The morning sun filtered brightly through the windows of the CIA facility, but Charles couldn't shake the feeling that the light on the division floor wasn't falling quite right. Ever since they had returned from their frantic, multi-city recruitment drive the night before, his mind had been working on overdrive. They had successfully brought back their latest and most volatile result—Alex Summers, a young man whose raw, destructive energy held immense promise, even if he currently lacked a single shred of control.
But as Charles stood near the central workspace, his eyes kept tracking the long, dark silhouettes cast by the window frames. For a split second, he could have sworn one of those shadows rippled against the floorboards, stretching just a fraction out of sync with the morning sun.
It was a trick of the light. It had to be. Yet it felt unnervingly familiar—exactly like the strange, heavy distortion he'd noticed clinging to the corners of the room whenever he was near Sarah.
With the new recruits left downstairs to get acquainted and settle into their quarters, Charles forced his attention back to the present. He spotted Raven standing by the far window, watching the empty courtyard. She'd been his only real anchor since this entire whirlwind started.
He walked over to her, rubbing the back of his neck with a tired sigh. "Any news on Sarah?" he asked softly.
Raven turned from the glass, her expression easing up a bit. "She's fully healed, Charles. Just like she said she would be. It's like nothing ever happened to her."
Charles exhaled slowly, a massive weight lifting from his shoulders. "That is... remarkable news. A true relief."
Raven hesitated, looking back toward the hallway with a slight frown. She lowered her voice. "It's not that simple. She's completely shut herself in, Charles. She spends hours locked in that room, training her abilities as if she were preparing for a war. It's not just a focus anymore—it's an obsession."
Charles's brow furrowed. "She has survived unimaginable trauma. The absolute last thing I want is for her to feel isolated within these walls."
"She already does," Raven said quietly. "She could really use someone to talk to. Someone who isn't evaluating her."
Charles regarded his foster sister thoughtfully. A quiet spike of frustration bubbled just beneath his surface; his complete inability to read Sarah's mind left him entirely blind, forced to grasp at mere fragments of understanding—and keeping watch on the shadows was a poor substitute for actual insight. Finally, he nodded. "You've always had a wonderful gift for reaching people, Raven. See if you can help her feel a bit less... alone."
Raven tilted her head in acknowledgment before turning on her heel, slipping out of the room to head upstairs.
Her silhouette disappeared down the corridor, leaving Charles and Erik alone in the laboratory. The silence was brief, shattered instantly by Erik's quiet, blunt tone.
"This is a mistake, Charles."
Charles turned to face him, his frustration slipping into his posture. "What mistake, Erik?"
Erik leaned back against the edge of a heavy steel desk, crossing his arms over his chest. His tone was level, but it carried that dangerous, sharp edge Charles was growing used to. "Trying to 'fix' her. This fixation she has on her power—it isn't something you should stifle or treat like a disease. It is a driving force. In a world like this, it may very well be the exact thing that ensures her survival."
Charles's jaw tightened, his response immediate and sharp. "Strength without balance is a dangerous, self-destructive path, Erik. I have seen where that road leads."
"And balance without strength," Erik countered, his eyes locking onto Charles, completely unyielding, "leaves you dead in a ditch. We don't even know what fuels her drive yet. You cannot simply dismiss her ambition as destructive without understanding its purpose."
Charles held his gaze, his voice dropping into a firm, unshakeable register. "Which is exactly why we need to reach her. Left completely unchecked, she's going to destroy herself, Erik. Isolation and ambition don't mix well—you know that better than anyone."
Erik's expression flickered for a fraction of a second, a dangerous crack in his composure before he seamlessly steadied himself.
"She's not me, Charles," Erik said finally, though his voice carried a faint, barely perceptible waver. "And we do not have the luxury of coddling anyone right now. The fight ahead of us demands strength. If she finds hers through isolation, then so be it."
Charles shook his head, his tone softening with a heavy trace of sorrow. "This isn't merely about the fight, Erik. It's about what comes after. Strength without connection leaves nothing but scars. And Sarah already carries far too many of those."
The conversation teetered on the edge of an escalation, but neither man pressed the point further. Erik turned toward the window, his jaw set as he watched the early morning fog burn off the compound.
