Different

Chapter 3

Ilsa

"I didn't think I was the only one," I tell them from inside the pub. They sit opposite me while I face the door and can see the rest of the customers. Their happy drunken chatter and the fire in the hearth next to us keeps anyone from possibly overhearing our conversation. "I've met other mutants before," I continue. "It wasn't for long, but it was still something. And now you're telling me there's a group of you?"

"Eight of us, yes. Nine, hopefully, with you." Charles nods to me.

"And you found me using this...'giant golfball'?" I repeat Erik's description.

"Cerebro," He corrects. "But thank you, Erik." He glances at his colleague, who simply nods as though content with his explanation with a slight smirk. Charles looks back at me. "So really, all we know about you is your abilities - changing your appearance, yes? Only some of it - you can't shapeshift, per se, but you can change a few things about yourself. Then there's the matter of electricity-"

"If you're a telepath I'm sure you know more about me than that."

"I know about your mother," He offers. "Gemma was her name: daughter of an Englishman and Greek woman, raised between Greece and Norway." He lists nearly everything I know about her.

I look at him a moment. "Mhm."

"Ilsa, we're here because London is not as safe as you think it is. Two weeks from now, at the most, you will have been found out."

"And you want me to come with you to America."

"Yes," He says. "I want to teach you to control your abilities."

"How do you think you'll be able to do that?" I look him in the eye, still trying to figure him out. Just because he's a mutant doesn't mean I can trust him.

"We'll figure it out as we go," He answers. "You've been fending for yourself for a while now and doing your best to hide your abilities for just over a year. Trying to hide them is different from learning to live with and control them."

"Yeah," I agree. "I wasn't really around other people who helped me with that."

"It's a lonely feeling," He nods. "Now, your mother, Gemma," He continues. "Was she a mutant?"

"Dunno," I shrug. "Aunt and uncle raised me," I explain. "I didn't really know her all that well."

"She must have been for you to be able to survive the procedure you underwent." He observes, then notices the look I give him in response. "It's just what I saw when I first approached you, I'm sorry," He apologises sincerely, realising he overstepped. "I'm simply trying to understand what you've been through. And if I can't understand then I can't help and I want to help, in any way I c-"

I've heard this before, and I rise from my seat and briskly walk past them through the door to the stairs leading to the ground floor.

. . .

Charles

"And I want to help, in any way I ca-" Before I finish my sentence she lets out an exasperated sigh and pushes herself out of her seat.

"That went well." Erik looks at me as soon as the door slams behind her.

"I think I overstepped."

"You think?" He raises his eyebrows at me knowingly.

"I know I did," I admit. "I didn't want to take it too far but-"

"You got carried away." Erik nods.

"What if you tried talking to her?" I suggest.

"That's not a good idea."

"I think she'd feel more comfortable with you," I counter. "You two are very similar, my friend, you both share that same feeling of-"

"Of what?" He senses my hesitation to finish the sentence.

"Of what it feels like to be experimented on." I look him in the eye for a few moments before glancing towards the door. "And I'd go to her soon, her anxiety's rising."

"I'd better hurry then." He replies, unenthused.

. . .

Ilsa

I ignore Erik calling my name and continue my pace down the stairs. I stop at the first landing when he says 'please' and touches my shoulder.

"I've heard it before," I explain to him. "Everything Charles said - I've heard it."

"And I'm sure when you heard it, it never turned out well." He says. "You sit facing windows and doors so you can see everyone who walks in and out. You plan different routes of escape with every room you walk into. You think London is one of the best cities to hide in and prefer walking at night as opposed to the daytime. It's not paranoia, it's from experience, you've had over a year of practice. I know because I do it." He continues after registering my questioning look. "Charles didn't tell me everything, but he thinks we might be able to relate to each other in more ways than one."

"Other than being a mutant?" I remember how the knife flew out of my hand.

He holds up his hand, a coin escapes his pocket and sticks itself to the middle of his palm.

"One of the eight." He lowers his hand. "I know what it's like to feel trapped," He offers, and drops the coin in my palm. I turn it over to examine it and look up at him upon recognising the Nazi currency. "And I wouldn't be here if I felt that way again."

I nod as I recognise his honesty. I was never in Germany when he was, and I would've been too young when he was there, but we've both had our fair share of experimentation.

"So, what do you think?"