Chapter Text
Chapter 15
...
The Daily Herald
August 30, 1945
Dr. Mengele "Angel of Death"...
Dr. Joseph Mengele nicknamed the angel of death during the holocaust in the concentration camps. He tortured men, women and children and performed horrific medical experiments without anesthesia. Victims were put into pressure chambers, gassed, tested with drugs, castrated and frozen to death. At Auschwitz he did a number of experiments on children, especially twins. He injected drugs into their eyes to see if they would change colors, stitched twins together, and removed organs. He was also chief provider of the gas chamber and crematoria...
...
The next day Charles was a witness to a confused man being thrown into a pressure chamber. The results left him unconscious and he died soon after.
The day after that, a woman was killed by being frozen completely before being tossed in warmer water. The change in temperature caused her to go into shock and death was immediate.
Castration. Drugged. Chemical injections. Limit testers. All of them were tests to see the limits of healthy individuals – mostly for some military agenda. If Charles had been a carefree boy, as he once had been he was sure, he might have hoped that these experiments were at least being done for some good of humanity – as a research conquest to know what they can and cannot stand.
But he wasn't that naïve. He knew this was for the personal excitement, amusement and sickening pleasure of Dr. Mengele, who should be stripped of his "doctor" title in favor of something more appropriate. Like murderer, savage or a complete and utter monster.
A couple of times he heard other prisoners and even his own victims murmur in shock and conspiracy, "The Angel of Death." It was rather fitting and Charles found himself quietly referring him as that every now and then when he wondered exactly how the man could calmly do all of this without losing his mind.
His mind which was still painfully and confusingly blank.
No matter how hard Charles delved into the man's mind, he never saw an ounce of thought or memory in those depths. It was like he never thought at all. It was like he was just a vessel.
It was quite frightening but he kept this to himself.
Every day when Erik and his mum would leave for another terrible day of exhausting hard labor mixed in with the freezing conditions and little to no care for their survival, Charles was picked up by the same driver and taken to meet Dr. Mengele in his office.
Over time, he had grown to know the driver. He found out that he was also interesting to Mengele and that he was also given special privileges because of it. He also found out that he hated being who he was because he felt everyone should be treated equally and humanely. His wife and daughter had managed to escape before he had, but he was hoping one day to reunite with them.
This fact made Charles flinch when he was first told, Adalie's face coming to the front of her mind. Both when she confessed she wanted to reunite with her brother and then the aftermath as she died in front of him.
If the driver saw him cry that ride, he never mentioned it.
Despite that one day, Charles found the car ride and the driver's talks to be a nice change of scenery when he was drifting from the almost possessive tense atmosphere with Erik to the nightmare-inducing experiments with Dr. Mengele. It kept his head straight.
Two weeks passed by like this and Charles couldn't lie that it was taking its toll on him. He knew there were dark circles under his eyes from the countless nights he woke up in a cold sweat and a scream wanting to crawl out of his throat. Sometimes Erik would wake up and help calm him down, asking what it was about and, of course, asking if it was about Dr. Mengele, but Charles would just shake his head and just say it was his mum.
Other times Charles would just stare at the ceiling, breath rising rapidly and thoughts wondering in exhausted delirium if he could just make a run for the Allies and have them help because he wasn't sure if he was cut out for it.
What was worse was that Charles was getting used to seeing the dead victims, the dying men and women and the living fear that coursed through them before. He was used to it and only blinked at Dr. Mengele's cruel methods. It was more like he was a completely different person entirely than the boy who first arrived with a borderline panic attack coursing through his veins.
Dr. Mengele was ecstatic when he found out about this and clapped his hands with a beaming expression of pride. "This is why I chose you, Charles. We are alike, you and I. Your father would be rather proud of you I would think."
But would he? Charles didn't think so. His father was a scientist but he wasn't a murderer and he didn't condone human tests ever, always grumbling under his breath when he caught wind of them in the past.
But Charles simply nodded and continued writing his notes, disregarding the blood on his gloves that had yet to dry as he held the pen.
….
"Though this be madness,
yet there is a method in't." - Hamlet (Shakespeare)
...
The day things changed was the day that he walked into the lab, gloves on and a mask secured on his face, and saw a man on the bench that was changing his skin constantly under the strain of the restraints.
