Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Peter doesn’t know what happened. Nobody really talked about it. One minute they were at Jean’s parents trying to calm her down and the next he’s waking up in the medbay learning that his whole world turned upside down.

Raven was dead.

He’s been in a coma for two and a half months. Broken spine – broken everything really – and a nasty concussion to top it all off. In other words…

He was supposed to be dead.

But as awful as all that was to learn, it was nothing like finding out that Jean was dead too. It wasn’t that Jean meant more than Raven. No, it was the fact that Jean was already gone before she died.

Nobody wanted to fill him in on the specifics of what happened, which he understood, but it only led to him looking into what he already knew more.

Jean lost control.

That was the answer his brain came up with, and to Peter, that was the worst way she could have died. But it made the most sense.

Peter always liked Jean. At first, it was painful because he’d look at her and see a glimpse of his sister, but over time he began to see her as someone separate. Someone different. Sure, they had similar abilities and always felt the weight of the world on their shoulders, but they weren’t that alike.

Turns out they were more alike than he initially thought for them to have died the same way.

Peter remembers seeing Jean fighting herself for control before he went into the coma. He remembers her grabbing her head fighting with the voices inside it. Just wanting quiet. The same thing happened to his Wanda. He remembers Jean's powers rippling through and out of her… just like his Wanda. He remembers the pain she was in and knowing there was nothing he could do to help. He still tried, but he failed her… just like he failed Wanda.

It didn’t matter how fast he was in the end. He couldn’t save Jean from herself, and he couldn’t save Wanda either.

***

Hank was walking up to Peter’s bed to check his IV again. They both had been avoiding all conversation and even eye contact when possible after the first time Peter gained consciousness. It was dead silent in the room to the point one could hear a pin drop. It was miserable.

Peter wasn’t there when everybody lost everything. He wished he was. Maybe he could help. He hates himself for not being there, but he couldn’t be. And Peter feels so guilty for being so clueless as to what happened when he woke up. He knows it’s not his fault he didn’t know, but it’s one thing to know something and another to understand it. He felt awful the second after he asked what happened. The second he saw the dark circles under Hank’s eyes and the dim look inside those blue eyes themselves. He feels awful for Hank having to fill him in on what happened. Out of everyone, Hank was probably the most hurt from it all.

Hank was broken. Anyone could see that. Not in the ‘you have a total of 22 fractures in your leg’ kind of way that prevents you from running for a while kind of way, but in the having your heart ripped out of your chest and crushed before your eye’s kind of way. In the way where it felt like you had just died kind of way and there was nothing left to keep you going anymore kind of way.

Nobody told Peter how Raven died, just that she died the same day Peter almost did. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t guess, and it wasn’t such a hard thing to do. The answer he came up with was that Raven died trying to save Jean. She probably tried to get through to her and failed. She died at the hands of a teammate – a friend – and that only makes her death harder for others to come to terms with. She died trying to save her family and got killed by it instead.

Peter could only imagine just how hard it had been on Hank because Hank knew that he couldn’t hate Jean for it. Because she wasn’t in control. Because she didn’t mean it. Because she was his friend too. Because she’s gone now too. And that just makes it so much worse for him and Peter knows that.

Peter’s only been awake for a couple of hours now, but all he wants is to go back to sleep. He wants to be there for whoever’s left, but he doesn’t know how to. And he’s not sure he can.

He wants to curl up in a ball and cry, but he feels bad if Hank or someone else were to come in and catch him. No one else has come to visit yet, but Peter doesn’t want to see them. Not really. And Peter knows that while everyone else has already had a head start on grieving during the two and a half months Peter was out of it and would understand, he just can’t accept that. He doesn’t have time to grieve or to cry. He just wants to run. He needs to run. He needs to run away from all of it, but he can’t do that until Hank clears him, which will probably take a day or two.

***

The mansion looks like something out of a horror movie. The place has been abandoned. There’s dust everywhere coating everything. If it weren’t for the furniture, belongings, and memories he has, he’d think nobody had been here in years. Some old school supplies that were left behind and never picked up lying on the tables. Posters with worn-out tape were falling off the walls. The chairs still had indentations of where people used to sit, but no one in them. To Peter, it was only last week that the school was teeming with life and energy, but now it just looks like a dream that never happened.

Hank had only released Peter from the medbay earlier today and since then, Peter has just walked around the empty halls mindlessly and alone.

Kurt and Hank. They’re the only ones still at the school. Everyone else is gone – even the professor who owns the freaking place. Peter’s too scared to ask questions anymore. He’s got a list. He writes down everything that chews at him but he’s too afraid to know. He writes it on a piece of paper tucked into his jean pocket It’s only the size of a post-it note but has enough writing to fill a royal decree scroll from medieval times. He pulls it out and looks at it.

1. Where’s the professor?
2. Where is everyone?
3. Why’d the school shut down?
4. Are the X-men officially gone?
5. How long before I have to leave?
6. Is Scott ok? healing?
7. Is the professor?
8. Erik?
9. Has anyone heard from them?
10. Did Ororo go back home?
11. What happened between Scott and Hank?
12. Am I alone again?
13. Did Raven ever tell Kurt?
14. Did Hank?
15. When will it be ok to talk about them again?
16. Do they have graves I can visit?
17. Did I miss their funerals?
18. Did they even get funerals?
19. What happened between the professor and Hank?
20. Why did the X-men fall apart?
21. Where am I supposed to go now?
22. What’s going to happen to the students now? What happened to the students?
23. Where did those without a home go?
24. Is the school ever going to open up again?
25. Is Hank really leaving for NASA?
26. What’s going to happen to Kurt when Hank leaves?
27. What’s going to happen to me?
28. Why did all of this have to happen?
29. Is this really better than the future the claw dude came to change?

There were so many questions written down that he was running out of room. The questions were written in such small print towards the end. They took up the front and back and you wouldn’t even know the paper’s original color to be white with all that was on it. He hoped he wasn’t going to need another sheet of paper. Peter doesn’t think he could handle having that many questions bottled up inside of him at that point.

Peter folds the paper up and stuffs it back in his pocket trying to ignore the hole it’s currently burning through the jean fabric as he walks back to his room.

He opens the door, walks in, closes it, and lays down on his bed. He looks over to the bookshelf and sees an old gem. Peter grabs his old Walkman which he hadn’t used in years and begins listening to whatever tape he left in last. It really shouldn’t surprise him what song played, but it did anyway. It was like he knew that the next time he picked it up it’d be to mourn. After all, the last time he had listened to this song was the day of Wanda’s funeral.

He hated the way he remembered that day so vividly even though he lived through it in a haze at the time. He remembered having to get his mom out of bed, moving the bottle of Vodka away from her hand. It was ‘just a comfort drink,’ she told him even though the half-empty bottle was full in the cabinet before he went to bed the night before. He remembered handing her a box of tissues and setting out the black dress for her to wear telling her she needed to get dressed. People would be coming over in an hour before the funeral.

He remembers when Lorna got in a screaming match with Mom telling her she shouldn’t even bother going if she was going to be so ungrateful for everyone’s support when the neighbors dropped off a casserole and gave their condolences. She screamed that mom didn’t even do anything for the funeral preparations. That she left it all on Peter and her’s hands instead. That they were the ones having to pick out the casket, that they had to decide on a gravestone for their sister. That they shouldn’t ever have to have that responsibility. And he remembered his mom yelling back that she shouldn’t have ever had to bury her child. And Peter remembers sitting in the kitchen while it happened, taking a swig of Mom’s Vodka he had earlier confiscated and tried to drown it all out – never mind the fact that he couldn’t actually get drunk.

It was supposed to be Wanda and him. They were supposed to go through everything together. They had survived so much that he actually thought – he believed – that death would never catch them. He thought they were invincible, but he couldn’t have been more wrong.

Vodka bottle in hand he took one last drink before walking to his room putting on his Walkman and running. He had no intention of ever coming back. There was nothing left without Wanda, but before he even managed to open the bedroom door again the lyrics played in his ear, and he collapsed to the ground in tears.

So, so you think you can tell

Heaven from hell?

Blue skies from pain?

He wishes she were here. Raven. Jean. Wanda. He wishes he could see them again and not just through home videos and old photos but in person. Just once more so he could say goodbye. So that he can apologize for not being fast enough to save her – to save any of them.

Peter just lays there in his bed crying as the song gets closer to the end. His heart tearing at every verse and guitar solo. He doesn’t have time to cry. Or to grieve. But he needs this. He needs to let the pain wash over him because he can’t go forward until he confronts it all.

How I wish, how I wish you were here

We're just two lost souls

Swimming in a fish bowl

Year after year

Running over the same old ground

What have we found?

The same old fears

Wish you were here

He doesn’t know how long he’s crying for, just that the tape had long since stopped playing music. When he finally wipes the tears away and gives into the hunger pains, which he hadn’t noticed due to the pain in his head from crying so hard, it's dark outside. He heads down to the kitchen with puffy red eyes and a tear-stained shirt hoping that the other two are in bed for the night or at least absent from the kitchen.

Lights are off in the kitchen making Peter feel less self-conscious when he arrives. That is until he hears movement just outside the threshold. It’s 1:30 in the morning according to his watch, and it looks like he’s not the only one in need of a midnight snack.

“Hallo,” Kurt sighs once he realizes Peter’s presence. He looks awful and he sounds awful too. There’s no longer a skip in Kurt’s step when he walks. He just kind of schlumps over to the fridge.

Kurt’s always been one of the strongest people Peter knows. And sure, it might not seem like it to the average eye, but Peter remembers that it never mattered just how bad things got because Kurt would always be a ray of light in the dark for others. He’d always look for the silver lining and he’d always convince everyone to look for it and believe in it too. If Kurt can’t see the good, then what chance does anyone else have?

“Hey, man. Got a case of the midnight munchies?” He tries. He’s really trying to stay positive, but he knows it comes off broken. It’s a good thing the only light is coming from the refrigerator because he knows he can’t force his face to smile anymore.

“Ja. You?”

“Yep.” They both carefully dance around each other in the kitchen, avoiding the lights and each other as well. When Peter saw Kurt grab out a carton of ice cream Peter made his way to the cabinets. He grabbed a couple of bowls and two spoons from the drawer underneath the counter and returned to Kurt, who scooped the ice cream into each bowl before they both began slowly eating in silence across from one another. Neither of them seemed to want to start the conversation, but Kurt’s the first to finally break the quiet in the room.

“Hank’s leaving in two weeks. It’s official,” Kurt says. Peter can do nothing but nod. He thinks back to his list of questions. He needs answers, but Peter doesn’t want to ask, and he’s not sure he wants to know, so he just waits for Kurt hoping he’ll fill the silence again.

“Do you know what you’re going to do?”

Shit. Guess that means Peter has two weeks to leave too. He knew he couldn’t stay forever, but he didn’t make plans for leaving yet. He could go back to his mom’s, but he shouldn’t have to. None of this should be happening. This was his home. This was the only place he never wanted to run away from and now he can’t stay.

Peter just shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head trying his best to give off a carefree unaffected energy toward the subject.

“Ja, I don’t know what I want to do either. After everything I thought for sure I’d be headed back to Germany, but then everyone left.” Beat. “I couldn’t leave him alone – Hank. He just kept trying to pull away from everyone and everything. I knew I had to stay. In the beginning, I was practically forcing him to eat. I don’t think he likes me, but… he needs someone. He can’t be alone right now. You know? And maybe I couldn’t stand the thought of being alone either, so I stayed.”

“Are you going to be ok when Hank leaves?”

Kurt just shakes his head.

“Nein, but him leaving isn’t about me. It’ll be good for him. I’ve just got to accept that. Hope it’ll make things easier.”

Why does Kurt always have to be so freaking selfless? He’d let himself fall apart before he ever hurt anyone else. The world doesn’t deserve him.

“I don’t think I’ll be ready to be alone when Hank leaves either. I wasn’t there for it all, and what you guys went through I don’t even know half of it, and I’m sorry. But to me it was just a week ago, you know? I had a home. I had a family. And now? It’s like it never happened. And I don’t know what happened. I just know it’s all gone. It’s all gone and there’s nothing left. There’s nothing I could do to stop it. And I don’t even know whether I should even try to put it all back together again.”

Fuck. He can feel the tear run down his cheek. He thought he was all out of them having spent hours crying on end already but guess not. Once again, he’s thankful for the lights being off.

“If you really want to know what happened, I’ll try to fill you in, but it still won’t give you closure I don’t think. I’m sorry. This place was home for me too. They were my family and now we're not even friends – just strangers with familiar faces. Take it from somebody who was there. There was nothing I could do to stop it. There was nothing you could do either if you were there. And I don’t know if that’s something to be thankful for or not. And I don’t know if it’s worth putting back together again either. I don’t know. And I’m sorry too, Peter.”

It was quiet for a long time after that. During that time Peter finally summoned the courage to ask Kurt question five.

“When Hank leaves does that mean we have to too?” his voice was shaking. He doesn’t want to leave. It’s not home anymore, but he still doesn’t want to run away from this place. Not if it means there’s no returning.

“Ich weiß es nicht.” I don’t know. “I don’t know, Peter. But if we do, I won’t leave you. Not unless you want me to. If we leave, we’ll go wherever you want.”

And it warms Peter’s heart knowing that Kurt means it. That he won’t leave Peter.

“But I don’t want to leave.” It’s barely louder than a whisper, but Kurt hears it easily and reassuringly grabs Peter’s forearm.

“Me either.”

They sit there for a while looking at each other in the dark barely illuminated by the moonlight which streams through the windows. Eventually, Peter takes their dishes and puts them away. Then he realizes that they had forgotten to put the carton back in the freezer and so he dumps that out too. Before he leaves the kitchen to turn in for the night, he looks back over to where Kurt’s getting up from his chair.

“You’re a good person, Kurt. And a good friend.” As he turns back out of the kitchen, he could have sworn Kurt was a bit shocked to hear such a statement. As if he wasn’t deserving of it. He needed to hear it, and Peter’s glad he could tell him. He decided he’d have to keep finding ways to show it to Kurt so maybe he’d stop being shocked. It kind of broke his heart that Kurt didn’t believe that already.

***

Hank leaves tomorrow. Hank and he had barely spoken since he was released from the Medbay. Peter and he had just been stepping around each other. Peter tries to be there for Hank but decides it’s probably safe to do at a distance. As much as Peter wants to be there for him from up closer giving reassuring words and all, he knows Hank doesn’t want to feel like a ticking time bomb. Over the last couple of weeks, Peter has made sure to grab breakfast in the mornings with Kurt for them and Hank as well as sort out all the mail.

Sorting the mail was a tougher task than one would think though. It was always hard when a magazine catalog would come in belonging to one of the students or X-men who weren’t here anymore. It brought a tear to Peter's eye a couple of times when that magazine was Jean’s, but he couldn’t bring himself to cancel the subscription. It would just make it feel too real. Too permanent. The first time he had sorted through the mail, he realized that nobody had touched it since the whole “incident.” He’s kind of thankful for this though because he doesn’t want to know that Hank had to see a ghost’s name on the address or an old teacher’s pet of his. It’d just be cruel after everything else, and Hank needs to focus on moving forward not staying trapped in the past.

Even though Peter had been sorting mail the last couple of weeks, it hadn’t hit him that he hadn’t reached out to any of his old friends and X-men since that last mission he was on. He hadn’t heard anything about them either. He knew that Scott and Hank don’t get along anymore based on the one phone call he accidentally overheard before quickly walking away. He also knows that Hank and the professor had a falling out too but doesn’t quite understand that either.

Peter doesn’t know how any of them are. He doesn’t know if they know he’s awake from his coma, but he’s not sure he wants to know whether they knew. When they left the X-men they left him too. It’s like Kurt said, “They were my family and now we're not even friends – just strangers with familiar faces.” They’re not even friends anymore. It hurts to think Peter didn’t get any say in this, but what is he to do? Maybe he’ll call Ororo and check-in to see how she’s been doing, but once again, he’s not sure whether he wants to hear her answer and on top of that he doesn’t quite know what answer he wants to hear from her. Is she doing well without everyone – without him? Is she miserable? It’s a lose-lose he’s not sure he’s ready to face yet.

Peter and Kurt help Hank with the last of his packing that day and as much as Peter dreads Hank leaving too, he knows it’s selfish. Especially when Hank’s finally smiling again. Sure, it’s not the same, but it’s something compared to the thin-lipped expression stuck on his face these last couple of weeks he’d been awake for.

Once all the packing is done Peter walks into his room with all the left-over boxes Hank didn’t need. Guess it’s time to say goodbye. And he’s miserable and dreading it, but unlike everything else so far, he at least gets the chance to say goodbye so he’ll take what he can get.

***

It’s like a wrench in his chest walking past everyone’s empty rooms, knowing his is next to join them. Peter and Kurt said goodbye to Hank at the Airport and just finished FedExing the last of his things to need up with him in Florida. Now they’re moving the last of their things out of the school and the mood couldn’t be dimmer if they tried.

Boxes all moved, Kurt and Peter take turns taking shots in the common room thinking up where the hell they’re going to go now.

“We could check in with the others. Visit them, see how they are?” Kurt suggests. As much as Peter wants to agree, he doesn’t think he’s ready to see them all in their new lives yet, so he shakes his head.

“I’m not there yet. Sorry.”

“Schon okay.” It’s ok. “We don’t even really know where to find them anyway.”

A couple of games of pool and another bottle of liquor later…

“Where are you from? Like Germany obviously, but do you know where your roots are?”

“Nein. I was adopted. Well not legally, but…” he shrugs. “I don’t really have “roots” per se. I grew up as part of a traveling circus. You don’t stay in one place for too long, you know?”

This is one of those times Peter’s tempted to ask one of those questions he knows he probably shouldn’t. ‘Do you know anything about your birth family?’ he’s tempted to ask, but instead decides to play it safe.

“I’m adopted too. Wanda and I were adopted when we were 10 or 11.” He says it with such casualness but knows the conversation’s taking on a more serious tone. They always do nowadays. Everything’s always so heavy.

“I did not know.”

Peter just shrugs.

“There’s a lot nobody knows. I tend to ramble a lot, but…” he just shrugs again.

“You never actually talk about yourself. It’s usually just a bunch of questions towards others. And when you do talk about yourself, it’s typically self-deprecating jokes,” Kurt fills in.

Peter nods and pours them both another shot of whisky which they both down.

“Pretty much. So… You got any other ideas of where we’re going tomorrow or are we just hopping in the car and seeing where life takes us tomorrow?”

“Let’s see where life takes us.”

***

It’s almost been two years since the Dark Phoenix incident which killed Raven and Jean and destroyed the “X dream” as Peter called it. Kurt and he split ways six months ago when they wound up in Sokovia. Peter decided he was going to stick around and help rebuild, while Kurt moved onto the next country. He’s not looking towards the anniversary. Last year everyone got together to pay their respects, but Peter. He felt guilty for not being there when they died and at their funerals, and he didn’t feel he deserved to be there now either. He still hadn’t reached out to any of his old friends to see how they’ve been, but Kurt had. The two of them call each other every week and Kurt gives him updates on everyone which is nice. Ororo’s living a better life in Cairo. She’s no longer a street rat according to Kurt. Jubilee had been looking after Scott the whole time mush like Kurt with him and Hank. They’re both doing better it sounded. The Prof is apparently in Genosha with Erik which makes sense but also doesn’t to Peter. He’s just shocked neither had killed the other yet. Kurt says that Erik sends his hello after every time they meet up. And Hank apparently left NASA a couple of weeks ago and is working on who knows what.

Overall, it seems like everyone’s been healing after the events. Which is good. It’s just a shame they all had to do it alone.

Peter just got back to his apartment. It had been a long day. He’d hardly gotten the chance to sit down before he heard a knock on the door.

“doar o secunda!” just a second. Usually, he’d just speed over to the door and open it before the person would finish knocking but like he said: it’s been a long day and he wants to sit for a few more seconds before getting up.

After he’d had a drink or two and put on an old record, he gets up and looks through the peephole to see who’s on the other side. There’s no one. That’s not sketchy in any way at all. No siree.

Peter knows better than to open the door. He’s seen enough horror movies to know that’s a stupid idea, super speed or not so he moves to the bathroom and underneath the sink is his toolbox and go bag with everything he’d need if he had to leave right now. He ignores the go bag but grabs a wrench from the toolbox just for reassurance. He also grabs the fish line and ties it onto every point of entry in the apartment in superspeed so if someone comes to attack him, he can have a little more head up. Super speed only works if he sees what’s coming.

It’s seven minutes later when the fishline is moved. Fire escape. He waits over by the window wrench in hand ready to beat any attacker who comes his way and praying that it’s just a little kid headed to the apartment above, though he knows there are no kids upstairs. Or any upstairs cause he’s on the top floor.

There’s movement again and whatever it is headed straight towards him. Fuck. He’s not going to be a sitting duck though, so he turns the corner and raises the wrench ready to bash someone’s skull in –

And it’s Erik.

Well shit. That wasn’t what he was expecting. He slows down in front of Erik with an eyebrow raised and tosses the wrench off to the side.

“De ce nu ai putea aștepta la ușă?” Why couldn't you just wait at the door? Peter asks under his breath shaking his head.

“You do realize that’s made of metal?” he asks all smug.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting you, no offense. What brings you by my humble abode?” he asks waving Erik into the apartment. Erik walks inside and looks around with a more confused expression.

“For someone with typically such loud taste, this seems a little dull for you. Doesn’t quite look like you live here at all.”

Peter looks around and sees the bare walls and torn old wallpaper. The place looks almost empty except for the mess on his bed and the shelves' worth of records he had collected over the last seven months.

“What can I say? I’m not here much. You want a drink or something, man?” he asks.

“No, thank you though. I’m good.”

“So… do you normally knock on the door just to sneak through the fire escape when visiting people’s houses?”

Erik smirks to himself.

