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Peter Maximoff ran down the driveway of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, pieces of gravel flying up everywhere he stepped. He skidded to a stop just before the large gate and fumbled around in his pocket for a key. Unlocking the little metal mailbox built into the stone gatepost, Peter scooped up the mail and ran back to the mansion.

He wasted no time in bursting into Professor Xavier’s office where the Professor had been grading papers all afternoon. The door closed too hard behind him and he heard Charles sigh in exasperation.

“Peter, the door—”

Peter didn’t look at him as he flipped through the mail, focused and quick as anything. “You’ve got mail, Prof! Power bill, power bill, power bill, power bill—” He said it like a tongue twister. “More bills! Water bill, water bill — at least I’m not the one taking long showers, you know,” He let out a short laugh and let the bills fall onto the side of Charles’s desk. “Some pamphlet for a cruise in Cuba, you should go Prof, it’d be good for you — Oooo! Very exciting, look at this!” Putting on his fanciest pish-posh accent, Peter read, “‘Fabian Cortez cordially invites Charles Xavier to a gala on Saturday May 12th 1984’. Wow, look at the gold around the edges, real fancy—”

Peter glanced up to display the invitation for Charles only for him to notice another person sitting, legs crossed, across from Charles’s desk. Still holding the invitation towards the Professor, Peter stared at the person and everything froze.

At first he wasn’t sure if he’d accidentally started using his powers or if he was just losing it. It was Erik Lensherr. It was his father.

Erik was looking at him too. Peter’s eyes widened slightly. He dropped the invitation in front of Charles and turned towards the Professor before glancing back to Erik to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. His eyes darted between the two men for a moment of panic.

Peter gave something that he figured looked like a poor attempt at a smile along with a nervous “heh” before rushing out of the office, the door, once again, slamming behind him.

From the office he heard Charles calling, “Peter! The door!”

Peter didn’t answer. He started running again. He took a few hundred laps around the mansion before coming back inside to settle in the common room across the foyer from Charles’s office. It was empty since class was currently in session and he was grateful. He stood at a window and let his forehead rest on the glass.

He brought his hand up to his chest. His heart was racing. It wasn’t from the running. He swore quietly and squeezed his eyes shut.

In a minute he was back up and pacing.

Erik had left. Erik had left. And now he was back. Erik had left and now he was back. He was back. Why was he back? Peter had accepted that he wasn’t coming back. Sure he’d said he would visit, but Peter didn’t believe it. Not for a second. Not with his luck. With his luck, Erik would never come back. And Peter would be fine with that. He had to be fine with that. He’d told himself he was fine with that. He

was

fine with that. He was

not

fine with that.

Peter clenched his jaw and ran his hand through his hair and swore again. He exhaled, his hands folded over his head. He swallowed.

Deep breaths, deep breaths. Slow down, slow down.

Erik probably wouldn’t stay long. It probably wouldn’t matter. It would be a blip on the map. It wouldn’t—what was that?

Peter lurched to the doorway of the common room and leaned against it as if he had been there for hours.
  
Charles felt the door of his office shake as Peter made his hasty exit. Of course, what other way would he exit? Charles blinked and shook his head, while Erik glanced back at the door.

“He’s going to knock the thing off its hinges…” Charles muttered and let out a sigh.

Erik held a slightly amused grin when he looked back at his friend. In annoyance, Charles pretended not to see it and moved on.

“Well, Erik, I must say, I’m glad you’re here. We haven’t been having much luck with tracking down this New Brotherhood. You may prove to be invaluable.”

Erik nodded. “I mean to be.”

“Good.” Charles gathered up the stack of mail that Peter had messily dropped on his desk. He noticed the invitation that Peter had been so interested in and frowned. It was certainly more fancy than the pile of bills he’d received. It was embellished with golden designs that lined the thick cream coloured card. In flowing script it said,

Fabian Cortez cordially invites

Charles Xaiver

to a gala on Saturday May 12th 1984

Please join us for dinner at 6:00 PM at Cortez House

RSVP by May 5th.

“Hm…”

Fabian Cortez

… Charles had never heard the name in his life. Why was he being invited to this man’s house? He tucked the invitation into the side of his wheelchair and wheeled out from behind his desk. He looked to Erik as he passed, “Walk with me?”

Erik rose from his seat in response and held out his hand, using his powers to open the door, which creaked (likely from Peter’s constant slamming).

“Thank you,” Charles said and saw Erik look across the foyer. Charles sensed Peter’s mind almost immediately. It was hard to miss with his thoughts bouncing and pinging around in his mind like a bullet shot in a room with bulletproof walls.

Peter was lurking against the common room doorway. He saw them and bolted. Charles felt Erik’s countenance cloud. Erik focused forward against and pulled a large silver coin out of his jacket pocket, weaving it in between his fingers as a thoughtful twitch.

They approached the elevator that would take them to Hank’s lab in the basement, where Charles knew Hank was currently. Erik pushed the button and said, “Is Peter afraid of me?”

Charles raised his eyebrows.

Erik frowned, “Not that I blame him, but I never did anything to hurt him specifically and it seems odd to me that he seems more afraid of me than the others do.”

“Charles gave a small shrug and rolled into the now open elevator. “Your guess is as good as mine — bottom floor — I can’t read his mind.” The elevator dinged as they passed a floor. Charles clasped his hands in his lap. “He has some issue with you though. I can tell that much just by looking at him. Anyone can.”

“Yes,” Erik’s tone changed to curiosity. “Why can’t you read his mind?”

Charles looked entertained. Peter was endearing to be sure, but he was a complete mystery to Charles, much to Charles’s irritation most days. “He thinks too fast. I can’t catch any of his thoughts fast enough to tell what they are.”

Erik smiled and chuckled. The elevator dinged twice more. “Still…I owe him a debt for breaking me out of the Pentagon. I don’t think I ever thanked him. How old was he then?”

They reached the last floor with a final ping from the elevator and the door opened with a whoosh.

“He was quite young,” Charles mused, starting out into the hallway of white light. “Fifteen? Sixteen maybe?”

They continued down the hall towards Hank’s lab. “It’s funny,” Erik began thoughtfully. “He was not afraid of me then. Not at all.”

Charles nodded his head to Erik, “Naivety?”

The door to Hank’s lab slid open automatically at their approach. Erik smiled. “Maybe.”

Erik followed Charles into the lab. Turning left, he saw Hank in all his blue glory standing beside a microscope and Raven seated across from him on a stool.

“Hello!” Charles greeted them.

Hanked looked up and Raven spun around on her seat. Both held shocked expressions at the sight of Erik. Raven recovered quicker than Hank and smirked.

“Back so soon, Erik? Did you miss us?”

“Not you.”

“Oh, so you missed Hank then.

Hank frowned. “I didn’t miss

you

.”

Erik stared at the blue beast, momentarily regretting that he had not killed him years ago.

Raven shook her head, “Why are you here, Erik?”

“Well, I saw the New Brotherhood of Mutants on TV. They mentioned my name. I suppose I feel slightly responsible for their forming…And I hope to help you find them. And fight them if necessary.”

Raven flicked her eyebrows up, “You reformed now then?” She teased.

“Something like that.” Erik said with equal playfulness.

Charles shook his head, thinking still about the New Brotherhood. It had been two weeks since the New Brotherhood of Mutants had appeared. It was a handful of mutants who, in Magneto’s name, had formed a new brotherhood in his honour and for his cause. The X-Men had had only one encounter with them personally, but the Brotherhood had fled quickly. They preferred to cause their chaos and destruction on the humans and flee before anyone could see them. The X-Men had spent the last weeks cleaning up the wreckage done by the Brotherhood and assuring the humans that they were working on tracking them down. Hank had done some research and found the names of the members, but they proved hard to find.

“Anyways,” Charles said, “The Brotherhood can be discussed further in a moment. Hank, would you be able to look up a name for me?” Charles handed him the invitation from Fabian Cortez.

Hank nodded, “Sure.”

They all migrated to the computers where Hank logged in and typed in Cortez’s name.

While they waited for Hank to find some answers, Raven began making small talk. “So, did you see anyone else since you got here?”

Erik started to say no, but stopped. “Just Peter. Just for a moment.”

“Oh really?”

Something in Raven’s voice make Charles, and certainly Erik, uneasy. Erik turned to her, ready to ask her, only to be brought back to reality by Hank.

“Oh this is interesting…”

“What is it?” Charles asked, rolling forward.

“Fabian Cortez.” Hank brought up a picture of a fair faced young man with long auburn hair tied up in a low bun. He was wearing an expensive suit and overcoat as he walked down the New York street. “He the sole inheritor of his father’s fortune. His father died last year.” Hank looked back at the group. “But get this…” Hank pulled up another photo, this time one of Cortez in more casual clothing, though still very expensive looking, sporting a shirt with the bold caption

MAGNETO WAS RIGHT

. He looked very proud of himself. Hank continued. “He’s been a self-proclaimed Brotherhood of Mutants apologist for years. Along with some arrests for assault that he paid bail for.”

There was silence. Erik looked slightly disgusted.

Raven snorted. “Look what you started Erik.”

“Shut up.”

Hank made a few more clicks. “But there’s more. Cortez was recently outed as a mutant himself.”

Charles raised his eyebrows. “And his powers?”

Hank spun around in his chair, leaving the picture of Cortez up. “Unknown.”

“So…” Raven started. “He’s an entitled, rich brat who thinks he can do whatever he wants without consequences?”

Hank shrugged. “Seems to be.”

“And he’s invited

me

to his house for dinner?” Charles said.

Erik furrowed his brows. “You’re not going to go, are you?”

Charles kept his eyes on the computer screen. "I suppose I

have

to now. He’s clearly invited me for a reason. I’m intrigued.”

Raven snickered and Erik shut his eyes and sighed.

Hank turned back to the computer and began searching again as Charles spoke again, “But no matter. We don’t need to discuss this now. Hank, while we are here, would you pull up the information you have on the New Brotherhood members?”
  
Hank opened a file on his desktop and spread the pages that came up across the three computer screens at his desk.

“First up we have St. John Alleryce.” Hank focused on a picture of a blonde kid in an orange leather jacket who couldn’t have been over eighteen. “The kids call him Pyro. It’s less of a mouthful. He’s pyrokinetic. Carries handheld flamethrowers with him. Can send fire at least 50 feet.”

Erik felt a lurch in his chest. This was just a young kid. How had he gotten roped into this?

“He’s Australian too.” Raven noted.

Next, Hank revealed an image of a thickly built man, covered in what looked to be long golden fur, covering him like a lion’s mane. He was baring his teeth, showing sharp fangs and at the tips of his fingers grew long animal-like claws. “Victor Creed. Canadian. Has a healing factor and, well…” Hank gestured to the picture, “That. He pretty strong, even for me. Apparently he goes by Sabretooth.”

They moved onto the next member. And if Erik had thought that Sabretooth was a large man, he had been mistaken. Before him he saw a picture of the fattest man he had ever laid eyes upon in his life.

“He’s called the Blob. His real name is Frederick Dukes. He worked mainly as a cage fighter before being seen with the Brotherhood. His extra fat give him superhuman strength, durability, and pain immunity.” Hank glanced back at Erik, “He’s, uh, really hard to knock down.”

“I can imagine.”

Hank spun back around and went to the next picture. This was a photo of a thin man, younger than the others, but older than the Pyro kid. His skin had a rough texture and a sickly greenish tinge. From his mouth came a long, frog-like tongue. Beside Erik, Raven gaged.

“This,” Hank continued, “Is Mortimer Toynbee, otherwise known as Toad.”

“He’s disgusting,” Raven said. “He smells.”

“It’s because he spits acid.”

“Ah,” Erik said.

“And he also has, let’s see, superhuman strength, flexibility and leaping. He’s basically a toad.”

Raven glared at the picture. “A disgusting one.”

Hank looked amused and got rid of the picture of Toad. “Alright, last one. Regan Wyngarde.” This picture was a young woman with blonde hair and blue eyes. She was wearing an elegant, black dress and appeared to be at some kind of public function, possibly a movie premiere of Regan’s.

“She’s probably the most dangerous too.” Charles commented. “She can create telepathic illusions along with being a skilled fighter.”

“Illusions?” Erik asked.

“Hm, show you your greatest desire or worst memory. Makes you believe it’s really happening.”

“She’s called Lady Mastermind.” Hank said. “Also she’s part of the American upper class…” Hank trailed off. “Wait a second…” Hank squinted for a moment and pulled up a new tab and began searching again.

Finally, he clicked on a picture and looking triumphant said, “I knew I’d heard the name before!” The picture on the screen before them showed Ms. Wyngarde beside the man of the hour, Fabian Cortez. They were both dressed up with Fabian’s hand on her waist as they posed. “Regan Wyngarde and Fabian Cortez have been dating for the last year. They must run in similar circles.”

Raven leaned in, “Oh that’s interesting.”

Charles repeated the sentiment, “Very interesting. I think I’m going to send in my RSVP now.”
  
Peter took to running laps again after Erik looked over to him in the foyer. He really needed to pull himself together.

He wanted to call his Aunt Marya. He wanted to run back home to her. But he couldn’t do that, for multiple reasons. For one, Aunt Marya hated talking about Erik, and just hated Erik in general. For another, he needed to be at the mansion in case the New Brotherhood decided to pull something.

He wanted to pretend that nothing mattered to him. Aunt Marya would tell him to forget about Erik. But he couldn’t do that. He wasn’t that good at lying to himself.

Peter wanted to talk to someone. He needed to talk to someone. So, instead of Aunt Marya, he settled for Ororo.

He found Ororo up on a section of the mansion’s roof that Charles had allowed her to clear to make a small garden. The flowers flourished under her care, and Peter and Ororo often spent peaceful hours there on sunny afternoons.

Peter flopped himself down onto one of the deck chairs the kept up there and moped. He threw his forearm over his eyes to block out the sun. Ororo saw him and ignored him. Peter tried to disappear into the chair.

Ororo continued to hold her arms out, as she created individual rain clouds for each of her plants to water them. “Hello, Peter.”

“Hi,” He grumbled.

The sound of soft rain filled his ear until Ororo was finished. She dissipated her rain clouds and turned around. She gave him a smile, “So what are you sulking about today?”

“Guess who’s here,” Peter said glaring at her grin.

“Who?”

“My dad.”

Ororo frowned, “Magneto?”

Peter nodded, avoiding her eyes. “Yup.”

Ororo’s face softened. “Did you talk to him?”

“Kind of. I saw him. He saw me.”

They saw in silence for a moment, Ororo looking down at him, Peter looking nowhere in particular.

“So what do I do?” Peter asked when he could no longer take the quiet.

Ororo’s head tilted, “What do you want me to tell you, Peter?” Peter opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Ororo continued. “Do you want me to tell you to avoid him? Pretend he’s not here?” Peter looked away. She kept going. “Do you want me to tell you to talk to him? Clear the air between you? Because I know you are only going to do what you want to, no matter what I say about it.”

“Well I don’t know what I wanna do.” Peter snapped back.

“Well there you go. Figure that out and then we’ll talk. And until then, don’t sulk about it. It won’t help anything.”

Peter glared up at her. She glared down at him.

Peter huffed and stood up. “Fine.”

Ororo nodded. “Good. Now come. Let’s go help get dinner ready. It will help you take your mind off things.”

She patted his back as they walked to the roof door and the reassuring touch pulled some of the tension out of him. But he froze up again. “Oh no, Erik will be at dinner.”

“Oh shut up. We don’t even know that.”
  
Erik was at dinner.

Peter had calmed down like Ororo had hoped and he was now thankful that she knew how to pull him out of his own head. They had spent the last hours preparing supper for both the kids and teachers. It was Tuesday, which meant French fries and hamburgers for the kids. There were leftovers from the previous week’s meals that Peter and Ororo had warmed up and would likely get eaten by the teachers who preferred not to eat the greasiest food imaginable.

Peter and Ororo were in the serving line up together, Peter serving fries, and Ororo on ketchup duty. The hall that Charles had converted into a large cafeteria was now filling up with mutant children of all ages. Peter was piling some fries onto the plate of a young girl with deer-like antlers growing out of her black hair when he spotted Raven, Hank, and Erik entering the hall.

They joined the now shortening line of children and took their trays. Peter felt his heartbeat begin to race, but took a deep breath and focused on serving fries to the next kid. It would be fine. He could serve his dad fries. He’d be fine. There was nothing weird about serving fries to your dad-who-doesn’t-know-he’s-your-dad….right? He could do it. He was fine.

And he

was

fine. And then Erik was seven people away from him.

Peter threw fries onto a girl’s plate, one of them flying up at her face from the force. The fries went right through her face.

Oh, it’s the intangible girl. Okay, Peter, focus on that.

The girl gave him a weird look and moved on.

Erik was five people away. Peter could do it.

“Nope, nope—” Peter turned, tapping Ororo on the shoulder, “‘Ro, I can’t do it. C’mere!”

Ororo frowned, “What?”

“I can’t talk to him,” Peter hissed at Ororo, while giving another kid some fries.

Erik was four people away. Ororo squirted some ketchup on the kid’s place. She looked back to Peter. “Yes you can.”

“No, I can’t! ‘Ro, please, he’s getting closer!” Erik was two away now.

Ororo shook her head. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Erik was coming up now.

Peter bit back the urge to swear in front of all the children. He turned back to Ororo, thrust the French fry tongs at her and whispered “

I can’t

—”

Ororo pushed them back at him, “No! Peter, it’s just fries, calm down.”

"Ororo.

Please, I—”

Peter turned to where Erik was now standing in front of him. In the most cheery and calm voice he could muster, he said, “Hi! Fries?”

Erik looked down at the greasy pan of potato sticks, “No, thank you, I’m alright.” He nodded to Peter and Ororo and headed to sit down.

Peter tried to smile and gave Erik finger guns. Then he dropped his face into his hands.

Ororo patted him on the back. She handed him back the tongs. “It’s okay. Here.”

“Thanks.” Peter grumbled and turned back to the line only to find Raven standing in front of him with a smirk across her face.

“Hi, Peter.”

Peter glared. “Have some fries, Raven?”

“Sure.”

They looked at each other with fake sweetness while Hank stood by, disturbed and confused, and then Raven departed to leave Peter to his embarrassment.

Peter, despite Ororo’s protests, decided to retreat into his room for the rest of the night. Raven had a devious gleam in her eye and he did not want to find out what she would do if put in the same vicinity as both Erik and Peter.

So, he spent the evening, going from fixating on his problems with Erik to ignoring them completely. When things got too overwhelming, he would take a few hundred laps around the school and then zone out for the next forty minutes and then the cycle would begin again. Around 10:00, Scott came into the room they shared and Peter listened to him gush about Jean until Scott got too tired and went to sleep.

He spent the night the same as the evening, though instead of zoning out, he took quick naps. He never slept long anyways and mostly lived on power naps, but he felt much more tired than usual. It was near dawn when Peter finally felt himself coming down from the panic that had been squeezing his heart since Erik had shown up.

