Chapter Text
I look down at this typewriter and I question myself. Why am I doing this? What exactly am I here to tell you? Why do you care? I realize that all the answers lie within this story. I would start with the very beginning of my life story, but that would kill the suspense. So instead, I will begin with the night I first met Erik Lehnsherr—who would soon become Magneto, a man with a genocidal motive and a knack for metals.
…
It was chilly outside, but not quite cold enough for me to have a coat on over my long sleeved Oxford sweater. I had long been accustomed to the cold. Suddenly I heard Charles yell something over the side of the ship. I turned to see Moria looking confused, as per usual, and Charles practically swan diving off the deck. I immediately ran to the rail, but wasn’t too keen on jumping off as well.
“So what’s he doing?” I asked Moria.
“He said there was someone in the water!” She exclaimed. “But I don’t see him.”
For some background: Moria and I had been partners—agents in crime, if you will—for just over a year now. Moria was quite possibly my best friend, other than Charles, of course. I could trust her, I thought. She knew about my past and as far as I knew, never told anyone. Charles was the only person I could completely trust on this planet.
I was not worried about Charles; I knew he could handle himself. But clearly the person in the water was suicidal, and a mutant. He was trying to stop Shaw’s submarine with his mutation, but it wasn’t strong enough yet. That would change. For the worse or for the better is a matter of opinion.
When Charles and the man were brought aboard, Moria and I were shoved away, trying to catch a glimpse through the raging medical crew.
“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Moria said.
“I think he’ll be fine.”
Fast forward four hours. It’s one in the morning and everyone is still buzzing about what happened. The Event, they were calling it. Rumors flew about whom the man was, and his purpose. I, for one, did not care to know. His business was his business and none of mine. I appreciated privacy. I still do.
I was just about to take a Danish from the cafeteria when I heard my name being said over the intercom. “Agent Liebling to interrogation room four, please, Agent Liebling to interrogation room four.”
I groaned, put the Danish back down and set off towards the lower deck. I loathed interrogating people. I hated getting inside their heads, unlike Charles.
I saw the door into room four and sighed.
“Agent Liebling?”
“Yes.”
I turned to face a nameless agent I owe my pain and happiness to. “He’s not talking. And he’s not breaking anytime soon. You’re good at this, right?”
“Depends on who you ask.”
“Well, Moria recommended you. This guy made her cry.”
I exhaled. Moria cried a lot, but usually with me. “Well, shit. Thanks for the info.”
“No problem.”
I turned the door handle. The room had no windows and everything in it was gray. The walls, the chairs, the table, the floor. The man sitting at the table was leaning his elbows on the table, hands folded with perfect posture. He was still in his wetsuit, which extenuated his slender figure. He had a smirk on his face that I would have liked to punch off, but instead sat in the chair opposite him.
“Are you here to ask me more personal questions?” he asked.
“No.”
He cocked his head to the side, that same challenging grin plastered on his face. “Well then what are you here to do?”
“I am here to inform you that the more you try to resist, the more they will question you, and they will get something out of you, if it takes them the rest of their lives. Catching communists is kind of a big deal here in America. So I beg your pardon, but personally I think you’re being stubborn and moronic and you should at least make up a believable lie. And if anything, these guys can help you—or at the very least—give you information about this guy if you cooperate. I assume that is what you are after.”
He said nothing, but looked down at his hands.
“Now listen, I’m not going to try to tell you that I understand whatever happened to you that made you want to murder whoever that is so badly. I mean, you could have died. You could have died in that water and never have avenged whatever you are attempting to.”
His blue-gray eyes met mine and I was taken aback by their sincerity and kindness. I was expecting the stone-cold eyes of a killer. “My name is Erik Lehnsherr.”
“Maddey Liebling.”
Erik lifted and eyebrow. “You know what your last name means?”
I chuckled. So he spoke German. I could have guessed from his name, I suppose. “Yeah, I know. It means darling in German.”
“I assume you’ve been told that before.”
“Many times.”
“So,” he unfolded his hands and sat back in his chair, obviously more relaxed. “Are you sure you don’t want to ask me any questions? Why do I want to kill Shaw? Where was I born? Do you want to know about my past?”
“To be honest, no. That’s your deal, thanks.”
He smiled from the corners of his mouth. “You’re not really much of a darling at all, are you?”
“I’ve also been told that before. I think it’s my passive-aggressive demeanor.”
We both laughed, and I could tell I was the first person to make him laugh like that in a long time.
The door opened, and it was Charles, looking worried. “Maddey! There you are. Nobody told me where you were.”
“The said it over the intercom. And I’m kind of in the middle of something here, Charles. Would you mind coming back later?”