“You didn’t answer the door. I didn’t know if you were here. Usually, you’re being told to wait, not telling others.”

Peter doesn’t know how to respond to that so instead, he changes the subject.

“So… why you here man? What do you want?” Peter asks the metal bender in a way much like when he was asking him what he did to get arrested back at the pentagon. It brought a slight smile to Erik’s face in the nostalgia of it all.

“Why are you here?” Erik asks instead. “Out of all the places to end your trip around the world, why here?”

“So, we’re doing small talk first. I don’t remember you being the small talk kind of guy, but ok,” he clasps his hands together, “I’ll entertain you.”

Erik just raises an eyebrow and tilts his head as if to say continue, so that’s what Peter does.

“At one point, this place was home,” he shrugs. “I guess I’m just seeing if I can fix it up, make it that way again. And there are people who need help. I like to help. I don’t know, man.” He shrugs once more.

“Well for trying to make this home, I stand by my previous observation that you haven’t quite settled in yet.”

“Well, it’s only been a month.”

“Yes, but we both know time is a lot slower for you.”

“Touché,” peter smirks.

“So, are you planning on staying? Making this place home?”

“Staying? For the time being, yes. Making it home? For others? I’m hoping to.”

“Why can’t it be your home too?” Erik asks moving into the living room and sitting on the couch. Peter just shrugs and sits on the chair across from it.

“Guess I can’t see past what’s all missing to make it home, you know? The tv should be playing sitcoms and it’s too quiet There’s no smell of borscht cooking on the stove and I can’t seem to see past that. I liked the place at first because it was the same layout our old apartment was, but,” he pauses to take a deep breath in, “everything that should be here…” he breathes out slowly, “it’s all missing. They’re all gone.” Peter takes another breath before shaking himself out. “Damn, that got deep. I’m going to grab a drink. You sure you don’t want one?” He asks Erik once more. Erik just shakes his head no and Peter’s back in a second with a whole bottle of Vodka and two shot glasses. He fills his but leaves the other alone. “In case you change your mind.”

It's silent again as Peter watches Erik look around the place, no doubt still confused as to why Peter is here. Even though it’s not like Peter bullshitted him. He told him, didn’t he? Or maybe it’s because what he said revealed something that has him confused now. Damn it. Why does Erik have to be so confusing? Maybe he’s thinking the same thing about Peter though.

“So, are you going to tell me why you’re here yet?”

“It’s been almost two years since anyone’s heard from you except for Kurt.”

“It’s been almost two years since a lot of things,” Peter counters.

“We’re worried about you. Do you ever plan on coming back to us?”

“Us? Us? What us, dude?” he doesn’t mean for it to come out bitter, but he still is. It still is a bitter subject for him. He tries to collect himself when he speaks again, but it soon escalates into borderline hysterical before resuming the bitter calmness once more. “There is no us. There is no X-men. There is no family. We’re not even friends! It’s all gone. You all left. You moved on and are now living your own lives. You guys all did it first. So why is it so bad that I’m doing it now, too?”

“Because we all still keep in touch at least. You didn’t. At least not with anybody but Kurt.”

This time when Peter talks he can’t hide the breaking in his voice.

“Nobody bothered to get in touch with me. I waited. I was patient. Two years later, this is the first thing I’m hearing from any of you. And what? You’re blaming me? What? Was I supposed to reach out this whole time? Nobody told me. You guys were all just gone. No goodbye. No note. Just gone. How was I supposed to know you wanted to hear from me?”

“I can’t speak for anyone else, but I did try reaching out. I always had Kurt send my hello’s. I always asked about you. How you were doing, and I’m pretty sure everyone else did too. Last year, for the anniversary we all showed up at the mansion. Every one of us. Everyone but you. And it was hard on all of us to be there, but we were there. You weren’t.”

“So that’s what this is about. That’s why you’re here. To make sure I show this year?”

“I’m here to make sure you’re ok.”

“Do I look ok?”

Erik winced.

“I’m sorry for not being there when you woke up.”

“No, you’re not. Look it’s fine. It’s in the past so let’s just keep it there. Ok, man?”

“Do you remember after Apocalypse when you got that huge cast on your leg?” Erik asks to change the subject. And how could Peter forget about Apocalypse? It was the first time he saw how breakable he was. It was the first time someone caught him, and he couldn’t get away.

“Yea, man. It was three weeks before I got it off and even then, Hank wouldn’t let me run to the same extent for a week afterward because he was concerned about the muscle and how it was no longer as strong and flexible. And then I didn’t listen and wound up hurting myself again.” Peter smiled at the memory as did Erik.

“Yes, and I remember confronting you about the cast when it was on, do you remember that?”

“Mhm,” Peter says nodding. “You told me thanks for the Pentagon stunt and reminded me how miserable it must be for me to not be able to use my ‘gift’ as if I wasn’t aware,” Peter breathed out a soft laugh.

“And you said it sucked being trapped, but that you’d take it over being alone any day. And that you weren’t alone anymore.”

“And we’ve officially gone full circle,” Peter pointed out his smile beginning to falter. But Erik ignored Peter’s comment and continued speaking.

“But when you woke up from that coma, you were alone again. I would have bet money that you’d have immediately tracked everyone down the second you regained consciousness again. But then Charles tells me that you’d been up for a week and… nothing. Two months pass, a year, and there’s still nothing from you. Now it’s been two years and it’s not like you to want to be alone.”

“I didn’t really have a choice in it all. Everything was already said and done by the time I was up on my feet again.”

“They all left the school, Peter. Not you.”

“And I don’t blame anyone for that. They did what they needed to do to heal. I don’t fault them for that, and I wouldn’t stand in their way. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to say. Hey Scott,’” Peter turns to look over Erik’s shoulder waving his hand with false enthusiasm as he began talking to the empty space. “Sorry Jean lost control and brought a bunch of aliens to earth. And I’m sorry she had to die in front of you. Oh, and I’m sorry for Raven too, but you never really liked her, and Jean killed her apparently, so I don’t quite know if you want to hear that apology or not.” He looked past Erik’s other shoulder now waving again.

“Hey, Hank. Sorry that the first thing I did when I finally woke up made you relive all the pain you’ve been feeling again while I wasn’t there because I just had to ask what happened not even thinking. Sorry, you had to tell me that Raven died. I know how much she meant to you and how you guys were planning to leave the X-men together and start a new life.” Peter casually mentions before looking back into Erik’s eyes continuing, “And yea they did have a plan to leave by the way. Don’t know if you knew that but,” he shrugs, “it’s all insignificant now anyway.”

“How about I stop by and say hey to Ororo. What do you think?” he asks before turning to his left. “Hey, Ororo. I honestly don’t know what the fuck you lost. Probably the same as me just worse because you were actually therewhen it all fell apart. Hey, do you think all aliens are evil and Hollywood had it right all along, or do you think that was just the ones you fought and almost died against?” He asks and now tears are streaming down his cheeks, but he continues ignoring them and continues spiraling in faux happiness.

 “Hey, how do you think the professor is doing. Well, why don’t I go visit?” Peter says to Erik’s face before turning to his right and poking thin air. “Ding Dong!” he sings, turning back to Erik. “He’s slow so I’ve got to wait a bit before the door op – Hey prof?” he starts ignoring Erik once more to hold his imaginary conversation. “Are you done lying and manipulating people yet? Are you just going to hide away from the consequences of your actions forever? Run away? Most people would say that’s kind of my thing, but ok. I’ll let it slide for the time being. Mean you lost Raven too. Sorry about that. And Jean was like your kid, so —”

“That’s enough,” Erik said. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it quickly shut Peter up. Erik wasn’t even looking at him anymore. “If I wasn’t worried about how you’ve been coping before, well I am now. You’re coming back with me.”

“The hell I am. Did you not just hear me? I’ve got nothing to say to these people.”

“These people? They’re your family, Peter.” He says it in such a desperate way, pleading for Peter to see, but he just shakes his head, refuting Erik’s words.

“That’s what I used to think too.”

“And what changed your mind?”

“Family doesn’t leave. No matter how shitty things get. No matter how much you lose. Family sticks together. Families don’t try to kill each other. Not really. But all that happened to this ‘family.’” He spits the word out like it’s poison. “Didn’t it? We lost. And instead of sticking together, we fell apart. We left each other. Attacked each other. Hurt each other. That’s not family. That’s not even friendship.”

Peter can tell how much it breaks Erik to hear this from him, and it’s a good thing he doesn’t know that Peter is actually his family.

“Look, I’m no expert on family. I know that. Every family I’ve had I’ve either lost, left, or drove away, but I do know grief. And I know that everyone responds to it differently. But nobody actually wanted Jean to die. Not really. We never wanted to hurt each other. Jean never wanted to hurt you or Raven. She just wanted to protect her family. That’s what we all wanted. But we did lose in the end. And it was awful. It still is. We’re all just trying to heal, to cope, to move forward. We never meant to fall apart. I know that. We’re still a family. We’re still there for each other. It’s just different.” Beat. “Come back with me. At least until after the anniversary.”

It was silent for a long time. Peter didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to go, but if what Erik was saying is true then he doesn’t want to be the one who left.

“To Genosha?” all that time to think it over and he’s still hesitant to just form the word ok on his tongue.

“Yes.”

“Ok,” Peter breathed out. Looks like he’s doing this. Hopefully, he’s doing the right thing.

Chapter Text

Genosha is a lot smaller than he thought it would be. In the times he’d imagined the place, he thought there would be some kind of castle where Erik was on his throne making speeches about the Homo superior and shit. But no. It’s just a bunch of self-made homes made of old storage containers from barges and stuff. Oddly enough, it was a lot cooler than what he imagined the ‘Mutant Haven’ to be, even though it wasn’t nearly any bit flashy.

The land was overgrown, and the homes rusted over from years of use both as storage containers and as houses. There also weren’t very many homes or people, though there were definitely people. As they approached the main town area, Peter came to the decision Genosha was more loosely populated much like the American countryside. The sun shone brightly over the island. It was humid outside and unpleasantly so. Peter wondered if it even snowed in the winter or if it was this sticky hot all year long. As they made their way into the town area, Peter was shocked to see one real building standing. It looked out of place and felt wrong standing alongside all the other buildings. It looked like if always-smiling Kurt stood in the middle of normal miserable-looking people going to their 9-5 office jobs. The building looked like it belonged to a Viking village from centuries ago, not Genosha. It was a building out of place and time.

“So, this is your mutant paradise,” Peter says as he looks around the place. Everyone was looking at him as they made their way to one of the homes. Well, they probably were not him, but Erik now that he thinks of it. It’s kind of unnerving, and the people look intimidating, but Peter doesn’t want to come off scared, so he does his best to act casual about the whole thing.

He is a little scared though, not going to lie. He didn’t like how much attention was on him. He didn’t like the idea of dying, and that dude over there in the blue shirt had way too many butcher knives. No, he didn’t see any currently, but he just knew it – ok? Nobody looks at him – er – Magneto with such murder in their eyes while living in his country and not have some kind of murder attempt drawn up, right? Hell, most of these people living here were probably criminals, right? And he knows how hypocritical that sounds from the kleptomaniac who broke a presidential assassin out of the Pentagon, but doesn’t that mean he knows a fellow criminal when he sees one? And celebrities still get starstruck when they see other famous people, so why can’t he be a little skittish around other criminals?

“That’s what we’re working toward.”

They're getting closer, but at a pace so slow he swears he once saw a turtle moving quicker. Peter knows he could easily just speed around the whole place and take note of everything and everyone, but he’s trying to trust Erik right now. He knows Erik didn’t bring him here to hurt him, but he can’t help but think how ironic it would be for him, a mutant, and the son of Magneto, to die by Erik’s hand in the place dubbed ‘Mutant Haven.’ Damn it, he needs to get out of his head and calm down.

Peter knows he shouldn’t be surprised when he enters the place, but he still is. He knew that the professor was staying here, but when he agreed to come, he didn’t think that he’d have to see him. Out of all the welcoming committees he could have been given, he had to be given Xavier. Sounds about right.

“Hello, Peter,” he says. ‘Hello, Peter?’ What the fuck? Is he supposed to just act like the last few years didn’t just happen? Peter still doesn’t know exactly why everyone hates Xavier now, but he knows that if Hank, who stuck beside Xavier while he was practically a drug addict trying to free murderers from the mother-effing pentagon, is mad at him, then he probably should be too, right? Mean, Hank was there for him even – if he was miserable – the whole time. Hank was his friend after everything happened. So, shouldn’t he be upset on Hank’s behalf? Shouldn’t he stand in solidarity with one of the only people who were in his life after waking up, even if it was albeit a short time?

Except he doesn’t know what happened. He knows a little from Kurt during the time they spent together after everything, but not really. He knows they all got into a fight about how to handle Jean after she lost control and killed Raven, but he still doesn’t know the full extent. And it’s not like he ever really asked. The questions all just stayed on the paper and in his head taunting him. So, can he be mad at him? Is it fair? To Prof? To Hank? To himself to hold a grudge against someone which he doesn’t fully understand in the first place?

Besides, if he were to think about the other potential welcoming parties he could have had, he should be grateful it’s not the blue shirt guy with all those butcher’s knives, right? Xavier might have done something wrong, but he can trust the Ex-Prof – haha Ex-Prof – to not kill him, right?

“Hey man, long time no see,” and it looks like he’s just going to follow Xavier’s lead on this one.

“That it has,” Xavier responds in a more somber voice, before continuing, “How was Sokovia?” and Peter’s grateful that he didn’t just ask ‘how are you?’ He’s not sure if he could answer that question right now.

“Necessary,” and it was. “I didn’t realize how much I needed to be there until I was. What about you? How’s Genosha been treating you?” Peter asks before conspicuously leaning over beside the professor – ex-professor – and into his ear and whispering loud enough for Erik to overhear, “Or is that a question to ask when its leader is out of the room?”

It brought a small smile to Charles's face when Peter did that. He looked a lot different since everything happened, but at least he was still playful. Peter was dressed in clothes he’d typically consider having been boring and his face looked gaunter than he had remembered it being. Charles couldn’t see into the man’s head because it moved too fast for him to keep up with, but part of him wished he could see whether Peter was having to put effort into maintaining his previous personality. Was it a façade or was he being genuine? Unfortunately, it was probably the former.

“It’s a beautiful place,” Charles responded. Peter knew he was avoiding answering, not because of Erik being in the vicinity, but he respected it and played along.

“It is, though this is nothing like how I had imagined it,” he admitted to the two.

“And how did you imagine it?” Erik asked from the side of the room.

“Honestly man? I thought you’d be wearing a crown, maybe carrying staff.” The prof was smirking to himself at Peter’s confession. “I was quite surprised when we arrived and nobody was rushing over to fan you and offering you a coconut drink,” and now Erik was smirking too. “Though people definitely dropped everything to watch you. That’s for sure.”

“Trust me, they were all looking at you.” Oh, and like that wasn’t the last thing he needed to hear confirmed right now? It wasn’t bad enough he still felt unnerved when he tried to convince himself it was Erik, they had all been looking at? Peter didn’t like the idea that Butcher Knives was making a plot to murder him after all, not Erik.

“Why?” He asks trying for casual confusion, but he knows it comes off more of uncertain disbelief.

“It’s not often someone is given a personal escort by the Magneto himself,” the professor says as he rolls his eyes with a smile behind them.

“Aww, well doesn’t that just make me feel all special,” Peter says in an overly flattering way rolling on the balls of his heels. He knew he was laying it on thick, but he was never the actor in the family. That role – get it? Role? – had always gone to Wanda.

“So, what did you spend seven months in Sokovia doing, Peter?” Ex-Prof asked him. At least this was something he could talk about now without feeling the need to try and force his response when answering.

“A little here and there. I don’t know dude. Whatever I was needed for, I guess.” He shrugged. “I helped with the cleanup and rebuilding of homes, helped watch out for a couple of the kids, visited the memorial, stopped a couple attempted armed robberies and shootings I happened to pass. What about you? What all have you been doing here? Clearly not drinking out of coconuts with Erik, I see.”

The talking wasn’t that hard once he got into it, Peter decided. He carefully avoided anything that could trigger something of Raven or Jean, which was a bit difficult at times, but he thought he did pretty well. The three of them ate dinner and played a couple of games of rummy before Erik finally helped Peter up into the room he’d be staying in while he was there. It was the storage container to the left of Erik’s. Ex-Prof’s was just a few more down he learned, but Peter doubted he’d be the one visiting any time soon. It was two weeks until everyone would be meeting up back in Westchester for the anniversary and Peter was dreading it.

He didn’t want to see them all together back there again. Not when they’d all just be leaving again. And he knows it’s not about him. It’s about Raven and Jean, but he still doesn’t even know where they were buried. Fuck, he doesn’t even know how they died really. Did they even have bodies to bury? Did they get funerals? Was it an open or closed casket? Peter doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he can go back there. He told Erik he’d come to stay until after the anniversary, but he didn’t remember how hard that’d be on him until after he agreed.

***

Two days into his stay here Peter noticed something. The lights in Erik’s home didn’t go out at night until a little after Peter turned his off. And the second Peter would dare turn his back on for over five minutes, Erik’s would light up too. Peter didn’t know how he felt about this revelation. On the one hand, it was nice to know someone was looking after him again and that that person was his father – even if said father didn’t know it. But on the other, it was annoying: the feeling of always being watched. It was like one of Pink Floyd’s songs he used to listen to all the time with Wanda.

Welcome my son

Welcome to the machine

Where have you been?

It's alright we know where you've been

And he noticed that it wasn’t just the lights at night. Every time he’d disappear Erik or Ex-Prof, trying to be as subtle as possible and failing miserably at it, questioned him about it. They were trying not to suffocate him. He knew that. It was why they gave him his own area away from Erik and Ex-Prof instead of having him just sleep on Erik’s couch. They were trying to give him space. But he couldn’t ignore that no matter how much “space” they gave him, it always felt like the walls were closing in on him even more. Every time he went exploring, they knew about it. Every time he’d talk to one of the other inhabitants like Butcher Knives, whose name is Fabian and is super chill, they’d know about it. Sure, they could give him space, but he had no privacy. He was just glad that Xavier couldn’t see into his head right now. There were some things he just wanted to keep to himself. Like the dreaded list of questions, he always keeps in his pocket.

He pulls it out to look at it once more. There was a total of 32 questions written on it. Sure, he had a lot more to ask, but there was no more room, and he couldn’t bring himself to write any more down after that. Instead, those questions would just be left to drift away in Peter’s head, keeping him awake at night when all he wants to do is sleep. And right before he’d doze off, he’d was always doomed to jolt upright with another one that came to mind. Even when he did sleep, if he was unfortunate enough to have dreams, they’d appear there too. And they’d wake him. Every corner he turned BAM! It’d smack him in the face. He couldn’t take it anymore. It had almost been two years. When would he be allowed to sleep?

If ignorance is bliss, then why is he miserable without answers?

He just wants closure, but he doesn’t think he can take any more pain.

Peter folds the list up and puts it back in one of the pockets in his jacket. On the way in, the paper hits something else inside. Peter stops trying to jam the list in and instead moves his fingers to pull out what was already in there.

It was a little picture. It was just a little picture of a life he once had. Before the X-men. Before he was all alone. Before he knew what loss was. It was just a little picture of his mom, sister, and him sitting on the couch watching TheDick Van Dyke Show. His Dad took it about a year before everything had fallen apart. He didn’t know his dad wasn’t his birth father at the time, but even now that he’s gone, that’s what he was to Peter: his dad.

Peter used to hate Wanda’s sitcoms and only because she loved them so much. Now, he can’t even turn on the tv without looking beside him. He expects to see her there looking at the screen almost in a trance, but she’s never there anymore.

It’s safe to say Peter cried that night. How could he not though?

***

Peter’s observant. Like really observant, but even if he wasn’t, he would still be able to see that Ex-Prof would usually stay the night with Erik. At first, the two men had tried to act like that wasn’t the case, but it didn’t take long to realize how many of the belongings in Erik’s house were Xavier’s. And the Ex-Prof was almost always over there. Peter doesn’t quite understand why they were trying to hide it from him when he personally witnessed one of the two’s eye-fucking moments back during their elevator ride during Erik’s prison break, but if they are, then he probably shouldn’t comment on it. Right?

Wrong.

“Why do you even have your own place here?” Peter finds himself blurting out not even four days since his arrival. “Like, do you even use it?”

“I beg your pardon?” Ex-Prof asks as he sets down his cup of tea. The three of them were all sitting around each other outside looking and admiring the sights. Erik and Xavier were on a bench and Peter kept going back and forth between sitting in his chair and standing beside it. It was beautiful outside after having just rained the night before.

Peter had always loved the rain. Some of his favorite memories were of things that happened when it rained. He and Wanda used to jump in the puddles and dance together under the sky as it cried. Their mom would always pretend to be mad at them. She’d tell them they’ll get a cold or Pneumonia, but both he and Wanda knew she was just happy to see her kids feel so carefree. It was a luxury that she did not have growing up.

“Sorry. That came off wrong. I just…” shrugs, “I can’t help but notice you guys are acting differently than you typically would if I wasn’t here and maybe I’m just selfish in assuming it’s about me. Maybe it’s because it’s only a little over a week before the anniversary of Raven’s death now, but…” Peter shrugs again. “You can’t deny you’re acting differently.” Peter knows he made a rule with himself never to mention Raven or Jean, but it just slipped. He could see the frown that formed on both of their faces and hoped he didn’t just fuck up. Luckily for him, neither focused on that part when responding.

“Your right,” Ex-Prof says at the same time as Erik asks, “How exactly?”

“What?” Peter asks the metal bender.

“How would you know if we’ve been acting differently?”