He would be fine. Scott had told him that Erik was only here to help with the Brotherhood. Likely he would be gone within the month. It would be fine. In the meantime, all he had to do was figure out how to act casual around the man. That was a feat easier said than done, but it could be done, so he would do it.

He stared out his window across the new May grass lit by only the stars. It reminded him of where he grew up. He inhaled deeply. It would be fine. 
  
Fabian Cortez laid in bed looking up at the stars through his skylight, a champagne in his hand and a woman under his arm. He smiled to himself. He truly was living the life. Good thing his father had died before cutting him off from his inheritance. That just wouldn’t have worked out.

And his plan was truly genius. He glanced at the blonde sleeping beside him. Regan had helped some. But he had really done most of the work on it.

He took a sip of champagne. Charles Xavier had RSVP’d to his dinner party invitation that night. All was going according to plan.

But of course it was. It was

his

plan after all.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The next week was probably the worst of Peter’s life (which was definitely an exaggeration because he had a dead mom, but he was dramatic, so yes it was the worst week of his life). It took him literally the whole day to stop himself from running from the room every time he came across Erik.

But finally, he managed just to make due with bouncing his leg up and down while watching Charles and Erik play chess in the common room instead of bolting out of there. Also, part of the reason he didn’t want to leave was because the Muppets was on and he wasn’t going to miss Miss Piggy’s solo for his dad. Erik didn’t deserve to have that effect on him. They hadn’t even had a proper conversation since he was sixteen. Miss Piggy was the priority here.

The day after that, Peter was able to look Erik in the eye without flinching too much. The whole thing had become quite casual really.

Peter had just returned from a grocery run for Charles and had put everything away before getting distracted by a turtle that he had seen on his way in. He was watching it with great interest, wondering how it could handle being so slow all the time, when he heard a scream.

Using his speed, he jumped up. Looking around the yard, he identified the voice coming from a young girl who had been climbing one of the huge oak tries. It looked like she had slipped and was now falling to the ground.

He sped forward and caught her neatly in his arms. “Whoa!” He said, “You alright?” The girl, who had only just realized she wasn’t still falling and was, in fact, safe, nodded in shock.

Peter placed her down on the ground, still holding her shoulder for a moment to steady her. “Okay…don’t climb so high next time, okay?”

The girl nodded again, her face now read. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Peter smiled and cocked his head. “But be careful, I won’t always be there to catch you.”

She smiled a gap tooth grin back at him and he sent her back to her friends laughing. He watched them run off, carefree, and was about to head back to his new turtle friend when he heard someone calling his name.

“Peter!”

He turned around.

Who was…oh no.

Peter felt himself go completely still, which was rare for him. On the stone pathway around the mansion, was Charles and Erik, both looking at him.

Charles gestured for him to come over to them. Peter stood still. He had no good excuse not to go. If he left now it would look worse than it probably already did. He squared his soldiers and ran over (as slowly as he could without it looking suspicious).

He stopped a few feet away from them, held up a hand in what he hoped was a normal greeting, and warily said, “Hello…?”

His eyes darted to Erik. Erik was looking at him. Peter wanted to squirm, but instead started sweating. He prayed that Erik didn’t notice.

Charles clearly didn’t notice anything and Peter was thankful once again that Charles couldn’t read his mind. Charles looked at him warmly, “Hello, Peter.” He glanced at the girl Peter had just saved. “Good timing, as always.”

Peter felt his ears turn red and that feeling that happened whenever someone who he looked up to complimented him reared its head. “Heh, almost always.” He took a breath and tried to cover up the fact that he appreciated the words very much, “What’s up?”

Charles shook his head. “Oh, just saying thank you.”

Peter’s grin glimmered across his face for a split second, “Oh, well, I don’t like broken legs. Figured she wouldn’t either.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw his father’s mouth tilt upwards at his comment. Charles laughed, “Yes, yes, of course.”

Peter nodded a few times, “Yup, anyways…I’ll, uh, see you guys around.” He gathered up his courage and gave a parting nod to both Charles and Erik and sped off.

He landed around the corner of the mansion, which wasn’t far, but out of their eyesight. He needed to get control of his heartbeat again. He took some deep breaths and he could just hear the tail end of Charles and Erik’s conversation as they walked off.

“What was that for?”

“What?”

“Why did you call him over?” Erik asked.

Peter could practically hear Charles smile. “He likes affirmation. I don’t need to read his mind to know that. Particularly from me. You saw his face. Has something to do with him growing up without a father, I think.”

“Ah.”

Peter wanted to scream.

He put his head in his hands. His face was still hot and his sweaty hands didn’t help anything. Was he really that obvious? He needed to pull himself together. But he was doing better, he told himself. He’d had a whole conversation in Erik’s presence without melting into a pile of embarrassment and anxiety. That was good in his books considering that their last conversation was what Peter considered to be his greatest failure.

Peter closed his eye, still leaning against the wall.

And you?

I’m your…I’m here for my family too.

Peter snapped his eyes open, not wanting to relive the memory any longer. He went back to watching his little turtle and pretending all was right in the world. There was a point where he heard some cracking in the bushes nearby, and for a moment felt as though someone was watching him, but it disappeared and he shrugged it off as paranoia.

He didn’t see Erik again that day and he was fine with that. No sense getting attached when he would leave again soon anyway.
  
Fabian Cortez sighed at the sound of footsteps coming toward him. They really couldn’t leave him alone for ten minutes honestly. All he wanted to do was sit in peace by his private pool. Was that so much to ask? Yes, he was head of this operation, but who else would be? Couldn’t they just let him be?

He lowered his sunglasses. Oh. It was Regan. Well that was better than anyone else. But why wasn’t she dressed for the pool? Oh no. She wasn’t smiling. She looked much better with a smile.

“Darling!” He said, in an attempt to lighten up her face.

She glared. “Creed and the Toad just came back. They have news.”

Fabian pouted. “Is it pressing news?”

“Yes, it’s pressing news. They were at Xavier’s School, of course it’s pressing.”

Fabian groaned, and looked up hopefully at Regan. “One kiss before we go?”

Regan stared down at him, blonde strands of hair framing her face, her hands on her hips. She rolled her eyes. “You are so lucky you’re rich.”

“I know.” Fabian smiled as she gave him a kiss much less passionate than he would have liked.

Regan grabbed his hand and pulled him into the house. They entered one of the many sitting rooms where Creed and the Toad had made themselves comfortable on the couches. Fabian showed his disdain openly. Now there would be fur and slime all over the furniture. At least Frederick Dukes had learned his lesson after breaking an expensive couch with his incredible weight and was now standing at the side of the room. The kid, Johnny, was playing with a lighter, leaning on a table beside Dukes. At least he was clean.

“Alright,” Regan waved her hand in a dismissive manner, “give Fabian your report,

Toad

.”

“My name is Mortimer.” The Toad glared at Regan.

Fabian interjected. “I don’t care what your name is. What is this

important news

?”

The Toad cleared his throat, a sickly, slimy sound, and perched on the edge of the couch, much like a frog, and began his story. “Well, Creed and I were doing recon at Xavier’s house like you asked, right? To make sure they weren’t making plans to go after you. Though I don’t know how we were supposed to find out anything from just looking in windows, but whatever…” Fabian rolled his eyes. He had sent them on “recon” as a way to get them out of the house, not because he really thought they would learn anything. “Anyways,” Toad continued, “It was pretty boring at first. We saw some kids playing outside. And that fast guy with the silver hair was watching a turtle walk around pretty intently. It was weird. I think he was having a mental breakdown. Kept talking to himself. Anyway—so we had to wait a long while for Xavier to come out. He was talkin’ about coming to your fancy party, which we already knew, I guess, but he had a real interesting friend with him.” The Toad grinned. “Magneto.”

Fabian’s eyes widened. “...Magneto?” He rushed forward, grabbing Toad by the shoulders, “Are you sure, Toad? Are you certain?”

Toad brushed him off. “It’s Mortimer, and yes, I’m sure. Ask Creed, he smelled him.”

Fabian let go of Toad, practically ecstatic. “Creed!”

The large man smiled, his fangs poking out. “It was him.”

Fabian felt like he was feeling joy for the first time. He beamed, spinning around to face Regan, who was raising her eyebrows. “Regan! This is wonderful news!”

Regan gave him a look, “Is it? You look like you might pass out.”

“Yes! Of course it is! Lord Magneto is here!”

Beside Dukes, Johnny flicked his lighter, “Pfft—

Lord Magneto

?”

Fabian shot him a dirty look and began to pace, a hand on his chin as if in deep thought. “This changes things.”

Fabian’s initial plan had been to find out Magneto’s whereabouts from Xavier when he was over for dinner. That way they could find him and convince Magneto to lead them (because there was only one man Fabian would defer his power to, and that was Magneto obviously).

But now things were different. Now, they knew where Magneto was. Which meant that they would be able to get Magneto

and

crush the X-Men all at once.

Fabian looked to Regan, “I think it’s time to adjust our plan. Here’s what I propose. With Charles Xaiver here, the X-Men are weak. I will keep him here while you will attack the X-Men and bring Magneto back here so I can convince him to lead us — that is, assuming he doesn’t join you immediately —”

“And what if Magneto doesn’t want to join us at all?” Regan crossed her arms.

“Well you can deal with him, can you not? There must be some memory of his that can incapacitate him. That will give him time to come to his senses.”

“...I suppose so…But what about the X-Men’s speedster?”

Fabian smirked. “I have just the person for the job.” 
  
It was Monday afternoon. The weekend had turned out to be alright. Peter had had only one encounter with Erik that had made him think. Erik had left the mansion Saturday morning to go God knew where and Peter had been fine with that. He soon found himself heading out as well. It was Shabbat, the Jewish Sabbath, and though Peter didn’t often go to these services, he was feeling confused enough with his situation to start seeking God.

Peter had never gone to a synagogue growing up. His mother’s family hadn’t even been Jewish, they were Romani. From what Peter knew, his mother had taken on Jewish traditions after marrying his father and raised their first daughter Anya under that tradition. For the first six years of his life Peter’s mother had tried to raise him in the same tradition. He had vague memories of private candle-lit and smiling Shabbats with him and his mother. He knew even then that they did this because of his father. Looking back, Peter always thought his mother still had love, or at least respect, for Erik, even after everything. Unfortunately, after his mother’s death, Peter’s Aunt Marya and Uncle Django didn’t continue those Jewish traditions.

They moved to the US from Transia when Peter was seven. For a while they kept up some of their own Romani traditions, but after Uncle Django’s death in a car crash, Marya had just given up. Instead Aunt Marya opted to assimilate into American culture as opposed to holding onto their Romani heritage, something Peter sometimes missed. Traditions, be it Jewish or Romani made Peter feel belonging in a way he didn’t often feel.

Peter arrived at the synagogue and rushed in, hoping not to be noticed. Peter knew and had spoken with the rabbi at this synagogue, and he wasn’t really in the mood to talk this morning. Using his powers to go in had been the right call because as he ran into the sanctuary, he looked to his right and saw, to his great surprise, his father. Erik was sitting near the middle of the sanctuary. He was bent over, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. Peter went to the farthest corner away from him. Thankfully, Erik didn’t notice him.

As the service began with the traditional “Shabbat Shalom” greeting and the Jewish hymns began, Peter watched Erik. To Peter it seemed that Erik was at the synagogue for the same reason he was. Just for a little peace. Though Peter imagined that Erik’s relationship with God was complicated, he knew that coming here could still bring a specific feeling that calmed you. It’s what Peter himself experienced.

Peter spent the rest of the service trying to not focus on Erik. And it kind of worked. Being in the synagogue, Peter was able to concentrate on the music and the words, and try to drown out his own feelings.

Peter’s relationship with God was complicated: he felt anger, annoyance, but there was a yearning he couldn’t ignore that kept him coming back. There was a part of him that hoped God was real, if only because it meant someone was looking out for Peter. Sometimes it felt like no one was looking out for him. Peter looked out for everyone else, but he never really let anyone look out for him. So he liked the idea that there was someone who was. And sometimes, Peter would pray. For Erik mostly. For his Aunt Marya and his cousin Rebekah. Sometimes for his friends. Never for himself. It comforted him to give his worries to someone else.

But God wasn’t the only reason Peter came to the synagogue. Going there helped him feel connected to his past. Peter had been separated from this part of his life at such a young age, he hardly remembered it. But he wanted to. He had no family members (aside from Erik maybe) who would want to talk about it with him. He wanted to hear stories of his family that had died with his mother and that Aunt Marya had conveniently forgotten. But it had been helpful to talk with the rabbi at this synagogue. He had welcomed Peter happily, which rarely ever happened anywhere.

As the Shabbat service ended, Peter sprinted out the door. He stood to the side and watched as Erik exited the building and crossed the road to a parked car. Raven was inside. Erik got in, and they drove off.

It took a moment for Peter to make himself move after they left. It had been so strange to see Erik in such a calm setting. Peter usually associated him with the opposite of calm. He wondered what it would be like to attend a Shabbat service together. That thought shook Peter out of his daze. That would never happen. Because Peter would never get around to telling Erik.

Raven and Erik returned late that night. Scott had said that they were investigating something about the New Brotherhood.

It was harder for Peter to avoid him on Sunday, but that was okay. Peter had spent most of Saturday convincing himself that he was going to talk to Erik like a normal person next time they saw each other. Of course it didn’t work and he avoided him as much as possible anyways, but he did serve him dinner without losing his mind and that was a win on all accounts.

Things were pretty quiet around the mansion. The air was fresh and the birds were singing after a warm rain. The X-Men hadn’t had any calls to fight anyone. There had been silence from the New Brotherhood also. They had training every other day, but that was normal.

Peter was going about his day as usual. Charles had just called him into his English classroom and asked him to look in the library for a copy of

To Kill A Mockingbird

. So he ran out of the room and up to the floor of the library. It was quiet as he ruffled through the book shelves trying to find the book while also being careful not to knock the shelves over like dominos with the force of his speed.

He turned around the corner at the end of one of the dusty shelves and gave a small little scream that he was able to cut off quickly.

There goes his heart racing again

. He was now staring at Erik who was sitting beside the window. He was seated on one of two chairs, in between them, a table with a chessboard. Peter had interrupted him from a game of chess with himself and Erik was now staring at him.

Oh. He’d just said hello, hadn’t he?

Peter was frozen for a second. Maybe he could run…no. Erik already knew he was here, it would be worse to leave now. Peter blinked. He needed to say something.

“Uh. Sorry, hi.”

Erik shook his head, “That’s alright.” He started to turn back to his chess.

“Yeah, okay, sorry. I just, I’m getting a book for Charles. I didn’t know you were in here, if I knew I wouldn’t have- I mean, I’ll be quiet, I’ve just gotta get the book.” Peter hurried back to his task and he could have sworn he heard Erik chuckle quietly behind him.

Peter found his book a moment later. It was right at the edge of the shelf. Erik could still see him. “I got it.” Peter declared and mentally slapped himself in the face because why would he be telling Erik this at all.

Erik looked up and nodded. Peter avoided his eyes and glanced down at the chessboard. Quick as lightning, he analyzed the game. “You’re going to lose.” Peter’s eyes widened as he realized he’d said it out loud.
 His gaze shot back up to Erik’s. Erik had an eyebrow raised and looked as though he was going to say something back. Peter panicked. He blinked. “Bye.”

And Peter fled the room, leaving Erik to study his game in confusion.
  
Dinner was the next time Peter saw Erik. He had managed to push off his over-analyzation of his conversation with Erik in the library and was enjoying himself with his friends. Thank God he had friends. He’d be a nervous wreck without them.

Peter was in the middle of stuffing his face with spaghetti when he heard Erik say his name. He had been too focused on his food to notice him approaching the table where Peter and his friends sat. Now, Peter looked up desperately hoping he didn’t have sauce smeared on his face.

“Hmm?”

It felt like an eternity for Erik to reply. Peter felt the quick flutter of panic in his chest and gripped his fork tighter.

Erik glanced around, as if he didn't exactly know what he was doing there. He set his eyes back on Peter and with a light expression said, “You were right. I did lose.”

Peter stared at him. The was silence at the table. Peter swallowed his food.

He lost? He lost what?

“The chess game.” Erik stated when he saw Peter’s confusion. "The white side lost." That was the side Erik had been sitting on.

Peter smiled, his cheeks turning red. “Ha. Well you kinda set yourself up, not gonna lie.” He gestured to Erik nervously.

To Peter’s secret delight, Erik smiled and nodded before turning to leave. But Erik didn’t get a chance to leave. Raven approached with Hank and grabbed Erik’s arm, telling him to sit down across from Peter, while she and Hank squeezed in beside Peter.

“I didn’t know you played chess, Peter.” Raven said with the fakest smile he’d ever seen.

Peter formed his mouth into a line, while looking at her. She smiled. He stomped on her foot under the table. Raven didn’t even twitch.

Peter rolled his eyes, sighing. “Yeah. Well I used to.”

Scott snorted across the table. “Were you any good?”

Peter straightened in his chair, his previous anxiety about Erik being there dissipating. “Actually yes. I played speed chess when I was a kid. I could beat every guy in Central Park. I was going to get into competing, but I got disqualified because of my powers.”

“Really.” Erik’s impressed voice interrupted Peter’s bragging. “We should play some time.”

Peter felt his face grow hot. He tried his best to make eye contact with Erik. “Uh, well I haven’t played in a long time…”

“Well you clearly are still skilled. You analyzed that board in seconds.”

Peter shook his head, spinning the spaghetti on his plate. “No, no, I’m just good at thinking ahead.”

Erik looked as though he might try to convince Peter to play with him — which Peter really didn’t want to do because he could hardly handle how slow speed chess was, but if he had to sit through a regular three hour game

with his father

, he was pretty sure it would kill him — but thankfully Erik was stopped when Charles rolled up to the end of the table with a tray of food. “I didn’t know you played chess, Peter.”

Peter shoved some spaghetti into his face. Through his food he said, “That’s what Raven said.”

Charles folded a large white napkin over his lap as he always did as he said, “When did you stop playing?”

Internally, Peter groaned. He wasn’t getting out of his conversation as easily as he’d hoped. He just wanted to go back to talking with his friends. And, you know, pretending his father wasn’t sitting across from him at the table.

“Um…let’s see. It was just a few years before I got caught up in this whole mess.” He waved his hand around the table, stopping at Erik. “I think I was fourteen? Fifteen?”

Charles nodded and Raven leaned back in her chair, eyebrows furrowed. “Wait…what? How old were you when you met Charles then?” She said, crossing her arms.

Erik grinned, “Did Charles not tell you he recruited a child to help him break me out of the Pentagon?”

Two seats away, Scott choked, “You did

what

?”

“Okay, I wasn’t that young. I was sixteen by then.” Peter protested, before taking another bite of his dinner.

Peter wasn’t sure whether to panic or not. He wouldn’t normally mind the attention being on him. But right now when the conversation had moved to the Pentagon breakout, he was wary. The Pentagon breakout had been the one time that Peter had said something incriminating involving him and Erik’s relationship. His stupid comment about his mother knowing someone who could control metal. Peter knew Erik was smart. With the right trigger, all the pieces would fall into place. Peter prayed that Erik didn’t remember that conversation. Thankfully he did have the fact that Erik had been punched in the face directly after Peter’s comment going for him.

