, should you ever find yourself in need of a friend or a safe place to stay.” His offer only proved it. "Thank you. I will promise to use it, if I ever have a need." She only hoped she never had such a need. "And if I ever met another like us, I will not disappoint you." But she would do it as a human, not as a follow mutant. She could not expose herself like that. Not to anyone. The only reason she had done so with him, was because he had been in her head, so there was nothing to hide.

After one last squeeze of his hand she pulled her own back and put it in her lap. Taking a deep and shaken breath, Magda forced a smile while trying to calm both her mind and emotions. "I hope this is not the last meal we share in our lifetimes." Because he was someone she felt an ease with. Even if it was a frightening one. She felt he was honest, and someone who would not abuse her trust. "And I hope the next one is one with more happy stories." She tired to make light of their topics with a joke and a smile. "And tales of adventurer." Rather the heartbreak.

[x]

It was an awesome position they’d be born into, in all senses of the word. On one hand, their abilities were utterly fantastic, with unique attributes and strengths and weaknesses that made Charles dizzy with excitement. On the other, their abilities distanced them from the rest of society, from their families, their friends, from the ones they loved... There was a reason he’d made a point of avoiding serious relationships in favor of one-night-stands.

And yet, there was so much they could do. How many were out there, like Magda, living in fear and just waiting for the day when they could live without that fear? How many were out there, like him, holding the world at an arm’s length while simultaneously wanting to belong to it? How many were out there, like Raven, longing for the day when they could walk down the street without having to hide their appearance? Someone had to do something, anything, to help bring that day closer, and they were in a position where they could. Education, shaping young minds to be tolerant (if not accepting) of mutants, was the avenue Charles was primed to take.

“Thank you,” Magda said, accepting his condition. “I will promise to use it if I ever have a need. And if I ever meet another like us, I will not disappoint you.”

She withdrew her hand and offered him a forced, shaky smile. “I hope this is not the last meal we share in our lifetimes. And I hope the next one is one with more happy stories. And tales of adventure.”

He gave her as reassuring a smile as he could manage. “I hope so, as well. And I doubt you could ever truly disappoint me, Magda; you are so much better than you give yourself credit. There is so much goodness and kindness in you; I know, I felt it. Despite all of the pain and hardships you’ve endured, you still have within you a great capacity for care. It’s your fear that holds you back, but I sincerely hope that, even if it’s from a distance, Raven and I can help you overcome that fear.”

Fear was to be their enemy, after all.  The fear of humans and mutants alike would be the primary obstacle to peaceful cohabitation.  It had to be overcome if mutants were to know freedom.

[Magda Eisenhardt]

“I hope so, as well. And I doubt you could ever truly disappoint me, Magda; you are so much better than you give yourself credit. There is so much goodness and kindness in you; I know, I felt it. Despite all of the pain and hardships you’ve endured, you still have within you a great capacity for care. It’s your fear that holds you back, but I sincerely hope that, even if it’s from a distance, Raven and I can help you overcome that fear.”

His words made her blush slightly, and look down at her hands in her lap. When she looked back up, she spoke from the heart, "I have a good feeling about you Charles Xavier." She admitted, "Perhaps you will." Help her from afar, and the others like her. Until that day however, she would continue serving as she had always done.

Reaching for her fork, she took a bite of her food, grateful it had not gotten cold while they ignored it for their talks. "How did your family take to you adopting your sister?" She asked, trying to change the subject to something she hoped was lighter, "Or did you two learn to out wit them?" If his sister could change forms it could have been almost easy; though she imagined that it was a weighted secret. "Does she attend school too?"

[x]

“I have a good feeling about you, Charles Xavier. Perhaps you will.”

“I certainly hope so,” he affirmed, taking a bite of his food. It was perhaps the best thing he’d tasted in years; take-out simply couldn’t compare. “This is delicious, Magda; well done!”

“How did your family take to you adopting your sister?” Magda asked, moving the conversation to what she probably hoped was a lighter topic. “Or did you two learn to outwit them? Does she attend school?”

Charles winced a bit, recalling Raven’s early days in the mansion. They had spent roughly a week trying to simply hide her from the servants and his stepfamily before realizing it would be an ultimately unsustainable and risky solution.

“At first, we just tried to keep her out of sight. It wasn’t as difficult as it would have been if her mutation was anything else, but it wasn’t easy enough for it to be a permanent solution.”