“You’re acting like you’re two separate people. It doesn’t fit. Xavier’s stuff is everywhere in your house, and you’re used to it. You don’t notice it because it’s normal. But then whenever Ex-Prof leaves after ‘a visit,’” Peter says with air quotes, “he announces he's leaving. He’s acting like he’s a guest, but to have so many possessions already in your home, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Your awfully perceptive,” Erik comments. His face looks torn as if he’s waiting to see if there’s more Peter knows. And he does, but it should be them to tell him. Not the other way around.

“Why is everyone always so surprised by that?” Peter jokes.

***

As the days go by, Erik and Charles stop hiding what’s going on between them more and more. They still haven’t outright told Peter what was going on, but they didn’t have to, and besides Peter was just glad they weren’t all avoiding that elephant in the room anymore.

With them both starting to act a bit more normally, they devoted less time and attention to Peter, which he enjoyed. The days got closer to the anniversary, and the closer they got, the more Peter felt the urge to go. He didn’t want to be there. He knows he told Erik he would, but it was just too hard. The worst part was the fact that Peter didn’t even feel like it got to be this hard for him. HE WASN’T THERE. It wasn’t fair for him to show up. Peter just wanted to walk up to Erik and tell him he’s leaving.

“I’m heading out,” he could imagine himself saying with his bag packed on his shoulder all ready to leave the place Erik had worked so hard making a home over the years out of. “I can’t do this, but I thought you deserved to know I’m leaving. I know I like to say goodbye when people leave, so I thought I’d give you that courtesy before I’m gone.”

“Why?” he could practically hear Erik asking him. And Peter never had an answer to that. Mean he did, but how was he supposed to say, ‘I wasn’t there when you lost them, so I don’t feel I should be there now?’

Peter only brought one bag with him when he came to Genosha. It’s just the size of a backpack. He knows how weird it must seem that he didn’t bring anything more with him, but he doesn’t need anything else. He only planned on staying for two weeks.

He remembers the way Ex-Prof looked at him when he first saw Peter again. He looked at Peter all guilty and disappointed. He looked at Peter as though he was broken, and it was all Xavier’s fault. And maybe it was. Peter doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what part of Peter’s appearance made Xavier look at him like that in the first place. Because if it was guilt, then he wouldn’t have had a smile worth letting falter in the first place. Right?

Maybe it was the bags Peter knew were under his eyes. It had already been a long day for him when Erik showed up and took him here. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t even wearing one of his signature old band t-shirts. It was just a black shirt with flannel overtop. There was nothing flashy about his appearance like there normally was. Maybe it was the so few things he brought with him even though he was a kleptomaniac. He’d always had a bad relationship with stealing and the profess– ex-professor had seen him at his worst. He knows that however he had looked to Xavier must have been bad. He must have looked like he was just a shell of the person Xavier once knew. But if Peter was being honest, that was just how he felt. He felt like a shell of the person he once was. He was just watching himself from the outside as he went through the motions.

Peter’s bag only held a handful of t-shirts, a black leather jacket – seeing as how he’d retired his silver one after Apocalypse, – two pairs of jeans, an extra pair of shoes, a couple of pairs of socks and underwear, his Walkman with two cassettes, and his toothbrush which looking at it now, he probably needed to replace soon. The bristles were starting to look a bit worn. And in his jacket pocket, he always carried three things with him: his goggles, a picture from when he was a kid, and that dreaded list of questions weighing him down every day.

Peter dug through his backpack for his Walkman and using a pencil from the desk beside the bed, he rewound the tape inside before reinserting it back. Headphones on, he pressed play and let the music drown out any and everything around him.

Remember when you were young, you shone like the sun

Shine on you crazy diamond

Now there's a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky

Shine on you crazy diamond

He pulled out the goggles from his pocket, placed them over his eyes, and ran. He didn’t know how fast he was going. He didn’t care. All that mattered was that for the first time in years, he was running again, and it was so freeing.

Come on you target for faraway laughter

Come on you stranger, you legend, you martyr, and shine

All that was weighing him down before was left behind him, and as long as he kept moving it would never catch up. He ran all over the island before he was building up enough confidence to try running over the ocean. He didn’t know where he was going. He just knew it felt good. He could feel the smile forming on his face and for the first time in forever, it didn’t feel like he had to force himself into that expression. It was genuine. It was real and it was great. He was free. He was weightless. He was happy.

He had only a vague idea about how long he had been running. He knew he had to stop and rewind the tape three times, but he also knew that there were moments when he didn’t notice how long it was that the tape had ended before he had to rewind it. He did know that on the fourth time listening to Shine on you Crazy Diamond, he ran somewhere he hadn’t intended on going.

To the average eye, it only looked like an ordinary street with ordinary houses lining both sides of the road, but Peter vividly remembered this place. He’s not sure how he was able to find it seeing as how he’d only been once, and he didn’t even really know where it was located. Sure, he knew how far away it was from the mansion using the Blackbird jet, but that still doesn’t mean he knew where this place was.

He remembers very little of that day, but what he does remember, he remembers clearly and almost strikingly. He remembers that house. It’s the one Jean had been at when the X-men found her. He doesn’t know why they found her here, but he does know that the second he saw her, she was gone… just like his Wanda.

This was the place they came to save Jean only to lose Raven instead.

This is where Raven died.

Raven died somewhere on this street, and he doesn’t even know where. He doesn’t even know how it happened. He doesn’t know. Two years later, and he still has no clue, and he’s not sure whether he should be thankful for not having to witness it or not. He still doesn’t know if it really feels better to not know how it all went down.

You reached for the secret too soon, you cried for the moon

Shine on you crazy diamond

Threatened by shadows at night, and exposed in the light

Shine on you crazy diamond

What were the chances that he’d wind up here out of all other places in the world? He could have gone anywhere, and this is where he subconsciously ended up running toward. He could have run to his mom’s house, to visit Lorna, back to Sokovia, to the memorial for all those lost in the bombing including his parents. Hell, he could have run to the place Wanda had died and it still have been easier on his heart. He could have gone anywhere and not hurt as much as he was right now. So much for feeling free and weightless. So much for being happy.

Peter pulls down his headphones and begins walking aimlessly through the street. Well, if he was here, there was probably a reason, right? The street looks different than how he remembered it, and Peter doesn’t mean that because the buildings were all being torn apart and floating in the sky. No, the houses for the most part all look the same. It was as if the whole thing hadn’t even happened that day. It looked how it had before the X-men had approached Jean. It looked calm, but somehow much more different than he remembered it. Peter remembers the place looking quiet, but there were at least cars in the driveways back then. Now, there were none. The yards were maintained, now they were overgrown and neglected like the beginning of a jungle. The street was forsaken.

It hurt Peter to think that people didn’t feel safe calling it home anymore. That they felt the need to leave. It killed him to think one mistake could have led to so many consequences. Not only did Raven and Jean end up dying or Xavier closing the school down. Not only did it lead him in a coma for a couple of months or the X-men disbanding. It also led to moving trucks and new lives for the people who lived here too. They no longer felt safe. They no longer felt at home here.

Peter wonders if it could have all been prevented. Maybe if he didn’t trip and hit his head like some kid on the playground back in elementary school, he could have saved Raven. Maybe if he had been faster, she could have been saved. Or maybe even if he couldn’t save Raven, he could have saved the X-men from falling apart as it did. Or maybeif he paid more attention to Jean, he could have prevented her from losing control in the end.

But there was no use in thinking about maybes and what-ifs because, in the end, it didn’t happen like that. What happened, happened. And now, what he needs is to move forward. But how is he meant to do that?

Peter slides his headphones back on to find the tape ended again. He knew he’d been wandering around for a while seeing as how the sun was about to set, but he didn’t think it had been over a whole other run-through of Pink Floyd. He pulled the tape out and rewound it once more before setting it back and pressing play. To the beat of the music, Peter put one step in front of the other until he was running again.

Unlike last time though, he didn’t feel happy or free, but he did notice the weight he felt was just a little bit less now and it wasn’t because of running. It was because he took the first step toward peace, and it felt good. He ran to grab some food before heading back to Genosha. He hoped Erik and the Ex-Prof weren’t worried about him. After all, there wasn’t anything worth worrying about. He was finally beginning to heal.

***

Back in Genosha, he was soon to learn that he was right in thinking Erik and Xavier were going to be worried – because they were.

It was almost seven o’clock when he returned. It wasn’t late, but he had been gone all day without any notice. He could understand their worry, even if he didn’t understand why they took it upon themselves to worry about him. They were the ones to leave his life – and Erik twice at that. Right?

He had just walked into his house for the time being only to soon be engulfed in a hug by no other than Erik. He wasn’t used to the man showing any kind of emotion toward him like this. It made Peter feel even more guilty for leaving to have made the so-called ‘mutant terrorist’ this worried.

“Thank god, you’re ok,” Erik said more to himself than Peter as he held him with a grip so strong it was like Erik was scared he’d disappear on him again – which is understandable seeing as how he had just pulled a vanishing act today. Peter tried to hide his confusion and guilt building up inside him at Erik’s reaction and instead, decided to run with it. It wasn’t every day he got a hug from his father. He put his arms around the man and patted him before Erik let go to look Peter in the face.

“Are you?” he asks, this time more concerned than relieved. “Ok?” he adds on to specify.

“Physically? I’m fine, man. I’m a bit sore seeing as how long it’s been since I ran like that, but I’m good. No need to worry.” Erik smiles. It’s faint but it’s there and seeing it just makes Peter smile in return.

“And mentally?” Erik asks, back to the concerned parent. Even if he doesn’t know he’s Peter’s father, he definitely knows how to act like it. It’s weird but nice.

“I…” peter doesn’t quite know how to respond to that one. Thinking it over, he decides, “I think I’m doing better than when I left earlier.”

Erik’s not as happy with this answer. It’s not because he doesn’t like that he was happier here, but because he knows Peter’s telling the truth. He wants Peter to feel ok – he’d love if he could feel great, but he doesn’t like thinking about the fact that Peter currently isn’t there yet.

“Charles couldn’t reach you. I’ll admit it had me scared.”

“Sorry,” Peter said wincing. He remembered how the Ex-Prof would always be in pain if he tried too hard to get into Peter’s head. Even if it was just to tell him he’s needed in his office. He hoped Xavier hadn’t put himself through anything bad in his attempt to reach Peter.  “He’d always tell me even when I was slow my mind was like a tornado: hard to navigate and hard to get through. I used to give him headaches on missions even if he was only relaying a message to me.”

“Yes, well he’s got one of those now, but I don’t think you were the only cause if I’m being honest. I might have been a bit much during the time you were gone,” Erik tells him smiling as he joked about himself annoying the telepath so much. Peter smiled in return.

“We got tea here? You want me to pick up some tea?” he asks in a rapid-fire way before continuing, “Usually, I’d make him a cup as a way to say, ‘sorry for being difficult,’ after doing that to him. I can go pick up some tea. He says it helps.”

Once again, Peter reminded Erik of the boy he met in the Pentagon asking him if he knew karate. It was good seeing him like this.

“He’s currently drinking a cup now, actually. But thanks.”

“Yea anytime, man. And uh,” Peter scratches the back of his head before continuing, “Sorry if I worried you or something. I know first-hand what it’s like not knowing when people just disappear, so…” he takes a deep breath shrugging, “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’re just glad you’re safe and doing what you need to do. Though,” Erik adds as an afterthought, “if you wouldn’t mind leaving a note next time, I’d appreciate it. Oh, look at me,” he says running a hand through his hair amused with himself. “I sound like the dad from some sitcom. ‘Alright now let’s all hug it out,’” he says in a way much like Danny Tanner from Full House. Peter can’t help but laugh. And it’s for multiple reasons like him actually being a dad and to Peter, the fact that he was acting in a Danny Tanner way when he first arrived, and at Erik’s terrible but somehow good impression. Erik was laughing too. Once the laughter began to die down, Peter told Erik he’d be sure to leave a note next time, which Erik appreciated.

“Do you play?” Erik asks Peter pointing to a chessboard that was on the desk when Peter had first arrived.

“No, but I do know how to play that,” Peter replies pointing to the UNO deck of cards beside it. Erik smirks.

“We can play that,” Erik offers. And although Peter loves UNO and the idea of bonding with Erik he shakes his head no in response. Erik’s smile falters, but Peter continues.

“I think I’d rather learn something new,” he says zipping over to the desk grabbing the chessboard, and back in front of Erik. And Erik’s smile stretches from ear to ear in response.

Erik and he walk over to a table and sit on the opposite sides of each other chatting as Peter opens the board and attempts to set the pieces up.

“That’s not how you set it up,” Erik laughs. “The pawns all go in the front – no not like that,” Erik laughs harder as Peter high speed moves all rooks beside each other.

“Ok, fine, then you do it,” Peter beams as he pushes the chess pieces closer to Erik to fix.

Erik sets the board up using his mind and each piece goes to its proper spot within a second.

“Oh,” Peter says, snapping Erik’s attention back to the younger. “So that’s what it’s supposed to look like. That is nothing like how I had it,” he laughs.

“At least you had the colors separated. And these pieces,” he holds up a castle-shaped piece, “are rooks. Not pawns. Pawns are the little pieces in the front, see?”

“Oooh. Ok, that makes sense. And what are these?” Peter asks pointing to pieces looking like bigger more decorative versions of pawns.

“Bishops,” he informs Peter. Erik then talks him through all the different pieces and how they move. Turns out it is nothing like checkers which makes no sense because it’s the same board. They play two games. The first was more of just a coaching experience for Peter in which he lost. Badly. The second game, though it started much like the first, was a much different game altogether. Erik still won of course, but Peter wasn’t an easy opponent and the game lasted much longer than the first did.

“Well look at that,” Erik said as they put the board away. It was getting late after all. “For someone playing as if in a rush, I hate to say you gave me a run for my money. Especially if I am to consider that that was your first time playing,” he complimented Peter, a smile tugging on his lips.

“I had a good teacher… and a lot more time to make decisions than you think, dude.”

“Oh really?” Erik asks.

“Yea, my legs aren’t the only thing that moves fast.”

“So, you sped up when it was your turn,” Erik thinks out loud only to be corrected by Peter.

“No, I slow down when it’s your turn,” Peter says as a joke causing Erik to laugh.

“I’m wounded. I think I might have just been impaled,” Erik says, thinking Peter was just firing back a sassy response which he had no comeback for.

“No, but really, there’s no ‘off button’ for my mutation, “Peter explains once they’re both done laughing. “If I want to have a conversation, or be seen when I enter a room, I have to slow down. Everything’s always so slow to me. Snails!” Peter exclaims pointing to Erik then to everything around him “The lot of you.”

Erik smiles thinking over what Peter had just told him. He’s probably thinking of just how fast Peter is. Maybe in a different time, he would have tried recruiting Peter to his beloved Brotherhood.

“That must take an immense amount of patience then,” Is what Erik ends up saying. It catches Peter off guard. People don’t usually think of it like that. It’s how it is for Peter, but people typically would comment about just how much potential he has due to how incredibly fast he is instead. This. It was different.

“More than you even know,” Peter breathes out.

“Well, it’s late, so I’ll be off now,” Erik tells him as he goes to stand up, stretching out from sitting for a while. “Get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning. And if not—”

“—You’ll see the note I left you instead.” Peter finished for him. Erik grins and grabs his jacket before heading off. “Take care,” Peter says as Erik crosses the threshold of place.

After Erik’s gone Peter just sits on his bed, still smiling as he remembers the day. It wasn’t all easy or fun for him, but he felt so much better now than he had in years if not months at least. He doesn’t think he’d smiled like that for so long since he and Kurt went off on their own.

Maybe he’d be able to go for the anniversary. Maybe that would be just the thing to help him heal. Erik’s words flashed in his head again as he told him, “It was hard on all of us to be there, but we were there.” And if it was that hard and awful come the end, none of them would have planned on returning this year, would they? They must have come out somewhat better than when they went in, right? Maybe it was like revisiting that street. It was awful and hard on him, but when he left, he felt a bit lighter than before. Maybe going to the anniversary will help with that too.

Chapter Text

One Year, Nine Months, and 17 Days Ago

His head hurt. That was the first thing he noticed. It felt like it was exploding. He could feel his brain throbbing and trying to push its way through his skull. The second thing he noticed was that the radio was on playing Under the Bridge by the Red-Hot Chili Peppers. After that, he noticed was that it hurt to move. It hurt like a bitch. He winced immediately and instinctually whimpered from the pain. He felt like hell right now.

“Hey, he’s waking up” He heard a voice say. They seemed relieved and nervous all at once. The voice sounded familiar, but his head hurt to think too much of who it could be.

“I’ll go grab him some water,” a second voice spoke. “He’ll probably be thirsty when he wakes.”

“Thanks, Kurt.”

He could hear the footsteps slowly fade away.

Peter tried prying his eyes open but as soon as he did, he was hit with bright white light forcing him to close his eyelids once more. Slowly he opened them this time squinting and adjusting to the light. His vision is all spotty and his head seems to hate him right now as he continued moving it to see where he was.

“Peter, you’re in the Medbay. You had a nasty fall it seemed,” the voice said. Oh, well guess that answers that. He turned towards its direction to see it belonged to Hank. Peter tried to sit up only to be immediately pushed back down. “You need to rest,” he told him in a way that was soothing but firm. Peter tried to nod in understanding but ended up grabbing for his forehead as soon as he felt the pain rushing to his cranium once more because it hurt so badly to move.

“Yea, rest sounds good right now,” Peter spoke all lethargic. He noticed that his throat felt dry. He went to reach toward it only to bump into a tube of some sort. He traced it to see the path went into his nose. The speedster looked down in confusion.

“It’s a nasogastric tube. It’s for feeding. You were out long enough, and we needed to make sure you were getting enough nutrients to survive while you were unconscious.”

Was he out for that long? Well, guess he has to eat a whole lot more calories than anyone else, so perhaps it hasn’t been long by normal people’s standards. There was no way to know without asking.

“How long was I out?” He caved in asking.

“Two and a half months. A total of 74 days. We weren’t sure if you’d ever wake up again or remember anything. We weren’t sure you’d even live. Pete –” Hank’s voice broke and he was out of doctor mode and speaking with emotion. “It was bad. You should have died. Your injuries were quite extensive: you cracked your head open, your spine was fractured in three different places, you broke four ribs, an arm, and a leg. If it weren’t for your increased healing factor, you would have died.”

And Peter was still mostly out of it, but the thought sure scared him. Peter has had several near-death experiences under his belt, but if what Hank was telling him was true, then this might be the closest he’s ever come.

Two and a half months? 74 days? How could he have missed that much time?

“What happened?” Peter asked, not understanding how he could have gotten so hurt.

“What do you remember?” Hank asked in return. Peter tried to think back to what had happened, but he was getting such a headache from thinking about it.

“Uh…” There were flashes of the X-men on the jet talking, but he doesn’t remember what about; of just an ordinary street; of Jean walking out of one of the houses looking troubled; of himself thinking she looked so much like Wanda. He spoke slowly even for normal people’s standards. “Jean, she… she was struggling…” Peter was hit with a sharp pain in his head causing him to wince. “Argh, I-I don’t know. We were in some kind of street. Argh, I-I don’t remember. I don’t know.”

“Hey, it’s ok. Don’t force yourself, Pete. It’s ok. It’s completely normal for people to struggle to remember the events leading up to a concussion. You might remember more over time,” the unspoken ‘or not’ hanging in the air.

“What happened?” Peter asked looking back into Hank’s eyes. As soon as the question escaped his lips he came to regret asking. He didn’t know why, just that he should. He could see the flash of pain in Hank’s eyes. He didn’t want to tell him – whatever it was must have been bad.

“Raven’s gone. Jean too,” he spoke in such a detached way. Peter remembers how much Raven meant to Hank. He remembers one day overhearing a discussion between the two. They were thinking of leaving the mansion together. Peter remembers asking Hank if he was really going to leave that day. Hank didn’t know at the time he’d overheard, but he didn’t deny that he was thinking about going.

“At least say goodbye before you go, ok? That goes for both of you,” he told Hank.

“I promise I’ll say goodbye. Though, I can’t say the same for Raven. Besides, it’s not set in stone or anything, so don’t get ahead of yourself yet.”

He can’t imagine how Hank’s taking this. He feels bad thinking back to that conversation. Hank better not have stayed behind just to say goodbye to him like promised.

“Do you know where she went? Are you going to go find her? Is she coming back?” He asked his big blue furry giant of a friend – even though he was currently in his ‘nerd form.’ After each question he asked, the more a sinking feeling in his stomach grew.

Suddenly it all started to make sense. The look in Hank’s eyes. It wasn’t just because Raven and Jean left and he got himself a bit roughed up. They were red and puffy from crying with bags underneath from weeks’ worth of no sleep. His lower lip was quivering, and his eyes began watering. Peter could tell he was trying to hold his tears back.

Peter’s injuries flashed through his mind once more as Hank listed them off to him.

Raven didn’t choose to leave.

The mission must have gone wrong.

“They’re dead, Pete,” Hank spoke barely above a whisper. Those words confirmed it all. After that Peter was done asking what happened. He didn’t want to hear anything worse, so he didn’t ask.

Peter felt his eyes tearing up as the weight of it began to finally sink in, but Peter couldn’t let himself cry. Not in front of Hank. Not when he wasn’t there – or at least doesn’t remember. He doesn’t deserve to cry.

So, Peter pulled himself together. He had pushed all the emotion off his face and just focused on the music playing. It was just his luck that Guns N’ Roses Don’t Cry was now playing.

Don't hang your head in sorrow

And please don't cry

I know how you feel inside I've

I've been there before

If he paid too much attention to the words, he knew the tears would fall, but he couldn’t help it, so he just tried to be as silent as possible. How can he cry knowing that he wasn’t affected nearly as much as Hank by this? How can he cry when it’s been months already? How can he cry in front of Hank when he wasn’t there?

Kurt entered the room to leave a glass of water beside his bed.

“I’m glad you’re up again. I’ve missed having you around,” he told Peter before noticing the look on Peter’s face and leaving offering one more small smile. He grabbed Hank on the way out and Peter just sat there letting the tears stream down his face.