Peter was brought out of his thoughts by Raven’s indignation, “Seriously, Charles?”

Peter shook his head, “It’s okay, Raven. I don’t blame Charles. He was probably high and didn’t know what was going on then anyway.”

Charles turned red from his ears to the top of his shiny head, “Peter!”

Peter, feeling particularly bold, peered down the end of the table, where everyone was staring now, “Are you telling me you

weren’t

high?”

Kurt and Jubilee at the other end of the table struggled to contain their laughter and Peter grinned. “Like can someone get a picture of him, because he was definitely on something.” The previously contained laughter emerged from most of his friends, even Jean, who was doing her best to be respectful.

Charles, embarrassment clear on his face, retorted firmly, “I was

not

.”

Beside Charles, Hank finally spoke up, “Well-”

Charles glared at him, “HANK!”

The table exploded into laughter, Erik and Raven included. Charles aggressively stabbed one of the meatballs on his plate, grumbling, “I’m going to wipe all your minds.”

Over the table, Erik shook his head. Then he looked back up at Peter, pointing at him with his fork, “Did you even know what you were doing?”

Peter, who was mid glass of water, chugged it down before deciding that it would be best just to answer Erik instead of running away like his bouncing leg was telling him he should. “Uh, well if you mean, did I know I was breaking a terrorist out of jail, no I did not. They just told me I was breaking someone out. I just liked the idea. Seemed cool. I was

sixteen

, okay.” He looked down the end of the table at Kurt and Jubilee, “Don’t break people out of jail, okay kids?”

Beside Peter, Raven rubbed her temple and muttered, “Really, Charles?”

Erik chuckled. “Well thank you for that.”

“Huh?” Peter said, puzzled.

“For breaking me out.”

“Oh! Right. Yes. You’re welcome.” Peter found he could look Erik in the eyes now.

Erik had thanked him. Peter didn’t know what it was exactly, but he felt as if someone had cut some of the tension between him and his father after that dinner. He knew that the tension was probably only felt by him, but it felt good.

It wasn’t perfect. Peter still felt awkward and didn’t always know what to say, but Peter no longer felt the panic that usually rose up in his chest when Erik entered the room or when he heard him talking somewhere nearby.

When Peter went to bed that night, he listened to the frogs peeping by the ponds and thought of where he grew up. He wondered if Erik had ever been to the town in Transia where he’d been born. Maybe if he ever told him, he’d ask. And he drifted off to sleep.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Fabian Cortez and Regan Wyngarde walked through abandoned tunnels below Manhattan. Surrounding them at all sides were various mutants. Unlike Regan and himself, these mutants were deformed and unable to pass as normal in a human world. There was a black mass behind him that looked something like a living shadow. There was a man with purple tinged skin whose eyes flashed red. In front of them was a large man that one of them had called Mole.

Regan grumbled beside Fabian. “What did you say they were called again? Warlocks?”

“No, Morlocks. We just need their leader. She can help.”

As far as Fabian knew, the Morlocks were a group of Underground mutants who couldn’t live in the human world because they were discriminated against. Together they had created a community in the tunnels. Fabian didn’t care about them honestly. If they couldn’t live in the human world, they were probably terrible people anyways. But he could benefit from them now. So associating with them would have to happen even if he didn’t enjoy it.

They reached a dead end in the tunnels and Mole put a hairy hand on the brick. Underneath his hand, the wall eroded, creating an entrance to what looked like a small room within the tunnels.

Regan and Fabian were ushered through the hole in the wall, which Mole resealed once everyone was through. They were now in a small, grimy room with three solid walls. Where the wall to their right should have been was a railing that looked over a large open area. Fabian knew that the Morlocks lived in an abandoned Cold War nuclear bunker. He supposed that must be it. He could hear the echoing voices of the community coming from that direction.

But that was not where Fabian was focused. He was focused on the small room where a few more of the Morlocks were waiting for them. Including Callisto.

The Morlocks’ mutant leader was sitting on a ledge coming from the wall. She didn’t move when they entered. She studied them as they approached her. She wore dark clothes with a black leather vest buckled up to her neck. Her hair was a short afro with tight, dark curls. Her eye that was not covered by a black patch was a piercing brown. Her brown skin was covered in multiple scars. Fabian eyed the two knives sheathed where her tattoo-covered hands rested at her side.

Callisto tilted her head to the side in silence. Her Morlocks waited for her verdict. Fabian was getting impatient. Did she have to wait so long to talk? He was here for business. Regan glanced at the walls uneasily. There was no way out of the room except for jumping over the railing. No exit that was not made by the man they called Mole. And all sides of the room were lined with more Morlocks.

Callisto finally rose from her ledge. “Fabian Cortez.” She took a few steps forward. “What do you want?”

Fabian, though slightly frightened and attracted to Callisto at the same time, opened his mouth to state his case when Regan leaned over to him, panic lacing her voice, “My powers, they’re gone!”

Fabian clenched his jaw and glared at Callisto who blinked her good eye in return. “What have you done to her powers?” It took him one more moment to realize that he couldn’t feel the presence of his own powers either. His eyes flashed dark, “What have you done to

mine

!?”

Callisto just quirked the side of her mouth up and chuckled. She walked to her left. Fabian wondered why she wasn’t using her super speed. It was her speed that Fabian needed. She was now beside a small mutant with green scaly skin and almost lidless yellow eyes. Fabian realized with a shock that it was a child, whatever it was.

Placing a hand on the child’s shoulders, Callisto said. “This is Leech. His mutation is to drain the powers of anyone in a certain proximity to him.” Leech did his best smile and waved. Callisto continued. “He’ll be with us the whole time. We are all powerless now. No one is at an advantage.”

“Well she has knives.” Regan grumbled.

Callisto ignored Regan and smiled at Leech. “Thank you, Leech.” Leech grinned back and began to swing his legs over the ledge he sat on while Callisto walked back to Fabian. She frowned. “Now what do you want?”

Fabian straightened his designer jacket. “I want you to help me take down the X-Men.”

Callisto laughed in his face and snickers spread around the room like a catching flame. “And how would I help you with that?”

“I have my team, but even together we cannot hope to beat the X-Men’s speedster.

You

could.”

Callisto raised an eyebrow, as though laughing at his stupidity. “I have seen their speedster. He is faster than me. I can’t help you.” She turned to walk away.

“But I can change that.” Fabian said quickly. “My mutation allows me to temporarily boost the powers of another mutant. I will do that with you so you will be fast enough to catch Quicksilver.”

Callisto stopped and turned, her head tilted and her eye narrowed. “And what will I get in return for helping you?”

“The money you asked me for before.” There was a silence and some murmuring among the other Morlocks.

Half a year ago, when Fabian had been outed as a mutant, Callisto had come to him asking for money to help her Morlocks. Fabian hadn’t felt like handing out free money. He rarely did. But he would exchange it now.

Callisto inhaled slowly, a grim look on her face. “I will talk with my people.” She looked to the mutant made of shadow who was leaning against the wall. “Opsidian, Carver, watch them. Marrow, Mother Inferior, Bouncer, please come with me.” Callisto strode over to the railing that overlooked the bunker.

The living shadow and a huge man who towered over Fabian, walked a little nearer to Regan and Fabian as if in warning. A young woman with pink hair and an ancient looking woman (who Fabian frankly thought was disgusting) holding a rat made their way to Callisto. A lean man with stringy hair and an abnormally elongated face also joined them.

Fabian watched the four of them out of the corner of his eye and strained to hear.

“He’s a jerk.” The girl with the pink hair said, crossing her arms.

Callisto nodded. The man with the long face tilted his head. “But he’s rich.”

Callisto looked to the old woman, “Mother?”

The woman was silent for a moment as she stared out over the bunker where the sound of laughing children could be heard. “It is a good offer, Callisto. That is if he is offering the same amount you previously asked him for.”

“I know,” Callisto said in a hushed tone. “I just wish the offer wasn’t from

him

.” The pink haired girl made a noise of agreement.

“I agree as well,” The old woman continued. “But, we have children to feed.”

There was silence. Then Callisto hit her fist against the railing in anger. “Ugh.” She sighed and turned back to Fabian and Regan.

“I will take your offer.” She announced. Fabian grinned, but Callisto held up a hand. “

But

…it must be the same amount of money I asked you for before.” And I want half of it upfront,

and

I will only help you for this one mission. If it fails I am not responsible and I still get paid. Understood?”

Fabian felt his jaw drop. The

audacity

of this

woman

to talk down on him like that, “

Why

?” He asked, incredulous.

Regan elbowed him in the ribs. “Fabian.” Regan hissed in his ear. “Because she asked for it and we

need

her. We have no hope of beating the X-Men without her.”

Fabian grumbled, rubbing his ribs. He turned back to Callisto to find her smiling smugly, arms crossed. Fabian could kill her if he didn’t need her help so badly. Callisto raised an eyebrow as if in challenge. The green child called Leech laid down on the sewer ledge in boredom. “Fine.” Fabian spat out. “I agree.”

Callisto straightened. “Good. Bouncer and I will come with you to collect the money and I will stay with you until my job is over.” She looked around her. “Marrow and Mother Inferior are in charge until I return. Bouncer, come on.” Callisto looked over her shoulder with a smile, “Leech, you may go.”

Leech jumped up, “Yay!” He ran to the corner of the room where a stairway was tucked away which led down to the bunker. “Artie! I’m done! Let’s play!” Children’s excited chatter was the last thing Fabian heard as the long faced man teleported them out of the sewers.
  
It had been a week since Erik had arrived at the X-Mansion, as the kids affectionately called the school, and Erik had come to no conclusion about Peter Maximoff.

After Peter’s not-so-subtle encounter with Erik upon his arrival, Erik had become especially attentive to the boy. Every time Erik looked at him he felt as if he was staring at a puzzle that was missing the piece that brought it all together.

Erik was sure that Peter was not afraid of him anymore. There was a factor of fear involved, but it felt different than just fear because he was

Magneto

. Erik had considered asking Peter about it once, but had decided against it. He didn’t know how well Peter would take it knowing that Erik had been watching him.

And, Peter’s behaviour had changed over the course of the week. At the start he had hardly spoken when Erik was around, but something had changed at dinner the other night. Erik wondered if he really would be able to convince Peter to play a game of chess with him. He wanted to play with him. It would be a nice change from always playing Charles.

It was strange, despite Peter’s seeming aversion to Erik, Erik felt inexplicably drawn to him. They had only ever had two conversations, the one in Cairo a year ago, and the one in the Pentagon elevator, which Erik only vaguely remembered. He didn’t know why he felt protective of Peter. Normally, someone like Peter should annoy him. But Peter didn’t.

It was the eyes, he told himself. Dark shadowy brown, but somehow still bright when paired with a grin. So similar to Nina. So similar to Anya…

And it was the age, he told himself. Peter would have only been a few years younger than Anya had she still been alive. Peter had been so young when Erik had met him. Just a hyperactive boy who had fallen asleep on his shoulder on the car ride back from the Pentagon. Maybe it was some latent parental instinct still left in him that just wouldn’t leave. It hurt him all over again as he thought of Nina and, again, Anya from so long ago.

In some ways, Erik admired Peter. He was a good kid. Erik had watched him with the kids. He was kind and playful, and more vulnerable than Erik would have thought of someone who put on a persona as a cocky speedster. Erik supposed he could have been something like that if his circumstances had been different.

Another part of the puzzle that was Peter, was Raven’s attitude when Erik was in the same room as Peter. She had brought up Peter multiple times when they had gone out on Saturday. Though, the one time Erik had taken her bait and asked a question about Peter, she hadn’t given her an answer.

Charles at least knew nothing about it other than that Peter had some discomfort around Erik. But even though Erik knew all these things, Erik had yet to figure out what was missing. He felt as though he should know what was missing. It was like a constant itch he couldn’t reach.

Now it was nighttime, closer to dawn than to dusk. Erik was walking along the stone path around the school. He hadn’t slept well for years and being here was no exception. He was restless as always and had gotten up an hour ago to walk.

The sky was clear and the stars bright. He spotted constellations that his mother had pointed out to him when he was just a child. It was quiet and the air smelled of wet dirt and growing plants. It was fresh on his face and cleared his head just as he hoped.

He was walking along the stone path around the school when he felt a sudden gust of air rush past him, ruffling his hair. Then he saw the subject of his thoughts skidding to an ungraceful stop meters in front of him. Erik heard Peter curse under his breath and saw the boy rub his knee. He must have tripped. Erik kept walking towards him and Peter looked up at him. The alarm that Erik had seen in his eyes when he’d first arrived at the school showed itself but dissipated quickly. 
  
Peter cursed  quietly after he’d so gracefully tripped over his own feet after seeing Erik ahead of him. He had been on his nightly run around the school. He hadn’t expected to see his father out here as well.

He rubbed his knee that he’d hit on the ground in his fall. He hoped Erik hadn’t noticed that. He hardly ever tripped, but when he did, it hurt a lot considering how fast he was going.

Peter braced himself against the bench at the side of the path, trying to slow down his organs who still thought they were running. He was mostly immune to the more physical effects of his running, but when he tripped, he felt it. He figured it was some sort of built in warning. He knew he had to be careful. He had realized very young that if he tripped the wrong way he’d go flying somewhere at top speed and would probably break every bone in his body. Despite his bones being extra strong, they still could break.

He glanced up. Erik was still walking towards him.

Great

. He couldn’t just run away anymore. Erik had seen him. He had to say

something

now. But something felt different. Since their little chess conversation, something had shifted. Peter didn’t panic the same way around Erik as he had before. It was kinda nice. He pulled his headphones down around his neck, but kept the music playing softly.

Peter gave a little wave to Erik as he approached, half in greeting, half to show him that he was alright. Peter almost laughed as Erik came closer and he saw his clothes. The man was fully dressed. Peter was wearing lounge clothes, a hoodie and sweatpants. Why did Erik look like he was ready to go to dinner? Peter supposed he just wouldn’t want to be caught in his pajamas. The man did have a reputation to keep.

Or he was going somewhere.

Or he was leaving

.

Now the panic returned. What if he was leaving? Erik couldn’t leave now. Peter had just started talking to him. Just started getting comfortable with him. He

couldn’t

leave now. He couldn’t. But Charles had said that Erik was going to stay until all the Brotherhood stuff was resolved. At least until the end of the week. But what if Charles was wrong?

Now Erik was almost in front of him. Everything was going so painfully slow. He heard the gentle strums of a guitar through his headphones much to Peter’s dismay. He knew the song’s title and he wasn’t very amused.

Father and Son

. Who had put that stupid song on there? He began to register the rugged voice of Cat Stevens over the ringing in his ears. “

Just relax…take it easy…you’re still young…

”

And Erik was in front of him and Cat Stevens advice wasn’t even that bad. Peter took a breath. “Sorry…” He said, doing his best to make eye contact with his father.

Erik shook his head, slowing to a stop, “It’s alright. You okay?”

Peter nodded, “Yeah. Just tripped.” He let go of the bench he was holding himself against as if to prove his point.

There was a silence that Peter figured felt much longer for him than for Erik, which after he tentatively asked his question, “So, uh, what’re you doing out here? Are you, um, leaving, or…?” Peter worried the second he was done that Erik might think Peter

wanted

him to leave, but Erik’s face didn’t betray anything he was thinking.

His father shook his head again. “No, no. Just enjoying a quiet night.”

Peter straightened himself a little, doing his best not to show his relief at Erik’s answer and gave a small sideways grin, “Ha. It’s not quiet.”

Erik gave a small frown, and titled his head as if asking for an explanation. Peter hadn’t intended to start a conversation, but now that he had, he was surprisingly okay with it.

“Sorry… it’s just, there’s all the night noises, you know? You don’t know real quiet.”

Now Erik raised an eyebrow, “Oh?”

Peter cleared his throat, “See, when I run…when everything else slows down…that’s real quiet. Dead silence. Nothing but your own footsteps and breathing. Everything else may as well not exist.” Erik looked somewhat fascinated by this, so Peter continued with a breath. “That’s why I listen to music. I can’t stand the quiet.”

Erik smiled, “Why does that not surprise me?”

Peter grinned back and shifted where he stood. “Well…” He swallowed. “Goodnight, Erik.”

Peter gave Erik just enough time to bid him goodnight before rushing off, Cat Stevens still echoing in his ears. 
  
Peter ended up falling asleep that night quite proud of his interaction with Erik, and he had the best sleep he’d had since Erik arrived. He really believed that the tension between them had been cut to a degree and Peter could relax around him. Though he often had the feeling that Erik could see right through him, nothing showed that to be true. He was probably just paranoid.

But the next day was tiring. He had thought that being able to relax around Erik would be a good thing, but it turned out that with his anxiety lowered, his adrenaline had as well, leaving him exhausted both emotionally and physically. Now that he was more relaxed, his body was telling him to rest and he felt it.

Peter pulled himself through the day, making lunch for the students, helping Ororo transplant some plants, and spending some time training to fight the Brotherhood in the Danger Room. He saw Erik a little bit, but nothing substantial happened.

After dinner, Raven teased Peter about Erik and urged him to tell him. Peter refused and told her to mind her own business. He laid down on the couch with a few rubix cubes to solve while thinking about finding Erik and telling him. But nothing came of his thoughts when he fell asleep, finally surrendering to his body’s pleas.

Peter woke sooner than he would have liked. It was 10:00 PM now and the sun had gone down. The mansion was quieter now that most of the younger kids had gone to bed. He wandered around and found Ororo, Jean and Scott in one of the rec rooms. He hung out with them until Charles rolled by and “suggested” that they head to bed. The rest of them did, but Peter stayed up.

He was still tired, but less than he had before. He headed outside to make some laps around the mansion to stretch his legs after making sure Erik wasn’t out walking. Not that he didn’t want to see Erik, but he was still feeling so tired from the strain of the past week.

He ended up passing out on his actual bed around 12:30 and woke up again at 2:00. After deciding he couldn’t fall asleep again, he rolled out of his bed, pulled on his

Doors

t-shirt, and made his way to one of the small kitchens.

Peter liked these kitchens. There were a few of them scattered throughout the mansion. They were cozier than the newer, industrial kitchen Charles had installed in the cafeteria. It made him feel more like he was at home. Only the older students were actually allowed to do any cooking in these kitchens, but they were usually stocked up with some kind of food, even if it was just cookies and cereal.

Holding the tea kettle under the tap, Peter watched the water pour into it. Moments like these, where Peter was forced to be slow because he couldn’t speed up other things, were few and far between. He normally would be annoyed by this, but on late nights after tired days, he let them wash over him, making him take a second just to breathe.

He put the kettle on the stove and flicked the switch on high. He pulled open the drawer to his left and flipped through the numerous tea packages, before picking one, and setting it on the counter. A few minutes passed and Peter almost fell asleep standing at the counter. He took a breath, and turned around to lean on the counter instead. Sighing, Peter glanced up to see Erik, standing almost hesitantly in the kitchen doorway.