Charles had to blink for a moment and take in the mutant he was seeing with his own eyes. Because of the experiments, his nightmares and the focus he had tried to maintain on helping those around him, he forgot about looking for other mutants that might help. It just never crossed his mind. He was still reeling over how many were lost with the Rebellion.
Maybe the trauma had made him ignorant. Made him think that there were no more.
Yet, here another one was. Here he was ready to be tested on.
Dr. Mengele looked absolutely thrilled. No, he didn't just look it, he was speaking a mile per minute with the most pleased grin as he talked on and on about his "new discovery." It was Christmas for the man. This was the best present ever and he undoubtedly was going to abuse it to the best of his power.
Forcing his legs to work, Charles walked over to stand next to the doctor, avoiding the gaze of the mutant.
"Look at this, Charles! His skin is changing colors and not only that. It's been changing texture and trying to morph but it seems to be too weak to go through it completely. Shaw brought it to me this morning. Apparently, it had been trying to escape. Well, lucky for us – not for it – we get to see what makes him act the way it does. Are you as excited as I am?"
But he isn't an it! He's an actual person like the others. Charles wanted to say immediately but clamped down on his words. He had been slowly growing more to Dr. Mengele's good side. Suddenly rebelling at this time of all times would not be good.
When had he grown so meek?
So, Charles just nodded and walked over to the desk and claimed the journal he had been recording Dr. Mengele's notes into. The pen, which was thankfully cleaned every night, felt heavier in his hands today.
"No, I don't think that will be necessary, Charles. I want you to take part in this experiment."
The date he had been beginning to write on top suddenly paused mid-stroke as Charles heard this.
It was starting to feel a lot like the first day he arrived.
"What is today's experiment, if I may ask?" he finished the date and closed the journal, placing it back on the desk with the pen on top. His gloves felt as if they were suffocating his hands and cutting off all blood flow. They were so cold. His hands felt like ice.
Dr. Mengele hummed. "He seems to change from adapting to whatever has been done to him or is acted upon him so we will start with the typical. I'll do this part since it requires precision. Please hand me a syringe."
So, we are starting with the chloroform? Charles grabbed a needle and handed it to the doctor, watching as little time was spent before Dr. Mengele stabbed it straight into his heart.
If it wasn't for the fact that this was a monstrous act against humanity, Charles might have been fascinated by the results. He didn't die immediately like the others. Instead, he fought against the restraints, his body changing its composition he was almost certain. Gradually, he saw the color change shift back to a pale and sweat-soaked man gasping for breath.
The beads of sweat on his skin were discolored. Could this be the chloroform? Had he pushed it back out?
No. Charles. Don't sound interested. This is practically murder. Remember that your father wouldn't want this.
He shook his head to get rid of the interested. Without needing to be told, he quickly wrote down the results and returned to the doctor's side.
He looked deranged with happiness. "Amazing! Oh, this is absolutely glorious. I love this. Did you see what happened? He completely changed what his body reacted. He survived. Next experiment. We are going to be testing his reaction to pressure. Go inform the others to start the pressure chamber, Charles."
For a split second, all Charles could do was stare at the mutant in front of him who was fighting for breath like it would be his last. It made his heart clutch, his insides squirm and his head hurt with a pain he knew mirrored the man. He felt his pain and it wasn't… it wasn't okay. It was far from okay.
"Charles. Did you hear me?"
Like being shocked, Charles nodded and scurried off to inform the other scientists to start the pressure chamber. Most of them were also prisoners like him, but their heads were bald and it was clear they were not given the same common courtesy as he had been given. It wasn't fair but he couldn't do much about it.
Somehow, they all understood this and still treated him nicely. He didn't know if he deserved it when considering the company – Dr. Mengele – he kept around.
He stood by as the man – who, with gentle prodding in his mind, released his name to be Adam Fink; not that it made the experiments done to him any easier to accept – was shoved into the pressure chamber. A few of the stronger prisoners came in and strapped him into the harness they had up. As soon as they left the chamber, the door was slammed shut and locked in place. Mengele motioned for Charles to follow him to the controls.
Handing the notebook to Charles, he showed him the buttons that gradually raised the simulated rise in altitude. As expected, the almost nonexistent noise in the chamber rose to the man groaning loudly. He never screamed like the others though. Charles thought he might be close but even when it curled around his throat, the man would seemingly take a deep breath and then go back to a low moan.
Mengele was getting more excited as they started to reach the max level the chamber could be set at. It was easy to see with how his eyes would jump from the controls to the chamber, almost like he was itching to abandon them to Charles and rush over to the window to watch the change himself.