Tell me goodbye

Don't you take it so hard now

And please don't take it so bad

I'll still be thinkin' of you

And the times we had, baby

And don't you cry tonight

Don't you cry tonight

Don't you cry tonight

There's a heaven above you, baby

And don't you cry tonight

Present Day

Peter’s the last to board the jet to Westchester. He was stalling coming and every one of them knew it. Erik was pulling Peter by the metal zipper on his jacket, while Peter tried to fight against it before playing dead weight making himself as heavy as possible. It didn’t cause Erik to slow any though and he soon realized neither was doing anything to prevent the fact that he was almost to the jet, so he stopped resisting it and went along with it.

“You could have just pulled your jacket off if you didn’t want to come, and you know it. Part of you wants to go or at least understands that you need to though. So, you can stop acting like a child that has just been put into time out.” Erik told Peter after a minute of Peter pouting in his chair. They hadn’t even taken off yet.

Peter then straightens up in his seat and pulls out his Walkman, changing out the current cassette tape, Wish You Were Here, with a mixtape he’d made a few months ago. He didn’t feel the need to rewind it even though it was he had a feeling it was a couple of songs in already. He decided to just let the music play. When he starts the music, it’s Nirvana’s Come As You Are playing already a few seconds in.

Come as you are, as you were

As I want you to be

As a friend, as a friend

As an old enemy

Take your time, hurry up

Choice is yours, don't be late

Take a rest as a friend

It’s a long way to New York from the eastern coast of Africa where Genosha lies right off the shore from. In other words, he’s already cycled through both tapes he’s brought three times each now and is really wishing he had some other music to listen to.

Don’t get him wrong, he loves his music, but he knows every song like the back of his hand and can tune it out easily, which isn’t good when you’re trying to stay out of your head.

“Peter, you’re vibrating the whole plane again,” Erik tells him. Peter looks down to his leg and – oh shit. He stops bouncing it up and down and takes his headphones off.

“Sorry,” he tells the two in a voice so small as he fidgets with the hands in his lap.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Charles asks.

Peter shakes his head no.

“I don’t mean to pry, but the feelings you’re projecting right now are quite loud,” Charles explains.

“Sorry,” he says again. It breaks both men’s hearts to hear Peter like this. His mind moves scarily fast, but the feelings he’d been projecting during the plane ride have been constant and intensifying as they got closer to their destination. Peter was feeling heavy, overwhelmed, contrite, remorseful, and trapped. Even if Charles wasn’t a mind reader he’d be able to easily pick up on it.

“Do you want to play a game?” Erik asks gesturing to the chessboard lying at the table.

“It might help get your mind off things,” Charles added to which Erik agreed.

“Uh, sure. Do you guys keep those boards everywhere?” Peter asked.

“Yes,” they responded in unison.

***

17 hours and 45 minutes. That’s how long the flight lasted. Peter ended up spending the time looking like a drug addict going through withdrawal the whole flight minus the duration he spent unconscious, but he was only asleep for three hours. How could he sleep?

Peter felt bad for the ex-professor. He did not doubt that his busy mind was keeping the wheelchair-bound telepath up as well.

It was only 7:15 in the morning when they arrived at the school and Peter wished they could have left later so that there was less time before everyone else arrived. He just wanted to get this over with. Instead of spending his time walking the halls of an abandoned school or playing yet another game of chess with either Erik or the Ex-Prof, he decided to go for a run.

The first place he went was one of the local music stores he remembered. He picked up a few more cassettes to listen to on the trip back to Sokovia because he had a feeling that as soon as today was over, he’d be bolting out. He brought his entire bag with him on the plane and both Erik and Xavier knew there was a high probability he’d not be returning with them back to Genosha.

Both older men were planning on staying for the week and by the sounds of it, so were most of the others coming. Peter wouldn’t be doing the same. He said he’d stay until after the anniversary. Today was the anniversary. Once it was over, he was out.

After visiting the music store, he took a detour back to the school to drop off his new haul before running again until he hit DC. While he was back in the states, he thought it best to go and visit his mom.

It was weird walking up to the house. It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d visited since leaving, but the awkwardness of being a guest in the home he spent most of his life in was still something he hadn’t gotten used to. He made his way up the steps and to the front door, noticing the new welcome mat. It looked out of place sitting there. Even though the mat looked identical to the old one, it asked the scorch marks from Peter’s running. He remembered when he used to just run straight into the house, not a care in the world, but now he felt the need to knock and wait for an answer. He saw the car in the driveway, so he knew his mom was home, but part of him began to think she wouldn’t answer even if she was here.

In reality, it hardly took more than a few seconds before he heard his mom on the other side of the door. When the door swung open, she looked torn. At first, she looked so happy to see it was Peter, then she saw how Peter was and stared at him like she did every year on his and Wanda’s birthday after his twin died. She didn’t waste much time staring at Peter though before she pulled him into a hug so tight, he could feel the lack of oxygen in his lungs.

“A trecut prea mult timp.” It’s been too long. “I’ve missed you so much.” She breathed out before letting him go.

“I missed you too,” he tells her before she drags him into the house and sits him down.

“I figured you’d be stopping by sometime this week. I know you don’t get drunk, but I have some Vodka if you’d like to give it another go. I know today’s a hard one.”

“How many hard days can one person have?” he asks as a joke, but both of them know he’s being serious.

“You’re not going to ditch your friends again today, are you?”

She was no doubt remembering last year. Peter was going to go and pay his respects, but never built up the courage and instead spent it alone. His mom called him that night and could tell by the way he picked up the phone that he wasn’t doing ok.

“Peter, how are you doing?”

“I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey it’s ok. I couldn’t do it either when Wanda left us. Nobody is blaming you. Your friends will understand. It’s hard on everyone and everyone handles it differently.” There was a long beat of silence on both ends and his mom could hear him trying to cover up his tears through the phone. “How about you come to visit. You might not be with your friends, but I don’t want you to be alone. So come home for a bit. We can play ping pong and listen to that awful music of yours I always pretend to enjoy so you don’t make fun of me for being old and having no ‘taste’. I won’t ask you to pretend it never happened, but don’t think for a second those girls would want you to be alone right now beating yourself up for something that’s not your fault.”

“You don’t know that. What if it is my fault? If I had just—”

“No, Peter. I do. I know it’s not your fault. There was nothing you could do to save them – just like how there was nothing you could do to save Wanda. And I know none of them would want you to be miserable about their deaths and blaming it on yourself. None of them would want you to be alone grieving their loss right now. None of them, Peter. I know that.” There was another long silence. This one longer than the first. “Come home,” she begs of him. “Just please don’t spend the day alone, ok? I’m worried about you.”

Peter didn’t respond. The line went silent for too long.

“Peter? Are you there?”

No answer.

“Peter, please,” she pleads with him across the landline.

DING DONG

His mom hangs up relieved knowing who’s on the other side of the door. Not a second after she opened the door, she engulfed her son in a hug. The two of them collapsed at the door with Peter holding on to her as if she were his lifeline and her trying to soothe him by running her hands through her boy’s silver locks.

They stayed like that for some time before Peter picked himself and his mother off the cement and asked,

“You ready to get your ass handed to you in ping pong?”

“Please, I taught you everything you know, but don’t be so cocky as to think for a second you’re any bit better. Now I might be old now and slow—”

“—so slow—” Peter interjects. His mom whacks a hand on the back of his head, and they walk downstairs to Peter’s old basement.

“—but it takes skill and finesse. That’s something you can’t make up for in speed.”

“No, I’m just waiting for some people to show up before I head back. I don’t think it’s best to be alone with my thoughts right now.”

“You know, it’s also not best to avoid them either. You can’t move forward without looking back.”

“I know.”

There’s a long pause where silence reigns. It's not uncomfortable though. No silence with his mom ever is.

“How’s Lorna?”

“Don’t even get me started on her,” his mother says with fondness in her voice making Peter know she’s well. “No, she’s good. She’s a headache and pain in my ass, but good. Not to mention she’s a lot easier on me than you ever were,” she jokes. “What time do you need to head out of here?”

“Probably by ten. I’ve still got a couple of hours though before then.”

His mom just nods.

“She’s mad at you, by the way. You were supposed to call her a couple of days ago,”

“Shit.”

“Yep. You might want to check in with her too and let her know you’re ok. We both know how long she holds a grudge for.”

“Isn’t that the truth?”

Peter and his mother had a good talk. They talked about Genosha and how it has been staying there these last two weeks. She felt conflicted hearing how interested Erik seemed to be in her boy, but overall, she’s happy he’s getting something positive out of it all. Peter needs this. And in the end, Peter decided he should make more in-person visits rather than just the four or five times he came by within the last year. He used his mom’s phone to call Lorna, who he just set the phone down on the kitchen counter making himself a sandwich (or seven) until she finished ranting to him about how worried she was. He made sure to apologize and promised to visit her before he left the East Coast again. On the way out the door, his mom threw him a brand-new bottle of Vodka saying to give it to his friends.

“You may not use it, but I know Erik will appreciate it and maybe the others too.”

***

When Peter returned to the school, it was still only Xavier and Erik there. The two older men were playing yet another game of chess, although Peter doesn’t quite remember the last game ever ending, so it could be the same.

The others were to arrive in about thirty minutes, which felt like forever to Peter. He just stood outside the school’s main entrance fighting with himself on whether or not to walk inside. Only two minutes in Peter caved when he convinced himself he needed to put the bottle in the kitchen. He grabbed his backpack and cassettes he left beside the entrance and made his way over to the old wooden doors. He opened them slowly stepping through the door’s threshold. Immediately he was hit with a feeling of Déjà vu seeing the abandoned hallways. It took him back to the day he was released from the Medbay. The day he realized that it was only Hank and Kurt still at the school. The day he realized this place was no longer a school. That it was no longer home

The air was stale, and the dust had covered everything. If Peter didn’t know better, he’s thought this place had been abandoned for a better part of a decade, not two years. He walked down the neglected school’s halls alone with his thoughts. He made his way up toward the dorms and walked by each one reading the numbers off and remembering all the memories he had with the people that used to inhabit each one. He couldn’t get himself to enter any of the rooms, not even his own.

Walking further down the hall, he came across the old common room. Peter stood out of the door looking through the window. He was once again torn between whether to open the door and step inside or not, but he did. The furniture was still all covered in sheets, and Peter was forced to relive the day when Kurt and he went room by room using the dust sheets to protect the furniture against the test of time.

“This really is the end, isn’t it?” he asked Kurt as they put the last dust sheet over the common room’s couch.

“Ja,” he sighed. “I guess it is. But that also means it’s the beginning of something new. And who knows? Maybe new is just what we all need.”

Peter loved and hated hearing Kurt’s optimism. It was complicated. He understood what Kurt was getting at, but he didn’t want something new.

Still to this day, Peter wishes he could go back sometimes. He didn’t like new. Not like he loved what he had here in this cast-aside mansion he used to call home with friends he once thought were family. But as fast as Peter was, he couldn’t run back in time and change things. He knows. He tried. He tried the day Hank showed him that theory of his but failed. He hasn’t put an attempt at it since. He remembers the day he accepted it just wasn’t possible. It’s a bitter memory still to this day.

“You lied,” Peter told the scientist as he zipped into Hank’s lab. He scared the man from behind causing him to drop a couple of test tubes. Peter sped up to catch them right before they hit the ground and handed them back.

“Thanks,” Hank told him as he took them and set them into the proper spots in the rack, before pulling his chair over and sitting down before what Peter said hit him. “What?” he asked in confusion.

“You lied. You said that the faster you move on the special plane of existence, then the slower you move in time. You said if I ran fast enough, I could potentially go back in time.”

“What? Peter, it was just a theory. And even if it did work, there’s no guarantee you could come back to the present. It’s likely to be a one-way ticket – not a roundtrip. Wait, you didn’t try it? Did you?”

“Of course, I tried it. I spent days trying it, but it didn’t work. I couldn’t go backward. Everything was still, time was frozen, but it refused to go back no matter how hard I pushed myself. You said it would be possible. You lied.”

Hank was no doubt picking up the emotion in Peter’s voice, but he still couldn’t hide his fascination with the subject discussed.

“That’s amazing. To think that time would just stop. And to think you’re capable of speeds to reach that alone is incredible. That’s something to take pride in Peter.” Hank looked up then to see Peter’s annoyance and snapped out of it before adopting his caring friend voice. “Sorry. It was just a theory – a cool idea I thought would interest you. I didn’t think it would have this much of an influence on you.”

“That much of an influence on me, Hank? You just tempted me with the idea of time travel. How would that not influence me? How would I not want to go back and—” Peter cut himself off there, but he already went far enough for Hank to understand what was being discussed.

“I didn’t tell you this so you can outrun everything you don’t like in the world, Peter. That’s not how life works. I’m sorry.” He apologized. They just stayed there in silence for a second before Hank spoke again. “What was it you were trying to go back to anyway?” Hank questioned as softly as possible in hopes it would get Peter to open up.

“Nothing, man. Really. I just wanted to see if it would work. Turns out it doesn’t.” He lied. He knew exactly why he wanted to run back in time. He wanted to see Wanda again. He wanted to see his parents and watch one more episode. He knew Hank also knew he was lying, but he didn’t push it.

“I’m sorry it didn’t then.”

“I know.”

Peter ripped the sheet off the couch before collapsing to the floor in tears. He still wishes he could go back and hold on to it all a little tighter. Maybe then, he’d still have it. He regrets the day he woke up to find everything good had slipped through his fingers not even realizing it.

After a while, Peter starts to feel sore from sitting on the ground. He collects himself and stands on shaky knees until he regains his strength enough to walk and makes his way back toward the entrance. Right before he opens the door, it’s opened from the outside.

There stands Ororo.

She quickly pulls Peter into a tight embrace and he’s soon to reciprocate it.

“I’m glad you came back,” she tells him. He does his best to smile in return, but it’s weak and Ororo knows it.

“It’s good to see you too ‘Ro,” he replies. He can see it in her face. The doubt that what Peter says is true. The head no doubt reminding her of how he didn’t bother reaching out to anyone in almost two years now, but Peter means what he says. It is good to see her. He missed his friend. “I missed you.”

Her face visibly softens.

“I missed you too.”

There’s a long beat of silence after that where they just stand there looking at each other before Peter eventually breaks and pulls her into another hug.

“I never left you. You know that right?” she tells him while they’re still locked into the embrace. It wasn’t until right then that another tear escapes his eyes. He needed to hear that. He knew they didn’t leave him, but it still felt like that. Peter wipes his cheek before responding.

“I know,” he says. Both he and Ororo know Peter didn’t believe it until that moment, but she still nodded along. “How’s Cairo been? No more mutant gods?” he asks in a more light-hearted tone.

“No more mutant gods. It’s been good, I guess. I’m doing well for myself and everything, but… I don’t know,” she shrugs. “It’s far from all of my friends,” she playfully shoves him in the side eliciting a small smile from Peter before continuing. “It used to be home, but it just doesn’t feel the same anymore. Maybe that has something to do with the fact that I’m not living off the streets anymore, but still…” she trails off.

“Yea, I get that,” he says remembering the talk he had with Erik about all the things missing for him to call his apartment in Sokovia home again.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you were up again, by the way. I waited for the first month, but then I guess I started to lose hope that you’d ever wake again. It really didn’t seem like you would. I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad, but you should know I spent that time mourning you too. Not just Raven and Jean. I thought I had lost my best friend. I’m so glad you’re up, though I wish I was there when you did.”

Peter couldn’t deny the ache in his heart hearing that Ororo thought him to be good as dead during that time. He felt so guilty to have put her through that. This whole time he’d been upset that everyone was gone, but to them, it seemed like he was the one gone.

“I’m sorry I didn’t reach out.” He finally says.

“That goes both ways. I could have hunted you down at any time as Erik did, but I didn’t. I just thought you needed space. But I can see now just how wrong I was. They both told me out there that you were doing better, but you look like shit, Peter,” she laughs. “I can’t imagine you looking any worse,” she stated before quickly wincing, no doubt remembering Peter’s injuries when Raven died. “No, that’s a lie – I do, but my previous statement still stands. You look like shit.”

Peter lets out a hollow self-deprecating laugh.

“Man, how many times do you think I’m going to hear that from everyone tonight?” he jokes. Ororo smiles at him.

“Oh, they’ll be saying it all week,” she points out. Peter’s smile falters and Ororo being as perceptive as she is concluding, “You’re not staying, are you?”

“I-I don’t know,” Peter says shrugging. “I might.”

“You should. It’ll be good for you,” she points out to the speedster.

“We’ll see.”

The two of them chatted for a while, at first it was mostly just what should have happened and apologies, then jokes, and then Ororo out of the blue asks,

“So… Erik came to find you.” She speaks. And it sounds just like a statement, but Peter can see the raised eyebrow questioning him.

“Yea, he did,” Peter plays it casually raising his eyebrow in response.

“Does he know?”

And oh. What if Erik did know when he came to find Peter? What if that was why he was acting all ‘Danny Tanner’ that one day? What if he did know?

“I haven’t told him, but I don’t know. Do you think he knows?” he asks Ororo with nervous energy behind it.

“I don’t know Pete. It’s why I asked, but you shouldn’t be scared to tell him. And it should only make it easier to tell him if he does know, not harder. Besides, it’s likely Xavier sent him, and Erik doesn’t know. Mean it’s not like you two were ever close, anyway.”

“What if Ex-Prof told him?”

“He wouldn’t have told Erik. It’s your decision, not his. Xavier would never tell someone else’s secret. You know that… but is it really that bad if he does know, Pete?”

“How many times are we going to have this talk ‘Ro. I can’t tell him.”

“No, you won’t tell him. That’s a completely different thing. You’re still trapped in the mindset, thinking that even if he did know, he would have just let you die during Apocalypse.”

“No, I can’t tell him. I can’t let him know. And you won’t tell him either. Remember, you promised.”

“And I won’t, but it doesn’t mean I support your decision on this. Pete, if you still think Erik’s the same person that he was during Apocalypse, how can you think of me any differently?”

“Because I trust you.”

“But you don’t trust Erik?”

“I’d like to,” Peter admits. “But he doesn’t handle loss very well. History has proven that time and time again.” And Peter knows how it feels to lose the people you love. He knows that’s a cruel reason, but what else is he supposed to say?

“Take a look in the mirror Peter! Neither do you.” Ororo shouts at him disappointedly.

“Well, you know what they say: ‘Like father—’”

“And there it is. Now we’re getting to the real problem. You think you’re going to be just like him. You’re scared to admit how close you are because you don’t want to become him, and you don’t want others to think you are either. Am I wrong?”

Peter runs his hands through his hair frustratedly.

“I can’t do this right now,” Peter says as he begins to walk away. Ororo grabs Peter’s arm and yanks him back though.

“No. Stop running away from everything. Can’t you see it isn’t helping?”

“No, it’s not helping,” he confesses. “But I think I’d rather stay stuck in limbo than take a walk through hell.”

“You don’t want to be like Erik,” Ororo stated once more. This time it wasn’t as filled with venom as it was remorse. Peter couldn’t understand why that would be though. “Did you know, when you got put into a coma and Raven died, we got into a huge fight?”

“I heard,” he replied shortly. The last thing he wanted was to talk about what he wasn’t there to help with.

“Do you know what happened?”

“You all parted ways,” he said in a manner that was too calm and distant. His voice was hardly recognizable. It sounded too much like Magneto’s. He didn’t like it. And he could tell by Ororo’s reaction, she didn’t either. But she carried on making her point.

“No, I mean how it went down, Pete. We fought over how best to manage Jean. Erik thought it best to put her down like some rabid dog.” She paused and with a shaky voice she carried on. “I agreed. So did Hank and Kurt. We tried to kill her.”

Peter’s mind was racing. Was this how Jean died? Did they succeed? Who killed her? Where do aliens fit into all of this? Kurt said that the aliens tried to kill Jean.

“I’m glad we saw the error in our ways eventually, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t want her dead after what she did to Raven… to you. I’m just like him – Erik. I wanted revenge. You don’t want to be like Erik, but what if I am? How can I still be your friend? How can you trust me if I’m the same as him?” Peter could see the tears welling up in her eyes, but they refused to fall.

“You’re not Erik, that’s not the same. I know you. You’d never hurt anybody.”

“Except I did, Pete. I did hurt them. I tried to kill them. Kurt killed! How can you say it’s not the same? Can you ever look at any of us the same way again knowing that?” beat. Barely a whisper Ororo continued, “I tried to kill Jean in your name,” she confessed.

“But you didn’t.”

“Neither did Erik. He might have even been the first of us to switch sides and try protecting her instead, actually.”

“I can’t tell him.” He tells her once again, defeatedly. Ororo softens her tone again before speaking.

“But you should. It’s not a life worth living if you spend it all in limbo.”

Chapter Text

Peter stood there for a good minute watching Ororo as she walked away. There was too much to unpack about their conversation. He needed a breather, so he grabbed his Walkman and took a run. He listened to Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here album for the zillionth time in the past two weeks, letting the music wash over him in waves. He ran and ran and ran circles around the old school, creating a dirt road, killing the grass in areas he’d gone over about a million too many times. He hoped that running would clear his head and the thoughts plaguing him would slow down like the rest of the world, finally allowing him to think – that’s how it typically worked – but instead his thoughts began to run faster matching Peter’s speed as well. They were screaming at him to listen, but Peter couldn’t make anything out with all the noise they were making. He couldn’t escape them. He couldn’t breathe.

It was fair to say Peter’s conversation with Ororo left the silver-haired speedster shaken at the very least. The things Ororo said were weighing on him hard and slowing down his stride. He didn’t know any of that happened. He knew they got in a fight about Jean, but not like that. He didn’t know that Kurt killed, or that Ororo tried to in his name, no less. He didn’t know that even though she didn’t kill, it wasn’t from a lack of trying. He didn’t know any of it. He didn’t know just how bad it was and he really didn’t want to know. It felt like the more he learned the less he wanted to know because what he had learned was so much worse than whatever nightmares his mind had conjured up over the years. But deep down he knew that knowing – gaining closure – was the only way he’d be able to move forward.

