A/N: This is my first ever fic in this fandom as well as ship, so I hope you like it. I always found that they had this interesting connection and watching the trailer for First Class, it inspired me. I'm not sure if they have ever been confirmed or denied as a couple, but I would love to see them together in the 60's. This is just an interpretation or how I would like to see the new movie go, so I thought I would get this out before it was released.

Summary: She had only ever met one person who admired her. He never showed it, but it was only when she was with him she was encouraged to truly be herself.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. X-Men belongs to Marvel Comics, Stan Lee, Fox, and all those people who contributed to this wonderfulness. This is in the movie universe, so only X-Men, United, and Last Stand apply. This is for entertainment purposes only. Thanks so much to my beta comewhatmay.x who has limited knowledge in this fandom, but beta-ed for me anyway. Title comes from Nirvana's rare song "Sappy." Look it up. It's great.

She had scars. They encompassed her body, spreading and stabbing her deeply.

But no one would notice. All of them were hidden beneath her pigmented skin, skin that never held wounds for long. She healed quickly and never had to look the same.

She still had scars. They all stemmed from one look.

It was either awe or horror, and it was usually the latter. Her entire life she had been met with fear. Her true face was something to hide. That was the point of being a shapeshifter. She knew there was nothing to be proud of in being a grotesque and deformed monster. She was surprised that someone could look at her true form and feel the opposite of fear.

There was that one moment when, for the first time, she wasn't met with fear at all.

Then her father took a poker to her disgustingly scaled face.

She had learned her lesson.

Never again would she lull herself into a false sense of security. Never again would she show her face to humans and be whatever it was she was supposed to be.

She had only ever met one person who admired her. He never showed it, but it was only when she was with him she was encouraged to truly be herself.

She was only herself when she met Erik Lensherr. And the road to her destiny was paved.


She was so young. But her scales erupted across her body and her eyes questioned him in a way that no other student would even dare.

She was so young.

But when she showed her true face, he forgot all of that.


He had never considered the machinations of romantic entanglements. That was why he was where he was at this point in his life. He had seen what love could do. And he had seen what hate could do. Both paths looked bleak.

Humans disgusted him. Humans had marked him permanently and looking at her, he couldn't help but feel it was just like it was before.

When he was her age.

It made him feel old, but then again, it wasn't his job to feel. It was his job to instruct, to teach them to use their abilities instead of fearing and hating them.

The closest thing he had ever come to true affection was his bond with Charles. But even now, he felt a divide between them. Charles could never understand the hate Erik had inside of him. He could never understand what it was like to have the only family you ever had taken from you. He could never understand the persecution and pain before the word 'mutant' was even realized.

She had scars.

It was the way she never spoke of her family, the way she masked what he knew lay beneath.

And yet, he never meant to get involved. He was there to make a difference. To make mankind see the error of their ways.

He was still getting involved. He was getting involved in the relationship of a seventeen year old and he couldn't understand it.

He couldn't understand the decades that spanned between them and why all of it mattered to him.

The truth was, he could feel it in his bones. She couldn't be influenced by some genius boy with no experience whatsoever. That boy had no right to tell her it was better to be normal.

He didn't know why it mattered to him.

They were connecting. Two teenagers wanted to be normal and not be stared at for who they truly were.

Erik didn't like it. He didn't like how her potential was being squandered on some fool who couldn't see her true face.

Erik didn't know why he was interfering.

"If you're using half your concentration to look normal, then you're only half paying attention to whatever else you're doing. Just pointing out something that could save your life."

Her gold eyes stared at him and he liked it better that way. She had to see her superiority to those savages. She had to see that she was better than those monsters that had destroyed him.

Monsters that had destroyed her.

He didn't know why he was interfering.

"You want society to accept you. But you can't even accept yourself."

The truth was, he knew her. He had been in her position in what seemed so long ago. She was afraid. She was self-loathing. But he could teach her how not to be. He saw it within her. He saw that leader. She didn't deserve to be afraid. She didn't deserve to be weak.

He didn't know why he cared. She was just a soldier.

But the truth was, she was beautiful when she looked upon him with golden eyes.


He could feel everything. The metal in the room. Physics, twisting and turning. She was the one thing he couldn't feel. He couldn't understand this girl, who was from another era and culture entirely.

It was wrong.

"You shouldn't be here."

This girl was from another era and culture. This girl was almost twenty years his junior and she was lying naked in his bed.

It was wrong how much he couldn't find it in himself to make her leave. He knew there was that darker part of him and he knew it was showing.. He knew Charles would look at him with that superior air, and Erik knew that he saw it. He was vengeful and he was angry and he was cruel.

