Hi! I know I should be updating other stories but this idea has been bugging me for a few days and I decided I couldn't resist writing it anymore. This is my first X-Men story and my first story dealing with characters with overt superpowers (yeah, I've written for Avengers but they don't turn invisible or have telekinesis) so this is a real departure for me. Let me know what you think! I own nothing but Audrey.

"I really am sorry, Ms. Shaw, but the position has already been filled," Dr. Aaron Beckett tells me as though I am a child likely to throw a tantrum.

"Forgive me, Dr. Beckett, but you already promised me the job," I say. "You all but said so at my last interview. I've already turned in my resignation at the bank!" Dr. Beckett only decides to look at me like he pities me.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Shaw, but this is out of my hands. It's just not going to work out between you and Ingold Labs." I feel myself starting to get angry so I quickly tighten my blazer around my torso and tuck my hands inside. Deep breaths, I chant. Calm down. I look down and notice the tips of my fingers have begun to disappear, an unfortunate effect of strong emotions. Please no, not here, not now. I ball my hands into fists and turn my attention back to Dr. Beckett.

"You know that I'm qualified for this, Dr. Beckett," I plead. "I've worked to get myself from the bottom to the top. I paid for my time at university myself. I am a hard worker and a quick learner. You told me that you would take a chance on me if I proved myself and-"

"It's not a matter of whether you're qualified because you clearly are… on paper. You graduated from Oxford with a degree in inorganic chemistry, which is unique in and of itself, and your paper on transitional metal compounds is likely to win a Pulitzer. But you have no field experience." I feel my temper beginning to flare again. I want to ask how I am supposed to gain experience if I am never given the chance to try.

"You never mentioned that that would be a problem in any of my other interviews. You all but told me that I had secured the position." He doesn't deem that worthy a response but decides to go one step further in insulting me.

"More than that, Ms. Shaw, you simply aren't very personable." I knew this would be coming. "You keep to yourself, you're quiet. Nothing about you is conducive to a healthy working environment with other scientists. There are many factors that we had to consider before we could offer the job to anyone. Personality is a much bigger deal than you might think."

"I know that I am no one's definition of a team player but many scientists aren't. Besides, this job was meant to be a solitary lab position. That's what was listed in the paper and on the application. It also doesn't change the fact that I am the most qualified to do this."

"I apologize for how unprofessional this has been, Ms. Shaw, but you are not the most qualified. It's nothing personal." Oh, but it is. Now I realize the real reason for my rejection; it's that I'm a woman.

"You know that I am far more capable than any of the other applicants, men or not." My eyes start to threaten tears so I look down at my pale yellow skirt. "I need this job, Dr. Beckett. Something clearly changed your mind about me and I want to know what I can do to put myself back on your radar."

"It's not as simple as just changing my mind. Why don't you have your father call us and give us a recommendation?" I barely have a chance to look down before I see that my entire hand has disappeared. Pleasant thoughts, be calm, breathe in, breathe out. Now I cannot see my shoe. This isn't happening, I think. I am becoming invisible in the middle of Ingold Labs. "It would be a step towards the scientific community taking you more seriously."

"My father and I have been estranged for years and it's been a long time since I needed him to fight my battles for me." Dr. Beckett only looks at me like he's disappointed.

"Then I'm afraid there's nothing more I can do."

I am proud of the fact that I'm able to hold it together long enough to exit Ingold Labs. Once I am outside the doors, I feel tears stain my cheeks. This is it, I think. My scientific career has ended before it began. I've been out of school for years and still, nothing. I know I was foolish to ever think that Beckett had meant a word of what he said. I knew in the first interview that he was only interested in what I looked like. It was why I had decided to dress dowdy in the second interview and today, in the hopes that I would be taken more seriously. The first time, it had seemed like it worked. Dr. Beckett was impressed by my resume and he seemed even more impressed by the fact that I had basically raised myself. He admired that I worked my way through college and he was in awe of my academic achievements. But the sexism of the company had won out. The best job I could have hoped to get from them would have been as a secretary.

What was the point of slaving in chemistry labs and writing 20 page papers if I could never hope to be taken seriously as a scientist?