Still, he felt like shit and the situation was the complete opposite of Have a Cigar, which was quickly becoming his least favorite song on Floyd’s album right now.

Come in here, dear boy, have a cigar

You're gonna go far, you're gonna fly

You're never gonna die

You're gonna make it if you try

They're gonna love you

The lyrics sang about how if you try, everything will turn out alright, but Peter didn’t feel that way. Instead, he felt as though the farther he gets, the closer he gets to flying – the more he learns – the more he feels like he’s falling and wants to just go back to a life where he was still ignorant. He wants to know what happened so he can heal, but all it seems to do is drive the knife in his back even further because the truth simply just feels too painful.

Usually, it felt like time stopped when he ran; seconds usually felt like hours, but not this time. It didn’t matter how many miles he ran, by the time the others had begun arriving, he still hadn’t cleared his head at all.

“Peter,” Hank said. Peter was already surrounded by such loud thoughts; he didn’t notice his friend’s presence up until he began making his way over. By the time Peter realized Hank had arrived, Hank was standing right in the middle of the path Peter had spent who knows how long now paving forcing the speedster to slow down to a stop. Peter knew he still looked like shit, but hopefully, Hank would just write it off as simply being tired from running.

“Hey, Glasses. Long time,” he responded casually.

“Yea, it sure has. How long have you been running? Not to sound rude, but you look pretty exhausted. Have you eaten anything recently?”

Of course, Hank would worry about Peter’s health. It was so much like him; Peter couldn’t help it when the corners of his mouth turned upward. It wasn’t much of a smile, but it was a start.

“I haven’t actually,” Peter admits as he looks around seeing just how far the ground had sunk while Peter was in his own world. “I kind of lost track of time.”

“Yea, I can see that,” Hank says as he admires Peter’s work. “Were you able to clear your head some at least?”

Hank knew Peter far too well. Peter knew Hank already knew the answer to that, but Peter shook his head in response anyway. Hank simply put an arm over Peter’s shoulder.

“Well, come on. Let’s get you something to munch on. I still have to say hi to everyone else, but we can at least get you fed first, catch up a bit maybe before you probably head back for a round two?” he asked Peter.

And it was then that Peter noticed how the sun was already beginning to sink in the sky and how Erik and Xavier were no longer outside chatting with each other on the old school’s front steps.

“What time is it? Wait – is everyone already here?”

For a split second, Hank looked at Peter pityingly before wiping the expression off his face.

“It’s about 2 – 2:30 in the afternoon. And yea, everyone else had already arrived a couple of hours ago. My flight just got in though. You haven’t seen any of the others yet either?”

“No, mean I saw Ororo, but after that,” he shrugged, “I guess I just—” Peter started before Hank interjected finishing Peter’s sentence for him.

“—Lost track of time. Don’t worry about it. We’ll just have to do that together then too.”

The two of them dropped by the kitchen and Peter saw the bottle of Vodka was no longer the only thing there. Now, there were chips and dip, popcorn, board games, cheese platters, a few other types of liquor, and a couple of boxes of pizza with a note that read:

For Peter when he’s done running

It was written in Ororo’s hand.

Peter couldn’t help when his mind drifted back to their conversation earlier.

“You think you’re going to be just like him. You’re scared to admit how close you are because you don’t want to become him, and you don’t want others to think you are either. Am I wrong?”

Peter runs his hands through his hair frustratedly.

“I can’t do this right now,” Peter says as he begins to walk away. Ororo grabs Peter’s arm and yanks him back though.

“No. Stop running away from everything. Can’t you see it isn’t helping?”

He was practically staring through the note as he wondered if Ororo meant when he was done running outside or from everything like earlier. Probably a bit of both.

“Well, looks like they saved you some,” Hank stated.

“Yea,” Peter said nodding numbly. He was still half lost in thought. Hank must have noticed a shift in Peter because he then went into concerned friend mode.

“Are you ok?” he asked the silver-haired mutant.

“Yea,” Peter said snapping back into his casual laid-back unaffected mood. Hank wasn’t buying it though. Peter slumped his shoulders and caved into the look Hank was giving him. “Aren’t you mad at me?” Peter asked in a hollowed-out voice.

His question must have caught Hank off guard because he looked confused and a bit shocked. No matter his initial reaction, he quickly discarded it to reply in that signature teddy bear Hank way, “no, I’m not mad at you. Should I be?”

“I don’t know, man.” He breathed a deep breath thinking it over a bit more. “Yea? I guess,” he decided on as a response, but he still didn’t sound the least bit certain of his answer.

“Pete, what’s this all about?”

“Ororo and I got in a fight.” Peter didn’t have to say more before Hank was sighing and nodding his head in understanding, but he continued anyway. “She… said some things. They were all true, but… I don’t know.” He shrugged. “It just…” he trailed off after that, shrugging once more, and leaving Hank to fill in the blank on his own.

“Peter, she’s not mad at you.” The glasses-wearing nerd friend of his replied putting an arm on Peter’s shoulder. It garnered a look in the eye from Peter and he took it as his queue to continue talking. “She could never truly be mad with you. You know that. It’s just that a lot has happened and grief and trauma… they have a way of changing people and she had to go through that without you – and you, her. It was hard on us all and she’d never had to be without you. Ever since Apocalypse, you two had been close. She always had you. While people judged her for siding with that self-proclaimed God, you stood by her side. You made things better for her, and she did the same for you. But these last two years, she didn’t have you. And I’m not saying it was entirely your fault, but just… you know how Ororo is. She doesn’t skirt over things. She likes to get things settled and move on. It’s part of why you guys are such good friends: she’s quick at moving on after a disagreement. She just… needed to get a few things off her mind. Things she didn’t get to say these last two years. Things she’s been forced to bottle up. She’s not mad with you though Peter.”

Peter needed to hear that. He took in a deep breath and finally removed the note on the pizza box, setting it off to the side. He grabbed a plate from the cabinet, brushed the dust off it, and opened the pizza box. After placing a couple of slices on one plate, he then handed it to Hank. They both smiled at each other before digging into their late lunch.

Eventually, when they both finished eating, both of them followed the trail of laughter down the halls until they landed at the common room. They opened the door to see Scott, Jubilee, and Kurt sitting on the floor playing a game of poker.

“Scott! You can’t do that! It’s cheating!” Jubilee shouted.

“I’m cheating? You’re the one cheating!”

“I’m not cheating! I’m just good!”

“Mein Gott,” My God, “You’re both cheating!” Kurt exclaimed throwing his cards in the air and turning to poof out of the room (probably to make a dramatic exit), but he quickly dropped the idea as soon as he locked his eyes on Peter and Hank.

“Hey,” Peter said after Scott noticed him and Hank too.

“Peter! Hank! Du kamst!” You came! “Are you done running?” he asked.

“Yea, I’m done running.”

Kurt’s smile could light up a room, Peter couldn’t help but reciprocate the expression as best as he could (though he knew it looked weak in comparison to the teleporter’s). It wasn’t like how he used to smile; nowadays, it always felt more conscious and forced, but it was still always easier to smile when Kurt was around.

“We, uh, saved you some pizza in the kitchen,” Ororo spoke somewhat awkwardly. She was definitely feeling somewhat guilty about Peter spending that long coping with what she had said. She never meant to hurt him, and Peter knows that. In hopes to show that everything is fine, Peter walked over to where she was sitting on the couch and gestured for her to move over a bit. Ororo did so and was relieved to see that they were cool again.

“So, I saw,” Peter casually commented as he plopped down beside Ororo. “Hank and I were just eating it. Thanks, by the way.” He smirked in her direction.

“We were going to call you over when it first came, but Ororo and Charles suggested that we leave you for a bit,” Erik explained.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” He told both the Ex-Prof and his father.

*****

Peter didn’t really want to contribute to many of the conversations. He felt more content to watch from the sidelines. Occasionally, he’d get pulled into a conversation in which Kurt would typically have to come to his aid in order to keep Peter talking.

“So, Peter, what have you been doing since ending your adventure with Kurt?” Scott asked.

“Uh, nothing much,” he shrugged trying for a smile (knowing it probably fell a bit flat). Peter was tempted to shut down the conversation and bolt, but right then he felt Kurt’s presence. He put a reassuring arm on his shoulder encouraging Peter to keep trying. During the whole night, he was always there the second Peter considered running away. He just knew Peter too well. Sometimes, it was as if Kurt was the telepath and not Xavier.

“Peter helped fix houses in Sokovia,” Kurt filled in.

“Sokovia?” Scott asked a bit confused as if he didn’t know that’s where Peter was this whole time. The question felt pointless to Peter because he knows for a fact Kurt had been updating everyone this whole time, but he took a deep breath and explained anyway.

“Uh, yeah. It’s this small country in Eastern Europe. It’s just starting to come out of a civil war. A lot of people have been left without homes, kids orphaned,” he said shrugging. “I guess I’ve just been trying to do my part in helping out.”

“Wow, what made you go there? Mean, I-I’m glad you’ve been doing that, and it sounds like it’s been going well, but why Sokovia?”

“I, uh, used to live there when I was little with my family. My sister and I left for America after the war wound up hitting too close to home.”

To be completely truthful, the war didn’t just hit too close to home… it hit home. Peter remembers that day and the events that had followed far too vividly. It didn’t matter how much he tried to forget; they were forever ingrained in his head.

The sound of ringing in his ears after the first shell hit, he’ll never forget. He’ll always remember realizing their parents were no longer alive – their seats on the couch taken by the chunk of ceiling that fell through – though he was too focused on keeping Wanda and himself alive to mourn yet. He remembers how he grabbed Wanda’s arm in a deathlike grip and pulled her under the bed in a matter of seconds before watching as the second shell crashed into the floor beside them. The light on the bomb flicking red over and over again but never going off. They both were only 10, but with every time that light flashed on and off, their life flashed with it.

He remembers how every time the ground would shift, they both flinched and held on tighter to each other, expecting the bomb to finally go off due to all the movement. Wanda and him waited for what felt like forever, but finally decided that nobody was going to come to rescue them. Wanda wanted to wait another day for someone to come to their aid, but Pietro couldn’t stand the thought of staying any longer. He hated being a sitting duck. It had been two days, they were dehydrated and starving beyond belief, and neither of them had slept at all. How does one sleep in that kind of situation anyway? All they could do was hold each other and look between the couch their parents had only just been sitting on before the building blew up or the flickering red light of a bomb. It was torture.

“Wanda, nimeni nu vine după noi. Au trecut zile. Dacă nu plecăm acum, vom muri aici și eu nu vreau să mor aici. Vă rog.” Wanda, nobody’s coming for us. It’s been days. If we don’t leave now, we’ll just die here, and I don’t wanna die here. Please, he begged his twin.

She was torn about what to answer, but the look on her brother’s face was enough to make up her mind.

Pietro had managed to convince Wanda to leave with him and they pushed their way through the debris. By the time they had managed to escape, they were cut everywhere bleeding from all the places they scrapped themselves on their way out. They both were covered in soot and ash from head to toe. It was like they were dressed in some awful ghost costumes.

It hadn’t been until they had managed to escape the rubble that they had realized they didn’t know where to go now. Wanda had been relying on Pietro to have the answer, but he hadn’t planned that far ahead yet. Honestly, he had half thought they were going to die before they made it out of that pile of cement.

“Ce acum?” What now? Wanda asked him.

Pietro could do nothing but shrug.

“Nu știu.” I don’t know, he admitted to her as he hung his head.

She put an arm around his shoulder.

“O să ne dăm seama.” We’ll figure it out.

The streets – or at least what Pietro could remember as once being streets – were almost completely abandoned except for a few men and women trying desperately to find their loved ones.

“Petra!” a woman screamed panicked as a man held her back from running toward the rubble. Pietro didn’t know any Petra, but he knew how she felt. He too had lost people who meant the world to him.

“Bara, trebuie sa mergem. Nu este sigur. Nu putem sta aici.” Bara, we must go. It’s not safe. We can’t stay here. He tried to soothe the woman, Bara. She collapsed in the man’s arms holding a stuffed animal elephant.

“copilul meu.” My baby, she sobbed.

“știu. Știu.” I know. I know, the man soothed her. He rubbed circles on her back until Bara collected herself enough to stand. Beside the rubble, the two set the stuffed toy down and prayed for Petra and her safety before leaving the scene.

Pietro and Wanda just stood there in the shadows watching it all happen. Even after the two had left, he found himself staring at the stuffed elephant toy wondering just how many families are gone. He thought about Ms. Tereza from down the hall. She came to look over Wanda and him every once in a while, as well as to have dinner. Pietro didn’t know if she was home when everything went to hell. But what if she was? What if she’s gone too?

“Pietro, vine cineva.” Pietro, someone’s coming, he heard Wanda say. He was snapped out of it after that. He couldn’t afford to think of all the people who were no longer alive. He had to protect his sister – the only family he had left. He had to get the both of them to safety and patch up each other’s wounds. But where could they go? They had nowhere to go, and they had no one except for each other.

Peter remembers the six months he and his sister spent living off the streets stealing to survive while the world believed them to be dead. It was those six months of stealing in hopes for better chances at survival that his kleptomania begun. He stole food, first aid, clothing, blankets, and whatever else they needed to survive for both his sister and him. Eventually, he was finally caught while trying to snatch a loaf of bread. They were fortunate that the man who owned the store knew his mother. He helped to smuggle two kids out of the country to where they could get safe passage and contact their aunt and uncle.

It didn’t matter that they were only 10 – almost 11 then. War doesn’t care how old you are.

Scott didn’t need to hear all that though and quite frankly, Peter didn’t feel like spelling out his life’s story anyway.

Peter could tell Scott picked up on his slip-up – how Peter had only said his sister and him and not his family – but luckily for Peter, he chose not to focus on it. Instead, he responded by saying in a slightly somber tone,

“I didn’t know that.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you, so…” he shrugged.

It was only after he said that, that he looked around the room noticing that almost all of the others were listening in on their conversation. Erik was staring right at Peter. The more Peter thought about it, the more he realized that the man had been watching him a lot today.

*****

Peter did pretty well at staying toward the outskirts of conversations. He managed to be present enough not to draw attention to the fact that he wasn’t really talking, just nodding his head, and throwing in a lighthearted tease every once in and while.

His conversation with Ororo still rung in his head. He’d think back to whether or not it might be better to just tell Erik. Ororo wasn’t an idiot. She’d never advised without knowing for sure it was the right thing to say. Maybe Peter should just fess up to the metal bender, but it was far easier said than done.

Every time Peter looked over at Erik that night, he found the man had already been looking his way. He was watching the speedster, but it was different. It wasn’t like how he typically looked at Peter. Something was off. The look Erik was giving Peter was hard to read and undecipherable. It was like Erik was concerned, but also something more. When Peter thought back to how long he’d been looking at Peter like this, he concluded that he’d been looking at him like that ever since both he and Hank came into the room.

Shit.

He felt the wave of uneasiness crash into him like a tsunami. What if Erik knew? What if he had overheard ‘Ro’s and his fight? What if he knew Peter was keeping something from him? Even worse was the thought that Erik had known he was Peter’s father and overheard the argument. He’d think that Peter hated him. But he didn’t. He was the whole reason Peter left his mom’s basement in the first place. He was the reason Peter stayed around after Apocalypse. He was the reason Peter left Sokovia. He was the reason Peter showed up today. Him. He didn’t hate Erik.

The only reason why he was here right now was that he owed it to Erik and the others. The last thing he wanted was for Erik to hate him or to think Peter hated him. Peter cared about the man too much to want to have Erik mad… but it didn’t seem as though Erik was. 

As the night carried on, Erik just continued to watch Peter from the corner of his eyes with that undecipherable look. He didn’t know if Erik had heard the conversation between him and Ororo, and it was seriously fucking with Peter’s head. He had half a mind to just shout in front of everyone ‘Why’re you looking at me, dude?!’ but, with great restraint, he didn’t.

It almost seemed like Erik was hesitant and perhaps a bit scared. Peter couldn’t understand why Erik would be scared of him though.

Peter stood off to the side, leaning against the doorway as he watched his old friends laugh and share stories with each other. He felt so out of place. The smiles on their faces were genuine and heart-warming, but he knew he was unable to do the same. Even if he wasn’t super panicked about Erik, he’d still be struggling to outright grin the same shit-eating way he used to back when nights like these were a normal thing.

“You haven’t said much. It’s not like you to be quiet,” Ororo says as she enters the room behind Peter with some chips and dip she must have gotten from the kitchen. Peter moved off to the side and out of ‘Ro’s way, but she doesn’t go to join the others, instead, she’d stayed put looking at Peter, almost assessing him, wondering how hard she’d be able to push him before he broke further.

“I don’t have anything to say.” He responds coolly.

“The Peter I knew always had something to say,” Ororo tells him playfully bumping Peter’s shoulder, but he doesn’t feel like playing along. It’s been a long day and he just wants to sleep. Being here again and seeing everyone – acting as though he’s not torn apart at the seams – has worn him out.

“The Peter you knew never woke up from the coma.”

Ororo winced.

“Sorry, I—” Peter begins apologizing. He doesn’t want to argue with her again.

“No, it’s fine. I get it. This day – it’s hard on all of us. I still get snappy a good amount of the time. I was never like that before. Direct – sure, but never snappy. Now I just can’t help it sometimes. But it helps to take your mind off it some, and the best way to do that is to actually participate, not just watch from the sidelines.” Peter looks at her and she just rolls her eyes at him. “Yes, Peter. I’ve noticed. I think we all have, just nobody seems to have the guts to confront you about it but me. Sorry about earlier by the way. I didn’t mean – well, actually I did, I just didn’t mean for it to leave you like that” She sighs gesturing to Peter’s shoes. They were definitely worn down after today and he’d need a new pair before he went running again. The soles were almost completely worn through and whatever pieces were left of the shoes were no longer metallic but brown from the dirt.

“I know. It’s all good. I’ll be fine.”

“Come on, then. Let’s get you involved again” she waved to Peter as an invitation and led him to the room where everyone was deciding on when would be the best time to go visit Raven and Jean’s graves.

‘So, they did get buried’ Peter thought to himself in relief. It was only after he heard Hank’s response that he realized he’d said it out loud.

“Yea. You didn’t know that?” he asked in a voice so pitying it made Peter’s stomach churn at the look Hank was giving him to accompany it. The rest of the group was quiet and in shock by Peter's admission.

Peter shook his head and made himself smaller when he told Hank,

“No.”

Peter could swear he saw the moment everyone’s hearts were ripped from their chests hearing his admission. It was for exactly that reason he never asked or let people in on the fact that he didn’t know. Sure, Kurt had mentioned some of what happened, but not enough for anything to truly make sense. He had a few pieces, but not enough to even begin putting the puzzle together. Fucking hell, he still had no clue what Kurt meant by them being on a train with aliens. Fucking aliens.

“So, you never got to visit their graves then?” Hank asked.

Peter once again shook his head, looking down at his shoes.

“I don’t even know if they got funerals, man.” He tried to say it in a lighter tone, but the subject was too heavy, and he knew he failed.

“I’m so sorry,” Hank spoke. Peter didn’t understand. Why was he sorry? Peter was the one too chickenshit to find out.

“Wha-why?”

“I should have told you.”

The last thing he ever wanted was to make Hank feel guilty for this. It wasn’t his fault. Peter just began quickly almost frantically shaking his head no.

“Hey, it’s fine. Don’t be stupid. It’s not your fault. I wasn’t ready to know anyway.” Peter tried putting a hand on Hank’s shoulder only to stop short when he saw it had been shaking. He quickly put both in his pockets before saying he needs some air.

*****

Peter wanted to go for another run, just to get away, but he knew it wouldn’t work with the state his shoes were in so instead, he made his way down to the kitchen. He pulled out one of the chairs and sat at the counter. He spent a bit of time just collecting himself and slowing down his breathing, but then he couldn’t help but pull out the list of things he didn’t know. The things that haunted him at night. The things he couldn’t work up the nerve to ever ask. He went over each one thinking back to what he knows now – what he’s not sure if it even helped to know now.

1. Where’s the professor?

That one had a simple answer at least. It turned out Erik had found him living in Paris a couple of months after everything. The Ex-Prof had been struggling to cope with losing both Raven (his sister) and Jean (the girl he practically fucking raised). He felt he failed them both. Peter remembers just how much he felt he failed Wanda when she died. He remembers feeling it again once he woke up too. Peter couldn’t help but blame himself for their deaths – for not being fast enough, or there at all. He understands what Xavier feels – even if he knows that Xavier blames himself for different reasons Peter isn’t aware of.

2. Where is everyone?

He still remembers the moment he realized that everyone around him had left. He wanted so badly to understand why leaving the school had meant leaving him too. He hated learning that everyone was alone. And even more so, he didn’t know if it was easier on them to be alone. Ororo left to go home to another country. Xavier to France. Scott and Jubilee went to LA. Maybe leaving left them feeling happier. Maybe if Peter showed up, he’d be more of a burden – a painful reminder to them.

3. Why’d the school shut down?

Peter still doesn’t know exactly why the school shut down if he was honest. The best guess he seemed to have been that everyone had left because it was too painful a reminder of what they all had lost in the span of days.

4. Are the X-men officially gone?

Peter never really was given a formal notice that the X-men were over, but the X-men hadn’t made an appearance of any sort since Jean’s death. So, Peter felt it was safe to say yes. The X-men are officially over.

5. How long before I have to leave?

He remembers sitting in this exact kitchen when he learned this. Kurt had answered it for him. They both would have to leave once Hank was gone. There was no point in staying in the big empty place alone anyway.