Peter blinked, “Hey,” He said. His anxiety was pushing its way up into his throat, but he forced himself to swallow it down.

Erik entered the kitchen, his eyes landing on a newspaper that was laid open on the table. Peter vaguely remembered Erik working on a newspaper crossword earlier that day. It was still not finished.

“May I join you?”

Peter blinked again, and shook himself. “Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

Erik moved in the dim silence towards the table. He looked over to where Peter was leaning against the counter and frowned slightly.

“Tea?” Erik asked, eyeing the teabag, “I would have marked you down as a coffee man.”

Peter found himself smiling and chuckled. “Well normally you’d be right. But I got banned from coffee when I was seventeen after the Noodle Incident, so tea it is.” Erik’s mouth twitched in amusement, giving Peter the confidence to continue. “It’s uncaffeinated. Obviously. You don’t want to see me on caffeine.”

Erik let out a small laugh and pulled up a chair to the table, “I can only imagine.”

There was a beat of quiet while Erik flattened his newspaper on the table and pulled a pen from his pocket. Peter stared at the kettle, which he could hear was close to boiling. He cleared his throat, and Erik looked to him.

“Uh, did you want some tea?”

Erik wrote down a word on his paper, “What kind are you making?”

Peter paused, slowly, without his speed, pulling open the drawer to remember what kind he had out. “Um…Chamomile.”

Erik considered it for a moment, “Yes, that's fine, thank you.”

Peter nodded. The kettle started singing in its high pitched squeak and Peter hurried to pull it off the stove. He took two mugs from the cupboards and put his teabag, and a new one for Erik, in them. Feeling Erik watching him, Peter’s instinct to panic began to rise again. Instead of letting it take him, Peter grabbed the kettle and poured the water over the tea bags. He focused on the sound of the water, the feel of the hot, wet steam coming from it, and the teabags bobbing up and down.

Gently, Peter lifted the mugs from the counter, and walked over to the table. He placed one in front of Erik and one across from him. Erik was looking at him, and continued to do so as he took his tea. After retrieving two teaspoons, Peter sat down.

Peter looked at Erik with a nervous glance. The look in Erik’s eyes was fascination. Peter was about to question him, when Erik said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you move this slowly before.”

Mentally sighing in relief that Erik hadn’t realized Peter looked like him or something worse, Peter shrugged, and smiled in spite of himself, “Hey, I get tired too.”

Very tired

, he thought,

exhausted. Emotionally at least.

This answer satisfied Erik. He bobbed his teabag up and down in his mug for a moment and then returned to his crossword.

Two minutes of surprisingly unawkward silence later, Peter grabbed a small plate and they both lifted their teabags from their mugs. Then, Peter brought over the cream and sugar. Peter, who was typically picky about his tea, put in his usual two spoonfuls of sugar and a splash of cream. Erik put only a small sprinkle of sugar and skipped out entirely on the cream.

And so they sat. Erik sipped his tea hot and slowly. Peter blew on his and tried not to drink too fast. Erik continued his crossword. Peter fiddled around with his Uncle Django’s old watch, which was now his. Peter wondered if the watch Erik wore was from some long dead relative too.

Peter shifted in his chair, so he wasn’t facing Erik anymore, but so his shoulder was leaned against the back of the chair. He didn’t focus on much, he didn’t need to. There was no anxiety to quell. And that was just a little

too

comfortable for him. Then took his last sip of tea, he felt a tear prick his eye.

This was it. This was what he wanted. It was quiet and comfortable. If he didn’t think too much, he could imagine that he

was

sitting up with his father, drinking tea. This was the unknown picture that Peter had in his head for years. He hadn’t really known what he wanted from Erik until this moment. But now he knew.

The only problem was that Erik had no idea.

Peter swiped at the tears in his eyes, and got up to place his cup in the sink. Peter glimpsed the doorway out and thought about leaving. Then, he heard the crumple of the newspaper and turned around.

There was Erik, holding a part of the paper out to him. Puzzled, Peter went forward and took it. It was the comics page. He almost laughed.

“I thought you might want something to read.” Erik said.

Peter stared at him. Erik didn’t want him to leave… Why didn’t Erik want him to leave? Did he know? No… But did it matter?

Peter sat back down, opening the paper. “Thanks. How’d you know I like the comics?”

“I had a feeling.” Erik took a small sip of tea and placed his mug back down.

Peter hadn’t known that he could have such peace being alone with Erik, but the next few hours were the highlight of his life. They were quiet, but the world around them wasn’t. Peter listened to the stroke of Erik’s pen, the crinkle of the newspaper and the sipping of his tea, that was proof that Erik was still there. Around them was the kind of quiet that only happens in a big, old house. Quiet that consists of the ticking of clocks and the occasional creak of old wood.

They barely spoke, but to Peter it was better than words. Because Erik was comfortable with him. Erik didn’t think he was weird or act condescending towards him. And that meant the world. Peter wondered if Erik had any idea how much this meant. He thought of saying something to his father…anything…just something to get across how he was feeling, but his fear of ruining the moment held him back.

A thought ran through his head…maybe Peter didn’t have to tell Erik. Maybe he could have this without saying a word.

When they saw the first light threading its bright fingers through the trees around the mansion, they parted ways, both with contented hearts.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The next evening Peter woke in the middle of the night as usual. He snuck out of his room, trying to make the door squeak as little as possible, so as to not wake Scott, and went to the same kitchen he’d been in the night before.

As he filled the tea kettle he saw the day's newspaper once again forgotten on the table. The crossword wasn’t finished. Peter smiled a little and about a half hour later, when Erik entered the room, Peter felt a warm feeling in his chest. But it could have just been the tea.

Peter offered to pour Erik some tea and he accepted, taking his seat across the table.

“You don’t sleep much, do you?” Erik said with a hint of a laugh in his voice.

Peter shrugged, putting Erik’s cup on the table, “Well neither do you.”

“Point taken.” Erik responded, scooping some sugar into his tea and stirring it with his powers, creating a rhythmic tinging sound.

Peter took a second cup of tea and put in a splash of milk. “I think it’s because of my powers actually. I have these power naps a lot and then I just stay awake a night more. So it’s either a side effect of my powers or just…well, insomnia.”

Erik let out a sharp laugh. Peter smiled at his father’s show of joy and pulled one of his knees up to his chest.

“What about you? Insomnia?”

Erik took a sip of tea. He didn’t look at Peter this time. “Something like that.”

Erik’s eyes clouded over with a grief that Peter had seen in his eyes before. Peter had seen that grief when he tried to tell Erik the first time. When Erik had been overwhelmed by the loss of his wife and daughter. Peter twisted his watch on his wrist, thinking of the few stories his Aunt Marya had told him of Erik’s sufferings. Peter had occasional nightmares himself, but he couldn’t even imagine how much worse Erik’s probably were.

But the grief cleared away, replaced with the quiet haunted look that was so typical to Erik’s eyes.

Peter picked up his mug of tea and mumbled an apology into it. “Sorry…”

Erik surprised him by shaking his head, “It’s alright.” The look in his eyes was almost kindness and something Peter wanted to think was parental.

Peter thought about bringing up the fact that he was also Jewish, to show Erik that he somewhat understood some of his pain, but he didn’t know how Erik would take that and it seemed too obvious a hint of Peter and his relation.

The rest of the night was spent mainly in silence. Peter sat in his own thoughts, and found himself relaxed enough to nod off into sleep intermittently through the early hours.

Peter sat and he watched Erik as he filled out his crosswords. As he stirred his tea using his powers. As he carefully pulled apart the newspaper to hand Peter the comics page as he did the night before. Focusing on the little things about Erik distracted Peter from the one glaring thing between them. The thing Erik didn’t even know existed. Erik seemed fine. Maybe Peter should just pretend it didn’t exist either.

Peter woke from another short nap. Erik was still sitting across from him. Peter wondered if Erik really took this long to do crosswords or if he was using it as an excuse to talk to Peter. But Peter couldn’t think of a reason why Erik would want to be here. Instead Peter concentrated again on his father’s eyes.

When Erik had left the mansion last year he had still been mourning his wife and daughter…Magda and Nina, if he remembered correctly. Peter wondered if Erik still thought of them every day like Peter thought of Erik every day. Like Peter thought of his mother. Did he think of them every day only for them to not be there where they should be? Did Erik ever think about Peter’s mother? About his dead sister Anya? Or were they forgotten after so long? Peter didn’t want to know.

By all rights Peter should want absolutely nothing to do with Erik. Not counting the fact that Erik had committed numerous crimes, he had never been there for Peter growing up. Peter

should

resent him. But he couldn’t bring himself to. Erik didn’t even know Peter existed…if anyone was at blame, it was Peter himself, for not manning up and telling him.

If their roles had been switched and Erik was trying to tell Peter he was his father, Peter could not imagine a world where Erik would hesitate. It didn’t seem to be in his nature. That was something Peter admired about Erik. Erik fought fervently for what he believed in and for those he loved. Of course he sometimes did this by hurting other people… which was something Peter struggled with, but he knew you could still be friends with a person even if you didn’t agree with them morally. Charles and Erik were living proof of that. Though from personal observation (he wasn’t spying, he wasn’t) Peter thought Erik had toned a little on the killing. Not that he’d ask the guy if he’d killed anyone recently, but there hadn’t been any news reports of Magneto in the past year and Charles hadn’t mentioned anything. There was also something about Erik’s demeanor that had changed. Under all his passion, he seemed older. He seemed tired. And maybe he was. Peter certainly would be in his position.

Peter wished he could ask Erik all these questions, but he had no right to. Officially, he hardly knew Erik. They’d only met three times and had only a handful of conversations. Of course if Peter told Erik, then he might be able to talk with him. Maybe Peter could even ask Erik about his mother. Erik probably remembered her more than Peter did. She’d died when he was so young. All he remembered was her sick face and the sound of dirt hitting her coffin at the funeral.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Peter straightened in his chair. Some birds had begun their morning songs outside. Erik glanced up at him. Peter could only call the look on his face fatherly. His eyes had softened.

“You should go to bed.”

Peter wanted to protest. He wanted to stay with Erik. He wanted Erik to look at him like they had known each other forever and Peter was really his son. He ached to see that look again. He opened his mouth, but was interrupted by a gentle flick of Erik’s hand, which pushed Peter’s chair back from the table. Peter rolled his eyes. “Ugh, fine. Only if you do too. You look terrible.”

Erik looked pleased to have won the argument. “Deal.”
  
Friday afternoon, Peter was out in Ororo’s garden as she tended to the weeds. He had his sunglasses on, and was laying out doing his best to tan. The conversation had once again wandered over to the topic of Erik, a subject which Peter found himself getting increasingly comfortable with.

“So it’s going well then? You’re okay?” Ororo said while throwing a weed into her bucket.

Peter nodded, his eyes closed, blocking out the bright sun above. “Yeah, yeah. I think so. I’m good.”

Ororo sounded surprised. “Good?”

“Yeah.” Peter opened his eyes, and propped himself up on his elbows, “See…I figure,” He inhaled deeply, “I don’t have to tell him actually.”

Ororo raised an eyebrow, continuing her work.

“But!” Peter raised a hand, “That doesn’t mean I have to avoid him either.”

Ororo nodded as Peter continued.

“I feel like we’re in a good spot, you know? And I don’t really want to ruin that. And if he leaves again, whatever. I never expected him to stick around either way.” Suddenly feeling a little insecure, Peter looked to Ororo. “What—what do you think?”

Ororo sat down where she had been kneeling beside her plants. She patted her hands together, sending crumbles of dirt to the ground. “Well, I just want to know that you’re good with this. That you’re not just avoiding telling him again and you’re still going to sit in your regrets for the rest of your life.”

Peter flopped back down onto his chair. He kept his eyes open, staring through his sunglasses at the too bright sky until it hurt. He knew there would always be a part of him that would regret this decision, but right now he was too much of a coward to tell Erik and he didn’t want to avoid Erik either. There wasn’t really any other decision to make.

Peter smiled and with his often used fake confidence said, “Yeah, no I’m good with it. It doesn’t really matter if he knows, you know?”

Ororo nodded in acceptance, but Peter could still feel her skepticism. “As long as you’re happy.”

Peter stayed down, staring up as a cloud blocked out the sun.
  
That evening Peter was running through the mansion's classrooms, putting piles of books back in the library as Charles had asked him. Charles and Erik were engaged in another game of chess, while Peter rushed in and out of the room.

Peter shoved a stack of

Macbeth

onto a shelf before turning to the chessboard. “Alright, Professor. All done.” He looked down at the chessboard and without missing a beat told Charles, “And that’s a bad move.”

“Thank you—” Charles frowned back down at the game.

With a chuckle, Peter started to turn away. “Well, have a good sleep I guess.” He glanced at Erik and with a mischievous grin said, “Or well…maybe just a good night.”

Erik rolled his eyes, with a shake of his head, “Same to you, Peter.”

Peter felt himself smile again. Erik had never called him his name before. “Yeah, yeah goodnight.”

Peter ran out, and instead of going to his room, he exited the mansion and started running laps. He felt good. He felt free in the crisp evening air. He felt better than he had since Erik arrived. Even better than he had

before

Erik arrived. He could hold a conversation with his father now. He was pretty sure had made the right decision.
  
Fabian watched as the first of his dinner guests arrived. He turned away from the window to the group gathered behind him. Regan, and the other members of the Brotherhood stood, suited up and ready for combat. Callisto sat on a chair at the edge of the room sharpening one of her knives.

Regan stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on Fabian’s upper arm. “Is it time?”

Fabian nodded, “Yes. Xavier should arrive any minute. It would be best that you are not here when he arrives.”

“Of course, love.”

Fabian smirked and slid a hand around Regan’s now leather clad waist, pulling her close against him. Regan wrapped her arm around his neck and brought their lips together. Fabian used his powers as they kissed and put everything he had into boosting her powers. His plan revolved around Regan being able to handle the X-Men while he was at home with Xavier.

Across the room Fabian heard Johnny’s almost constant fiddling with his lighter stop as he began to gag. Beside him, Dukes said, “Get used to it, kid. They do this all the time.”

On his other side the Toad added with a croak, “Whether we like it or not.”

Fabian was enjoying his kiss, but it was interrupted by the sound of Callisto sheathing her knife and rising from her seat. “Is this really necessary? Let’s get going.”

Fabian straightened his jacket, looking at Callisto. Minutes ago Callisto’s body had been adjusting to the same physical tremors that he now saw pulsing through Regan presently at the sudden power increase he provided. But Callisto stood firm now. Fabian nodded. “Yes, yes of course.” He looked to Regan again, who was rolling her neck adjusting to her increased power. “You remember the plan, darling?”

Regan rolled her eyes, “You’ve only reminded me of it a thousand times, Fabian.

Yes

. I know the plan.”

Fabian brushed off her rudeness as he glimpsed the first of his guests strolling up his walkway. “This is a momentous night for us, the Brotherhood of Mutants.”

Creed sighed in the corner as Fabian stood tall.

“After tonight, we will have a new leader. Magneto himself will lead us, and with him at our head, we will succeed. We will be taken seriously. The humans will fear us, as they rightfully should. We will—”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself Fabian.” Regan noted. “Magneto may refuse to join us.”

Fabian scoffed. “That is a worst case scenario Regan. I have no doubt that he will. It was he who founded the Brotherhood after all.”

She didn’t look convinced, but just shook her head. “Go greet your guests.” She turned to the group. “Let’s go.”

Fabian stood triumphantly as his team left. The night would go perfectly. He could just feel it.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Sorry, I’m late,” Charles said as he wheeled into the library. He was dressed in a suit that probably cost more money than Peter had ever (legally) had in hand before. “I had to give Bobby a stern talking to.

Again

.”

Peter laughed from where he was lounged on one of the chairs, “Dude that ice prank he pulled was so cool. Priceless.”

Charles shot him a tired look and Peter cleared his throat. “Uh, I mean cool as in cold, like ice is cold…it was cold…uh yeah, never mind...”

“Right, yes.” Charles glanced around. “Everyone’s here? Good.”

Charles had called all the X-Men to the library for a quick meeting before he left for that fancy party that Peter had given him the invitation to when Erik had first arrived. Erik was here too. Peter wasn’t exactly sure why.

Charles began to speak, “As I am sure you have heard, I am going out to a dinner party tonight. The party is hosted by a mutant named Fabian Cortez, who we suspect has ties to the New Brotherhood of Mutants. I have never met the man, but things feel suspicious. I am asking that you all be on standby in case something happens and I need you to suit up.”

Peter nodded along with everyone else and pitied Charles. Talking with stuffy rich people was not a great way to spend a good Saturday evening, at least to Peter.

Charles checked his watch and quickly bid farewell before heading out. Raven and Erik followed him, speaking in hushed voices. Peter knew that Erik was still around because of the New Brotherhood, but he didn’t really know Erik’s stance on the new group, and frankly, he was too afraid to ask. Part of Peter was afraid that Erik was looking to join them. But from the looks of it, Erik was on their side.

Peter's body relaxed a tension he didn’t know had been there and he smiled as Scott and Kurt challenged him to a game of “no-powers ping-pong” down in the rec room. Maybe they were on X-Men standby, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have fun.
  Charles arrived at the family home of Fabian Cortez right on time. The party progressed like many of the high society parties he had accompanied his parents to as a child and had gone to himself after their deaths. It was filled with wealthy men and women who politely asked him about his school because they would look bad if they did not. And politely Charles would answer as he heard their mind wander to other subjects revealing to him their disinterest or disgust.
As the sun went down, Charles became more and more watchful of his host. Fabian Cortez had come down into the party hall with great show, making sure that all knew he was better and richer than them. He gave a quick toast, lifting his champagne glass and expressing how honoured and glad he was that all his guests had come. As the crowd clinked their glasses and the choruses of cheers rose, Fabian looked Charles in the eye, smiled, nodded and drank.

Charles had been reading his mind, but clearly the man had been given some psychic training because all Charles could pick up without his concentration showing was how thrilled he was that Charles had come to the party.

Through the night, Charles watched Fabian, and Fabian watched Charles. Slowly, the night grew darker and the guests dissipated. Finally, Fabian strode over to Charles’s table, placing a too-friendly hand on his shoulder. The hand left a strange tingling numbness on Charles's body.

“My friend,” Fabian began with a charming smile. “I am sure you know that I have called you here for more reasons than dinner.”

“I had some inkling, yes.”

Fabian laughed lightly, as if they were the closest of friends. “Well, I should like you to come with me to my office. I have a few things I would like to discuss with you.”

Charles raised an eyebrow and tried to see what Fabian was thinking. It was strange how well Fabian’s mind was guarded against Charles’s powers.

Fabian continued smiling. Charles bowed his head in acceptance of Fabian’s invitation.

“Wonderful!” The younger man exclaimed. “Come with me!”