Erik waved his hand. “No, go ahead. I’ll just sit here and wait to catch my death of dampness. You can go with your boyfriend.” He spat.
I pointed at Erik. “Um, okay, first, he is not my boyfriend. Secondly, I will inquire as to some dry clothes.”
“Maddey. Let’s go.” Charles said.
“Charles, you need to calm down, alright? Chill, dude.” I looked over at Erik. “I’m going to have someone bring you some food and stuff, okay? If they don’t bring it try to contact me and I will personally kick their ass.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
I left with Charles, slightly worried as to what the whereabouts of Erik Lehnsherr were going to be within the next few days.
I would soon find out.
…
I was at the Pentagon a few days later when I received a call from Charles.
“Hello, Maddey?”
“Hey, Charles. Why are you calling?”
He sighed. “I cannot tell you too much over the phone. But we need you.”
“We?”
“Like I said, I can’t tell you a lot via telephone,” he audibly sighed. “But I’m warning you, it involves people.” He paused. “But it also involves hunting down a former Nazi-turned-communist.”
“Where do I sign up?”
…
I strutted confidently into the facility I had no idea about, with people I had never met before. But, being a CIA agent that was something I was used to.
I turned a corner to see the Blackbird mock-up and Hank McCoy, the Boy Genius, speaking to Charles about mechanics. Charles spun his head to see me and smiled like a dork.
“Maddey! Finally! Everyone has been on pins and needles waiting for your arrival.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” I said sarcastically.
Charles rolled his eyes. “Have you met Hank? He’s extremely intelligent; I think you’d like him.”
“Yeah, I’ve met Hank. I helped him with some of the designs for Cerebro.”
Hank sheepishly met Charles’s eyes. “I haven’t told them about it yet.”
“Maddey?”
I whipped around to see Erik Lehnsherr, in the flesh, smiling like a madman.
“Well, hi, Erik. I definitely wasn’t expecting to see you here,” I said, taking a few steps towards him.
Now closer than we had ever been before, Erik softly said, “I didn’t know you were Charles’s sister.”
“I’m adopted.” I said sternly but quietly.
“He mentioned that.”
Charles clapped his hands and took my elbow, dragging me away from whatever gravity was pulling me towards Erik. “Alright kids, shall we go see what this Cerebro machine is all about?”
Hank dove right into explaining Cerebro. I walked slightly behind the two of them, next to Erik. He had that smirk on his face again and the urge to wipe it off was still strong. Erik put his hands in his pockets and directed his attention towards me.
“So,” he said, “has Charles always been a pretentious British jackass?”
I laughed. “For as long as I can remember.”
“He’s got quite the IQ.” Erik stated, speaking quietly now so Hank and Charles definitely couldn’t hear us over their chatter.
“Charles has always been intelligent. We just assume it’s a part of his mutation.” I sighed. “He never let me live down that I got two points less than him on that IQ test.” I said.
“Only two points?”
“You seem shocked.” I said, slightly offended. “Do I appear to have that much of an intelligence gap with my brother?”
“No!” Erik exclaimed. “No. I never assumed that you were not intellectual.”
Just as Erik said this, Hank unlocked the door to Cerebro, revealing a spherical room with a switchboard on the far side. It all looked very space age, clean cut, unsoiled. Hank was still talking about Cerebro to Charles, telling him how it worked, et cetera.
“What an adorable lab rat you make, Charles.” Erik said.
Erik and Charles conversed as I ran my fingers over the switchboard, flashbacking almost twenty years, then coming back to the present. Nearly twenty years ago I felt my hands doing the same thing.
I pushed that thought quickly out of my head.
…
Charles was raving about Cerebro and Hank’s brilliance for the rest of the day. Erik and I usually stood in the background, talking aimlessly or making fun of Charles. Erik wasn’t too eager to be here, I could tell, but at least he didn’t seem absolutely miserable. Hank and Charles were together most of the evening, so Erik and I decided to spend it in the facility’s library. It was sparsely furnished, with very little books, but there wasn’t much else to do.
I sat on a loveseat near the curtained window, and Erik sat in the armchair across from me. I had pulled a book off the shelf when we had entered and so had Erik. We were content with just sitting in silence, which was alright with me. There is a quote something along the lines of ‘never give up someone you can read in silence with.’ I thoroughly believe in that. Quiet, when shared with the right person, does not have to be awkward. That’s what I thought was one of his greatest traits. His ability to put me at ease without making the silence uncomfortable, as Moria would. Speaking of, I probably should have found her earlier.
“What book are you reading?” Erik asked.
“Oh,” I said. “Um…Pride & Prejudice.”