When they reached the max, the kept it there for a solid minute before they shut down the chamber.
Whispers were being said quietly in both mind and verbally around him as Mengele approached the chamber expectantly. Two of the other assistants slowly unlocked the chamber and opened it.
Charles inched closer to peer at the mutant. He didn't know why. To say he was sorry? To tell him things will be better soon? What even was the definition of better in this place?
Death?
Hanging limply from the harness, chest rising and falling so rapidly it was almost like he was constantly and forever out of breath, Adam remained. His skin was so ruddy it was almost like the red blood cells in him had decided to make them his skin instead. His whole body was changed leaving his arms and legs so thin they looked breakable. His chest and head remained the same but it must have been a survival tactic to keep his organs running.
His nose was bleeding thickly and there were drops of blood from both corners of his eyes and out of his left ear, but otherwise, he was alive.
"Amazing." Was all Dr. Mengele said before directing the others to bring him back to the gurney. They would wait for his body to return to normal before the next test. Charles dutifully wrote what he noted of Adam, though he fought hard to keep from writing it wasn't moral and that it was absolutely monstrous what was done to him.
Adam was taken through all kinds of tests, ranging from heat to cold to outright poison in some cases. At first, Dr. Mengele waited for him to return to his control state, but that swiftly went out the window when his eagerness to see the limits of his new experiment caught up with him.
The mutant's body had very little time to adjust from one extreme to the other but it still did nevertheless.
When it was well into the evening, Dr. Mengele was staring at the victim with a sort of awe-inspiring look. It was weird and Charles kept his distance. If he had that kind of fascination for someone like Adam, what would he do to Charles? To Erik?
Then he clapped his hands. "Right. Last experiment and we will call it a night, Charles. This is going splendidly I think. A wonderful discovery! I'm sure you are so glad to be a part of it as I am." He gave a content sigh before continuing, "We are performing a new experiment."
Charles didn't like the sound of that. "A new experiment, Dr. Mengele?"
"Yes. We know that he can adapt very well to any extremes of temperature and environmental conditions as well as anything being injected into his body. The thing is, can his body rejuvenate? That is to say, if we were to, ah, slice his neck or stab his heart, would he be able to survive that as well?"
Charles waited for the doctor to act out his experiment but instead, he held out the scalpel to Charles instead.
"I want you to do this, Charles. You need to get used to it, after all."
No I don't. I truly don't. Why should I get used to this? Why don't you do this? Screamed his thoughts but he nevertheless walked quietly to the side of Mengele and took the scalpel. It felt like a heavyweight that would drag him to the lowest pits of hell.
"What will I do?"
The doctor hummed in thought before slowly dragging his finger across Adam's neck, just below his Adam's apple. "I want you to slice here, Charles. Not too deep, please. We want him to slowly bleed out as to give him enough time to adapt should he survive this."
It was a sudden thing.
The same immediate reaction that had been happening to Charles as it always had in these situations.
He never knew when it started, but it was definitely there and very present.
Every time he was told to mutilate someone, to attack someone or to… to end their life, he could feel his consciousness slip to the back of his mind. It was like he was watching someone else do it. Someone without emotions. Someone without morality. Someone who wouldn't be traumatized by this. He didn't know what it was but it scared him.
He was barely aware of it. Barely aware it existed. He couldn't control this side of him. It was just… there.
Watching from the back of his mind, he noticed that his hands were no longer shaking. They approached the thin neck of Adam and slowly, almost methodically, they slid the scalpel across where Mengele directed. Blood began to pearl outside the cut immediately and slowly pool enough to slide down his neck in tiny rivulets.
He placed the scalpel down and looked up at Dr. Mengele expectantly, finally resurfacing from his spot in his mind. He couldn't look at Adam but the red was beginning to attract his attention.
The doctor was watching him with a sort of pride. "I've noticed something, Charles."
Charles blinked and a part of him was itching with the unwanted attention. "Really?"
"Oh, yes. You must know that I am not as blind as I appear. I do know you don't like doing these things. It's okay. It will grow to you I'm certain. Especially with me teaching you, but that is not the focus. You… when you do what I tell you to, you completely become someone else, I've noticed."
Someone else? Dr. Mengele had noticed, too?