He led Charles away from the low chatter of his remaining guests. The halls were filled with expensive paintings and vases that looked to be hundreds of years old; things that Charles had long put into storage at his own house because they were too liable to be damaged. They made no sound as they approached his office.

Fabian opened the door for Charles, letting him enter first. Charles heard the click of the doors lock behind him.

“So,” Fabian began, striding across the room to where two champagne glasses and a bottle were sitting. “Would you like a drink?”

Charles waved his hand, “No thank you.”

Fabian shrugged, “To each their own.” He pulled the bottle from the bucket of ice. Charles watched as he poured the glass and took a long sip.

Clearing his throat, Charles glanced around. “After I received your invitation, I naturally looked you up. You’re a mutant.”

Fabian nods, “Yes. And so are you.”

“And you are supportive of the Brotherhood of Mutants.”

“Can’t a man have his opinions?”

“Of course. But if his opinions cause him to support the business of harming innocents, I take issue with that.”

Fabian stared at Charles with displeasure, while clearly happy that he was above Charles in stature.

“How am I not able to read your mind?” Charles questioned.

Fabian placed his glass down. “I am glad you asked. I am sure in your research on me you discovered that I have a girlfriend. Her name is Regan Wyngarde. Her mutant powers have given her the ability to block telepaths from her mind and she has taught me how to train my mind to prevent that same kind of infiltration.”

Charles cursed inwardly. “And you are aware that your girlfriend is an active member of the Brotherhood?”

Fabian inclined his head. “Of course.”
  
It was around 11:00 PM  when Peter heard Scott call him in somewhat of a panic back to the rec room. Peter had been grabbing as many different kinds of snacks he could find from the nearest kitchen, and ran back with his arms full of chips and cereal boxes to see what Scott was so freaked out about.

Scott was on the edge of the couch staring intently at the TV. Peter saw Godzilla on the screen and plopped himself and his snacks down beside Scott.

“What’s the rush, dude?”

Scott nodded at the TV, his eyebrows raised under his glasses.

Peter looked at the TV again. “What?” Then the Godzilla footage was overlaid by a reporter who began explaining that the monster was presently tromping near Oneida Lake in northern New York State and was estimated to reach the City of Syracuse in less than an hour.

After processing that the Godzilla was, in fact, a

real live Godzilla

, Peter stared at the screen right alongside Scott. The thing was

huge

. It had scales that ranged the full palette of green shades. It’s eyes were so bloodshot, Peter could have sworn there was no white left in them at all. Peter wasn’t sure how tall it was since there were no skyscrapers around, but it towered well above the trees. And it’s teeth…well Peter didn’t want to think about those.

Suddenly, Peter saw an orange flash at the corner of the TV screen. He squinted. It happened again. It looked like fire. Controlled fire.

“Scott, Scott, look!” He pointed to where he saw the fire. Now he could see there was a very small, blink and you’ll miss it, figure standing there. There may have been other people with him, but it was too hard to tell. “That’s gotta be the fire kid from the Brotherhood, right?”

“I’m willing to bet,” Scott said and stood up.

He pulled back his shirt sleeve to reveal a silver watch with an X emblem on it. He flipped open the X and pressed a button on the tiny surface. All the X-men wore these watches. Hank had made them as a way to alert each other of when they were all needed for a mission. Peter's own watch started beeping.

Scott started out of the room, so Peter shrugged the snacks off himself and followed.

“Can you just check with the kids and I’ll head down to Hank, okay?”

With a quick nod, Peter dashed off.

He checked in with the oldest kid in each hallway of bedrooms. They had come up with this system the first time that the Professor had been away and the X-Men had a mission. The oldest (and most responsible) kid in each hallway would temporarily be put in charge while the X-men went away. And Jubilee was in charge of all of them and she  knew how to contact the X-men if needed. So far, it worked pretty well.

Peter checked in with Jubilee, that girl, Kitty, who walked through walls, the redhead girl with an impressive scream, the boy who could understand any language, and the Russian kid with metal skin. Afterwards Peter ran to the elevator and smashed the down button with his fist. Charles always said it was the only way down to the basement, but Peter suspected that Chalres just wanted to teach him patience and was really just keeping a very well hidden key to a staircase somewhere.

Peter tried to keep from tapping his foot while he waited. Scott and the others had probably just teleported down with Kurt. He sighed and was reaching out to jab the elevator button again, when he saw Erik walking down the hallway towards him.

Erik came up beside him and glanced at Peter’s still beeping watch. “What’s going on?”

“We have a mission.”

Erik was silent for a moment. “Does it have anything to do with the Brotherhood?”

Peter wondered if he was imagining the guilt in Erik’s voice. “Yeah, probably.”

The elevator doors slid open. “May I come?”

“Yeah, sure.” Peter shrugged and they entered the elevator.

Peter hit the button for the basement and as always was amazed at how slow the elevator went. And this one was fast by normal standards apparently. But they all felt like an eternity to Peter.

He was suddenly conscious of Erik beside him and cleared his throat. “Seriously though, you have

got

to see that Godzilla thing, it’s crazy!”

“What?” Erik looked at him, eyebrows lowered in confusion.

“That’s where we’re going. There’s this big Godzilla heading towards Syracuse and the Brotherhood are with it, we think.”

Erik kept staring at Peter, “What?”

Peter looked back at him. “Godzilla, you know…big green lizard monster?” No recognition came to Erik’s face. Slightly incredulous, Peter asked, “Don’t you watch movies?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Peter shuffled on his feet.

‘How are we even related?’

he thought. “That makes sense.” he said out loud.

The elevator doors opened. Peter bolted down to Hank’s lab and hoped to God that he didn’t look like he was running away from Erik.
  
The clock that sat on the mantle of the empty fireplace behind Fabian’s desk let out a chime. It was 11:00PM. Fabian smiled.

“Ahh…yes. It’s just about time I should think.”

He grabbed his drink and crossed the room to where two chairs sat in front of a television set. He clicked it on and began shifting through the channels. Charles slowly moved himself towards Fabian as he landed on a news channel.

Across the screen, the “Breaking News” banner blinked in red as Charles came to terms with what he was seeing. Pictures from a helicopter scrolled behind the news reporter showing a gigantic green lizard type monster roaming across the countryside near Oneida Lake.

The woman on the television was talking. “The monster has not reached any inhabited areas yet, but the surrounding areas are being evacuated. We have yet to discover what exactly the monster is, and more importantly, where it came from.”

Charles looked at Fabian in shock. He was grinning.

“Oh that’s wonderful, wonderful.” He sat down in one of the leather seats and gestured to Charles to come up beside him.

“I’m sorry, but I need to leave.”

Fabian looked back at him. “Leave? Oh, Professor. I can’t allow you to leave.” He looked back to the television, “And don’t tire yourself out trying to use your powers to call your

X-Men

. They won’t work.”

Charles raised two fingers to his temple and in a panic felt next to nothing. He could only sense Fabian in the room, but anything beyond that was somehow cut off. It was like turning down a familiar road only to find a dead end that hadn’t been there before.

“What have you done to me?”

Fabian didn’t look away from the television where the lizard monster was lumbering along. “Simple power augmentation.” He took another sip of champagne. “Your powers won’t work. At least not for the next few hours and not as well as you should like. I can’t completely take away a mutation, but I can weaken them well enough. You’ll recall when I touched your shoulder earlier, yes? That’s when I started the process.”

Charles recalled the numb feeling that had gone up his arm at Fabian’s touch. He clenched his jaw. “My X-Men will still go to help.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”
  
The X-Men stood around a small radio in the jet hangar as Hank prepped the Blackbird for flight. Reporters continued to give updates on the movement of the giant monster that Peter had referred to as “Godzilla”. Jean had already tried multiple times to contact Charles, but for some reason she wasn’t able to get through to him. Erik could tell that Jean was worried about that, but she put on a good face to deal with the issue at hand. To be truthful, Erik was worried too. Fabian Cortez had probably turned out to be a not-so-gracious dinner host.

Currently, Erik was a ways away by a pile of old machine scraps of Hank’s. Hank had told him to use it to make some armor for himself. He was nearly finished, stretching some metal to fashion some cuffs to protect his forearms when Raven walked over to him. She was dressed in her uniform now and was carrying a box.

She sat it down on the work table beside him.

“Here.” She slid it towards him.

Erik knew what was in there. He could feel it the moment it came near. Slowly, he lifted the lid to reveal the helmet that Erik had worn when he had attacked the president more than ten years ago.

“Charles and Hank picked it up after the…incident in Washington.”

Erik nodded to it. “Thank you.”

She upturned the corner of her mouth. “Sure. It should protect you from Wyngarde if she happens to be there.”

Erik picked up the helmet. It had been polished since he’d last picked it up. He hadn’t had time for that the last time. But now the red hue shone a little brighter.

Raven glanced back to the kids who were still intently listening to the radio. Erik noticed Peter catch his eye for a moment and then look away. Raven opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Hank calling them to board the Blackbird.

They all filed quickly onto the Blackbird. Before he sat down Raven noticed Erik’s bare hands.

“There’s some gloves in the back.” Peter had just slipped past the two of them, and she grabbed his arm. “Peter, show Erik where the extra gloves are please.”

There was something of a glare on Peter’s face for a moment so quick that Erik thought he may have imagined it. But then he was nodding and beckoning Erik to the back of the plane.

The Blackbird rose and Erik felt the insides of the plane and its gears warming up. There was a lurch as they flew off, and beside Erik, Peter started to lose balance. On instinct, Erik put his hand out and grabbed Peter’s arm to steady him. In return, Peter gripped Erik’s arm back. There was a strange look in Peter’s eyes. It took Erik a moment to realize that it was panic. And not panic because he had almost fallen.

Erik let go. Peter turned, and as if nothing had happened, opened up a large storage cupboard near the door of the jet. On the shelves were bandages and other first aid items along with a few boxes that Erik couldn’t see into.

Peter pulled out the top one. “Here.” Erik took the box, which was full of leather gloves and began to rummage through it to find a match. Peter grabbed another one of the boxes which had some copies of the goggles that Peter wore when he was running. Peter took a few more things from other boxes and put them in the pouches on his belt.

When they were done, they headed back to the main seating area of the jet, Peter ahead of Erik. Peter didn’t run, and Erik wondered at that decision.

Just as they were about to enter the front of the jet, something compelled Erik to put his hand on Peter’s shoulder and stop him. Peter looked behind him with that same panic in his eyes as earlier.

“Be careful.” Erik said. “Alright?”

Peter blinked. He swallowed and then nodded. There was a shine on his eyes. “Uh, yeah. Thanks. You too.”

Erik let go of Peter’s shoulder and looked fondly as Peter got to his seat and began fumbling with the buckle. Erik sat down across from him, and used his powers to do his own up before waving his hand in front of him and strapping Peter in himself.

Peter glanced up, his face going red. Beside Erik, Raven laughed. Now Peter slumped in his seat and crossed his arms with an eye roll.

While the jet flew, Erik continued to watch Peter. The last few days had been interesting when it came to the boy. Erik had thought if he sat down with Peter he might be able to figure him out, but Peter’s actions were still as puzzling to Erik as when he arrived. Sometimes Peter was comfortable and Erik almost thought happy to be around Erik. Peter reminded him of the life he used to have. Natalya, Erik’s first wife, had loved tea. They used to have a cup before bed every night. Sitting with Peter made Erik sad because of those lost peaceful times of his past. Once upon a time Erik would have imagined that sitting with his grown up daughters might have been something like it was with Peter. But now they would never grow old. But Peter’s presence dusted off that picture in Erik’s head and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Peter seemed to be one of the only people in the mansion besides Charles and Raven who could tolerate being around Erik. Most of the children were afraid of him. But Peter had fear too. Erik saw it in those sudden moments of panic. Erik wanted to question him about it. But now was not the time.

All the same, Erik felt protective of Peter. Especially with their strange, new found connection. If Erik knew one thing about Peter is that he was a little reckless and tended to get in over his head. He hoped that Peter would take his words to heart.
  
“What is it that you want, Mr. Cortez?”

Fabian’s lack of care as he continued to focus on the television angered Charles, “We just want Magneto. And of course the X-Men out of the way, but Magneto is the main goal today. We’ll be taken seriously with him leading us.” Fabian swished his champagne around in his glass, lowering his voice. “My father would have taken me seriously… Everyone will.”

“Erik won’t join you. He’s changed.”

He straightened in his chair. “Yes, yes, you all say that. I don’t believe it. But no matter! In the event that Magneto does not want to join us, Regan will make him. She'll remind him. We are completely dedicated to him. To his cause! For the cause of mutantkind! He has no reason to not join us.” Fabian paused. “Oh! Look! The X-Men have arrived!”
  
The moment they were able to spot the giant lizard through the cockpit window, Jean declared that she couldn’t sense it with her powers at all. To Erik and the others, nothing looked wrong. They could see the destruction in the monster’s wake and could hear its rageful roars. But Jean was convinced that something was wrong.

Hank landed the plane in the forest, a ways away from where the monster. Everyone grabbed their communication devices and Erik put on his helmet. Another of the monster’s cries pierced their ears. Strangely, Erik felt no disturbance of the metals in the ground where there should have been as the monster walked.

Raven sent Kurt and Peter to survey the area while they waited. Only moments later, Peter came rushing back. “It’s not real.”

“I told you something was up,” Jean said with a small smile.

Raven’s blue brow furrowed, “What?”

“It’s not real. I ran straight through it. And I saw the girl. The blonde one. The whole thing must be an illusion.”

“Wyngarde.”

“Yeah.”

BAMF

Beside Peter, in a puff of purple smoke, Kurt appeared. “It is not real!”

Peter put his hands on his hips. “Yeah, we know.”

Kurt nodded quickly, taking a deep breath. “Zee Brotherhood is here too. I saw Pyro, Vyngarde, and efen Toad. Zey are all vaiting just on the outskirts of the forest clearing”

Scott pursed his lips beside Raven, “So they lured us here?”

Erik looked towards where the monster was still lumbering away. “It’s me they want to speak to. They must know I am with you.”

Raven turned to him. “So what do you suggest?”

“Let me talk to them first. Maybe I can convince them to stop. If they’re doing all this in my name, I may have some sway with them.”

Hank and Raven exchanged a glance. “Okay.” Raven nodded. “Be careful. We’ll be listening on comms if you need help.”

And with that, Erik held out his hands and lifted himself up in the air until he was above the trees. It was dark, but the moon was full and he could see the monster perfectly. The illusion was impressive if that’s truly what it was. Wyngarde’s powers were certainly a sight to behold.

When he was high above the trees, Erik saw the monster slow and stop. It turned its head towards him, and then suddenly, with a loud cry its skin cracked like it was made of glass and crumbled to the ground. All traces of it disappeared and in a clearing in the woods, Erik saw Regan Wyngarde, dressed in black, her hair blowing in the midnight breeze. She didn’t take her eyes off Erik for a second as he lowered himself to the ground in front of her.

He landed softly on the undisturbed grass. He didn’t see any of the other Brotherhood members, but he could sense moving pieces of metal within the forest behind Regan.

There was silence as he approached her and her confident eyes. He stopped a few meters away from her.

She cocked her head on an angle, “Hello, Erik. Are you here to join us?”

Erik exhaled in bemusement. “That’s why you think I’m here?”

“Why else?”

“Because you are using my name to do unspeakable things to innocent people.”

Her face hardened and she straightened herself. “But they are not innocent, are they, Erik.” Her eyes took on a cruel icy tone; one that Erik had seen numerous times in the mirror. “They are

human

.”

Erik looked at her with pity. Pity because he knew exactly how she felt. Pity because he used to think that way because he had forgotten. In his rage and grief, Erik had forgotten.

He’d forgotten the acceptance of first wife Natalya, and the innocence of their young daughter, Anya, who had both been human. He had forgotten the gentle softness of his grandmother’s face as she tucked him into bed. He’d forgot the goodness of his mother and father as they sacrificed everything so that he could have a good childhood. He’d forgotten the kindness of their neighbours and the happy hours he used to spend playing with their children before the war. He’d forgotten the love Magda had shown him despite knowing who and what he was.

It had been so long since he harbored any love for a human, the rage having blinded his heart. But many that he had loved had been human. And they were not all deserving of death just because of some horror committed by one of their race.

Erik stood for mutants first and foremost and would always defend them, and he still had his differences with Charles, but after he had finished grieving Magda and Nina he had remembered that there were humans who were good and innocent. There were children and there were mothers and there were fathers. And Erik in good conscience could no longer excuse standing by while people tried to hurt them.

Regan saw his pity. She scowled, a shadow hiding the side of her face. “What? Has the great Magneto gone soft? After what they did to you? How can you forgive that?”

“I cannot.”

“Then join us.”

“I cannot.”

Regan’s jaw clenched. “Then I’ll make you.”

Regan lifted her hands up towards her temples like Erik has seen Charles do a million times over. Before he could even lift some metal from the ground to stop her, something incredibly fast and silver slammed into Regan, knocking her a few inches into the dirt.

In an instant Peter was side by side with Erik, a grin on his lips and a quip on his tongue. “Oh, you’re the famous one! Regan Wyngarde. I saw you in a movie once!”

Regan glared, wiping the dirt from her face, and growled, “Nice to know I have a fan.”

Peter wrinkles his nose, “Eh, you kinda sucked to be honest.”

Regan’s face twisted into a sneer. She started speaking into her earpiece, “Callisto—” Erik raised a buried piece of metal from the ground that he had brought close to the surface minutes ago and stopped her from finishing.

BAMF

Kurt’s purple puff of smoke surrounded Regan and then the two of them were gone. By the sound of her scream, Erik imagined they were somewhere in the air.

“Heh,” Peter said, glancing at Erik. “that worked out pretty well, I’d sa—”

A gust of wind passed by Erik and for a moment he thought that Peter had run off mid-sentence, but then he registered that something had hit Peter. A blur, just like how Peter looked like when he ran, but dark, not silver. And Erik’s helmet had also been grabbed off his head by the same blur.

Around him Erik saw the other members of the Brotherhood and the X-men emerging and the sounds of fighting begin. Storm floated down beside him, “Erik… What just happened to Peter?”

Erik turned about, looking for a sign of Peter, but saw nothing. “I don’t know. Something hit him. Very fast.”

Storm looked around as well, then she pointed, “Look! There!”

Erik looked and in the white light of the moon he saw a blur tumble across the ground and then the blur split and two people appeared, both pausing. One was Peter, looking quite shocked. The other was a tough looking brown skinned woman.

Storm swore. “When did the Brotherhood get a speedster?” She formed a tornado at her feet and lifted herself off the ground, leaving Erik to watch Peter and the woman.
  
When Peter first saw the other speedster, all he was was confused. He probably could’ve moved out of her way if he realized what was going on, but he was so distracted that there was someone who looked like they were moving normally when he was using his speed that she rammed right into him without him even trying to move.

The punch she gave him right after at super speed made Peter suddenly feel very sorry for every person he’d ever punched at super speed. He was pretty sure if he didn’t have extra strong and dense bones as part of his mutation his whole face would have broken.