And he couldn't make her leave.


She was so innocent.

She was so young.

She wasn't even a legal adult and she was lying in his bed.

"Because you're a child."

"No," she said contemplatively. "That's not the reason."

He was strong. He was powerful. But he still couldn't make her leave. And somehow, she saw right through him.

"It's because of what I look like."


But before he could even get the words out of his mouth, he saw her change. Color crawled up her arms and what hid beneath the blanket, and eyes that had turned from blue to gold were on him, her naturally red hair no longer its deceptive blonde.

"Is that better?" she breathed. She shifted to a sitting position, still concealing herself from him. "You like that better."

The second part wasn't a question.

She knew.

"You like me better like this."

"Mystique," he said gravely.

He couldn't stop himself from stepping forward.

"I like you when you're not hiding behind that homo sapien facade."

"You like me?"

She was so young and so innocent.

But she personified everything that he believed in.

"You shouldn't be here."

She smirked.

And he knew that from that moment on, she belonged at his side. Never blonde, never pale, her gold eyes always glinting at him, and never afraid of her true face. Never afraid of who she truly was. Like it should be. They should never be afraid, they should never hide. And she was starting to understand that. And he could teach her. She belonged at his side, until he was old and gray.

"You shouldn't be here."

But he was walking forward and he couldn't stop.


"You should be with someone your own age."

It always came down to morals. Charles was his conscience in the back of his mind, even when it was starting to fade away more and more. His rage was becoming more acute, his righteousness more severe.

But he still couldn't do this to her.

He felt her shift, trying to get a better look at him.

"My own age," she finally repeated. He could tell by her voice she was his Mystique and not everyone else's Raven. He finally looked over. Her gold eyes held his and it was unfair. In that body, he couldn't stand a chance against her. She was strong. She was powerful.

She was like him. It was easier to look down upon her. It was easier to view her as a student when her features were reversed. When it was her hair that was gold and her eyes that were blue.

Now she was something else. Now she was a force to be reckoned with.

"Like the doctor," he said.

"Hank?" she asked in disbelief. The word came out in a total mess of confusion. Hank never saw her in this body. He didn't see her like Erik saw her. No one saw her like Erik. No one accepted—or even loved—her.

And she loved him. He was cold and he was dark and she hoped that maybe one day he could love her like she loved him. She knew what he loved was what she represented. But maybe there was that part of him that loved her really. And maybe some day it would be enough.

"I see the way he looks at you."

"He doesn't look at me the way you do. When I look like this."


His voice was hard and he tossed back the covers, turning his back on her.

And he heard it.

He heard the change and when he looked back at her, he knew he was right. Now she was all human and completely ordinary.

She did it because she knew how much it bothered him. Just like how she hated him addressing her by her slave name.

She turned her back on him, fleeing his presence.

He pretended not to see the tears in her eyes.


"They're just kids."

"No. They were kids."

She was a seductress. She was a temptress. She was a beautiful woman. She was a beautiful woman when she was in her own skin, but he couldn't look at her like that.

Shapeshifter was just her formal title. He knew that she was really just deceptive. She was really created to deceive and to take advantage. She truly was Mystique in the purest sense.


She could never decipher him. He was always a question and she knew even his best friend was at a loss.

But he was still him. And when he spoke to her, she would still, and when he looked at her, she would stop.

Hank never affected her that way. Even when his full mutation had developed, it wasn't the same. Hank was Hank.

Erik was a man.

At his mid-thirties, Erik was an adult and he was powerful.

And he demanded her.


"That's not my name anymore," she said sharply at his second command. He looked vaguely surprised and she knew he was pleased.

He always wanted her to believe in who she truly was.

"I know."

She still couldn't help but hate him for it. He couldn't just jerk her around like that. He couldn't do what he pleased with her without any respect for the consequences.

She demanded his respect and to not be treated with the condescension that he showed everyone else.

"Come with me."

It was the first time he had really asked anything of her, instead of her being the one to proposition him. For the first time, he was actually showing her that he wanted her.

"Come with me."


"Are you really going to stay here?" he asked. "With them? All they'll want to do is help humans. They want to help the enemy. The very people who have hurt you."

Her scars had only ever been visible to him.

"Hurt us," he reiterated. "Together, we can change the world."

His hand was outstretched and strong and she knew that he hated her hesitation.


He was the leader. He demanded her. But she knew there was no alternative. She knew where her path led.

With him.

"Mystique," he said softly.

She took his hand, her shimmering fingers lacing with his own.

She was disfigured and monstrous, but he took her hand.

He was the only one who ever did.