6. Is Scott ok? healing?

Kurt had informed him over the last year that Scott had been dealing fairly well after everything, but it wasn’t until Peter saw him in person today that he came to fully accept it. Scott was strong. Peter had always known that but seeing him only confirmed it. Sure, maybe the look in his eyes was different now, but so was everyone else’s, – not that he could tell from those glasses though – but he did give off a feeling of hope that told Peter that he was going to be ok.

There were so many goddamn questions on this list. Each one burnt a hole in his pocket. And when he thought about the progress he’d made on the list, it just wound up reminding him of the ending of Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here.

Year after year

Running over the same old ground

What have we found?

The same old fears

Wish you were here

It had been two years and he was still being controlled by the piece of paper he carried everywhere with him. He feels trapped. He can’t part from the paper and he’s too scared to gain closure. He just wishes none of this had to have happened. He wishes that he never fell into that coma, that the school was still his home, that he didn’t have to lose any more people in his life. He wishes they were all still here. Jean, Raven, Wanda, his parents. Why did they have to go?

“Are you ok?” Erik’s voice sounded, shaking Peter out of his thoughts. He nodded and tried to put the paper back into his pocket when Erik had stopped him, asking, “What is that?” the man hesitated a second before continuing. “I’ve caught you looking at it a couple of times now these last two weeks.”

“It’s nothing,” Peter tries to dismiss it, but Erik gives him a knowing look.

“It’s not nothing if it makes you look like that,” Erik replies. He holds out his hand with a question on his face asking to see. Peter doesn’t know why, but he hands it over. He doesn’t want to see Erik’s reaction, so he just looks down at his feet and fixes his shoes.

Erik’s quiet for a long time. Long enough for Peter to lose his patience and look at him. Erik once again was already looking at Peter though. His face was filled with remorse and guilt. Peter wanted to look away, but he found he couldn’t. Finally, Erik spoke already regretting his next words as he asked the silver-haired man in front of him,

“What is this?”

Peter felt so ashamed, but he responded anyway.

“It’s a list,” he explained.

“Of what?” Erik asked. Peter knew Erik didn’t want to hear the answer, but he told the retired Nazi hunter,

“Things I’m not sure if it is worth knowing. There were more, but I ran out of room.” Shit. He probably shouldn’t have continued speaking, but it’s just like Peter to talk without thinking.

“You ran out of room?” Erik asked not quite believing what laid before him right now.

Peter nodded and they sat in silence for a second while Erik scanned the paper and Peter.

“Number five: How long before I have to leave?” Erik stated. He looked close to tears, and Peter felt the same way. “Number twelve: Am I alone again?” Erik just read question after question that he felt stuck out. It was one thing for Peter to read them over and over in his head, but a completely different thing hearing them said out loud – by Erik no less. “Number fifteen: When will it be ok to talk about them again? Number twenty-seven: What’s going to happen to me? Number twenty-eight: Why did all of this have to happen? Number twenty-nine: Is this really better than the future the claw dude came to change? Number thirty-one: Is there any fixing this? Number thirty-two: Is it even worth trying?”

Peter didn’t notice how wet his face became, nor the fact that he’d begun to cry. He couldn’t even muster the courage to look back over to Erik. He just couldn’t do this. He wanted to leave. He wanted to run away from all of this so badly. He wanted to go, but his body was betraying him. His feet felt like lead. He couldn’t move. He just covered his face in his arms and wept in his seat.

Erik was quick to put a hand on his back. He pulled Peter in for a hug and held the younger man until they both were able to slow their sobs down, collect themselves, and slow down their breathing.

Chapter Text

Charles was sitting in the common room with everyone in guilty silence. They hadn’t known that Peter didn’t know about Raven and Jean being buried. Nobody knew. It didn’t take long before Hank and Kurt began blaming themselves, so Charles did his best to comfort them and make sure they knew it wasn’t their fault.

“I should have told him,” Hank just kept repeating.

“I should have too. I knew you hadn’t, but I still didn’t,” Kurt argued.

“It’s neither of your faults. You shouldn’t have had to tell him news like that in the first place. I should have been there. I should have helped him and instead, I left. I’m sorry. You two had done a great job of looking over him when he needed it.”

Hank just shook his head.

“But as you said, you weren’t there.” And the way Hank spoke those few words with such bitterness made Charles wince, but he deserved it. He knew he deserved it. “I was. I was the first person to see him when he woke. I should have told him.”

“I was there too though,” Kurt spoke. “I could have told him too, but I didn’t. I just waited for him to ask, but… he never did. I guess overtime… I just forgot that he hadn’t known.”

And Charles was going to respond, he was going to apologize to them both, but he felt something sharp and cold. It was grief and guilt. It was a noose tying around Charles’ neck, suffocating him. And at first, Charles thought it was still coming from the common room, but he sucked in a sharp breath when he realized it was coming from downstairs. In the kitchen, Peter and Erik were choking on remorse and shame, guilt and grief, and pity.

Everyone was staring at Charles with concern now, noticing how his face had twisted in pain, but he waved them all off and reached out to Erik telepathically.

“Erik?”

There was no response. Charles was about to reach out again when he finally heard a reply.

“He doesn’t know.” That’s all Charles got. Erik had sounded so in shock, so breathless, it scared Charles to think what Erik might mean. He had half a mind to go down and investigate for himself when he heard Erik’s thoughts sound in his head once more. “Nobody told him. He doesn’t know what happened. He doesn’t know anything, Charles. Just that it’s all gone.”

Charles didn’t need Erik to clarify what he meant. Peter wasn’t there when everything happened. He just woke up to find that everything he once relied on as a constant in his life was now all of a sudden long gone. Charles knewthat Peter wasn’t there for everything, but he never realized that it meant he still wouldn’t know two years later.

Hank and Kurt blaming themselves held so much more weight now. They weren’t just blaming themselves for Peter not knowing where Raven and Jean were buried. They were blaming themselves for leaving Peter without any answers.

Even being a telepath, Charles missed so much. Sure, he would never outright look into the speedster’s head – not that he could due to the fact that Peter’s mind had always moved too quickly for Charles to keep up with – but looking back there were so many signs. This whole time everyone thought Peter was just struggling to come to terms with the fact that his friends had abandoned him, but that wasn’t the issue. Mean, Charles knows for a fact it was one of the issues, but the main problem was that Peter was never caught up after everything. And how was Peter meant to cope with all this, when he didn’t even know what he had to cope for?

“Number five: How long before I have to leave?” he heard Erik ask. It left Charles confused. What was Erik talking about? Before he could question his old friend, Erik continued listing off question after question, slowly breaking down more and more after each one.

“Number twelve: Am I alone again? Number fifteen: When will it be ok to talk about them again? Number twenty-seven: What’s going to happen to me? Number twenty-eight: Why did all of this have to happen? Number twenty-nine: Is this really better than the future the claw dude came to change? Number thirty-one: Is there any fixing this? Number thirty-two: Is it even worth trying?”

Charles listened while Erik spoke. And as each question registered, it felt like a grand piano had fallen from the sky and crushed him like. Charles couldn’t help but cover his mouth with his hand as their weight began to dawn on the old professor, because it wasn’t Erik asking them. These questions belonged to Peter. Erik was just verbalizing them.

“Professor? Is everything alright? What’s wrong?” he could hear Hank ask him. Charles drew his attention away from the conversation and looked over to Hank.

“What does Peter know?” Charles breathed out, asking, and almost pleading to hear something other than the answer he knew was coming. He dreaded the thought of it being said aloud, but he had to know.

Hank looked to Charles like he’d just been slapped in his face, much like anyone else who was paying attention. Hank was obviously remembering something painful; Charles could tell by the way his feelings were radiating off of him.

“I-I don’t know,” Hank breathed out. “I didn’t tell him. I-I just couldn’t tell him. Not after I saw his face when he realized… when he found out Raven and Jean were gone.”

It was exactly the answer Charles hadn’t wanted to hear, but he expected it. He reached out to grab Hank’s hand and gave it a tight squeeze hoping to communicate that it’s not his fault.

“So what?” Scott spoke up in disbelief. “Nobody told Peter why they’re dead or what happened? He’s just been fumbling around in the dark on his own for these last two years?” Scott looked horrified at the thought. Charles couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to go through that, but it’s exactly what Peter had been doing this whole time.

“Erik?” Charles asked telepathically reaching out for his old friend. He waited patiently for an answer, but none came. “Erik?” he tried again.

“How are we supposed to tell him, Charles?” Erik responded. He sounded as if his soul had been crushed, which it probably had been.

“I don’t know,” the professor admitted in defeat.

The thought of explaining to Peter everything that occurred two years ago nowadays was scary. Where does one even start? It was no wonder the speedster wasn’t dealing well with the loss of his friends – his family. Peter still had no clue why they had to die in the first place.

Peter doesn’t know of their sacrifices. He doesn’t know how Charles put them both in their positions. He doesn’t know the full extent of what happened after that last mission of theirs to outer space. Looking back, he never should have sent them in for it, but what’s done was done. He doesn’t know about the fight that broke out between them after Raven died. He simply doesn’t know.

*****

Peter didn’t let himself cry for too long. Not with Erik there. So, Peter calmed himself down, slowed his breathing, lifted his face out of where he’d buried it in his arms and wiped the salty tears from his cheeks. As Peter made his way to sitting up straight, he noticed how Erik had been rubbing soothing circles on his back. Peter would be lying if he said it had no effect because, to be honest, it was working.

Erik’s voice was saying something, but Peter hadn’t heard. He turned over to look at the man to find him with more than a few tear streaks on his face as well.

“I’m sorry,” he told the speedster, but Peter for the life of him couldn’t figure out what for.

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

Erik shook his head in disagreement.

They both just sat there for a bit longer. Over time, Erik removed his arm from Peter’s back exhausted from rubbing circles. Peter avoided looking Erik in the eyes, but Erik continued to watch Peter. It wasn’t like earlier anymore when he looked at Peter. Now, Peter could read his expression as heartbroken and guilty. It almost made Peter feel worse than when he was obsessing over whether or not Erik knew the truth about him.

“I don’t hate you,” Peter eventually says breaking their extensive silence.

“What?” Erik asks, snapped out of his thoughts to finally look Peter in the eye.

“I don’t know if you overheard the conversation Ororo and I had, but I don’t want you thinking I hate you… cause I don’t.”

“I didn’t. And I never thought you did. Awkward? Perhaps. You always seemed a bit awkward around me as if you were hyper-aware of every little thing you were doing when I was around. If I’m being honest, I always felt like you were trying to stay away from me. Maybe you were scared, but I never thought you hated me. And maybe that’s because it’s an emotion I don’t think you’re capable of.”

A beat of silence followed before Peter spoke up again to change the subject.

“When I was little, my sister and I would play this game. We called it rahat or –”

“—Bullshit.” Erik finished.

“Yea,” Peter nodded. “Whenever one of us felt like the other was hiding something we’d play a round or two. You’d talk and say something and the other would have to call you out for rahat or bullshit if they felt you were lying. If you got it right, then they had to fess up about what they were hiding. I don’t think either of us ever got it wrong though.”

“Ever?”

“No. Mean I could pick up on her micro and she could just look in my head if she felt I was lying.”

“Your sister’s telepathic?”

“My sister was a lot of things,” he said with a nostalgic look on his face. “I think the last time we played was after I helped break you out of the Pentagon. She was pissed about the whole thing. At the time I didn’t know why, but after the stunt you pulled with that stadium I finally understood.”

Peter had just snuck back to his house to find Wanda was sitting on the couch in the basement waiting for him. Peter knew there was no way he was getting out of this situation. Eventually, Wanda would figure out what he had just done. Eventually, Wanda would learn of possibly the biggest mistake he’d ever made. Thinking back, Peter was an idiot. But how was he meant to turn down an offer like that?

“Where were you?” Wanda interrogates him the second Peter enters the room. She’s looking down filing her nails but was quick to notice Peter’s presence. She refused to look at him and Peter knew just then that she was pissed.

“I just took a run,” he replied with a simple shrug of the shoulders. Maybe if he played it off as nothing happened, she’d drop it and he could confess at a later time when she’s not about to tear his throat out.

“Rahat.” Now she’s looking him dead in the eye. Her left eyebrow is raised begging Peter to argue – to make this situation worse. There’s no way Peter can just not tell her now. He schlumps his shoulders and sinks his head. Running a hand over his face, he looks his twin dead in the eye. She’s waiting, watching Peter think things through before he makes everything worse. It’s when Peter finally sighs that Wanda puts the nail file down and pats the spot next to her.

“Come on, out with it.”

His feet are rooted to the ground but somehow, he manages to make his way across the basement floor and beside his sister.

“You can’t tell mom,” Peter says. He’s looking at Wanda pleadingly. If their mom found out, that would be it. It would ruin everything. She’d probably become even more paranoid than she already was when it came to keeping the twins safe. She’d always been scared that someone would come and try to take them away. She hated Peter’s petty theft because it just drew more attention to them than necessary but at least over time she became more desensitized when the cops came. But if the feds from the pentagon came knocking, it would give their mother an aneurism. He’d probably die if their mom found out, but even worse would be her having to look over her shoulder constantly paranoid of them coming for Peter because of what he’d just done today. He couldn’t have it.

Wanda must have understood because she sighed and nodded.

“That bad?” she asked him with a thick swallow.

“Potentially,” he settled on answering. “I don’t think I got caught, but thinking back on it, I don’t really know who those guys were. I just knew they were like us and you know me. I just didn’t think it through and…” Peter trailed off. He knew he was beginning to speak faster than the rate Wanda would understand him and took a deep breath. He couldn’t look her in the eyes.

“Peter,” she said placing a hand on her brother’s knee. “What guys? I thought you were just brought into the station,” she told him slowly.

“They weren’t cops,” He confessed. Wanda’s head snapped up. Peter knew she was freaking out about what he must have gotten caught up in then. She was probably thinking he robbed a Cartier vault or something for the ‘not cops.’ Her eyes were darting. She was reading Peter’s face for every detail of the story, hoping that she had heard something wrong.

“What happened Peter? Are we safe? Are you ok? What happened? What did you get into?” she quick-fired questions in Peter’s direction, dreading the answer to each one.

“You know how Kennedy was killed – er, uh assassinated? That guy uh –”

Wanda’s eyes went wide. Peter was waving his hands in front of her erratically before she could scream at him.

“Ok, ok, that may not have been the best way to start. I didn’t kill anyone! Nor did those guys – at least I don’t think.” And Peter watched as Wanda’s eyes bugged out of her head about to scream ‘Oh, you don’t think?’ He continued speaking, emphasizing the next thing making sure there was no room for interruptions. “For the record, there’s no hard evidence that I did anything, ok? You have to understand that. Can you do that?”

Wanda shakily nods her head, still freaking out internally about what Peter had first said. Peter hoped that telling her that he wasn’t caught helped calm her, but it didn’t seem to do much of any good. He trudged on through his tale anyway though.

“Ok. Uh, the guys who came to the house weren’t cops. They were like us. One of them had like these bones that grew out of his knuckles and were like kitty claws – but more intimidating. It was freaky. Cool, but kinda gross. Anyway, I – they asked if I would be down for breaking into the Pentagon—”

“—Peter!” Wanda screamed. Oh, she was scared and mad. It made for a bad combo. Little red wiggly woos began to form from her hands. Peter rushed to calm her down in a desperate attempt to help his sister maintain control before something bad happened. Before Wanda lost complete control and their mom came down to see the damage.

“Wanda, you need to calm down. Ok, it’s fine. Everything is fine.” He told her rubbing circles on the back of her shoulder and trying to ignore the way it burned his hand doing so. Eventually, Wanda regained enough of her control though. Peter moved his hand off the back of her shoulder to see it all blistering red and burning. He’d be fine though. It was nothing compared to the last time.

Wanda had tears going down the side of her face sizzling on her skin as they ran. She was sniffling, collecting herself before speaking again as though nothing had happened. As if she didn’t just about lose it right then and there.

“You broke a person out of the pentagon with a bunch of strangers, Peter? Are you insane? First of all, That’s the pentagon, Peter! The fucking Pentagon! You don’t play games or prank the Pentagon. That is the nation’s headquarters for Defense, and you broke into it? Secondly, you were recruited by a bunch of strangers. Just because they are like us, doesn’t mean they’re good people Peter. You could have gotten yourself killed! And what makes you think they’ll cover for you. If they get caught, you get caught! And let’s not even start on the fact that you broke out a presidential assassin! How could any part of your brain think that would be a good idea?”

“Well, obviously I wasn’t thinking!”

“Obviously,” Wanda huffed in frustration.

“Look, You’re right, ok? I was just excited about breaking into the Pentagon I didn’t even really think about what that meant. All I was thinking was ‘Oh cool, they’re different too! Oh, this is going to be such a fun story to tell Wanda later.’” Wanda clearly wanted to interject about how fun of a story it had turned out to be, but Peter didn’t give his sister the chance. He just continued. “I should have considered the fact that if they get caught then they’ll throw me under the bus before joining in, but I didn’t. I also didn’t even think about who I was breaking out in the first place, ok? I didn’t know he killed the president. I didn’t know that until after I had already helped him escape and asked him, but he said he was fighting for people like us Wanda. People like us – you and me. The people who aren’t normal. If protecting the freaks like you and me wound up getting him in a plexiglass cage in the Pentagon, just think of how they’ll deal with you and me if we draw too much attention—”

Before he could continue Wanda cut him off with her hand and red wiggly woos. She spoke calmly, but Peter knew that was when she was maddest.

“—He wasn’t put in the Pentagon because he was protecting us. He was put there because he killed someone – the president, no less.”

“You and I know firsthand how little governments seem to protect their people, Wanda. How are we supposed to trust them? What if it’s just a lie and he’s the country’s scapegoat? How am I supposed to believe this guy actuallykilled the president? Who’s to say the government didn’t just find out he was different and isolated him down there because of it?”

“Peter listen to yourself. We’re not in Sokovia. The guy you broke out deserved to be put away, and you don’t really think he’s a good person. You’re just trying to justify your actions because you feel guilty, ok? And you should feel guilty. What you did was wrong and if they come for us then—”

“—See? You don’t even trust the government. If you did then you wouldn’t say that. Stop acting like I’m just trying to justify my guilt. I don’t feel guilty! I’m not even sure I did anything wrong – just that it was technically illegal, ok? I’m only worried because if someone saw me, it wouldn’t be too hard to ID me. There aren’t many people who look like me, but that’s all. Alright? I’m not guilty of doing anything wrong, and I don’t think that Erik guy did either!”

And that was when it hit Peter that their mom was standing at the top of the stairs, hand over her mouth in shock.

“Shit,” Peter breathed out. “I—” he was about to say something, but his mom raised a hand to silence the speedster.

“You sound so much like him,” she said more to herself than to the twins in a voice barely above a whisper.  But seeing how deathly silent it was in the room right now, Peter could clearly make out her words causing him to wince. He didn’t need to know just who ‘he’ was to make out that it was a bad thing to sound like. Both Wanda and he stood as though they were 12 again with their heads down in shame waiting for their mom to say something else. “I’m going to head to bed. I suggest you both do the same. Tomorrow, the three of us are going to talk.”

Peter would never forget the talk the three of them had the next day. It was the day that Peter learned who his birth father was. It was the day he realized his father was the same person he broke out of the Pentagon only the day before. It was the day his world was truly turned upside down… or at least that’s what he thought up until the whole stadium event happened and mutants were outed to the world. Now, that day really turned his life upside down. It was the day his father was officially labeled as a terrorist. That was the day Peter and Wanda finally had a term to explain what they were: mutants. That was the day that people were officially eyeing Peter in either hatred or fear because of his hair color. They no longer looked at him and in disgust or thought him weird, but instead a potential enemy to their livelihood.

“You didn’t know why breaking me out could have been an issue?” Erik asks a bit incredulously.

Peter just shrugs.

“I was bored, man. And how many times does one get the chance to break into the fucking Pentagon at 18 years old?”

“You were 18?” he asks in complete disbelief.

“No, I was 35, yes I was 18.” Peter laughs.

“You were 18? Then that makes you 39 now.” Peter saw how only seconds after he’d made that statement something seemed to dawn on Erik. Peter couldn’t help but think he knew exactly what that something was.

They sat there in their thoughts for a bit before finally, Erik spoke up again.

“Your mother once knew a guy who could control metal.” It wasn’t a question it was a statement. Peter had told Erik that in the elevator as he broke the guy who apparently killed the president from his cell. “Her name was Iryna,” he continued with such fondness, before growing somewhat darker as he remembered more about the woman. “We met at Auschwitz. We escaped together and even started a new life together. She was the epitome of hope back when I knew her.”

Peter listened as Erik spoke. As Erik talked it was like he was put in a trance. Peter looked the same whenever he thought back on the few memories he still had of his mother over the years.

“She was a strong woman. Nothing could ever break her, but I always feared I would. While Iryna had focused on starting a new life where she could be happy, I was struggling to cope with all that had happened. We fought and fought, and we were both so stubborn. One night the fighting got bad. My temper flared and all the metal in the room… it began to float. Iryna was scared, but she didn’t show it. Instead, when she realized it was coming from me, she calmed me down, helped me gain control, but it didn’t matter. I had already decided that I would never truly feel ok and in control, unless I got rid of the source of my problems: the source being Shaw. So, I left her. I gave up my love for revenge. And I shouldn’t have, but I did, and I never saw her again.”

Peter soaked in every bit of information he could from Erik about his mother. He’d always assumed Erik had run out on his mom, but not like this. Peter wonders if his mom knew she was pregnant with him and Wanda at the time and just kept it from Erik, or if she just didn’t know.

“I used to wonder how different things would have been. If I didn’t choose revenge. If I had gone back and changed my mind.” He paused for a bit before moving on. Erik was choosing his every word carefully before he spoke them. “I didn’t know who you were then when you helped Charles, but I do know you were recruited for more than just your speed. I think Logan knew how much you’d end up meaning to me in the future. I think he gave me the chance to get to know you earlier and I wish I took advantage of that, knowing what I know now.”