“Ah. Another classic about a strong-willed young woman who doesn’t need a man in her life but ends up falling head over heels anyway. I’m not surprised.”
I elevated my eyebrow. “That I’m reading it or the premise?”
He chuckled. “The premise.”
“Well, I’ll have you know that I do not only read romance novels, thank you. I have a variety of other genres I read.”
“I wasn’t insulting you.”
“I know.” I said. “I’m just giving you a little background information.”
“We really don’t know that much about each other, do we?” He questioned, slamming his book shut and placing it on the window sill. “Are you ready for a game of twenty questions?”
“Oh God. Okay. Shoot.”
He began with; “Favorite color?”
“Sunset orange,” I said.
That piqued his interest. “And why that particular shade of orange?”
“I don’t really know. I just always thought that color was very beautiful. I mean, sunsets are always beautiful, but when you get this shade of orange, it’s stuck in between red and yellow in the sunset and it burns really bright, you know? Incredibly fierce yet calming at the same time. And it differs from sunrise orange. Sunrise orange is bland.”
Erik didn’t seem like he knew how to respond, but he continued on. “Did you go to college?”
“Yes. Oxford, with Charles. I got a PhD in foreign languages.”
“I’m impressed.” He said.
“Thank you.”
“So what languages do you speak, then?”
I breathed out. “German, English, obviously, Polish, Latin, but that’s a dead language. Oh, and uh, French, Spanish and Hebrew.”
“Deutsch? Endlich jemand der Sinn spricht.” German? Finally, someone who speaks sense.
I laughed. “Ich sympathisiere mit Ihnen auf, das man.” I have to sympathize with you on that one.
“I had no idea you spoke so many languages.” Erik said in English. “That’s remarkable.”
“I’ve always had a knack.” I said.
“Shall we get back to the questionnaire?” I nodded my consent. “How old are you?” Erik asked, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees.
“Twenty-three. I’ll be twenty-four in May. I graduated early from college and high school.” I said. Erik reclined back in his chair, looking somewhat astonished. “What? Do I look older? Younger? What’s the deal?”
“No. I was just expecting there to be a ridiculous age difference, in either direction.” He said. “What day is your birthday?”
“May 6th, 1938.”
“April 2nd, 1936.” He replied.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He furrowed his eyebrows. “You really think it’s going to take that long to find Shaw?”
“No. I know it’s late November now, but he’s tricky. He’s been on the run for years. He’ll be good at hiding by now.”
Erik turned his head towards the window and I suddenly felt sadness, disappointment, and pure agony exuding from every fiber of his being. He leaned his cheek into his hand.
“Erik?” I scooted forward on my chair. “Did I say something?” I pursed my lips. “Do you really not want to be here that much?”
“No.” He whispered. “I enjoy spending time with Charles and especially with you, but I’ve dedicated years of my life to hunting him down, to killing him. And I don’t know if the CIA is going to hold me back or push me forward.”
“Believe me Erik; we’re good at what we do. There is no doubt in my mind that we will find him. But it isn’t going to happen immediately. Shaw is an expert. He’s been doing this since World War Two and even having time for some vacations along the way. This isn’t something that is going to happen with a snap of someone’s fingers.”
“I know that.” He murmured.
“Maddey?” Charles’s voice rang through the library like a grieving woman’s shriek.
“Yes, Charles?” I said.
“May I speak with you?”
I sighed. “Of course.”
Charles motioned for me to join him in the hallway. Erik sat, head cradled in both of his slim hands.
“What has he told you?” Charles asked, pulling me away from the open door.
“He hasn’t told me anything about himself, if that’s what you’re asking. The only thing I really know about him is that he speaks German.” I said, taking a step back from Charles. “You have obviously been in his head. If he doesn’t want to tell me about his past, that is perfectly fine with me. He’ll tell me when he wants me to know.”
“All I know is that-.”
I cut him off, waving a dismissing hand. “Don’t tell me anything. If it’s that important, Erik will tell me when he’s good and ready.”
“You two seem to be getting along well.” Charles said.
“We’ve only known each other for like, a day.” I said. “I’m going to go apologize to Erik and then go to bed. Good night, Charles.”
I swiveled away from my brother and walked back toward the library. The door was still open. Erik was already looking at the place where I stood when I arrived. He mouthed, ‘thank you.’ In return, I smiled. I felt something happening, the beginning of a friendship that would have its ups and downs, but would still classify as one of the best. To this day, Erik is one of the best friends I have ever had. We understood each other. We still do. By no means do I hate him for what he did. If anything, I admire and am proud of him for following what he believed in, even if it was a dumbass decision. But he had to figure that out for himself.