As they waited for Adam to either react or die, Dr. Mengele continued. "Your eyes go dead with emotion. Your hands steady to a point of absolute precision and you have little to no qualms to what you do – no matter if it may seem monstrous or not. It's rather interesting I think, the disassociation you have. I'm rather envious in fact."
"Disassociation?"
He waved his hands in the air as he tried to describe it, his eyes never leaving his spot on Adam's neck that continued to bleed with no stopping. "In my research and studies, I have learned of this mental disorder." The word rang oddly in Charles's skull. A mental disorder? Him? "Dissociative Identity Disorder. It's a severe condition when another personality – or even several – take control of an individual. It comes from traumatic experiences, and from what I've heard, you've gone through plenty."
Charles was quiet but his thoughts were far from it.
Another personality? Surely not. If that was the case, he wouldn't be aware of it, right?
Adam's chest was gradually slowing down. "Now, I don't think you suffer from this. At least, not to the extent the disorder calls for, though I can't see inside your skull, Charles. I would never know." He hummed in minor disappointment when they began to notice the light leaving Adam's eyes. "But I do believe you harbor some sort of disassociation depending on if you are merely observing or acting."
When it was clear that Adam had passed away, Charles wrote down the time and the results of the experiment all the while listening to Dr. Mengele. "The question is, do you realize it?"
Charles's hands stopped moving for a second before finishing his notes and closing the journal. "If I were to become someone else, I suppose I wouldn't really know either, wouldn't I?"
"Yes. Yes. There is some truth in that. A part of me would love to peer into that mind of yours, Charles. Dissect it and see how your brain ticks. Alas," he sighed and spared a small smile. "You're my student, not my test subject. Should I ever falter in my duties, I expect you to continue for me. I can't exactly test on my successor, now can I?"
Taking a syringe, Dr. Mengele plunged it into the median cubital vein. Charles was confused when the doctor extracted blood from the recently deceased man.
As if sensing the confusion, the doctor answered the boy's unsaid question. "We will look at this tomorrow. I don't believe Shaw will grant me another one of these… oddities for a while unless they try to escape again. I think it would be rather interesting to see what makes this thing so adaptive, yes?"
Charles nodded mutely and took the meal handed to him like every other time he finished his work with Dr. Mengele. As he finished his food, the doctor talked animatedly about finding more things like it. Adam was always referred as an it. He was never a person to the doctor.
It hurt in a way.
The meal was filled with scientific theories from Dr. Mengele. All about Adam. All wondering how he got his abilities. If they were hereditary or forced upon him. If they could be given to someone else. So many questions that Charles was growing slowly uncomfortable and lost his appetite. The fact of disassociation was still heavy on his mind. Hearing the experiments being repeated to him only added onto the weight.
When he was picked up by the driver, the man peered at him for a moment. "You okay?"
Charles shrugged and sank into the seats. "I don't know. It was a weird day."
The driver nodded and started the vehicle. "The doctor is always weird. He's not normal. I'm surprised that a kid like you follows him. He's not right for you. Unhealthy."
"I know," Charles said quietly, closing his eyes and hugging his sides.
And boy did he know. He knew all too well.
Disassociation?
It was… impossible. Surely it should be, right?
Funny how this thought bombarded him more than the fact that he killed a mutant only an hour ago.
…..
"We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be." - Mother Night (Kurt Vonnegut).
...
When the car stopped, he was surprised to see Edie meeting him instead of Erik. The thought might have either made Charles smile or break down, except on closer inspection she looked close to tears. Not only that, she looked outright distraught.
Saying bye to the driver, Charles rushed over to her and grabbed her hands in his, "What's the matter? Did something happen? Is- Is Erik okay?"
She seemed at a loss for words for a second, tears flowing freely. In the background, he saw Albert – a shocking surprise considering how he hadn't seen him in forever – come closer. He was snapping his fingers anxiously, sparks popping here and there. It was a bold move on his part in this place but Charles didn't think he knew he was doing it.
Not important, Charles. This isn't important!
Right. He scolded his deviating mind and tried to coax words out of Edie's lips.
"Edie? What is happening?"
But it was to no avail. She opened her mouth and shut it, shaking her head. Thinning his lips, Charles released one of her hands and brought his fingers up to her temples and closed his eyes. Looks like Albert wasn't the only one doing bold moves today.
It was as if a floodgate had been opened.
Her thoughts were pouring out so fast. He had to concentrate to not my swept away with them.