"We'll see," Erik murmured, almost entirely to himself. "Time will tell what kind of strength she actually finds."
Charles lingered a moment longer, his mind racing. Sebastian Shaw was still out there—a massive threat hanging over the entire world—and with a mission to Russia looming right over their horizons, Sarah's internal storms felt like a variable he wasn't entirely ready to calculate.
First Russia and Shaw, Charles thought, straightening his posture and turning back to his notes. Then maybe, just maybe, we can help her before it's too late.
Sarah (POV)
A sharp metallic clink echoed through the room as I dropped a twisted chunk of steel back onto the bedside table. I flexed my fingers, watching a few pathetic, erratic sparks of blue static and magnetic current fizzle out over my knuckles. I leaned back against the pillows with a heavy, frustrated sigh.
Ugh. This is like trying to learn calculus through a brick wall. I'm barely making any progress with this electromagnetic stuff.
Cryokinesis, aerokinesis, telekinesis, umbrakinesis, pyrokinesis... all my seasonal flavor-of-the-month abilities technically work, but only barely. It is genuinely depressing. I am so incredibly weak right now. Either it's the rules of this specific universe, or Mio basically bitch-slapped me straight back down to base-girl level. I've only got this lightning manipulation going for me right now. Hooray for me.
The distinct creak of the heavy wooden door pulled me straight out of my head. I glanced up sharply, instantly ready to snap at whatever CIA doctor was invading my space, but stopped when I saw Raven standing in the doorway. She was leaning against the frame, her striking features softened by a hint of genuine curiosity.
"Burning the midnight oil, Sarah?" Her voice was low, carrying a light, almost teasing edge. "Everything alright in here?"
I flinched slightly, caught completely off guard, before quickly plastering on a hesitant, casual smile. "Yeah. Just... thinking. Nothing to worry about."
Seriously, though, over the last few days, I didn't expect much of anything from Raven. In the movies, she's enigmatic, sharp-edged, and fiercely independent—none of which exactly screams 'comforting, supportive friend. ' Yet, somehow, a weird little dynamic has started forming between us. It's totally unspoken, but it's there. Her popping in is actually a pretty welcome distraction from my own brain. For a girl in my position, loneliness is usually a permanent roommate, gnawing at the edges of everything. Strangely, Raven actually makes the room feel a little less oppressive.
Raven stepped further into the room, her blue eyes scanning the scattered bits of metal on the table and the faint, ozone scent of residual energy in the air. "You sure you're fine? Because you don't exactly look 'fine' to me," she said, her tone shifting into something entirely genuine.
I smirked faintly, shaking my head. "Really, I'm good. But thanks for checking in." My tone was light, but I knew she wasn't buying a single word of it. Raven has a terrifying knack for seeing through the walls people build around themselves, even when they think they've built a literal fortress.
She crossed her arms, studying me with a penetrating gaze that didn't waver. "You're sure?" she pressed, her voice dropping into a soft, gentle register that completely threw me off. "Because, you know, I'm not just here to play out the usual 'I'm fine' routine. I'm actually starting to think I might give a damn about what happens to you."
I froze at that, tearing my eyes away from hers. "Well, that's a first," I muttered, leaning my head back against the headboard. "Someone actually giving a damn."
Raven tilted her head, her lips pulling into a subtle, knowing smirk. "Guess I'm just full of surprises." She hesitated, taking a step closer to the bed, her expression turning earnest. "But seriously, Sarah... I'm not saying you have to open up or pour your heart out, but stop constantly pushing people away. You're not alone in this place."
I let her words hang in the silence of the room. Normally, my immediate survival instinct would be to completely shut down any attempt at getting close. But looking at her, something made me hesitate. "I'm not pushing anyone away," I said, though even to my own ears, my voice lacked its usual defensive sharpness. "I'm just... figuring things out."
"Figuring things out?" Raven's eyes narrowed slightly, the playful edge completely vanishing. She stepped right up to the edge of the bed. "What does that even mean? Is that just your built-in excuse to keep hiding out in this room? You don't have to carry everything by yourself, Sarah. Not everything in life has to be a brutal mental game of survival."
I bit my lip, instantly looking down at my hands. The words hit way closer to home than I wanted to admit. "I don't need anyone's help," I said sharply, the defensive bite slipping out much harsher than I intended. "I'm perfectly fine on my own."