Quickly, Peter collected himself and rushed forward to punch her back. He hit the side of her cheek, and she leaped at him. They were very closely matched. Peter hadn’t even known there was anyone as fast as him out there. He actually felt like he might be tired and out of breath. To be honest, he was more excited about this than he should’ve been.

After a few more seconds of wrestling with each other, the woman pushed her shoulder into Peter’s gut and they both went flying. Peter rolled across the grass and groaned.

“Holy—” He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked over at the woman who was getting up. “Man, I’ve never met another speedster before.”

The woman, now hunched over, her hands on her knees while breathing hard, deadpanned. “Well isn’t that exciting.”

Peter got to his feet too. “It is, kinda.”

The woman shook her head, pulled a knife from a sheath at her thigh, and started chasing after Peter. They wove through trees and Peter could feel his heart beating fast. This lady was very fast. As they ran, Peter could see the X-men and Erik fighting with the rest of the Brotherhood.

Erik had gotten tackled by Sabertooth, the big, hairy guy with muscles for days, and more importantly, a pretty sick healing factor. Erik was shooting metal through him, but all it did was slow him down. Jean and Raven were in close combat with Regan. Regan must be doing something to Jean’s mind, because Regan was going at her hard and Jean was not using her telekinesis. Kurt was now handling the Toad guy. Poor Kurt. From personal experience, Peter knew Toad smelled terrible. Peter was pretty sure it was in self defense, and it sure worked.

In the forest, Peter could see the red blast of Scott's eyes going up against the unpredictable flames of that Pyro kid. Some of the trees were catching on fire around them and Peter could see Scott advancing on him along with the silhouette of Storm, lowering herself behind the kid to corner him between her and Scott. Hank was rolling around in the open clearing with the Blob. There were claw scratches all along Blob’s face and arms, but it only seemed to make him more angry at Hank. The fat on his body was too thick for Hank’s claws to get to anything important fast enough.

Peter darted back and forth between the trees, but he couldn’t shake the woman. He was only a touch faster than her. A slight mess up, and she’d get him. And that knife looked sharp. They zipped through the trees, each managing to land a few hits. Peter’s jaw was aching and he was sure he had at least a bruised rib. He eventually managed to trip her by circling behind her faster than even he thought he could go and they both went flying again. He was going to have some bruises tonight. He and the woman locked eyes for less than a split second and they both prepared to run.

Then the sight of Erik being tackled mid air by a jumping Sabertooth, made him slow. And it truly did feel like slow motion as he saw the woman rush behind him faster than he anticipated, kick him in the back of the knees and wrap her one arm around his shoulders. Before he could even struggle, he felt a searing heat in his abdomen. It took him too long to realize that the heat was accompanied by pain. He heard an unpleasantly fleshy noise as the woman let him go. Her knife was by her side and it was now covered in something red.

There was a strange bitter taste in his mouth. For some reason he didn’t know what it was. And he was on the ground. He felt like his whole system had been shocked. His head had hit a hard spot on the ground. The woman was above him. She looked down at him. She was out of focus, blurry in his vision.

She raised a hand to her earpiece. “Callisto, here. Regan, do it.”

Peter blinked and he was somewhere else.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Peter was lying on something hard and warm. He could smell the tang of metal, mixed with smoke and oil. There was a loud rumbling coming from the ground. Was he dead? If he was dead, this really sucked as an afterlife.

He opened his eyes. Around him he saw his friends. They were also waking up, just the same as him. What had happened to them? He couldn’t remember… What had they been doing? They were all wearing casual clothes, which was strange because Peter could’ve sworn he’d been in his X-men uniform.

“Peter.” It was Ororo’s voice. She helped him up. For some reason he felt weak.

“Vere are vee?” Kurt asked, looking around. Peter couldn't tell if the space was small or large. They were in what he thought was a narrow aisle lined with windows and seats on either side. The space looked like they should be cramped, but there was enough space for them all the easily move around. It was like reality was fluctuating. Peter's head ached when he stared at one thing for too long.

“It’s a plane.” Hank said.

Getting up beside him, Raven rolled her eyes, “Yeah thanks Hank. Does anyone know how we got here?”

The plane made a terrible screeching noise and Peter saw smoke trialing outside the window. However they got here didn’t matter anymore, the plane was about to crash.

Peter looked around at all his friends, as they did the same. All but Scott. His face had gone deadly pale. He was rigid, at least more rigid than usual. Jean was looking at him, concern written all over her face.

“Scott?” She placed a hand on his arm, at which he flinched. “Are you okay?”

It took Scott a moment to answer. The jerking of the plane pulled him out of his thoughts. “I—I know this plane.” He looked around. Peter swore he heard some catch in Scott’s voice.

Scott suddenly went forward, towards the front of the aisle. He lurched to a stop when the cockpit doors flew open.

A woman emerged, gripping the hands of two young boys that Peter supposed were her sons. The roar of the plane grew louder. Peter couldn’t hear what the woman was saying to the boys. They looked frightened. The older boy with blond hair and blue eyes seemed to be trying to be strong for his brother. The younger boy had brown hair and brown eyes and he was openly crying, holding onto his brother’s hand.

The woman was telling them something close to their ears, as the plane shook. Peter heard the voice of a man call from the cockpit for the woman, Katherine. She looked over her shoulder and then pulled the boys into her arms. She kissed the tops of their heads, and then began strapping a parachute backpack onto the blond boy.

Time seemed to be slowing. Peter wasn’t sure if it was him or just this strange place they were in. Scott was still standing by Katherine and the boys. It didn’t seem like they could see him. Likely they couldn’t see any of them.

Then Scott began to back away slowly. Peter could tell his legs were shaky. He came up beside Jean, still staring at the woman and boys. “Where are we?” His voice was low. “That’s me.”

Jean’s brows lowered in confusion.

“That’s me. And Alex. And…and mom. This was the last time I—” Scott swallowed, his voice breaking. Peter wondered what his eyes looked like under his glasses.

Raven squared her jaw, glancing around. “Okay, we need to figured out how to get out of here, and where exactly

here

is. Jean, can you…”

She trailed off as Katherine, who was Scott’s mother apparently, was pulling Scott and Alex down the plane aisle towards Peter and the others. She still didn’t see them.

For the next few seconds Peter wondered if something was wrong with his powers, because everything was happening so fast. Scott’s mother opened the emergency door on the side of the plane. Scott and Alex were crying and hanging onto her. With great difficulty, she had to nudge them out of the airborne plane, Scott clinging to Alex and the parachute.

Then there was the sound of the boys screaming, and Peter saw a crack in his vision, as if he was wearing his goggles and the lens had fractured. And then Peter was falling too. He could see land below him. He could see the rest of the X-Men around him and the young version of Scott and Alex still falling, holding each other and crying.

And then the crack in Peter’s eyes broke, like the sky splitting open before him, and behind the break was darkness and Peter hit the ground.

Around him he heard the labored breathing of his friends. Ororo swore. Peter ignored the stabbing pain in his stomach and put out his hand, trying to find Ororo in the dark.

“'Ro! You okay?” He asked.

“I know this place.” She said very quietly.

Jean spoke up from somewhere a few feet away. From the way she sounded, they must be in a small space again. “I think I know what’s going on. I can almost remember, but not everything.”

“Well please tell us.” Ororo’s voice was urgent, and Peter felt her grip his hand tightly for security.

“It must be some kind of mind trap. Something must have happened and now someone is going through our memories. The plane was Scott’s. This must be yours. Where are we?”

Ororo shuddered. “Goddess…When I was six an earthquake destroyed my home. My parents were killed. I was trapped under the rubble for two days. My mother…my mother’s body must be very close.”

Peter felt his blood run cold, but he squeezed Ororo’s hand. He leaned up against the rocks and wood behind him that must have been Ororo’s childhood home. He’d never asked her about her parents. He felt guilty that he hadn’t. But then again, he never spoke of his parents either. At least not his dead mother.

There was a silence, and in that quiet Peter heard the unmistakable sound of a child crying. Ororo stiffened. That must be her in her memory.

“So it's choosing our worst memories.” Scott said. His voice still sounded strained.

Peter looked around him, trying in the dark to find Erik. As much as Peter wanted to know Erik better, he sure did not want to see what Erik’s worst memory was.

It was Raven who spoke next. “We need to get out of here.”

Just as she spoke, the blackness cracked. Behind this crack was a soft light, but Peter still felt a deathly jerk as his stomach dropped and they fell.

Peter landed on a patch of cool grass. It was so green. He got up and realized that it wasn't just a patch of grass, but a large hill. They were surrounded by rolling mountains. A slight breeze was blowing. It seemed familiar. Peter turned to look behind him.

He felt hot all over. He felt like he might faint. Of course this would have to be next. Of course. He’d just thought of his mom. Whoever was searching through their brains must have latched onto that.

In front of him was the house Peter had grown up in. Where he, his mother, and Aunt Marya and Uncle Django had lived until his mother’s death. And Peter knew exactly what this memory was.

Peter tried to breathe normally. If he was going to cry, he’d rather do it with some dignity.

He tried to focus on the people around him. Why was this memory going so slowly? Jean was frowning and it looked like she was attempting to use her powers to figure out this mindscape prison. Everyone else was looking around at their new surroundings.

Peter had to admit, even if he couldn’t bring himself to come back here, Mount Wundagore was still the most beautiful place he knew. The green hills went forever and the scent of summer flowers filled the air.

“Vere are vee now?” Kurt said.

Raven glanced at Erik, who was looking around with a frown. “Erik?”

Peter was pretty sure his heart stopped. Erik. He’d forgotten about Erik.

He’d forgotten about Erik

. Oh no. A string of unsavory words crashed through Peter’s mind.

He stared at his father.

“I...know this place.” Erik said. He was also staring at the small house on the hill. His voice was strange. Puzzled. Sad. “This is Wundagore Mountain.” His face set into a look of confusion. In the gentlest voice Peter had ever heard from Erik, he said “I’ve been here before. It…it must be mine.”

In that split second Peter made a decision. After years of avoidance and indecision, he decided. Either he could stay quiet or not. And after all that progress he’d made over the last week talking with Erik, he wasn’t willing to stay quiet.

“It’s not yours.” Peter said. Of course it wasn’t. Yes, Erik had been here, Peter knew. He’d come with Peter’s mother and his older sister Anya to visit Marya and Django. He’d come here before that part of his life had been destroyed. There was no way this could be Erik’s bad memory.

Besides, Peter would know this day anywhere. He couldn’t forget it. This was his first clear memory in his life. And one he wished he could forget if he was honest. Anyone would erase the death of their mother if they could.

The sky was turning gray. Gray; the colour Mama’s skin had turned when Peter last saw her. The setting sun was outlining the horizon in red. The colour Peter had seen as a seven year old being told his mother was dying before his eyes.

“What?” Erik’s voice cut through Peter’s hazy thoughts.

“It’s mine.” He repeated. “The memory. It’s mine.”

Peter stared at Erik. Erik was looking at him with searching eyes. And their eyes both snapped away from the other when the door to the house swung open.

The feeling of surrealness that Peter felt watching seven year old him bolt out of the cottage was so strange. His stomach did something weird. He wondered if he would throw up. He knew exactly what was coming next.

Young Peter ran from the house across the grass as fast as he could barefooted and still without super speed. He passed where Peter himself was standing and Peter could see the tear streaks on his round face. In fact, Peter could remember the feeling of the tears rolling down his cheeks. Peter, along with everyone, turned to watch where the boy would run. He kept running until the mountain began to slope and then he stopped. He was breathing hard. His hair, still a dark brown at this age, was disturbed by the breeze.

Then came the call. “Pietro!” It was Aunt Marya. Younger than Peter remembered her being, but that must be what came with being twenty-seven instead of seven.

Marya went after him, and upon reaching him knelt down, taking him in her arms. Peter remembered standing there, arms limp at his sides, Aunt Marya the only thing holding him up. He hadn’t been able to get Mom’s gray face out of his head. He had just wanted her to look normal again.

The tears Peter knew had been coming the whole time began to prick his eyes as young Peter softly pleaded for his mama, and Marya, now crying herself, held him close, and chanted, “I know, I know.”

Nobody had spoken for a few moments until Erik, who was closer to Peter than he thought, quietly said, “You’re...Marya’s son?”

At this Peter felt a surge of relief. He could change how this went. He could lie. He could make Erik believe he was just Peter’s uncle. Not related by blood at all. But what would be the point of that?

As much as Peter tried, his voice still broke as he answered Erik.

“She’s my aunt." He straightened himself. "But she raised me after my mom died.”

Peter kept his eyes on the horizon. He couldn’t bear to look at Erik. “...Aunt?” Erik paused. “But…but Marya’s family was killed. And Django only had one sister.” His tone had lowered. Peter could physically feel Erik staring at him.

The image of young Peter and Marya blurred in Peter’s vision. “I know.” He choked out, trying to swallow it all back.

The tension in the air made Peter want to run off. But he felt like he couldn’t breathe. And it was silent. Except for the drumming in Peter’s ears. Except for the whispers of his friends behind them. Except for Erik’s breathing that was coming in short, shaky exhales. Peter wished he and Erik were alone, but of course he wasn’t given that luxury.

Erik’s voice was so very quiet. So unsure and sad. “How old are you?”

It was a simple question, and Peter almost laughed. He blinked back his tears as successfully as possible and found it in himself to turn towards Erik, giving his father a sardonic smile. “Don’t ask questions you know the answer to, Erik.”

Somehow Peter was shocked to see Erik’s blue eyes brimming with tears. A lump formed in Peter’s throat.

How long they were standing there, Peter wasn’t sure. It felt like a million years packed into a second. Erik was saying nothing. Peter wished he would.

Just say it. Say what we are. Say the words that will change everything.

The expression on Erik’s face was something Peter had only imagined and trying to read it was practically impossible. There was so much emotion in his face you couldn’t even place all the different feelings passing over him. Peter saw shock, grief, and relief all mingling in Erik’s tears. With fear building in his chest, Peter wondered if his own face looked something similar.

The world cracked again. And all that was left as Peter and Erik fell were the unspoken words.

Son.

Dad.

Ororo had to help Peter up when they landed this time. Now Peter knew for a fact that he was going to be sick. He hardly picked up on the new surroundings, a quiet neighbourhood where a girl with red hair was playing happily on the street with her friend. Peter’s head was pounding and his vision blurry, not just from unshed tears. It was then that he finally identified the bitter taste in his mouth as the tangy taste of blood.

He looked down at the suburban pavement he was standing on. He couldn’t stand to look at Erik, wherever he was around him. Peter didn’t want to see those tears in Erik’s eyes again. He was having enough trouble with whatever the heck was happening to himself.

But Ororo was beside him with a comforting hand. “Peter? Are you okay?”

Peter doubled over slowly, his hands on his knees, “I’m fine.” Suddenly he felt his body break out in hot sweat. He swore. “I’m gonna be sick.”

Even Peter’s thoughts were coming slower than he knew they should. But he couldn’t seem to care. All he could think was that he was going to vomit his guts all over. He hadn’t thought he would have such a visceral reaction to finally telling Erik.

Peter coughed. His tongue felt thick and the taste of blood was getting sharper. But there was no blood in his mouth.

He was suddenly painfully aware of Erik close to him. Through the rushing in his ears Peter heard Erik say his name. But he couldn’t answer. Ororo was still giving him support. Peter turned to look at his father for a split second and then he became conscious of what was happening around him.

It took him a few seconds to recall, but he realized that Jean had seen the little girl on the street and had recognized the memory as her own. Her face had gone stony. She’d squared her jaw and said, “Alright, I’ve had enough of this.” She shut her eyes tight and Peter was all caught up when Regan Wyngarde appeared a few meters down the street.

Jean turned herself towards Regan and put her hand out. From the panic on Regan’s face Peter knew that Jean had frozen her in place.

Jean now pulled Regan forward. When they came face to face, Jean grabbed Regan’s head from either side, a fire in her eyes. “Though you could overpower me, witch?" Jean clenched her jaw. "Think again.”

And then Jean’s pink psychic energy exploded between the two of them, tendrils of it stretching across the scene in front of them. The world shook and cracked for a final time, this time accompanied by Regan’s scream.
  
Peter woke but he didn’t really feel awake. He was lying on his back, his head turned to the side. He felt pain in his leg now as well as his gut. He wondered if his leg was broken. It felt broken. He could vaguely hear commotion around him. He heard a

whoosh

go by his ear. He figured the speedster lady, Regan had called her Callisto, had just run off. He heard Jean reassuring everyone that she’d frozen the rest of the Brotherhood. He heard footsteps running towards him and suddenly his neck was being turned so he was staring upwards into Ororo’s eyes.

“Oh goddess, Peter, oh my- no don’t close your eyes, Peter!”

Peter’s eyes were already half closed. He ached all over. He could now feel blood dripping down his cheek from his mouth. He saw everyone gathering around him. They were saying things, but he couldn’t quite understand. He saw Erik but his face was fuzzy. Peter wanted to see his face better. He just needed a second to close his eyes…

As the world faded again he unconsciously brought his hand to his stomach. There was warm blood there too. For the second time that day, he wondered if he was dying.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Erik woke from whatever dreamland Wyngarde had put them in with tears on his face and a burning pain in his chest. He hardly processed what he was doing as he pushed himself off the ground and frantically looked around for Peter. He had to talk to him.

He saw the other X-Men helping each other get up. Across from him he saw the speedster woman who had been chasing Peter. They made eye contact and then in a blink she was gone. The rest of the Brotherhood were sleeping on the ground. Erik absently wondered why the Brotherhood had not killed them while Regan had them all under. It would only be later that Erik would find out that in the last moments before Regan entered her mind that Jean had frozen all their bodies in a bubble so no one was able to move.

But all other thoughts fled Erik’s mind as soon as he saw Storm rushing towards Peter who was the only one left lying down in the forest clearing.

The haze that put a curtain between Erik and the rest of the world was familiar. It was an all too common occurrence in his life, appearing during moments Erik didn’t like to remember. Moments of anger and grief. The haze was focus. It let him see only the most important things. And right then, all he saw was Peter.

Ororo was holding Peter’s head in her lap. When Erik approached she raised her head up, tears in her eyes.

“That woman…she stabbed him. I saw the knife.”

The others crowded around, asking questions, moving around in Erik’s peripheral vision. Erik felt the anger in him overcome his grief. Raven’s quick grip on his shoulder is what pulled him out of it.

“Not right now, Erik. Get a grip. We need to get Peter to the infirmary and we need to make sure Charles is safe. Please. Deal with this later.”

Erik felt like he couldn't wait another minute to deal with this after waiting 27 years just to even know Peter existed. But he took a breath, gathered all the spare metal he could find from the ground and stretched it into a thin metal sheet. Wordlessly, the others moved away from Peter, except Ororo, who, under Hank’s direction, had ripped off a piece of her cape and was holding it to Peter’s wound. Erik slid the sheet under Peter and lifted him from the ground.

“Kurt.” Hank said, placing a hand on the sheet.