Erik's in trouble. Erik. He. He isn't himself. I don't know what I did but I said something and he snapped and I don't know what I said wrong. He yelled at me and he has never done that. My boy would never do that to me. I don't know what is wrong but when a boy tried to call him out for yelling at me he turned his anger on the boy and they are fighting and I don't want my boy to get hurt. Please. Help him. Help him please please help him. I don't know what to do.
Releasing his fingers from her temple, he tried to calm his beating heart and offered Edie a smile he hoped was reassuring. He squeezed her hands. "I'll take care of it. I promise."
Albert reached Edie's side and steered her back to the building. Charles hoped he would keep an eye on her and not let her get close to the fight because he wasn't quite sure what he would do. He said he would take care of it, but how he was going to do this he had no clue.
All he knew was that Erik yelling at his own mum was definitely not like him. Erik loved his mum. He adored her and would risk his own life for hers. But Lehnsherr he wasn't so sure and Charles was almost positive that this was the personality coursing through him.
How he was brought out was the burning question.
It was always by an event Erik disliked heavily. Or by stress. Or general trauma. These things tended to bring out the Lehnsherr personality, but for the life of him – and from what Edie and said and shown – Charles couldn't see how any of these possibilities occurred.
Stress from the hard labor? Charles hadn't missed how skinny his friend was growing in their striped uniforms. Almost worse than himself, in fact. It was frightening. To top it off he was always sore, always wincing and always bruised in some place or manner. It was hard to watch and harder to come to terms with.
Maybe he just… snapped?
Wading through the crowds surrounding what he was certain was the impending fight, Charles fought to make his way to the front. People kept pushing him or trying to hold him back, but he ignored them. He had to get to Erik.
He had to stop Lehnsherr before any permanent damage was made. Erik would never forgive himself if his mum took what he said to heart. Charles didn't want to see him that way.
Lehnsherr was alarmingly calm where he stood. His face looked shadowed. His fingers were still, too still to be nervous about a fight. It was calculative. Those eyes were dark and the frown on his face looked like it would forever be carved there. A phantom pain on Charles's wrist from back at the ghetto came back when he remembered dealing with Lehnsherr. He still hadn't found a fool-proof method.
But he had to do something.
"What? Since you couldn't continue taking your anger out on your mother, you choose to perform it on me? Good luck with that." There was a smirk on the boy's face.
Charles wanted to tell to the boy to be quiet. He had no clue who he was dealing with. This wasn't the boy who just brushed aside most taunts like it was nothing. This was a more dangerous man.
Dr. Mengele's words came back to him.
Dissociative Identity Disorder. It's a severe condition when another personality – or even several – take control of an individual. It comes from traumatic experiences…
While Charles was still skeptical in him having this, he couldn't help but find the definition to fit his friend with painful accuracy. After all, Erik never seemed to be aware of his Lehnsherr personality. It was just a switch.
Which still didn't help Charles whatsoever as he watched his friend from the sidelines, frantically grasping at straws so he could try and stop this.
But his mind was stressed. It was stressed and tired from the experiments to Dr. Mengele's observation and now Lehnsherr's untimely appearance. It was almost too much on his mind.
Erik didn't say a word and simply moved forward.
The boy's smirk gradually fell and changed into a scowl. "What? Are you not going to talk? You were all words before but now it's a fight you want? Fine."
Rushing forward, the boy barreled into Erik's chest and pushed him to the ground. Erik growled and their fight began. It was getting loud. Noticeably loud. So loud that Charles was certain that soldiers would be alerted quickly. He was afraid what would happen if Erik was caught. He wasn't sure what severity allowed Shaw to send people to Dr. Mengele but he didn't want to find out first-hand.
Taking a step out of the surrounding circle, Charles walked forward and tried to separate the two. At the same time, he tried to call for Erik mentally, sending images of good times and nicknames and countless "I love yous" to distract him. It had little effect.
Charles didn't know what to do. People around him were shouting at him to stay away. To let them fight it out. But Charles couldn't let that happen! Didn't they understand that?
He tried to steel himself and physically separate the two, but in the process, Erik's hand, which had previously been swinging to punch the other boy in the face, came around and clocked Charles's upside the head.
Falling to the ground, Charles tried to think around the ringing in his head and clutched it. Pain screamed at him from the bruise that would undoubtedly discolor his head later on that night. His blood was pulsing in his ears heavily, but he tried to shake it away.