There was a long beat of silence after that. Erik hadn’t directly said that he knew Peter was his kid, but why else would he be telling Peter this?

“During Apocalypse, you said you were there for your family too, yet I was about to just let you die. I’m sorry.”

“You know, don’t you?” Peter asks. All this time he felt so on edge thinking about what would happen if Erik found out, but now all he feels is calm. This weight on his chest he’d been carrying since Apocalypse is now no more. He’s accepted it and is honestly a bit relieved not to have to hide it anymore.

“I know,” Erik nods.

“Is that why it was you who came to collect me?” Peter asks.

“What?”

“In Sokovia. Did you know then when you came to get me?”

“Yea, I knew, but it wasn’t why I came to get you,” Erik replies catching Peter off guard. He looks at his father curiously and Erik continues to explain. “At first, much like everyone else, we just wanted to give you some space. We were waiting for you to come to us, but as the days ticked by, I started thinking, and I just thought that this much space couldn’t possibly be good for you. So, I got off my ass and went to check up on you. You were just going through the motions. It worried me. I wasn’t planning on dragging you to Genosha, but I’m glad I did. You needed this, and you still need that list answered as well as all those other questions you had ‘run out of room for.’”

And they had officially gone full circle. Peter sunk his head, only for Erik to shake his shoulder and grab the silver-haired train wreck of a speedster’s attention once more.

“You can’t keep that weight on your shoulders forever. You deserve some answers, some closure. And yea, it’s going to suck learning the truth of what happened, but it’ll make it easier in the long run. Trust me on this, okay? You deserve to finally heal.”

Peter could do nothing but offer a meek nod of his head before he finally took a deep breath and found his voice again.

“Uh… thanks.”

Erik tilts his head in question, so Peter continues.

“… just… in general,” Peter says as he stands up from the chair, he had somehow managed to stay put in for so long. “Thanks for being here and comforting me. Thanks for telling me about my mom. Thanks for coming to get me here in the first place, I guess.” He shrugs with a small quirk of his lips and Erik reciprocates with a soft smile.

“Stay.” Erik states before Peter makes for the exit. He somehow knew that even after their talk, Peter was still debating with himself on whether to leave. “It’s not like you’re going to be able to run in those shoes anymore anyway, so stay. I’ll help you get your answers… just stay.”

“Okay.”

So, for the next couple of hours, Peter and Erik talked. And though it pained both parties involved, by the end, Peter finally understood what all had happened two years ago. And it sucked to hear it all. They had to stop several times to collect their thoughts, but as painful as it was, it was also helpful.

*****

Charles watched as Erik came into the room. Everyone had long since gone to bed, but Charles waited for Erik to come before falling asleep.

“How’s he holding up?”

“Not great, but all things considered… I think he’s taking it in stride.”

They both sat there in silence not knowing what else to say on the topic. Both were so wrapped up in guilt over it.

“I can’t get over how he didn’t know. This whole time we thought he was just struggling to come to terms with everyone leaving, but he just didn’t know. How could we have just let it go on this long? Two years. I should have been there. I should have given him answers sooner,” Charles says as he runs a hand over his face in a mix of frustration and defeat.

“It’s in the past now. We’re all here for him now, and he’s getting the answers he needs. He’ll be ok. He’s strong.”

“That he is,” Charles nodded as an agreement before sliding under the covers.

Erik turned out the bedroom lights and made his way over to join.

*****

Peter couldn’t find it in himself to sleep that night. He was beyond exhausted and yet there were so many thoughts fighting for his attention. He had laid there in his bed with his head on the pillow for who knows how long before he finally drifted off into sleep.

It was just another morning breakfast in the kitchen. Peter had slept in and woke to Ororo’s insistent knocking on the door telling him to hurry up or all the food would be gone. As he was coming down Ororo grabbed a brush and fixed his hair a bit as they walked down. They both managed to grab the last of the blueberry pancakes before walking over to the table.

That was when he noticed them.

Jean and Raven.

They were happy, smiling, and laughing. Jean, Kurt, Jubilee, and Scott were debating about whether Star Wars is better than Star Trek, while Raven was arguing with the professor, but Peter could tell that neither party was getting offended. Hank sat next to Raven, waving Peter and Ororo over with a wide grin on his face that Peter couldn’t help but roll his eyes at fondly.

‘He’s such a dork,’ Peter thought.

Raven looked at Peter, flashing him a smile. She opened her mouth and spoke, but that was when Peter realized something was off.

When Raven spoke, Peter couldn’t hear what she was saying, but it seemed like everyone else could.

“What?” Peter asked her, wondering if he simply just missed it.

Raven’s mouth opened forming words, but once again there was no sound.

Why was there no sound?

Why couldn’t he hear her?

Peter looked around the room, wondering if anyone else had heard, but they were all looking at him with a concerned gaze.

“Are you ok?” Erik asked him from the seat beside the professor.

Peter could do nothing but nod and smile, but it soon began to fade when a question pushed its way into Peter’s head.

How was Raven here right now?

‘Why wouldn’t she be here?’ he asked himself.

Because she’s dead. She and Jean. They’re dead Peter.

Peter woke to the wet feeling on his face. He realized he must have been crying in his sleep, though even awake, he couldn’t stop the tears. It felt so real. It felt like they were there. He wished so badly they could have been there – here. Alive and well.

Peter laid in his bed while the tears cascaded down the side of his face. He could have wiped them away, but he didn’t have the energy and he knew they wouldn’t stop anytime soon, so he just let them be. He didn’t even understand why he was crying. Was it because he was sad or was he happy to have been visited in his dreams? He didn’t know. All he knew was how real it felt. Part of him oh so desperately wanted to fall back asleep and see them again. It felt so quick, and it ended too soon, but Peter knew that wasn’t how these kinds of things work. Going back to sleep wouldn’t make them reappear.

Peter remembered how after Wanda had died, he had a dream of her too. He woke up in tears just like he had now. His mom had been awake and heard the sniffling. She opened the bedroom door and comforted him.

“Hey,” her soothing voice spoke. “What’s wrong?”

She had knelt beside his bed and was putting her fingers through his hair in hopes to calm him down.

“I-I don’t know,” Peter said, his voice rough from crying and having only just woken up minutes ago.

“Hey, shh. it’s ok. it’s ok. It’s going to be ok.”

She waited with Peter until he was finally able to collect himself. When he did, he sat up in his bed and asked his mom,

“I saw her – Wanda. I saw her in my sleep – visele mele.” My dreams.

His mother just looked over at him with her kind eyes and asked,

“How was she?”

“Happy,” he told her. “She was happy. She wanted to tell me something, but I woke too soon. I tried to go back to sleep, so I could see her again, but I couldn’t.”

“What did she say?”

“She said ‘I love you,’ but before she could say more, I was awake.”

He felt a new flood of tears escape his eyes, but he knew it was pointless to wipe them away. His mother still reached with her hand and thumbed over the tear, rubbing it off his face, like she used to when he was younger and still acclimating to the US. They sat there in silence for a while before Peter worked up the strength to ask,

“What does it mean to dream of the dead?”

“I don’t know,” his mother said with a sigh. She looked Peter in the eyes before continuing, “But I like to think it’s their way of saying ‘It’s time to heal and move forward onto the next thing in life.’ I think it’s their way of saying ‘I love you and I can’t wait to hear everything you’ve been up to when we meet again.’”

Peter nodded. He liked the thought of that. He’d have to make sure he had so much to tell his sister when they see each other again.

“I once had a dream of your dad after he passed. He smiled at me and told me, ‘Everything’s going to be ok,’ and I believed him. I told him I’d watch after you two. He said he couldn’t wait to see how you guys would turn out in my care. We laughed but then when I woke up, I didn’t know if I was happy to have seen him again or sad because I knew even if I managed to fall asleep, I wouldn’t be able to see him again. Maybe it was a mix of both.”

“Why couldn’t you see him again?”

“Because he’s moved on now, and I think Wanda has too. And it would be cruel to make them have to come back for us when they’re headed to a better place.”

*****

Charles woke up with a wet face. His first thought when he awoke kept repeating itself like a mantra in his head over and over again: It felt so real. It took him a minute or two to finally realize that it wasn’t his dream and the thought wasn’t his. They were Peter’s. Peter had been dreaming about Raven and Jean.

Charles remembers the last time he had dreamt of them was about a year and a half ago now. He remembers how confusing it was to wake up, but now all he could think of was if Peter really was doing ok with all things considered because it sure didn’t feel like it.

The speedster’s mind was typically like a steel trap, almost impossible for Charles to tamper with, so for him to have projected his thoughts so loudly… it worried Charles. He wanted to get up and check on Peter, but he didn’t want Erik waking up because of it. It would only worry the man, so he laid on his bed trying his hardest to reach out to the mutant telepathically.

“Peter,” Charles called out.

“Yea? You good, prof? Need something?” he asked in a tone too casual to be natural even if Charles hadn’t shared the man’s dream just minutes before.

“You were projecting a lot in your sleep. I just wanted to make sure you’re ok.” Charles paused for a second, collecting his thoughts before stating, “to be transparent, I’m worried about you.”

“That’s sweet prof, but I’m good. I’ll be fine, just had a dream that caught me a bit off guard. It’s ok though. Sorry for waking you up.”

“That’s alright Peter,” Charles spoke through the telepathic link they were sharing.

He knew that while Peter wasn’t likely to fall back asleep, he also wasn’t likely to open up more – not with him at least. Charles didn’t feel like pushing the silver-haired mutant, so he decided to cut the link and deal with it once it was a reasonable hour.

When morning came and the sun began to rise, everyone spent their morning around the mansion in a somber mood as they got ready to visit Raven and Jean’s graves. It still upset Charles that Peter didn’t even know they had graves to visit until last night, but today Peter would finally get to see them.

As fast as Peter is, Charles knew going in that Peter would probably stay there for a while after everyone else. He had two years’ worth of things to sort through and tell them and Charles couldn’t blame him. He had a feeling Erik might want to wait behind for Peter, but the younger man would most likely want space, so he’d have to find a way to make sure everyone gave it to Peter without making it seem like they’re all walking on eggshells around the speedster. Charles had picked up on his dislike for it, even though he was able to recognize it was only because they all cared.

It was raining today. There wasn’t any thunder or lightning, but there was a consistent heavy downpour that was predicted to last up until the end of the day. Charles considered going on a clearer day but felt it was cruel to make Peter wait any longer to see where Raven and Jean were left to rest.

*****

Peter stood beside Raven’s grave for a long while. He didn’t realize how much he was holding onto until the moment he saw her gravestone. He didn’t even know what to do when he arrived, but as soon as he was standing there, looking at her name engraved in stone, he felt every little thing rush to the surface. He wanted to reach out and touch where her name was engraved but refrained pulling his shaky hands in his pockets.

Seeing her grave made it so much more real – so much more final. Raven was dead. Before, even though he knew that she had passed, some part of his mind still had yet to truly realize it. Now it couldn’t be truer. Before today, yes Raven was dead, but it had always somewhat felt like she’d come back. That maybe she had just left like everyone else when he woke up. That just wasn’t the case though, and Peter finally felt it hit him like a ton of bricks. Raven wouldn’t be coming back, but it wouldn’t be because it was her choice. She didn’t choose to leave.

Unlike everyone else who came to visit the graves, Peter opted out of using an umbrella. At first, he just stood underneath Ororo’s, but eventually, he moved away choosing instead to let the rain wash away any remaining pain and guilt he felt over her death. Peter knows that if there was anything he could have done to save one of his closest friends, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so, and he knows for a fact that Raven knows that too.

He stood under the heavy downpour thinking of all the good times he and Raven were lucky to have. How he was so lucky to have met her and for them to have become friends in the first place. She was one of the few who struggled to ever be annoyed by Peter’s antics. The shape-shifting mutant told him once that he shared a similar sense of humor like her friend Sean. She told him all about the boy who used to be a part of the original X-men team. Peter wishes he could have met him. Peter wishes he could have had more time with Raven too, but at the end of the day, he’s just grateful for all the time he got to know her.

Everyone had left for Jean’s grave a while ago, well – everyone except Hank. He had brought some flowers and changed out the old ones when they had first arrived. Peter would never forget just how important he and Raven were to each other. Some of Peter’s most prized memories of Raven are with Hank. They both were like a healthy medium between Erik’s brotherhood ideals and the Ex-Prof’s utopian fantasy. They both were like Peter in the fact that they always wanted to hope for the best, but always planned for the worst. They’d be happy if the Ex-Prof’s hopes and dreams could be a reality. They were even rooting for the man, but they weren’t as optimistic when it came to the world. Hank built warplanes and was always planning for the day people came looking for trouble, as was Raven. Peter and she spent endless hours in the Danger Room outside of training just to be prepared and able to defend themselves no matter what happened.

“Your technique sucks,” she’d tell him after training. It was true. During the beginning of their training, Peter didn’t know shit about how to fight. He never had to know though. He’d always been fast enough to get away without the proper knowledge.

“Yea, Yea,” Peter would tell her rolling his eyes.

Raven would go to whack him upside the head, but Peter would always easily dodge her attempts.

“Too slow,” Peter teased her. Peter knew that if Raven had any more energy, then they’d be going for a round two, but after three and a half hours, Raven was almost dead on her feet.

“How do you still have energy? Do you ever burn yourself out? Is that even possible for you to do? I could eat twenty pixie sticks and still not have that amount of energy.”

“Oooh, pixie sticks sound good right now,” he told her before leaving and returning within a millisecond with a pack of pixie sticks from the gas station nearby. “Want one?” he offered before dumping a whole stick’s contents in his mouth.

“No. That’s disgusting.” She took a double look when she realized they were all empty now. “Did you seriously eat all of those?”

“Yea, I did. Why? Did you change your mind? I could grab some more if you want one.”

“No thanks, Pete,” she said huffing out a laugh. “But seriously, do you ever run out of energy?”

“Oh yeah, I used to struggle to figure out just how many calories I had to consume when I was younger that I’d faint like crazy after exerting myself. It scared the shit out of my mom and sisters. Hank managed to figure it out for me after I came here. He set up a special diet and everything. He even made modified granola bars – which let me say yuck. They suck, but they do the job. I still don’t follow it unless he asks though because I just burn off calories too quickly and I hate cooking – unless it’s paprikash.”

“Paprikash?”

“Yea, it’s like the only thing I’ll ever have the patience to cook.”

“You know how to cook paprikash? Where’d you learn that?” she questions him with an eyebrow quirked in disbelief.

“Yes, I know how to cook, believe it or not. And my mom taught my sister and me when we were younger.”

“I don’t believe you. I don’t think you know your way through a kitchen. I’m going to have to see this for myself.”

“I know you’re just trying to sucker me into making you a home-cooked meal, and usually, I’d just let you go on believing that I don’t know shit, but I actually take pride in making paprikash.”

“Then I guess that means you’ve got to cook a meal then, Maximoff,” she said with a smirk playing on her lips.

Peter being the little shit he is quickly swept his leg and knocked Raven down on the ground before she could realize what happened. Hank had just turned the corner of the hall to watch it happen and his mouth was comically open. Peter couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of them both.

“Fine, but only because Hank got to see you get knocked on your ass,” he commented before running off to the grocery store and buying all the necessary ingredients. And yes, he did buy the groceries… after stealing Hank’s wallet on the way out.

It was one of the first meals he’d shared with Raven and Hank and it’s one of his fondest memories of the pair.

“Thank you. For all the memories. For our friendship. For constantly beating my ass and reminding me I can always do better. Thank you for everything, really. I miss you.”

Peter, after who-knows-how-long it had been decided to finally get the courage to visit Jean’s grave. Her death felt more complicated to Peter. It always had even before he learned of how she died. And this was because the events leading up to her death reminded him so much of Wanda. Peter was happy that Jean was finally able to gain control before dying, but he just wishes that the same could at the very least be said for Wanda. Either way, by the end of the visit Peter felt as though he was finally able to start making peace with them both gone.

There was still one more grave he felt the need to visit though. So, in the rain, drenched from head to toe, Peter sprinted to the place his family had buried Wanda. He then made a quick pit stop to a flower vendor before walking the fresh flowers back over to her grave. He didn’t want to ruin them.

“Hey Wands,” he told her gravestone. “We haven’t really talked in a while. Have we? Well, Jean and Raven have officially been dead for two years. I finally got to see their graves and felt the need to come and visit you while I was at it. I miss you,” he told her as he knelt over to exchange the old ones. It had been almost a month since he last came to visit.

“Erik finally figured it out. I don’t know if he knows about you though. It’s funny. I spent all this time dreading the day he finally learned the truth, but now I don’t. It feels easier. I don’t have anything to purposely hide from him anymore. I don’t know. Anyway… I hope you’re doing well and in a better place. When we meet again, you’re not going to believe all the crazy shit I got myself into without you. I wish you could have been there through all of it with me.” Peter went into a content silence after that, before finally brushing off the leaves on her headstone and heading back to the mansion.

The heels of his shoes were smoking before he was even halfway back, so he stopped and snatched a new pair of white Asics with blue laces from under the store’s noses and tossing his old ratty sneakers into the trash. Truth be told they were hardly a week old, but they were definitely well past retired.

Opening the door to the mansion he was hit with the muted conversation emitting from the kitchen. He slowly walked towards it before stopping when he overheard his name mentioned. Listening in,

“You don’t think he’s just left, do you?” Erik asked in a worried and concerned almost fatherly voice, making Peter feel immense guilt. He didn’t mean to disappear or worry him, he even promised to leave a note before pulling another vanishing act on the man, but it turns out it took less than two weeks to break it.

“Nein,” no. “He vouldn’t leave wizout his Valkman. He vas probably just visiting his mom or sister. He’ll be back soon.” Kurt reassured the former terrorist.

“He also wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye. It’s one of Peter’s biggest fears – not getting to say goodbye,” Ororo voiced with guilt lacing every word as she remembers that was exactly what she did to her best friend.

Peter decided it was best to walk in before they get much further in their worrying.

“Sorry, I know I said I’d leave a note. I just had to visit my sister and give her an update.”

“Ich habe es dir gesagt,” I told you, Kurt mumbled under his breath. Erik was eyeing the teleporter annoyed, but instead of replying to him, Erik turned to look at Peter.

“It’s ok, don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you weren’t alone.”

Peter didn’t quite know how to respond to that, so he just gave the man a soft smile.

“Nice shoes,” Ororo commented.

“Thanks. They’re pretty cool, aren’t they?” he asks with his casual smirk making Ororo roll her eyes.

“Yea. How’s Lorna?”

“Uh, you know, I don’t really know,” Peter confesses with a scratch of the back of his head.

“Oh,” Ororo responds as she realizes who Peter is talking about.

“Lorna?” Erik asks. Once more Peter’s not quite sure how to respond, but he tries his best.

“My sister,” and wow, what a detailed and not short response that was.

“I thought you said—” but Erik didn’t finish his thought before Kurt notified the man that,

“Peter vas multiple sisters.” Peter could do nothing but point to Kurt in agreement.

“Lorna’s my little sister – well, more like half-sister or cousin? I’m not sure, but she’s family. A fucking menace – but family,” he shrugged.

Before Erik had the chance to ask what Wanda’s name was or what she’s like and Peter having to break the news that she’s dead, Hank, like a boon, walked into the room.

“Oh,” Hank inhaled a deep breath relieved to see him. “I’m glad you’re back. I was just about to ask what everyone wants to do for dinner,” he informs the four of them.

“Uh, you know what? I was thinking of going and buying some groceries,” Peter said. Only Hank knew what that meant, his head snapping to the point he could have injured himself to look at the speedster.

“Really? That definitely beats any takeout,” Hank responds.

Nobody else in the room truly knew what was going on except for him and Hank. Hank and Raven were the only ones to have ever had his paprikash.

Hank dug out his wallet and handed Peter his card.

“Hey, man. You don’t by chance have a couple of 20s in there, do you? I got to pay Vinny back for the shoes I may have stolen.”

Hank just sighs as he digs through his wallet and hands Peter 45 dollars in cash.

“You’ve really got to get better at this.”

“I have though. I used to not pay him back, remember?”

Hank lets out a laugh and rolls his eyes at Peter’s antics.

“You still aren’t paying him back. I am. The shoes are nice by the way. Hopefully these last longer than two weeks.”

“Actually, I’d consider myself lucky if this pair lasts longer than a week. The last pair did not. They were smoking at the soles, and I had holes in my socks from the bottoms being so worn out it was a giant hole by the time I grabbed these.”

“Sounds awful.”

“Yea, I think I’m gonna need a first aid kit when I come back. I think my foot might still be bleeding.”

Peter didn’t miss the shocked look Erik was giving him after that statement and neither did Hank, but Hank ignored the retired Nazi hunter.

“I’ll have it ready for when you get back.”

“Thanks, man.”

And just like that Peter had vanished from the kitchen and the mansion as fast as he appeared.

Chapter Text

When Peter came back it was with a couple of bags worth of groceries. He emptied the contents onto the counter where Hank had left the first-aid kit. The kitchen was borderline empty except for Erik who was just sitting at the counter deep in thought. His brows were creased his eyes were fogged over. Wherever he was in his head, it was far from consciousness. It reminded Peter of the times he’d be running and get pulled into the rabbit hole of thoughts to the point where he’d lose complete track of time. He wondered if the same had happened to Erik. Had he even noticed that everyone had left the kitchen and headed to the other areas of the mansion since he left?

“Hey, you ok, man?” he asked, concerned for the metal bender.

“Hmm,” Erik said snapping his head over to where Peter had miraculously appeared sifting through the first aid kit and taking his new shoe off. “Yea, sorry. I was just… thinking.” Erik informed the speedster before glancing down at the younger man’s foot. It looked painful; His sock had fused with the skin, and although his foot had somewhat healed already, the red and black dyed sock from all the blood and asphalt held enough evidence to show that Peter hadn’t been lying earlier when he said he could use a first aid kit.