Irrationally, I wonder if my father has anything to do with it. Ingold is the fourth in a string of chemistry labs that have rejected me and ironically, it's the fourth to offer me a chance if I got my father to call in a recommendation. It is weirdly suspicious that none of the companies at least offered to let me apply for a desk job. But my father is still renowned in the scientific community and who would want a shy girl with a quiet voice answering their phones? I'm sure it's nothing. I haven't been in contact with my father since I ran away from him when I was fifteen. He had never seemed to care much for me anyway so why would he pursue me or try to ruin my life?

Sebastian Shaw is a grown man with much better things to do than sabotaging a long lost daughter.

I wander back to my flat to get dressed for my last shift at the bank. I regret turning in my resignation with them, not only because I will soon have no money but because I actually enjoy working there. I started my freshmen year in college and since then, they've been nothing but kind to me. My boss even encouraged me to try for the position at Ingold. I have a better working relationship with the people there than I will probably ever have anywhere else.

I twist my dark hair into a bun and put on a pretty blue tweed dress that makes me feel like Jackie Kennedy. At least I will look decent for my last day.

As I make my way down to the bank, wobbling on top of my heels, I think to myself that one good thing has happened today; I was able to keep my power in control while under duress. I had been twelve when my power began to manifest for the first time. I had been so careful to keep it from my father but he knew almost immediately. Even if he hadn't, I would have shown what I could do sooner or later. I've never been able to control it. It is linked almost entirely to emotion, particularly embarrassment or fright and if there's one thing I've always been afraid of, it is my father.

You would think invisibility would be useful , especially for somebody like me who doesn't want to be noticed. It might have been, had I ever been told how to do it when I want or how to keep it permanent for any length of time. Mostly, it just comes and goes, even if I don't notice it. That was how my father had seen it one night; the night that distinguished me as more than just a burden on him but a project.

I shudder unconsciously when I think of all the tests he used to run on me. My father has his own power but it is nothing like invisibility and he was convinced that if I tried hard enough, my power would become something more. I had never been convinced of that. My father raved like a madman when he was with me and most of the time, I was in too much pain to actually listen to what he was saying. I'm still not sure what he thought would happen when he ran tests on me or hurt me to see when my ability would show. Maybe he thought I would prove myself to be powerful, like he was. I didn't stick around to find out.

I am glad to lay my eyes on Lloyds Bank in London because it allows me to forget about my father for the time being. I dread letting people know that I didn't get the job at Ingold but they are surprisingly supportive of me. My boss, John, even wants me to reapply for my teller job. I tell him I'll think about it even though it is almost a certainty that I will reapply.

My last shift is entirely uneventful until the last thirty minutes of it. I am collecting my things in the event that I don't reapply when I hear my manager speaking with someone in the lobby. I pay no attention until I hear him call my name.

"Audrey, could you come here, please?" I close the cardboard box holding my few things and come out from behind the wall separating tellers from customers. John is speaking with a tall, dark haired man, who looks irritated. He is handsome in a sort of closed off way.

"Yes?" I say as I reach them. The customer appears to be even more agitated by my presence.

"Mr. Lehnsherr was supposed to have a meeting with Arnold Lutz this afternoon about a deposit but unfortunately, Arnold forgot to inform him that he would be out of town," John says slowly. "I told Mr. Lehnsherr that you were more than qualified to take Arnold's place." I try to hide the shock that is plain on my face. Arnold is a senior banker, with a real office and everything. I am not on his level by any stretch of the imagination… but I pretend that I am.

"Of course," I reply.

"My apologies to you both but I have express business with Mr. Lutz," the man says. I feel something crack inside me when I hear his voice, an odd recognition. He looked familiar a few minutes ago but now I am positive we've met before. Based on his tone, he runs with the crowd of scientists that deem me unworthy to work with them because I'm a woman.

"Mr. Lutz will be out of town for at least two more weeks," John says awkwardly. I can tell he doesn't want to anger Mr. Lehnsherr so I step forward.

"I'm Audrey Shaw and I assure you that I'll meet your every need," I say, extending my hand towards him. Something in his face changes, like I've surprised him, then he takes my hand and smiles.

"I'm sure you will, Ms. Shaw," he replies.