She could become anyone, but the staff all knew each other well. She couldn’t pose as a maid. They knew him well enough that they’d notice if he were acting strangely, so she couldn’t sneak abut as him. The only other solution had been one that went against Charles’s developing morality, but as it was for Raven’s sake, he’d gone through with it.

Part of him wanted to lie, terrified of how Magda would react when he told her the truth. But, she’d been honest with him, and it would have been terrible form for him to start lying to her now.

“I had to manipulate the memories of the staff and my stepfamily,” he admitted. “It took days for me to work Raven into the family history well enough to secure her place in the estate. It wasn’t something I enjoyed doing, but...it was the only other available option.”

[Magda Eisenhardt]

“This is delicious, Magda; well done!” She smiled in response to his words, feeling some pride. She loved food, and had passion for it, so any time someone enjoyed her cooking (and it was rare she cooked for anyone these days) Magda always felt so pleased with herself. It felt nice to share a meal with someone too. She held so much of herself back that making friends was hard for her.

The last time she had really enjoyed cooking for someone else was for her lover before everything had gone to hell. She'd always been trying to make sure he'd ate, and took care of himself because he was too focused on his life's mission.

Magda pushed that thought away as Charles explained the answer to her question. It had seemed simple but clearly his answer was not so. “At first, we just tried to keep her out of sight. It wasn’t as difficult as it would have been if her mutation was anything else, but it wasn’t easy enough for it to be a permanent solution.” She had not thought it would be. Not for two children who depended on their parents for everything.

“I had to manipulate the memories of the staff and my stepfamily,” That surprised her. Not only because he put the staff before his stepfamily--thus telling her a great deal--but because he had been able to do something like that at such a young age. Control the memories of another. Magda slowly lowered her fork, setting it in the plate while watching him explain. “It took days for me to work Raven into the family history well enough to secure her place in the estate. It wasn’t something I enjoyed doing, but...it was the only other available option.”

It was almost frightening to know that a mutant could control another's mind. Yet, she felt that it was not a power that Charles would take advantage of. If anyone had to have this power, she was grateful it was him. "You did the only thing you could do as a child, to protect someone who needed your help to survive." And she believed that. Whole heartedly. "You can control memories?"

[x]

“You did the only thing you could do as a child,” she assured him, “to protect someone who needed your help to survive.”

There was a touch of fear, but nothing like when he had slipped up and used the wrong name. Not that he would have blamed her if she’d reacted with fear and suspicion—after all, it most certainly couldn’t be a comfort to be in the presence of one who could bend memories to his will at only nine years of age. Especially when that someone had had roughly sixteen years to refine his control and become even more powerful. That Magda wasn’t clamming up in fright was more of a relief than she could possibly realize.

“You can control memories?”

He nodded.

“It’s more a form of manipulation that out-right control,” he clarified, “as I cannot prevent a memory from forming—even severe inebriation doesn’t actually prevent memories from forming, they are just simply not stored—but I can fabricate memories and modify them.”

There was a fair bit more to it than that, but he was likely already pushing his luck just revealing what he had. Magda was a naturally cautious person, all but ruled by her fear, whether she realized it or not.

“However, it’s not something I wish to make a habit out of.”

But accidents happened. Both he and Raven were not incapable of making mistakes, of trusting the wrong people, and when such happened, the only remedy was to erase the incident from their minds and take great pains to never run into them again.

[Magda Eisenhardt]

“However, it’s not something I wish to make a habit out of.” Which only proved her point that she'd thought of just a moment ago. If any had to have this power, she was grateful it was Charles. Others could, or would, so easily abuse such a power over others. Making them just do what they wanted, when they wanted. They'd make toys from the world.

Charles seemed almost apologetic for his powers. Stiring what was left on her plate, Magda smiled softly. His powers were unsettling, but she trusted him not to abuse them--at least with her. Her thoughts tonight had been her own. All of them. They were nothing she'd not thought before. "It's good that you used them to save her life. You should not feel bad about that. I can see you wouldn't have done that other wise. . . . You were a powerful child." Had he been in the camps like her and they'd discovered his gifts, he'd been abused and beaten. They'd have killed his family before him to make him do tricks. He was lucky that his story was different. "Not many children would have been able to do the same."