Erik froze for a second. In his complete focus on Peter he’d forgotten about Kurt. They had a faster way to the Infirmary than the Blackbird. Everyone joined hands, and Kurt shut his eyes. Erik was enveloped by a pink puff of sulfur smoke and when it cleared he was in the mansion’s basement infirmary.

He lowered Peter onto the table in front of them. Hank went running, returning with Dr. Cecelia Reyes, the school doctor, who immediately got to work with Peter.

Again, Raven put a hand on Erik, “Erik, it’ll be fine. He’s in good hands with Cecelia.”

Erik didn’t quite believe her, but let go of his hold on all of the metal on Peter’s body and watched as they moved him into another room, out of Erik’s sight.

No

. No. He couldn’t leave him. He needed to see him. To make sure he was okay. He wasn’t going to leave him—

It was Jean’s voice that cut through Erik’s thoughts. “I can’t contact the Professor. Something’s wrong.”

Raven swore. “So we were right. Fabian Cortez is the head of all this. Or at least somehow involved. From the research Hank did on him, I’ll bet Cortez was the money behind it all.”

And suddenly all the aimless feelings that Erik had were given a body and a goal. The woman who stabbed Peter was gone. Erik doubted that he’d ever see her again with how fast she’d left. But Cortez was there. Maybe he had even given the order. “You mean to say that Cortez

caused this

?”

“Likely.” Raven said. “Jean, are you sure you can’t get through? Nothing?”

Jean just shook her head worriedly.

They all began joining hands again with Kurt. Erik could hardly feel what was happening anymore. All he saw was red. All he felt was hot and every piece of metal was a potential weapon. If Fabian Cortez had done this to Erik’s

son

all in Erik’s own name, Erik was going to kill him.
  
With his powers useless, Charles could do nothing. He clenched his jaw, “What are you doing to them?”

They had just watched as the monster on the television evaporated and everyone, both the X-Men and the Brotherhood, had stopped moving.

Happily, Cortez crossed his legs and took a sip of his champagne. “Well, Regan has quite a marvelous gift, really. Illusion casting. Making people see things that aren’t there. A type of telepathy really. Still mind manipulation.”

Though Charles had to admit that it was indeed a marvelous mutation and he would love to talk about it, there were more pressing matters.

“And what is she making them think is there?”

Fabian shrugged and glanced back to the television. “The plan is just to incapacitate Magneto. Regan usually goes straight to worst memories, so something along those lines, I suppose.”

Charles shut his eyes and pursed his lips, desperately willing his mind to reach out. “And what do you want with me?”

Fabian laughed. “You? Oh, I don’t care about you. I just needed you powerless and out of the way. Are you sure you don’t want a drink?”
  
Charles and Fabian watched as energy emitted from Jean’s body where she lay on the battlefield and burst out across the clearing. Fabian leaned forward in his seat, for the first time since Charles’s arrival, showing concern.

Charles felt a swell of pride. Of course Jean could counter Regan’s power. “Will you let me go now?”

Fabian whipped his head to look at Charles. “Excuse me?”

“My X-Men will be here in a matter of minutes, I’m sure. It might be more beneficial for you to just let me go.”

Anger sparked in Fabian’s eyes. “Just because your X-Men are coming doesn’t mean that Magneto still is on your side, and with Magneto, we can beat you.”

“I think you overestimate Erik’s power. You are aware that we have taken down Erik on multiple occasions?”

“That’s only because he has a soft spot for you,” Fabian spat.

“My team has more than three omega level mutants, do you really think we can’t take you?” Charles wasn’t quite sure of the odds, but he was confident in Erik.

Fabian shot to his feet and looked down at Charles with a posture that Charles was sure was supposed to intimidate him. He opened his mouth, but a gust of wind burst through the room.

A woman with short hair, wearing leather and holding a bloodied knife stood in the room. She glared at Fabian. “Cortez.” She launched forward, her knife suddenly at Fabian’s throat. “Where’s the money?”

“W-what?”

“The money. I did my job. I want the money.”

Fabian said nothing. The woman pushed the knife up to his throat and Charles saw a drop of blood trickle down his neck. Fabian swallowed, the anger in his eyes having been replaced by a flood of primal fear. “I…it’s in the safe.” He gestured to the safe behind his desk.

The woman didn’t move and rolled her eyes. “What’s the code?” She pushed the knife in again.

With wild eyes, Fabian told her a string of numbers. In less than three seconds flat, the safe had been opened and the woman ran out of the room, with all the safe’s contents.

Fabian was bracing himself against the back of his chair, holding his throat and swearing under his breath.

“Let me go.” Charles said again, his jaw clenched.

“No.” Fabian rasped.

“There was blood on that knife. That woman hurt one of my X-Men.”

“Yes, and I still have you.” Fabian strode across the room and produced a gun from his desk. “You’re my leverage.”
  
Kurt’s smoke obscured all of Erik’s sight. When the cloud cleared they were standing in the foyer of a large house, with enough expensive vases to rival Charles’s collection. Erik didn’t wait to listen to whatever plan Raven had. He gave way to the red tunnel vision.

He didn’t remember how he got to the room, but he slammed open a door to reveal Charles and Fabian Cortez. The two of them looked over at him in shock. Then relief came over Charles’s face, and some expression of fanatic adoration possessed Cortez. Cortez lifted a gun he was holding up to Charles’s head. Clearly the man was an idiot because it was a metal gun. Erik threw it across the room.

Erik heard Raven yelling at him from somewhere. She wasn’t important. Without a moment’s hesitation, Erik wrenched the handles off all the drawers and cabinets in the room, forming them into cuffs. They snapped onto Cortez’s wrists and, wide-eyed, he was flung to the wall.

Raven barged in, but Erik hardly took notice. She called his name again but all Erik could hear was the short breathing of Cortez and the ringing noise of all the metal he was unconsciously vibrating around him.

He stepped towards Cortez, so they were eye to eye. “Are you the leader of the New Brotherhood?”

Cortez tried to calm himself and nodded, trying to regain some of his dignity. “Yes, yes! I’ve re-formed it. Of course, it was always with the intent to step down as leader when you arrived to join us.” The man had the audacity to smile. “Obviously.”

Erik felt a wave of disgust run over him and his face twisted into a sneer. He lifted his fist and squeezed it tight, simultaneously crushing Fabian’s wrist. Fabian let out an undignified scream.

“You hurt my son.” Erik growled.

Fabian stared at him through the pain induced tears in his eyes. He glanced around. “Son? I wasn’t—I wasn’t aware you had a son.”

Neither was I.

The image of Peter bleeding on the ground filled Erik’s mind. The vibrating metal around him suddenly stopped. Cortez dropped to the ground in front of Erik. Erik stared only at the empty wall in front of him.

A son. Family. Someone to live for.

The red haze began to fade like a streetlight shining through fog.

“Erik!” Raven’s hand grabbed Erik’s shoulder, pulling him back. “Leave him, Erik.”

Erik planted his feet and looked down at Cortez who was on his knees before him. He was groveling. “Please spare me, Lord Magneto, I can still be of service. Please, I—”

“Peter would want you to.” Raven’s voice was quiet.

Erik pushed her off him gently. The red haze was gone. “I know.”

He looked back down at Cortez, still on his knees in front of Erik. Cortez glanced up.

“You’re pathetic.” Erik said.

“I’m sorry?”

“Pathetic. You do all this in my name. And even if you follow my past teachings you are still a power hungry, pathetic man. You are no defender of the oppressed. And no one is coming to help you.” Erik gave Cortez one last steely stare. “Never speak to me again. You’re not worth my time.”

This was apparently too much for Cortez. He spluttered and looked like no one had ever spoken to him like that before. He pushed himself up from the ground, trying to regain any dignity he still had. He swallowed and stood up as straight as he could, puffing his chest out.

“How low the great Magneto has fallen. No matter,” He straightened his jacket, while Erik glared at him, “We don’t even need you, I’m just as good of a leader as—”

Erik grabbed Cortez by the collar and punched him square in the face, knocking him to the ground.
He didn’t try to get up this time.

Erik finally turned away from Cortez to see the X-Men and Charles standing still, watching.

There was silence. Everyone stared at him. Charles met Erik’s eyes.

“I’m sorry…” Charles started. “What’s this about

your son

?”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Erik spent his next hours in a haze. It wasn’t his haze of red focus, but a cloud of desperation that centered around Peter.

He never explained anything to Charles. He was overcome with fatigue and Raven pushed off Charles’s questions. She took charge, directing Charles and the others to deal with Cortez. Then she grabbed Erik’s arm and told Kurt to bring them back to the school.

Outside the infirmary, from where he was seated, Erik could just see through the narrow window in the door. Peter on the operating table. Hank and Dr. Reyes hovering around him. They were working on stopping the bleeding and stitching up his wound. Peter’s one leg was still bent at a painful angle that made Erik want to vomit.

As the doctors worked, Peter’s hand was nudged off of the table he lay on. It dropped down lifelessly. The hand was pale. Erik couldn’t take his eyes off it.

Erik felt his eyes grow hot and his mind go fuzzy. And for the first time in years, he prayed. The words of the

Mi Sheberach

came quickly to his mind.

May the One who blessed our ancestors — Patriarchs Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, Matriarchs Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, and Leah —bless and heal the one who is ill:

Peter...son of Natalya...

“

Mien Gott…

” Erik’s voice failed him.

Around Erik, there was noise and movement. His hands stayed clasped tightly, as if holding on for dear life. He was vaguely aware of Charles and the X-men returning, but he didn’t take his eyes off Peter. They had finished stitching him up. Dr. Reyes was using her telekinesis to set Peter’s broken leg, and Hank was preparing the necessary casts.

And suddenly they were moving Peter, and Erik was with them, walking alongside as they moved him to an infirmary bed. Hank said something about a blood transfusion and Erik being a match, and then Erik was beside Peter’s bed, his sleeve rolled up to do all he could to make sure his last child lived.

While Hank worked, he talked. He explained how the time spent in their memories did not last as long as it felt, which meant that Peter hadn’t bled out during that time. Peter had been hit hard, but Hank was certain he’d make it through. Erik wasn’t sure he believed him. He said that the stab was clean and would heal nicely. The leg would take longer, but he would still heal quicker than most.

Erik didn’t pay much attention to Hank, instead focusing on the worryingly shallow breathing of Peter. He was laid out on one of the infirmary beds. His face was pale. Erik thought he looked too much like a corpse. Erik should know. He had seen many.

He pushed back his crowded thoughts and watched Peter’s chest rise and fall, and rise and fall, as Erik’s blood pumped into his veins. Blood that was already in his veins.

At some point after the transfusion, Charles came in. He put a comforting hand on Erik’s shoulder and gave his hopeful spiel about how Peter was strong and would heal up just fine. Charles didn’t understand. Everything and everyone had been taken from Erik. There was no reason why now would be different.

Raven took Charles away saying they’d talk later.

When they left, Erik felt an intense fatigue roll over him. From the chair beside Peter’s bed, Erik took Peter’s hand. Peter’s fingertips were still too pale.

“

Gott

, I’m-” Erik’s own quiet voice broke. “I’m so sorry…”
  
Outside Peter’s room, Ororo saw Erik sob with his head in his hands.

Hank had assured them all that Peter would be fine. She believed him. She wasn’t sure that Erik did.

Around her, Jean and Scott sighed in relief, and Kurt crossed himself. They hadn’t said anything while Peter’s life was still up in the air. Now that Hank said he was stable, they all felt they could speak.

“Thank God.” Ororo said.

Jean was still looking towards Peter’s room, concerned. “Someone should call his aunt.”

Ororo glanced at her sideways with knowing eyes, “Should they? Should they

really

?”

There was a tense silence. Scott cleared his throat. “So…did any of you know? Like…that Erik was his dad?”

“I did.” Ororo said. “Raven knew too. But that’s it. He didn’t want it getting out.”

“Oh…” Scott said quietly.

Ororo glanced at him. “What?”

A look of revelation comes to Scott's face. “Ohhh! That makes so much sense now!”

“What?”

“Peter knows the whole Magneto speech from ‘73 by heart and I never knew why. He just said that it was a “formative time of his life”. All makes sense now.”

Jean smiled. “He what?”

“You know, the White House speech? The whole ‘Brothers and sisters—’ That whole thing.”

Ororo laughed in spite of it all and glanced at Peter lying in the infirmary. She hoped that the whole situation would eventually bring Peter some peace. At least everything was out in the open now.

Raven walked in the room, a tray of food in her hand. She peaked into Peter’s room where Erik was still seated.

“Dr. Reyes says he’s stable.” Ororo told her.

She nodded. “You guys head up. Get some rest. Eat something.”

When they all hesitated, Raven gave them a look. “Go. I promise I’ll call if his condition changes at all.”

The last thing Ororo saw as the elevator doors closed, was Raven quietly slipping into Peter’s room. Ororo was glad that Erik was with Peter. Peter deserved to have someone beside him.

“Someone should still call his aunt.” Jean said.

“Oh yeah,” Ororo almost laughed, “From what I hear about his Aunt, I bet that’s gonna be a pretty scene when she sees Erik again.” 
  
Erik didn’t look up when the door opened. He knew it was Raven from the corner of his eyes. He could smell the food she’d brought. He didn’t feel like eating.

She put the tray down on the small table beside Erik’s chair, and sat down herself. “How are you holding up?”

Erik was sitting with his elbows on his knees and chin in his hands. He turned his face to her. “Did you know?”

Raven met his eyes. “Yes. And before you ask why I didn’t tell you, it’s because Peter asked me not to say anything. It’s what he insisted on. Otherwise I would have told you. I’m sorry.”

Erik let his eyes wander back to Peter, whose face was still too pale. He clasped his hands together and swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Do you…do you know

why

he didn’t want to tell me?” Erik was afraid of the answer.

Raven leaned back in her seat thoughtfully. “Honestly? I think he was scared. I mean, he never explicitly said, kid talks so much but says nothing at the same time, it’s insane. But…I could see that much. I mean, he spent so much time not knowing you or even knowing who his dad was and then he finds out it’s

you

of all people…and…As much as Peter plays up around other people, he doesn’t think very highly of himself. I think he thought you wouldn’t want anything to do with him.”

Erik shook as he inhaled, willing his voice not to break. “Why does he want anything to do with

me

?”

“Erik,” Raven’s voice was firm. “You’re his father.” Erik felt new tears prick his eyes. Raven softened. “He never had a father. You may be, well,

you

, but you’re all he has.”

He’s all

I

have

.

The steady rhythmic beating of Peter’s heart monitor filled the room.

“You should eat.” Raven handed Erik the tray. “You just gave him a ton of blood. You

need

to eat.”

Erik looked at the food distastefully, but took the tray. She was right.

Raven stood, and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. He’ll pull through. He always does. He’s tough.” She walked to the door, put her hand on the handle, and smiled.  “He’s related to you after all.” 
  
Erik ate. Dr. Reyes came quietly back in to check on Peter a few times through the night. She assured Erik that Peter was completely stable and he could go get some sleep, but he politely refused her and she left with a pitying smile.

Erik did drift to sleep a few times, but mostly he sat, overwhelmed by thoughts. Erik had often wondered in passing what had happened to his first wife, Natalya, after she left him. He sometimes thought of looking for her, but decided against it for her own safety.

If Peter’s memory was truly correct, she had died. Despite even the memory of her face fading, this news grieved Erik. He and Natalya had been through the camps together and somehow managed to create a small corner of happiness in a world that had seemed so dark to him then. They’d lived in that world as long as they were able, until it shattered with the death of their daughter Anya. And the subsequent deaths of the men who had caused it at Erik’s own hands. Natalya had left him that day, horrified with him. He couldn’t defend himself against that and often thought it better that they had parted ways then and there.

But he hadn’t known she was pregnant. He wondered if she did either.

He wondered how Peter had found out. He wondered if Peter knew when he recused Erik from the Pentagon all those years ago. He wondered just what Peter thought of him. He wondered if he would get last chance at fatherhood, at family. He wondered why God was giving him this chance.

Erik had lost everything twice in a repeated vicious cycle. A daughter and a wife twice ripped from him. Any glimpse of happiness in his life, gone. Both times he wished to have gone with them. Grief and anger had consumed him twice. Now he felt he had somewhat healed, but he had no intention of trying to create a family again. He had come to terms with dying lonely, the last of his line. But now here was a boy, his own son, his flesh and blood, who was already grown, who had missed his father for twenty-seven years, who somehow wanted Erik in his life.

Erik was desperate that this time it would be different. No, not desperate, determined. This boy, bleeding and bruised, would not die. Erik would not allow it. And he would grow up to old age and he would be happy. Erik had a son, and all that he hoped for him was that he would live. Maybe Peter really hated him. But Erik didn’t care as long as he was happy. As long as he lived.

Erik could hardly remember how to be that person he had buried when Anya had died. When Magda and Nina had died. There was a side of him that he had left and had resolved never to dig up, but that person was now gasping for air.

Erik glanced at Peter. His face had formed dark bruises, but his breathing had evened. Looking at his face, in the quiet of the early morning hours, he thought of Nina, and finally of Anya, who he had tried to forget the face of for so, so long, and he sang the song he had sung to them both as they lay to sleep at night.

Odpocznij moje dziecko

Rest my child

Dzień się skończył

The day is over

Słońce zaświeci

The sun will shine

Gdy przyjdzie poranek

When the morning comes

Ale teraz jest ciemno i świat jest spokojny

But now it’s dark and the world is calm

Więc daj odpocząć oczom swym i zaśnij

So let your eyes rest and fall asleep

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Peter was truly loved by people here. Every so often, someone would peak their head in the infirmary room just to see if he was awake. While Dr. Reyes assured Erik of Peter's recovery, Erik could see everyone still worried for him. Erik wished he wasn’t even more terrified Peter wouldn’t wake up.

Erik sometimes talked with some of Peter’s friends when they came by. He found out that Peter was roommates with Scott Summers and had been for the past year. They annoyed each other to death, but somehow managed to get along when it mattered most. Storm seemed to be Peter’s closest friend as he had confided his parentage in her. Erik found out that Peter was somewhat notoriously known around the school for pulling pranks, and being able to get kids any kind of candy contraband they wanted.

Erik savoured each thing he learned about Peter. He had years to catch up on. Hopefully he still had years ahead of him. While Raven kept reassuring him that Peter would be happy to have Erik in his life, Erik himself wasn’t quite convinced.

He also found out that Charles had no idea about Erik being Peter’s father and, with a miffed look from Charles, was reminded that he couldn’t read Peter’s mind. That remark made Erik swell with a fatherly pride which he admitted he was happy to feel after so long.

Erik spent most of his time in the room with Peter, but at times he was convinced by Raven, Hank, and Charles to go up to his room to get some real sleep. He came back when he woke. On the second morning, Peter was still asleep. The second morning was also the morning that Marya Maximoff showed up at school.

Erik cursed Charles for not letting him know that he had called Marya. It should have been obvious to him, but Erik hadn’t even considered that Marya would be called. And he was definitely not ready to face her after so many years and in this specific situation as well. But he knew he had to.