John gives me the keys to Arnold's lavish office and the key to a safety deposit box, in case that was what Mr. Lehnsherr wanted to open. I feel my heart pounding as I lead him down a hallway to the office. I clutch the keys hard to hopefully prevent my ability from manifesting. It doesn't help as I see my fingers beginning to fade and then slowly, my hand, my forearm. Not now. This is a huge responsibility. Not now. After a couple of deep breaths, it dissipates and I open the door to the office and close it behind us.

"Well, Mr. Lehnsherr, how can I help you?" I ask, moving to sit behind Arnold's desk.

"Please call me Erik," he replies, sitting down across from me. He smiles at me slyly and I feel heat rise to my face. Never a good sign. I dig my nails into my skin to distract me.

"Um, alright," I say, trying to make myself relax. It's almost impossible to do. For some reason, I am positive this man knows something that I don't want him to know. Oh no, has he seen me go invisible before? Is he trying to make it happen?

"I'm here to make a deposit, Ms. Shaw," Erik tells me as he reaches into the bag he brought with him. "I was supposed to have this conversation with Mr. Lutz but perhaps, you'll have better advice."

I freeze as he drops a gold bar on the desk in front of me. A swastika is emblazoned on top. I don't even have to look to know that my extremities are disappearing. I make myself take a deep breath before I say, "Having that is illegal, you know. Where'd you get it?" My mind is doing its best to rationalize this. This man may be older than I am but it's only by a few years, at most. He's too young to be a Nazi. Then it hits me.

"Let's not play this game, Ms. Shaw." A hand has covered my mouth as I stare at Erik's forearms, unfortunately covered by a dress shirt and jacket.

"Was Arnold a Nazi?" I ask, quickly hiding my hands under the desk. Of course he was. How was I so blind as to not realize it?

"Don't feign innocence with me," Erik demands.

"I swear to you, I don't know him. I just work with him." This is bad. I've wondered why more Holocaust survivors haven't gone after men they saw in the camps but obviously, the Nazis have adapted to hiding in plain sight. Isn't that what my father does?

Erik stands and acts like he's going to come around the desk after me so I stand too. If ever there was a moment where I desperately wanted my power to work, now would be the time. "Why don't you tell me where your father is, Ms. Schmidt?" Something inside me snaps and I slam my hands down on the desk.

"What did you just call me?" I ask. I suspected he knew something but certainly not this. I've been so careful to completely move away from that name. I have lost every bit of a German accent I ever had. No one could have any idea that Shaw is an alias, unless they knew my father and I years ago. It should be impossible for anybody to know that we changed our names.

I jolt from these thoughts as I see Erik's eyes widen at the sight of my arms (or lack thereof).

"His own daughter has an ability. I guess I should have known that his fascination of the strange had to start somewhere."

"What are you talking about?" My power stalls and I am regrettably fully visible again. Something is telling me that this man is onto something. I am now positive that he is more than one of many angry Holocaust survivors. He's like me. "How do you know who I am? How do you know my father? What did he do to you?"

"I know your father because I have gifts like you," he says. Even though I am almost positive that Erik may kill me, I feel a huge weight lift off my shoulders. I always vaguely knew that my family and I weren't the only ones with special abilities and more than that, I had always suspected that I wasn't the only one with those abilities that my father had experimented on.

"Can you show me?" He gives me an almost imperceptible nod and I see him extend his hand towards the desk. I jump as I notice the drawers open by some invisible force, pulled by their metal handles. Arnold's expensive metallic pens move across the table top to face me as though they are likely to pierce me like bullets. "Metal," I whisper. "You can move metal."

"Yes," Erik says, dropping his hand. The pens fall on the desk and the drawers pull back in. "The rest isn't as important. I just want to know where he is."

"So you can kill him?" I know the answer before he nods. I cannot pretend to know what this man endured at the hands of my father but he doesn't need to tell me it was horrible. "I haven't spoken with him in years but there are a couple of places he may be. They're all in Argentina." I have barely registered the fact that I have just outted my father to a total stranger. For all I know, this is a sick joke being played on me by Sebastian Shaw himself. But there is something about Erik Lehnsherr that makes me believe it's not. This vendetta is real to him and I can tell that talking to me had always been on his agenda.

He reaches around the desk and wraps his fingers around my upper arm. "Good. Then you can take me to them."