[x]

“It’s good that you use them to save her life. You should not feel bad about that,” she insisted. “I can see you wouldn’t have done that otherwise.”

She paused a moment, and Charles caught more memories of her time in the camps. Of children with mutant abilities taken and experimented on in ways that were both incredibly alien and horrifyingly familiar.

“You were a powerful child.”

Powerful. That was a word he’d become far too familiar with as a child. He’d used to have nightmares haunted by that word in a particular voice until he finally figured out how to ensure a dreamless sleep. Powerful. It was a double-edged sword, no matter how one grew up.

“Not many children would have been able to do the same.”

“Not many children have to do the same,” he pointed out.

The only other option had been to hide Raven away from the world entirely—something she would have resented a great deal more than simply hiding her natural form. If he had to forgo his own fledgling morality in order to secure his promise to her, then needs must.

“I don’t regret what I did, considering the alternative,” Charles confessed. “Though, I could have probably gotten away with not manipulating the staff, but the risk that they might accidentally slip up was too great for me to feel comfortable risking it.”

Kurt Marko had been many things, but an idiot was not one of them. If Charles hadn’t been thorough in his manipulation, Kurt would have caught on, and Raven would have been put in danger because of it. Kurt could experiment on Charles to his heart’s content, and Charles had been willing to put up with it so long as it was him and not Raven. All Raven had wanted was a safe home, food to eat, and a place to sleep. If it meant that Charles had to suffer a bit more discomfort than he might have otherwise tolerated, then that was a price he’d been willing to pay. Charles had promised her safety, after all.

[Magda Eisenhardt]

“Not many children have to do the same,” No, they've not. She thought about what she would have done. Would she have risked a safe place in order to help a stranger? Isn't that what he had done for her in the camps? For a moment the images of her parents being shot hit her, and Magda closed her eyes, and took a bite to hide her reaction--seemingly forgetting he would know it anyway. The gun had then bee pointed at her. Only he's stopped it. He's risked everything, like Charles had once did for his sister.

But would she risk it? Magda wanted to say yes, but the trust was . . . she was afraid. She was afraid of risking herself and getting put in their place. “I don’t regret what I did, considering the alternative. Though, I could have probably gotten away with not manipulating the staff, but the risk that they might accidentally slip up was too great for me to feel comfortable risking it.”

Looking up at him, Magda smiled softly, "Would your family not have taken her in, if she made sure to appear normal?" Surely any family who had raised someone as kind as Charles would have opened their arms to an orphan. Or had he not wanted to risk that?

[x]

“Would your family not have taken her in, if she made sure to appear normal?”

How much was he truly willing to trust Magda? She had given him every scrap of trust of which she capable, though he hadn’t really given her all that much of a choice to begin with, what with his telepathy plucking secrets from her mind without him realizing it. Magda didn’t have the powers necessary to return the favor, and so Charles was made painfully aware of the imbalance of power between the two of them. Balance needed to be restored, so he took a breath and offered her the truth of the matter.

“My stepfather and his son...well, they most certainly do not compare to some of the specters of your past, but they were far from kind," he confessed.

He gripped his teacup as tightly as he dared, reinforcing the walls he’d built up to hold back those memories.

“He would have taken Raven in, no doubt, but it would have been for all the wrong reasons. And I could not allow that.”

Kurt would have done horrible things to anyone with abilities like Raven’s—as far as he was concerned, Charles’s telepathy was a mere parlor trick compared to Raven’s ever-changing genetic structure. Her genes might hold the key to understanding mutation, and Kurt would have done anything to find out. Charles had known that as firmly as he’d known that the sun rose in the east.

[Magda Eisenhardt]

“My stepfather and his son...well, they most certainly do not compare to some of the specters of your past, but they were far from kind," Of her past? Other then just speaking of the camps she had not gone into detail had she? It was a reminder that he could see things in her mind, hear her thoughts. Magda's wasn't offended, it was almost a relief right now to not have to say everything out loud. It was still unsettling to realize it. Not so unsettling that she thought about it for more then a second, as most of he thoughts were on his words.

“He would have taken Raven in, no doubt, but it would have been for all the wrong reasons. And I could not allow that.” Her hands reached out to rest over his, pulling them from his cup and gripping them tightly. That could not have been easy to share, and she didn't want to make light of the trust he had just given her. She wasn't sure what the wrong reasons were--perhaps his step father favored little girls? "That is a lot of weight to carry for a child." To constant need to protect someone else. Always looking out for another.