Erik left Peter’s room when he got word from Charles that Marya was coming down. He supposed she should have a moment with Peter alone. The woman had practically raised Peter, and Erik owed her that.

She came down with Charles, clearly distraught, her eyes puffy from crying. She didn’t notice Erik in the waiting room outside. He heard her choked voice asking about if Peter had woken up, if he would be okay, and why he hadn’t woken up yet. Dr. Reyes answered all her questions promptly, and Charles comforted her, saying he had faith Peter would wake. This seemed to pacify her and the room was quiet.

Erik still sat outside. He was not happily anticipating this reunion to any degree. Marya hadn’t ever hated him, but she had been wary of him. She knew about his powers and knew that people wanted to hurt him for having them and she felt he was a danger to Natalya and the family. To her credit, she was right and they had all been hurt for ignoring that fact.

At the sound of Marya’s footsteps, Erik looked up. She was glaring at him from the doorway of Peter’s room. Her eyes were still as fiery as they had always been, but now they were filled with the fury of a mother whose child had been hurt.

Erik stood and said nothing as she crossed the room towards him. Just as Dr. Reyes and Charles came to watch, Marya reached up and slapped Erik hard across the face.

His face stung but he said nothing. She took a deep breath, “That was for Natalya.” She caught his eye quickly, “It was also for Peter.” She shook her head, swiping a loose hair from across her face, “You don’t deserve him.”

“I know.”

“Good. He’s better than you ever were. If you do anything to hurt him, I’ll kill you. Thank God I’m not killing you now.”

Erik nodded. Everything she was saying was right. He didn’t deserve Peter and after the trouble he had caused Marya’s family she should be doing much worse to him.

Marya closed her eyes and turned back to Charles and Dr. Reyes. “I’m sorry…I have to work…” She walked back over them leaving Erik alone. “I wish I could stay. Please call me if he…if he doesn’t wake up. Or if he does.”

Charles assured Marya they would, and Dr. Reyes escorted her back to the elevator.

Erik felt Charles staring at him. They hadn’t had much of a chance to speak about the whole situation, and Erik really didn’t feel like doing it now. He tried to walk back into Peter’s room, but Charles cleared his throat.

Erik sighed. “What?”

Charles seemed like he had a lot to say, but he kept it short. “Don’t take anything to heart. At least not until Peter wakes. From what I know, Peter doesn’t care about your past. I know you’ve changed since you knew Marya and Peter’s mother. And I’m sure Peter knows as well.”

Erik wanted to ask him how he knew. Charles couldn’t read Peter’s mind. He was simply going off what he could infer from Peter’s words and actions. And maybe he

was

right. Erik hoped he was right. But he didn’t have the energy to argue with Charles about it all. So Erik just nodded and took his seat beside Peter’s bed.

From the hall Charles called, “I’ll send you down some breakfast.”
  
Peter wasn’t sure how long he stared at Erik.

He had woken in the infirmary, which he wasn’t at all surprised at. He remembered something about being stabbed and his leg being broken, so the infirmary was expected. What wasn’t expected was Erik sitting in the chair beside Peter’s bed, his head lolled to the side, and his eyes closed. When he was sleeping he looked so peaceful.

The clock and the dimmed lights told him it was nighttime. All Peter could hear was the beeping of his heart monitor. The light from the machine and from the door window cast long shadows about the room.

And there was Erik.
Peter just kept staring at him.

Everything hurt. His legs hurt, his back ached, he could tell he had a bandage on his stomach. The only thing that didn’t hurt to move was his head and his fingers.

It was so quiet that Peter couldn’t even ignore when his breathing became quick as tears fell down his face. Erik was right there. Just sitting there. It was night and Erik was here. It was the only thing running through Peter’s mind, and it repeated until sleep again overtook his racing mind.
  
Erik woke with a cramp in his neck. He rolled his neck around and sat up straight. It had been two days now. Peter was still laying on the bed, his chest rising and falling, his face serene. His cheeks were strangely blotchy red. Almost as if he had been crying.

Erik went rigid. Had he been awake? Energy pulsed through Erik’s veins as he looked closer at Peter. Erik mouthed Peter’s name. He couldn’t force himself to speak. He wanted to shake Peter awake, but he felt frozen.

The door opened and Hank entered and walked over to the medical equipment that Peter was hooked up to.

“Any change?” Hank asked.

“No.” Erik wasn’t going to give himself any hope.

Hank glanced at Peter, eyebrows lowered. He looked back up to Erik. “Charles says to go up for breakfast.”

While Erik didn’t want to leave, he was hungry. Hesitantly, Erik turned to the door, “If he wakes, please call me.”

“Of course.”
  
Hank was hovering over Peter when he woke again. He kept asking him how he felt and was shining a little flashlight in his eyes. Hank called for Dr. Reyes who appeared promptly. Peter had a headache now. Amidst all of Hank’s questions, Peter looked to his right. The chair beside the bed was empty. Had Erik been there at all? His headache made his mind foggy. Maybe he’d imagined it… he probably had.

“Cecilia, can you please tell Erik that he’s awake?”

Peter’s mind went blank. Hank was asking him a question. Peter couldn’t hear him. Erik knew. He

knew

. Whatever Reagan Wyngarde had done to them hadn’t just been in Peter’s head. Everyone knew now.

The beeping of Peter’s head monitor quickened.

“Whoa, whoa—” Peter could hear Hank talking again. “Peter, it’s alright okay. Take a deep breath.”

He did. It hurt him all over. He kept breathing. He had to. He didn’t need Erik to see him like this.

Peter’s head was still spinning, attempting to process all that had happened, was happening, and what was going to happen all at once. Thankfully he could do it faster than most, but being unconscious was throwing his brain for a loop.

Hank and Dr. Reyes were just helping Peter sit up in the bed when the sound of heavy, fast footsteps coming down the hall reached his ears.

And just like that, Erik was there in the room. He was staring at Peter with eyes so intense, so desperate, so suddenly brimming with tears. Peter’s own eyes glazed over. He wished that Hank and Dr. Reyes weren’t there, but of course he wouldn’t be so lucky.

Erik approached in a tentative way that Peter had never seen in his father before. Peter wanted to say something. He could tell Erik did too.

A prick in Peter’s arm, made Peter tear his eyes away from Erik. Dr. Reyes was taking his blood. Peter just inhaled as steadily as he could manage.

He shut his eyes with the knowledge that Erik was now standing by the bed still staring. Why did it have to happen like this? And why was Erik looking at him like he loved him? There was no way. Erik didn’t know Peter. But maybe he wanted to…

Dr. Reyes finished taking his blood, and, beside her, Hank cleared his throat awkwardly. Dr. Reyes read the room and declared that she would return shortly before pushing Hank of the room and closing the door behind them.

Peter looked up at Erik. Erik still looked like he might cry. Peter imagined his own face mirrored Erik’s.

“Well—” Erik stopped. His voice was weak. He blinked, and took a shaky breath to rival Peter’s own. “I suppose that’s the most sleep you’ve had in a while.”

Peter let out a breathy laugh that hurt his chest. “Since you got here, yeah.”

Erik gave a fleeting smile and let himself sink into the chair he’d been sitting in the night before.

Peter’s heart monitor beeped in the silence.

“How do you feel?” Erik was still recovering the strength of his voice.

Peter tried to hide how much he was affected by Erik asking about his well being and gave a groan paired with a smile. “Like, I’ve been stabbed.”

Erik gave his own attempted smile back.

Peter looked at his leg cast. “How long was I out?”

“About just over two days.”

Peter laid his head back and stared at the ceiling, nodding. “Right.”

He didn’t know what to say. There was too much to be said.

Every time he blinked he saw spots.

His mind was going a mile a minute. He had to say something.

“Erik, I…” Peter still couldn’t look over at him. “I didn’t want it to happen like that…I…” He didn’t know what else to say. Normally he could spout off nonsense without stopping but it seemed wrong to try do that now.

Peter let his gaze shift slightly. Erik was facing him, but he was frowning, as if in thought.

“Why…” Erik’s eyes lifted. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Peter inhaled. “Well I was going to tell you. I really was. I came looking for you. And then I found out about your family… After that, I didn’t…I didn’t want you to feel like I was trying to replace anything, because I’m really not,” Peter’s voice sped up in his nervousness. “I just thought you deserved to know at some point. I really should have said something sooner but I just didn’t know how you’d react and I wasn’t sure how much time I should let you have to mourn and I—”

“Peter.” Erik’s voice cut cleanly into Peter’s panicked explanation.

Peter looked him in the face for the first time. His face was soft and a little bit sad, but encouragingly inviting.

“It’s alright…I’m not angry with you.”

A knot that had been squeezing Peter’s heart loosened. He swallowed thickly.

Erik suddenly seemed more hesitant and scared than Peter felt. His voice was rough as he continued. “I am sorry. That I wasn’t there…”

Peter shook his head in confusion, “What? Dude, you didn’t even know…Mom didn’t even know when she left you.”

“Yes, but…but I’m your father. I have a duty to you that I failed.”

There. The words had been said.

I’m your father

. Yes, that’s what he was. Peter never thought he’d hear the words out loud in his life. Even with the knowledge that Erik was out there Peter hadn’t thought he would ever have this conversation. It was so overwhelming he wanted to cry.

“No, it’s really fine, I’ve been okay.” But Peter heard how small his voice sounded. And so did Erik.

They looked at each other now, tears gone from their eyes, but replaced by waves of emotion. The connection they had was frayed. It was founded on their blood, but unmaintained after years apart. Peter didn’t know his father and Erik didn’t know his son. But the connection was still there and always would be. Peter saw love in his father’s eyes and didn’t quite know what to do with it.

“That’s not the point.” Erik said softly.

Peter had nothing to say. He knew that wasn’t the point. As much as Peter had convinced himself for so long he didn’t need a father or even want one, he knew it wasn’t true. For years it had been all he thought about. He had tracked Erik’s every move for five years. That wasn’t the behaviour of someone who didn’t care and he knew it.

But he wasn’t going to ask for anything from Erik. He couldn’t bring himself to, and he knew he was a coward for that.

Peter said again, “It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t. And if you’ll let me…I’m just asking for a chance. To know you.” He sounded so hesitant Peter felt bad for him. “But if you want me to leave I will.”

Peter blinked, and looked at Erik. “What? No!” He stopped himself and spoke more quietly. “No…I…I’d like that.”

And that was that. Dr. Reyes entered only moments later, and Erik excused himself to go inform Charles that Peter was awake. Before leaving, he stopped at the doorway and locked eyes with Peter.

“I’ll be back.” He said. And he slipped away.
  
As soon as word got out that Peter was awake, he was visited by Charles, Raven, and all his friends. They were all worried about him, which Peter liked more than he would admit, but he played it all off as if it were no big deal.

No one mentioned Erik or what happened when they were under Wyngarde’s control, but Peter suspected that was more due to being lectured by Charles beforehand than a lack of curiosity. Peter himself wondered where Erik was and wanted to ask, but didn’t want to be the one to bring it up.

When Dr. Reyes eventually shooed the group from the room, Peter was grateful. He was tired and slept for a good few hours before waking up around supper. It was now when Erik returned. He came in quietly, with a small bowl of hot soup and an awful looking protein filled drink he said was from Hank.

It was strange to have him there. Strange to have him doing what he could to care for Peter. Strange to have him talking to him. But it was a strange that Peter didn’t want to go away in spite of its current discomfort.

They didn’t get into anything serious that night. There seemed to be an understanding that they would get around to those things slowly. Instead Erik told him it was raining outside, but it was so warm that night that the kids were still out swimming in the lake. Instead Peter mentioned how he used to do the same thing when he was young as well.

Erik didn’t stay long. He told Peter to sleep well and left Peter to sleep again. He slept through the whole night, but woke up early. So he just laid in his bed and stared at his broken leg and wondered how on earth he was where he was and how he was going to deal with Erik from now on. It still didn’t seem real to him.

Dr. Reyes came soon to check Peter’s vitals and reported that he was healing well. Erik arrived with food again, and this time a newspaper.

Erik held up the newspaper which proclaimed “BROTHERHOOD OF MUTANTS DEFEATED” and displayed a blurry picture of the Brotherhood alongside a clearer picture of Fabian Cortez wearing a

MAGNETO WAS RIGHT

t-shirt.

Peter picked up his protein drink and snorted. “I have that t-shirt.”

Erik lowered the newspaper, his brows suddenly furrowed in confusion.

“Ironically, of course,” Peter waved his hand dismissively, letting a grin slip through.

Erik laughed back with a chuckle that Peter consciously knew was similar to his own.

“Yeah, I definitely don’t think you were right.”

Erik took a seat, “I’m not sure I was either.”

While Peter ate, Erik read the news. Apparently after fighting with the X-Men, who the journalist saw in a pretty positive light, the Brotherhood had been found asleep in the clearing by the authorities and were taken in and arrested. Erik told Peter that when Jean had broken out of Regan’s mind-hold, she had managed to put them all to sleep. There wasn’t much information about what had happened to the Brotherhood after arrest, but by reading between the lines Erik hypothesized that they had likely been brought to some mutant facility. Neither Erik nor Peter were happy about that, but that was something that they would deal with another day. Erik said that Charles was looking into it and wanted to at least find Pyro, the group’s youngest member, and attempt to get him into the school to try reform him. He was only a kid after all. Only Callisto had completely escaped due to her speed, which was no surprise. Cortez was likewise taken in by the authorities. Erik didn’t seem too worried about him though. He remarked that with Cortez’s money he’d probably get off easy.

Erik left Peter to sleep mid-morning. When Peter woke he again had many visitors. Jean brought him a stack of books and comics to keep himself occupied. Scott brought his Walkman and part of Scott’s own collection of car magazines. Ororo brought him some flowers cut from her rooftop garden. Even the youngest kids at the school had made him a “Get Well Soon” card that he thought was hideous but would keep forever. The kids were also very excited about getting to draw all over his cast, but Dr. Reyes told them they had to wait until Peter was out of bed because they were overwhelming him.

Overall, the healing process was going well. Peter knew he healed quicker than the average human and hoped he would at least be out of the infirmary soon. Unfortunately, the cast on his leg would be there for three months like it had the year before.

Erik didn’t come again that day, but Peter thought it was under the advice of Dr. Reyes. Peter thought Dr. Reyes worried about him too much, but he had to admit he was tired. He slept well, but woke up in the middle of the night. He knew he wouldn’t go back to sleep, so he turned on his Walkman and listened to it for a while.

Around 2:00 AM, Peter saw the automatic sensor light turn on at the end of the hall. Instead of Dr. Reyes or Hank as Peter expected, Erik quietly peeked into the room.

They stared at one another for a moment. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah.” Peter turned off his Walkman. “Like I said, the way my mutation works, I don’t sleep much. And after sleeping all day, I’m really not going to sleep now.”

Erik gestured to the chair and Peter nodded for him to sit.

Erik took a breath in the quiet. “I’m not sure if anyone has mentioned it to you yet, but your Aunt Marya came to see you.”

Peter’s eyes went wide and he would have sat up higher in bed if not for the pain. “

What?!

What did she say?!”

Erik laughed. “It’s alright. She was just worried about you. Charles let her know you were awake and she’s coming to visit again tomorrow. It’s alright.”

Peter let his head fall back. “She didn’t yell at you, did you?”

Erik pursed his lips, suppressing a smile. “A little.”

“Of course she did,” Peter sighed.

“She had good reason to. I ruined your mother’s life.”

They hadn’t spoken about Peter’s mother yet.

“How did she die?” Erik asked gently.

“Pneumonia. There wasn’t anything we could do where we were.”

Erik swallowed. “How old were you?”

“Almost seven.”

Erik said something under his breath. “I’m sorry, Peter.”

Peter fiddled with his Walkman. “Thanks.” He felt so small right now. His mother’s death felt so fresh after seeing it in the dream.

But now he had his father. They couldn’t go back to being acquaintances, things were different now. And Peter loved it. He loved when Erik came with food for him, or just to sit. Peter really didn’t think it would be this way. Raven had once told him that Erik loved his family fiercely, and would love Peter just the same. Peter hadn’t believed her. But he was starting to now.

“Why are

you

awake?” Peter asked.

“Well you know I don’t sleep well either.”

“Right.”

Erik glanced at Peter’s broken leg. “Raven said you had a hard time last time you broke your leg.”

Peter made a face, ready to complain, but then he looked at his father. “Are you…worried about me?”

Erik scoffed, but Peter thought he sounded almost nervous. “Of course I am.”

“Oh.”

“Peter…” Erik ran a hand over his face. “I had nothing left. No one left. You’re my son. Of course I’m going to worry about you.”

Peter didn’t know what to say to that, so, with tears pricking his eyes, he nodded, attempting to make light of it all.

They kept talking that night. They talked about Marya, about Peter’s mother, and eventually even Anya, Peter’s sister who had died right before his mother had left Erik. Erik said that Peter and Anya shared the same eyes. Peter asked about Erik’s other family, Magda and Nina. Peter said he wished he had known them.

The days passed much the same for Peter. After five days, Dr. Reyes said he was well enough to get up and walk around since his stab wound had closed up.

Aunt Marya did come to visit like Erik said. There was tension between her and Erik, but Peter told her to leave it to him, and she did. Peter knew she was just protective of him, and he loved her for it. He promised to visit her as soon as he was up and running again.

He spent his days with his friends, walking as much as he could. Dr. Reyes and Hank scolded him a few times for trying to use his speed and Scott grilled Peter for not telling him about Erik, but it was good. His cast got signed and marked up by all the kids. Peter wanted to ask Erik to sign it, but didn’t want to deal with the dilemma of if he should get him to write “Erik” or “Dad”.

Peter’s nights were spent often with Erik. It was a bother to go from his room to the kitchen or common room on his crutches, but it was worth it. Erik made tea and listened to Peter complain about not being able to run. Peter listened to stories about his mother and siblings and in turn told Erik about his own childhood. It was almost like they had to start again. They had gotten strangely close since Erik arrived due to their nighttime visits, but now everything was put into a new context and had to be reestablished.

But things moved forward. Weeks later, they felt comfortable. It was turning into that picture that Peter had in his head. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it was becoming a new picture that Peter thought he liked even more than the one he'd imagined. It felt so good that Peter worried it couldn’t be real. But it was.

Peter was happy. Ororo told him he didn’t look so nervous as he used to, which was a nice thought. Raven told Erik that she hadn’t seen him smile this much in years. He told her had something to live for again.

On a late night after everyone was asleep and Peter and Erik were in the common room, Peter said, “I’m glad you found out.”

Erik was standing at the window, a mug of tea in his hand. He looked over to Peter on the couch, and smiled. “So am I.”

And that was that.

Erik looked back out the window, where the moon shone on him. “You know,” he sipped his tea, “You still haven’t played a game of chess with me.”

Peter grinned as Erik brought the chessboard over. He leaned back smugly and crossed his arms. “You know I’m going to beat you, right?”

“I wouldn’t bet on that quite yet.”

“Says the old man who lost to himself.”

Erik lifted his hand with a smile and one of the metal bottomed pawns moved forward. “Your move.”