Give me a literal break. I am actively planning and training so we don't all get murdered. Besides, it's not like I'm planning on staying in this chaotic universe forever anyway.
Raven let out a dry, humorless laugh, her face a perfect mix of amusement and total disbelief. "Really? You've been perfectly fine alone your whole life?" she asked, her voice dropping into a quiet, introspective whisper. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks a whole lot like you're running away from something. You don't have to do that here. We're not all just... lone wolves, you know."
The words landed like a physical punch. I snapped my head up, meeting her gaze fully while swallowing down the brief flicker of doubt twisting in my chest. "That's a little under the belt, don't you think? I have friends, you know. From... another place," I muttered, defensively folding my arms over my chest.
Okay, scratch that. Actually, if I'm being brutally honest, do I even have a handful? Shido? The Spirits? I spent my time there hoarding them, trying to keep them safe from Mio's complete psycho routine. Let's just face reality: I needed them in order to get stronger and not to feel lonely in a new world, and they needed me to learn how not to break the world.
"Look, Shaw is out there," I said, steering the conversation back to solid ground. "That is exactly who we need to be focusing on. I'd much rather be completely prepared for when he shows up."
Raven's eyes softened, taking the final step until she was standing right beside my bed. "That may be true," she said, her voice firm but remarkably gentle. "But you are still not alone here. You have a team now." Her gaze locked onto mine, completely refusing to let me look away. "Just think about it, alright?"
I hesitated, the massive weight of her words settling heavily between us. Normally, I would have dismissed the speech instantly, but something about the raw sincerity on Raven's face made me pause. "I'll think about it," I said, the words feeling a lot heavier than I wanted them to.
Raven lingered for a quiet moment, watching me closely as if she were still trying to decipher some hidden, locked-away part of my soul. Then, in a flash, her expression shifted back to something entirely playful, her signature smirk returning.
"Well, as much as I absolutely love playing your therapist," she said, popping her hips, "Charles's little mutant project just got a whole lot bigger. He brought back some more recruits today. They're all gathering downstairs tonight, and I thought you might actually want to join. You know... socialize with your own people for once."
I raised a skeptical eyebrow, the concept of forced mingling sounding about as appealing as a root canal. But then the words actually processed. New mutants? New powers?
Wait, a whole buffet of new abilities? Now that is an idea I can absolutely get behind. Oh, I would absolutely love to mingle.
A bright, perhaps slightly too eager smile instantly spread across my face. "Sure," I replied quickly, throwing the sheets off my legs. "That sounds... incredibly fun."
Oh, it's going to be a blast. Just absolutely not for the reasons you think, Raven.
Raven smirked, clearly catching the sudden, suspicious shift in my demeanor but choosing to ride with it. "Uh-huh. Sure. Let's go before you have time to overthink it."
"Wait there, hot stuff," I said, pausing as I looked down at myself and pointed toward the drab fabric of my clinical attire. "Do you have anything for me to wear? I can't possibly show up to a party in these rags."
Raven paused in the doorway, her head tilting as an amused, slightly exasperated expression crossed her face.
"Yeah, that's on me," she admitted, leaning back against the frame. "But I mean... are you sure? Because you've been washing and wearing the exact same underwear and bra we found you in, drying them with your fire power, and completely ignoring everything else we provided. I almost thought you didn't want to wear our clothes."
I rolled my eyes, letting out a flat, utterly unimpressed huff. "Girl, you call that undergarment selection 'clothes'? It feels like something made in the last century."
The room went completely quiet for a fraction of a second.
Oh, crap. The sudden, crushing realization hit my brain like a physical brick wall, making my stomach do a brief, panicked flip. It actually is from the last century. I am literally living in nineteen-sixty-two.
Raven blinked, her brow furrowing slightly at my choice of words, though she thankfully chalked it up to my usual bizarre, dramatic attitude. "Right. Well, our 'primitive' sixties fashion will have to do for tonight," she joked, shaking her head. "Give me five minutes. I'll go raid the laundry division and find you something that doesn't scream 'escaped psychiatric patient.'"
With a sharp, confident turn, she vanished down the corridor, leaving me alone with the lingering echo of my own massive chronological blunder.