It was then she started connecting things. The tension in his hands, some earlier words, earlier impressions. No, his step father had not favored little girls. Whatever the evil had been there, it was something Charles had experienced. specters of your past. Violence. "The villains in my past were at least expected to be evil. I am sorry that yours was disguised as someone who should have been a protector. There is not more evil then someone who would hurt a child."

"They say that it's supposed to make you stronger. . . . . but I've never felt stronger from pointless violence. I've only ever felt more afraid. I think yours made you kinder. Your the protector now."

[x]

“That is a lot of weight to carry for a child,” Magda replied, taking his hands in hers, pulling them from the tea cup.

He could sense when the realization dawned on her, of what he’d meant when he’d answered her question. It was all he could do to keep well-aged shame from making its presence known in his expression. Logically, he knew there was nothing in his past that he had to be ashamed of; he’d worked with what he had, and really, he had been so lucky compared to what seemed to be something of the standard for mutant children throughout the world.

“The villains in my past were at least expected to be evil,” she commented, her hands still on his. “I am sorry that yours was disguised as someone who should have been a protector. There is no more evil than someone who would hurt a child.”

Charles agreed, without restraint. Children were proof that the world would go on; they were the future of humankind—and mutantkind, now—and were meant to be treated as precious. That they weren’t, human and mutant children alike, was incredibly disheartening.

“They say that it’s supposed to make you stronger,” Magda continued, “but I’ve never felt stronger from pointless violence. I’ve only ever felt more afraid. I think yours made you kinder. You’re the protector, now.”

He wouldn’t say the same; what had made him determined to atone for the pain of his past had been a combination of Raven and his telepathy. When one could see into someone’s mind, see all of that person’s fears and hopes and dreams, the best and the worst, it was enough to spark even a miniscule bit of hope. Raven, no doubt, had been his turning point: he made a promise to keep her safe, to take care of her and make it so that she never had to steal or be afraid again. If she’d hadn’t woken him, if he hadn’t encountered her, would he still be the sort of person Magda thought him to be?

“Protector, hm?” Charles offered a weak smile at that. “Well, I’m not sure what sort of protector I’ll be, but it’s certainly a moniker I’d like to be worthy of.”

He was only one man, after all; there was only so much he could do, telepath or not.

[Magda Eisenhardt]

“Protector, hm?” She could tell he was trying to keep things light, or even see the positive in her words? Magda hoped that was what it was rather then him doubting them. “Well, I’m not sure what sort of protector I’ll be, but it’s certainly a moniker I’d like to be worthy of.” Smiling she shook her head. "You spent your childhood protecting a girl you knew little about." For he had just met her. "You speak of wanting to help others with your teachings."

"It's not something you have to live up too. You already are. The cards agreed. The hierophant." The card of a respected leader, she could see that in him too. Someone who would keep others safe, as he had done for his sister and even now tried to do for her--a woman he'd known for less then a half day. And he had spoken of making it easier for all mutants with his plan to ease mutants into discovery. "I am only agreeing with that it told me. I can see that man in your future. The one who will let his past shape but not control his life." At least she hoped. It was easy to say one thing, and do another. For she was letting her past choke her. And she knew it, but didn't know how else to be safe.

[x]

“You spent your childhood protecting a girl you knew little about. You speak of wanting to help others with you teachings,” she pointed out. “It’s not something you have to live up to: you already are. The cards agreed—the hierophant. I am only agreeing with what it told me. I can see that man in your future, the one who will let his past shape but not control his life.”

The way Magda put it, he could understand how she’d come to that conclusion. At the same time, however, the times when he felt as though he could barely keep Raven safe seemed far too numerous. He didn’t need his telepathy to see that she detested having to go around as anything other than what she was, but he had no clue as to how he could improve the situation for her.

“Well, that certainly is a flattering perspective,” he responded, keeping his tone light. “Thank you for that.”

He shifted in his seat before deciding to switch topics.  “Though, I am a bit curious: how did you begin card reading? Did someone teach it to you, or did you learn on your own?”

How complicated was it to learn?  On the surface it seemed simple enough, but the amount and sort of concentration Magda had put into the reading implied that there was no small amount of skill that went into it.