Staying down wasn't an option. He had to stop them. He had to.
He sat up and tried to stand again but his head hurt so much that he fell to the ground again from the white stab in the side of his head.
No. No, he was okay. He was fine. If he could just-
When he opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them in the first place, he noticed that Lehnsherr was looking at him as well as the boy. No, not Lehnsherr. It was Erik. It had to be because the look he was given was like he had been shocked. This soon drifted off the guilt and pain that Charles could almost feel from his friend's mind.
The boy, on the other hand, just looked plain confused why the fight had stopped.
Looking at the boy, Erik shook his head and ran to Charles, tilting his head and touching the spot he hit him. Charles winced and a small hiss escaped his lips when Erik's shaking fingers met with the spot. Erik himself cursed under his breath, obviously directed at himself.
"I'm so sorry, Häschen. I don't- I don't know-"
He was going to run himself into a guilty circle if Charles didn't stop him. He couldn't let his friend go that route. He wasn't aware. It wasn't his fault.
So, Charles smiled. "It's okay. Just- Just please stop fighting? I don't want you to get into trouble, dear. I don't know what will happen to you and your mother is terribly worried. She looked so upset when I saw her. You should go apologize."
Erik nodded and took Charles's hands into his own, squeezing them.
When they both got up, he looked at the boy's face and saw complete disgust.
He was looking at their hands.
"You are both one of them."
One of them?
"Sick. Broken."
Oh. He understood now and, from the looks, of it Erik had, too. Erik gradually pushed Charles behind him. Charles immediately said he didn't need to be protected, but the majority of the argument died on his lips when he heard his friend speak.
"We are not broken. You're are just too blind to see it's perfectly fine," Erik spoke with the utmost certainty. The boy didn't take that well and growled. "I don't see why you can't just accept it. With where we are and what we are dealing with, shouldn't you be more accepting of the small bits of happiness we can find?"
"It's disgusting. It's… It's absolutely wrong." Charles hadn't noticed it before but now he did. The boy wasn't normal. His skin shimmered into something resembling wood, coating his arm from his fingers to his shoulder. This was another mutant. Exactly how many were here?
He didn't have time to ponder it. Whether this boy was a mutant or not, he intended to do harm. Erik's ability made him able to bend metal but that would have no effect on the boy. Charles himself was absolutely drained so he couldn't help much either.
The room was quiet, waiting with bated breath as to what they would do.
But before the disgusted boy took a step forward, soldiers spilled in and surrounded them. The boy tried to hide his mutation but it was too late. The soldiers took him away without a second glance at Erik and Charles. It happened so fast that it was like he hadn't existed to begin with.
The crowd slowly dispersed and Erik didn't hesitate to lead Charles back to where Albert and his mum were. While he was apologizing repeatedly, Charles noticed that Stephan had joined the duo and was now looking at Charles thoroughly. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine," he lied. Stephan rolled his eyes and scoffed before sitting next to Charles and taking his head in his hands.
"You have gotten worse at lying, Charles. It's tragic. Luckily for you, I've gotten better at using my healing factor on other people so let's see what we can do about your head, huh?"
Prodding gently, he found the spot Charles had been hit and hummed, focusing intently and gradually the pain simmered to nothing. Even when Charles prodded the spot with his fingers, he felt no bruise. It was truly something.
"Thanks," Charles offered a smile and Stephan shrugged.
"No problem. Just. Talk to us more, yeah? We understand you feel awful for how things went, but we all feel that way. We all failed! I know you lost your mum," he said this quietly. "But you still have us! We can be your family. Like the Rebellion was for me."
Charles felt tears come up but nodded.
"Good. Now, all we gotta do is stop Erik from starting fights and survive this place." He laughed a little. "Should be easy!"
Albert, who heard this, nudged Stephan's shoulder and complained about him taking things too lightly. Stephan merely grinned brightly, clearly taking joy in his friend's distress. Charles chuckled at the display. It was obvious they had gotten closer which was nice.
In this place, having a friend was better than having no one at all.
While Erik continued to apologize to his mum, Charles gazed at the multitude of faces that either spared them with curiosity or disgust. He thought of Dr. Mengele again and his newly found fascination with mutants. He thought about what might have happened to Erik. What might actually happen to that boy that was just taken away.
It was frightening.
At first, he thought he would have to be the only one to be careful.
But now, he realized that they all needed to be careful.
Which was a lot easier said than done.