Chapter 1
Erik gives Charles a look when the bedroom door is knocked insistently. Sighing, Charles waves Erik a little further away and massages his temples as he calls out a not entirely welcoming, “Come in!”
“I need to talk to you,” Beast declares with less preamble than usual. Erik returns Beast's mistrustful look with a sulky one and Charles sighs.
“The new children?” Charles supposes.
“They're hardly children-” Erik begins, but Charles stops him with a tired look.
“The poorliest one in particular, although we certainly aren't having an easy time with any of them,” Beast states.
Charles frowns. “Is he still-”
“Vomiting and blacking out, yes, and he still won't let any of us near him; we still can't sedate him, and he hasn't ingested anything in at least five days,” Beast supplies. “I'm concerned.”
Charles grimaces. “I'm coming, Hank.”
“And how are you magically going to fix this one if you still can't get inside his head?” Erik asks.
“You're going to go after the iron in his blood stream and see if weakening him that way gets the boy's shields down,” Charles states grimly. Beast looks around quickly, but surprises Erik by nodding.
“Since when does that fit your moral code?” Erik protests, but he quickly stands and follows the others out the door.
“Since we couldn't get near him two days ago when his ears started leaking,” Beast says starkly.
“By this point either his mutation's going to save him or he's brain dead,” Erik points out. “You can't save everyone.”
“And a broken mind is worthless, but a broken body isn't?” Charles asks sharply.
“You shouldn't even need that explained,” Erik retorts.
“So,” Beast interrupts. “Update on the others?”
The couple sigh. “Yes,” says Charles. “Please, go on.”
“The two sisters I'm mostly worried about next will at least consent to eat. They've let me tend to their immediate breakages but are fussy about letting me check their healing. They're not talking to any of us, and barely speaking to each other, although apparently they've been referring to the third girl as 'gryaznaya krov', which...”
“Means 'dirty blood',” Erik supplies.
Beast puffs out his cheeks, looking strained, before blowing through his lips. “Quite.”
“But all five of them are mutants,” Charles says softly.
“Yes, Charles, because all mutants get along,” Erik disparages without much malice. “People don't get along.”
“They're children,” Charles reasserts.
“They're all in their late teens,” Erik reminds him. “And you found them all in a conversion camp.”
“So they need each other,” Charles says.
“So they've probably been pitted against each other. You think two Russians, a Jew and a Polish girl don't have anything they could find to resent each other about?”
“They're a lot younger than us,” Charles presses.
“They're calling the Pole gryaznaya krov,” Erik says grimly.
Beast gives the pair an uneasy look then pushes open the door to where the first of the teenagers is being held.
Erik tenses at the sight. He hasn't bothered to see the boy before, so the youth's appearance makes him uneasy. The boy isn't exactly emaciated, but Erik quickly remembers that this one hasn't taken any food since he arrived here, and that was five days ago. It's entirely unclear whether any of the young mutants were being regularly fed before then.
Unusually, the boy is conscious enough to have curled into the recovery position. He rises to his elbows slowly and gives the three men a distinctly distrustful look.
“Um Gotteswillen,” Erik breathes. The boy's forearms are completely yellow and green, but not from any mutation. Those are entire bruises. [“For God's sake.”]
The others turn to shush Erik, but the boy's expression flickers. “Deutsch.” He concentrates. “Wo ist… Nein. Wo sind die anderen?” [“German. Where is… No… Where are the others?”]
Erik steps past the others and sits near the teenager. “Sie sind hier. Unverletzt.” [They are here. Unharmed.”]
“'Unverletzt',” the bruised mutant repeats slowly. “Sicher?” [“Unharmed. For sure?”]
Erik tries to make his face look something like reassuring. “Ja.” [“Yes.”]
The younger man nods as though Erik is actually capable of appearing thus.
The man looks around at Beast and Charles. “Sie wollen helfen. Du bist sehr krank.” [“They want to help. You are very sick.”]
The young man gives a weak but derisive chuckle. “Est ist ein bisschen ein Gehirn rasselnd. Ich bin wunderbar.” [“It's a bit of a brain rattling. I'm wonderful.”]
Erik cannot help but snort darkly. “Du bist verrückt wenn du das denkst, mein Freund.” [“You're delusional if you think that, my friend.”]
The young mutant taps his forehead gingerly. “Starkes Zeug.” [“Strong stuff.”]
“Der blaue ist ein Arzt. Wenigstens lass ihn dir helfen,” Erik states. [“The blue one is a doctor. At least let him help you.”]
“Nein danke,” the bruised boy mutters. [“No ta.”]
“Was ist mit Essen dann?” Erik suggests patiently. “Du hast nicht gegessen… in Tagen.” [“What about food then? You haven't eaten… in days.”]
The young mutant's face concedes slowly. “Wasser. Bitte.” [“Water. Please.”]
Erik nods and turns over his shoulder to Beast. “He's refusing to consent to treatment but he's willing to accept water.”
“He's got the mother of all concussions and needs a saline drip at the very least,” Beast protests, but he goes off quickly for water.
Erik tries to impart this to the teen, but the younger mutant grimaces in incomprehension. Erik points to the crook of his elbow. “Der Infusionsapparat? Mit die Kochsalzlösung.” [“The infusion apparatus? With the saline solution.”]
“Salz?,” the young man repeats in understanding. “Nein. Keine Nadeln.” [“Salt? No. No needles.”]
“Niemand hier wird dich verletzen,” Erik attempts to reassure. [“No one here will hurt you.”]
The younger mutant gives him a disappointingly mistrustful look. “Keine Nadeln. Verdammte Amerikaner.” [“No needles. Damned Americans.”]
Erik's lips twitch. “Charles ist Britisch. Und Hank… das Blaue.” [“Charles is British. And Hank… The blue one.”]
The teenager's face crinkles. “Ich mag ihn nicht. Jeder von ihnen .” [“I don't like him. Either of them.”]
Erik chortles and casts a quick glance at Charles, who seems to have a rudimentary understanding of the conversation. “Warum nicht?” the German asks. ["Why not?”]
The young mutant frowns. “Er ist...” He flounders for a moment then squeezes his nose. “...Naseweis?” [He is… Nosy?”]
Erik has to swiftly bite his knuckle to hold back a very unkind laugh. “Er kann nicht helfen, dass ich Angst habe,” the man concedes with a playful smile towards Charles. [“He cannot help that, I'm afraid.”] Erik knows the other man struggles to get a read on anyone around this boy, and the blatant look on Charles' face says I'm-trying-so-hard-to-be-patient-luv-but-I-think-I-might-hit-you-later.
The concussed mutant observes the trust between the pair and rolls his eyes. “People cannot be trusted,” he says in oddly accented English.
“Humans,” corrects Erik. “We're all mutants here.”
Charles gives him a look, but the teen merely laughs bitterly.
“Mutants aren't safe,” the bruised mutant disparages.