“Here, let me help.”

Peter scooted the first aid kit closer to Erik who looked through the contents, grabbing the cleaning spray and some gauze to help in disinfecting.

“Thanks.”

Peter gave the man an awkward but grateful smile. The whole experience was weird. Good, but weird. Father or not, he never would have in his wildest dreams imagined Erik helping him out with this. But it wasn’t like Peter was going to turn down the opportunity, so he took a seat and let Erik care for his bloodied and bruised foot. When the retired terrorist had finished treating Peter’s wound, the speedster gave another awkward smile and thank you before running over to his bag to put on a new pair of socks.

Erik wouldn’t have caught on because Peter was just too fast, but before Peter slid the one sock onto his foot, he sat and looked at the job Erik had done. The wrapping was tight and snug to the perfect amount preventing the wrapping to slide off or cut the circulation to his toes off. The speedster looked at it, noting the care put in, and felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward. The thought that his father had helped Peter – albeit decades too late – treat his wound was something doubted he’d forget anytime soon.

When Peter had returned to the kitchen, Erik was already washing his hands in the sink. The two of them shared the kitchen space in content silence. The only sounds were the running tap and the muffled conversations going on in the common room down the hall.

However, in this silence, Peter couldn’t help but think back to how Erik had been when he first appeared with the groceries. The man’s eyebrows were furrowed again in concentrated thought that Peter couldn’t help but interrupt.

“Mind if I ask why you’re so lost in thought?”

Erik had finished with the sink, turning off the faucet and drying his hands to buy himself some time. He turned to face the silver-haired mutant and Peter could make out the slight hesitance on Erik’s face as he decided how to respond. Before Peter had the chance to tell Erik not to worry about giving a response, Erik filled in the silence.

“You, actually.”

By themselves, those two words were so soft-spoken, they would be easy to miss, but when you catch the meaning behind them, it made it were impossible to ignore.

“Oh?” Peter asked, his curiosity getting the best of him wanting elaboration. Erik didn’t immediately respond. The man was still hesitant to start this conversation and it was starting to take root in Peter too making him look away from the man. Peter still remembers the last time he kept pushing a conversation, only to learn he wanted no part of it in the end. The look on Hank’s face looking back though was far more distraught than Erik’s who was more cautious. He must be familiar with the saying ‘curiosity killed the cat.’

Erik took a calm breath before daring to question,

“Can I ask who Wanda is?”

He didn’t even have to get past the first syllable of her name before Peter’s eyes snapped over and locked onto the metal bender once more. While Peter had his suspicions, it was only then that he realized for certain that Erik didn’t know about her. He didn’t know who she was and that likely meant that he didn’t know that Peter was a twin either. So much for not having anything to purposefully hide from him anymore.  Peter couldn’t help but be bombarded by the thoughts running through his mind at this.

Would Wanda have even wanted Erik to know about her? About what she was like or how she had died?

Peter wasn’t sure he was ready to tell him about all that. Not yet. But how does he talk to Erik about her without it leading to that eventual topic?

Peter honestly didn’t know what to say, but he did note the use of is instead of was. Maybe he wouldn’t have to tell him. And even though he’d just feel guilty about it, it would make for a much lighter conversation so long as he could avoid it.

Peter looked away from the man and focused on the food in front of him while answering.

“My sister,” he shrugged, explaining with as few words as possible in hopes that he wouldn’t give anything away. After all, Erik was like a super spy Nazi hunter at one point, right? He’d know a lie the second it presented itself in their conversation.

“How many sisters do you have?” Erik questioned with a soft look of eyes, happy to think that Peter had such a big family. Peter didn’t even have to see it to know just how important family was to the man. After all, Erik had always known it to be fleeting like a moment in time: one minute it was there, happy and loving, the next it was gone leaving a black hole of grief where it once resided that threatened to swallow him whole. Right now, Erik didn’t need to hear about how Wanda left his life far too soon, and in Erik’s case before she could even be a part of his life.

“I grew up with just two: Wanda and Lorna.” Peter didn’t know what to say. Technically Nina, the girl who died in Poland, was Peter’s sister too, but he didn’t grow up with her. And he doubts Erik would have asked if he thought Peter would bring her up. “Well, technically Lorna’s my cousin – er. – step…cousin? I don’t know. The family tree is a bit complicated, but as far as I’m concerned, she’s my sister.” And she was. She might biologically be the child of his aunt and some complete jackass, but from the second he and Wanda met her, she’d been their little sister.

Peter had already cleaned his hands and had started taking out the ingredients to prepare food. The oven was set to 400 degrees and preheating. The speedster walked over to the stove and started it up, placing on top a sauté pan with butter and oil inside.

“… close?” Erik asked. Peter must have zoned out because he didn’t quite catch whatever it was the man had said.

“What?” he said looking up from the stove.

“I asked if you were close.”

“Oh, mean growing up, Wanda and I were always close. Thick as thieves. It was always us against the world. Lorna and I are a bit of a different story. I love her and would do anything for the little shit she is, but the age gap was too far apart for us to be best friends like Wanda and me. She used to get really jealous and upset about that, and it was weird when I went from just being her annoying older brother to more of a parental figure after her asshole dad dropped off the face of the Earth…” Peter trailed off with a shrug before continuing as he seared the chicken. Lorna’s father Arnold had been killed not long before what Peter had dubbed The Pentagon Fiasco of ’73. Images of Wanda that day flashed through his mind. It was by her hand, her cursed magic, her beautifully cruel mutation mixed with her inability to control it that he died. After that day, things only got worse for Wanda until she eventually wound up dying too. Forcing the thought out of his mind, he focused back on his little sister and continued. “We call each other every week, but I haven’t actually seen her in a while. I promised to visit her soon though.”

Erik didn’t ask anything else for a while so Peter just immersed himself in his cooking. He was searing the chicken in batches with the skin side facing down until it was crisp and golden. When he noticed that the tv on the side of the counter was playing The Dick Van Dyke Show, Peter couldn’t help but hum the theme song or mouth the lines he had memorized by heart over the years he had watched it with and without Wanda. Having it play in the background somehow made him feel so much fuller. It was as if his family were here with him right now.

When Peter heard a laugh from beside him, he remembered that Erik was still here, watching both Peter and the episode playing. Even if all his family wasn’t physically present right now, Erik was. Peter’s mouth curved up into a soft smile.

Erik’s laugh was small but genuine; It was soft but full of heart. Peter had witnessed Erik’s manic laughing on the battlefield, but this was new. Peter hadn’t thought he’d ever heard it before.

“Guess I never pegged you’d be a sitcom kind of guy,” Peter comments.

Erik looks at him confused before concluding what the speedster had meant.

“Oh, I never really watched television.” Erik gestured to the screen with a wave of his hand as he continued. “It’s a nice show though.”

Peter nodded his head in agreement, a note of nostalgia in his eyes as he talked.

“Yea, it is. It was her favorite – Wanda’s I mean – when we were little. When it was her turn to pick what to watch, this is what she’d choose. And I’d always act annoyed because it was always sitcom, sitcom, sitcom, but I think over time, it became my favorite too.”

“And what did you choose to watch when it was your pick?”

“Pfft. I don’t know, man. The Flintstones was probably my favorite. I was always singing the song or at least humming it, which annoyed Wanda to death because I’d then get it stuck in her head, but hey,” he shrugged, “that’s what brothers are for.”

Erik smiled at that.

Both father and son continued to converse while the silver-haired mutant cooked. The chicken was still cooking, and he was preparing the noodles when Hank poked his head into the kitchen.

“Smells good in here. How goes it?”

“Good, probably got about 15 minutes till it’s ready,” Peter replied, checking to see the chicken’s progress once more.

“Sounds good. I’ll let everyone know. I know from experience I’m not allowed to ask if you want help,” as if to prove his point Peter was shaking his head no making Hank want to roll his eyes fondly at his friend. “But mind if I set the table?”

Peter looked as though he was debating it, thinking that this would act as a gateway to helping the speedster more in the future, but they both knew that Hank would never succeed, so the speedster eventually just shrugged.

“Go for it, man.”

*****

The smell from the kitchen had everyone excited. Not many people knew Peter could cook, not like this anyway. By the time Hank had given everyone the update, the food was already done.

Charles nodded to the younger mutant saying,

“It smells amazing, Peter.”

“Thanks, Prof.”

“If this tastes half as good as it looks, we’re all in for a real treat,” Ororo added.

Peter rolled his eyes at her National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation reference. It was one of Peter’s favorite movies. The two of them would watch it any time of the year if they could.

“Save the neck for me, Clark,” he quipped right back making her smile.

Truth be told, it wound up tasting ten times better than it had looked. Everyone went back for seconds and some even for thirds. By the time everyone had finished eating, it was because there simply wasn’t any food left. (It should be noted that Peter didn’t even eat as much as he usually would have, saving it for everyone else.)

Even after all the food was gone, everyone stayed at the table. They shared stories and laughed with one another. Charles smiled when he noticed that unlike in the past couple of days, Peter too was participating. His smile was even a little brighter now and hearing his laugh made everyone enjoy themselves even more too. It would be a lie to say Peter had never been the life of the team. It might not have seemed like that much lately, but right now he looked like himself. He was carefree and quipped jokes and sarcastic comments to everyone, completely unbothered by the circumstances that had brought them all together again. It warmed Charles’s heart.

The telepath had known for a couple of months that he had news to run by everyone, but right now simply wasn’t the time. He wasn’t sure how people would react, and he didn’t want to ruin the moment. Moments like this, where everyone is together and happy, were rare nowadays. So instead of telling everyone about what he’d been thinking over for months, he decided to push it aside for later and live in this moment. It wasn’t like his news was anything bad and it would be ok to wait another day, but he owed it to them all to share. Maybe he’d tell everyone what he had meant to tomorrow or sometime later in the week before they all parted ways once more.

Tuning back into the conversation, he heard Jubilee ask,

“How is it that it’s only now that we're figuring out someone on this team was useful in the kitchen?”

“Hey, I can cook pretty well,” Hank answered pretending to be offended.

“It’s not cooking when you leave the meat almost raw,” Erik teased the good doctor. Hank had always preferred his meat a bit more undercooked likely due to his mutation, and Erik never failed to make fun of him for it. Which only aggravated the man who made a face at the statement.

“Jean was a great baker, not so good a cook, but she made the best cakes,” Charles told the table, hoping to change the direction the conversation was headed toward (Erik and Hank strangling each other). Luckily, Scott seemed to pick up on this.

“I remember this one time when Jean, Kurt, and I thought it’d be a great idea to make Jubilee a birthday cake. You remember that?” Scott asked Jubilee and Kurt laughing to himself before continuing his recount of that day. “You and Peter were going out shopping (read as shoplifting) for the day, so we thought we’d have the kitchen to ourselves. Jean told us all she knew exactly what she was doing, so we let her take the lead. It was great, the cake looked amazing coming out of the oven. Now, had we thought things through enough, we might have remembered that anything Peter does is either way too quick or in some cases, drawn out for a far longer amount of time than is necessary for a normal person let alone a speedster. Unfortunately for us, it was the former case. Anyway, we were in the middle of piping the frosting on the cake when out of the blue, Jubilee comes out from behind Jean and says—”

“—' You spelled my name wrong.’ —”

“—Which scared the hell out of us, resulting in Kurt freaking out and teleporting himself into the kitchen door while Jean accidentally launched the cake straight at your face with her telekinesis.”

“’ Surprise,’ you all told me as I wiped it all off my face. But that’s not even the best part. I also scared the shit out of Scott too who was holding the bag of bright blue icing they were piping the words out with. He squeezed the entire bag’s contents out with the girliest yelp I’d ever heard. It got all over Jean and the floor. When Scott realized what he’d done, he handed the bag to Kurt in hopes to put the blame on someone else and not embarrass himself in front of her. This was back when he’d yet to win her affection,” Jubilee teased Scott.

“She and Jubilee vas blue for a whole veek!” Kurt exclaimed as he broke out into laughter. “Zee dye vouldn’t vash off. Es war toll.” It was great. “And you both kouldn’t komplain about it bekause it vas rude to zee aktual blue people. Es war das beste Geburtstagsgeschenk aller Zeiten” It was the best birthday present ever.

“…Eh,” Jubilee joked, “I’m a bit partial to the couple pairs of shoes Peter picked up for me while we were at the mall.”

“And by picked up, you mean stole for you,” Hank pointed out only with an accusatory finger waving between both Jubilee and Peter.

“Klepto,” Scott coughed into his hand.

“Excuse you!” Peter said in faux offense. “I’m reformed. I haven’t stolen anything in like… pfft… five-three days?” Peter pathetically ended by scrunching his face in realization about how bad that sounded.

“Three days?” Hank shouted incredulously. “You just stole shoes! Tonight, no less!”

“I paid him back!” Peter argued with his hands up in innocence.

“Wait what did you steal three days ago?” Erik asked having just realized that was when Peter was back on Genosha with him and Charles.

“I’m not telling you that. What I will say is that seven things are missing from your guys’ home that may or may not be in my possession now.”

Neither man was truly surprised by this reveal, yet Erik still ran a hand down his face and Charles sighed, completely exhausted by the speedster’s antics.

“Look, if you can figure out what it is, I’ll give it back,” Peter told them with his hands raised in surrender with a look of trouble written in his facial features. The glint in his eye and smirk playing on his mouth told the men all they needed to know about Peter’s challenge: It was a game they wouldn’t win. When neither of them looked as though they were going to respond, Peter raised his eyebrow waiting until he got impatient, and took a sip of his drink saying more to himself than anyone else, “guess that means I get to keep it.”

*****

The next day, Ororo finally pulled Peter aside in one of the old school’s many hallways to talk.

“So… Erik knows,” Ororo cautiously mentioned to Peter. She, like Erik when asking about Wanda, was incredibly hesitant to question Peter. By the look on her face, she knew very well how sensitive a topic it could wind up being.

“He does,” Peter replied with a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Ororo watched Peter’s expression morph into one of calm and peace. When she realized it might just be safe to prod further, she smiled to herself asking the question she had truly been dying to ask.

“You told him?”

Peter shook his head.

“No, guess he’s not as oblivious as I gave him credit for. He uh… he’s known for a little while.” And Ororo knew this had always been one of Peter’s biggest fears concerning his estranged father, but when he spoke, it was calmly. Peter was actually ok with it all.

“I take it went well?” Ororo questioned her friend with a nudge of the shoulder.

“Yea… yea I guess.”

“You guess?”

Peter sighed in defeat.

“It went a lot better than expected, but… I don’t know.” He ended with a shrug of defeat.

Peter had still yet to tell the former terrorist about his sister – his twin sister – Wanda. Mean how was he supposed to tell him about her anyway. ‘Hey! So, congrats you not only have a long-lost son but a daughter too! Well – I guess had because she’s – you know – dead.’ Yea, he was sure that would go over well.

The last thing Erik needed was to hear that he had lost even more family. And Peter definitely didn’t want to break the news to him any time soon let alone ever. But, he had to. Erik might not deserve the pain that comes with that knowledge, but he still deserves to know.

Ororo hadn’t said anything during the time Peter had been thinking, but he wasn’t sure if it was because he had sped up in time or if she was just being patient with him. Even if he hadn’t sped up, he knows Ororo would have waited anyway. That was just another great thing about her. She pushed him to talk but never pried the information out of him. She waited for Peter to tell her on his own. After several minutes of silence at least from Peter’s perspective, he opened to her.

“He asked about Wanda last night.” Ororo was looking at him in sympathy. “I didn’t know what to tell him. He deserves to know… but I couldn’t tell him. Not yet, but I can’t look at him and not feel guilty for keeping her from him. He’s her father too.”

Peter’s voice broke twice already but he wasn’t done. He needed to get this off his chest.

“Wanda and I used to stay up all night discussing him. What we’d do if we ever met him; What he must have been like. Then we learned who he was. Then she died and I had to figure out whether Wanda would have wanted him to know. And I don’t know. I honestly don’t know whether she’d be mad about it or not.

“But now Erik knows about me. And I… I have to tell him. Mad or not, she’s not here anymore. But Erik is and he deserves to know even if it only brings him pain. He deserves to know. I just… don’t know how to tell him. He already had a daughter who died. How am I supposed to explain that he lost another?”

“Oh, Peter,” she told him as she wrapped her arms around the speedster to comfort him. Peter melted into her embrace. They sat there talking about it for who knows how long before Erik of all people stumbled upon them.

“Is everything ok here?” Erik asked. His face was masked to appear detached and indifferent toward the situation he found himself intruding, but both younger mutants could hear the worry laced in his voice.

Peter even in his own snail-paced time, quickly sniffled and cleaned himself up before slowing back down to look Erik in the eye – or as close as he could manage right now.

“Yea we're all good. Whatcha need Magnets?” Peter questioned as he went to stand up. He didn’t remember sinking to the floor, sitting down with Ororo beside him, but he was back to standing now as he reached out a hand to Ororo and helped her up too.

She was eyeing him, begging for Peter to look at her, but the speedster wasn’t watching her anymore. He was too focused on his surroundings for that.

“Charles was trying to gather everyone,” Erik mentioned to the two of them, no doubt the awkwardness of the situation getting to him. “He had something he wanted to say before everyone started leaving tomorrow.”

There was a long beat of silence in which none of them made to move. Erik and Ororo were both watching Peter who was carefully avoiding their gazes. Both were concerned, and while only Ororo knew what was wrong, Peter wasn’t moving at all. No fidgeting. No hopping from foot to foot. No looking around for something to distract him (except for the dust bunnies in the corner he was blankly staring through rather than at). Nothing. And that alone was enough to worry anyone who knew him, even if they hadn’t been privy to seeing the state of him and Ororo when Erik arrived.

“Where?” Peter blurted out to the heavy silence catching both of them off guard. He was still staring off into space and his voice was empty. Usually, Peter never stayed long enough to find out where the group was ever meeting, he just ran off and eventually found it.

“The kitchen,” Erik supplied still watching Peter, knowing that he still wasn’t likely to move anytime soon.

“Peter,” Ororo began in a voice so soft one might have missed it. She made her way over to the silver-haired mutant and put a hand on his shoulder. When he looked up his eyes were glossed over.

“After,” he said finally looking his best friend in the eye, but Ororo just shook her head in the gentlest way she could.

“No, now.”

“I can’t” his voice broke and Ororo looked at him in sympathy.

“I know… but you have to,” and with that, she gave Peter one more tight hug which Peter latched onto before walking away. Peter watched her leave while Erik had watched Peter with worried eyes.

*****

Once Ororo was out of sight, Peter turned to finally look back at Erik. The man wasn’t hiding his concern like when he first stumbled upon him and Ororo though. He wore it clearly on his face, and Peter felt so guilty about it all.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, the speedster exhaled a deep breath he’d been holding in. Peter was in a rush as he made his way toward Erik, fishing inside the pocket of his jacket for a certain photograph and pulling it out.

Peter looked at it, hoping it would give him the strength he needed to have this talk, before handing it over to Erik to look at as well.

Erik examined the small photograph taking a sharp inhale as immediately his thumb traced over the form of Peter’s mother: Iryna. She was beautiful as always, sitting on the dull red couch holding a mug of something steaming hot smiling as she carded her fingers through the little girl’s head on her lap. The little girl had curly light auburn hair and was looking over at another little boy around the same age. The auburn-haired girl was smiling as she lay across the little boy’s lap while he stuck his tongue out at her in fondness. He had caramel blonde hair like Iryna, warm brown eyes, and an attitude that could belong to no one else but Peter.

Peter eyed the picture in fondness over Erik and pointed to the little girl who was probably nine or so. Her eyes were a beautiful green and her smile was so inviting Erik couldn’t help it when the corners of his mouth turned up for a second.

“That’s Wanda,” Peter began in a somber voice. “Most people knew her as Wendy, but she’ll always be Wanda to me.”

And that was when Erik saw how this conversation was likely to go. ‘Some knew her’ meant she wasn’t alive anymore. And Erik couldn’t help but feel guilty for asking about her last night. He remembered how Peter had only talked about Wanda when it had to do with his childhood.

“I’m sorry,”

Peter just nodded his head.

“Me too,” he told Erik as the older man looked over at Peter to find him staring at the photo. With glassy eyes and a broken voice, Peter spoke through the pain because he knew Erik deserved to know. “She was my best friend growing up. You would have loved her. She was so strong and powerful beyond belief, but also so caring. She wore her heart on her sleeve and she did whatever it took when it came to the people she loved. She was the bravest person I ever knew. And growing up, I always thought I had to be the strong one, but she was my rock… I thought we were invincible. I thought that death was never going to catch us. We survived so much while everyone around us didn’t, and it didn’t matter in the end because I had her. The rest of the world could go fuck itself for all I cared… but then I realized how wrong I was. Turns out we weren’t invincible.”

“What happened?” Erik ventured to ask.

“She died.” Peter deadpanned.

“No – I mean… how? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Peter chewed the inside of his cheek. He could see Erik debating taking his question back, but then the speedster answered.

“She, uh… she lost control.” There was a beat before Peter continued, “and I couldn’t save her.”

Erik stood there mulling it over in his head when Peter spoke up again.

“I wasn’t there when Jean died, but I do remember the last time I saw her,” the younger man began saying leaving Erik confused. “And it reminded me of her, I guess. When I first met Jean, I promised myself I’d keep my distance. I looked at her, and though I knew it wasn’t, I sometimes thought I saw Wanda. It didn’t help that Jean was about Wanda’s age when she died. I was afraid that I was going to use Jean as a replacement for her, but nobody could replace Wanda, no matter how alike they might have seemed. Every time I looked at Jean and saw my sister, I’d have to remind myself of all the ways they weren’t the same. Because they weren’t. They both were stubborn and fierce and willing to stand for what they believed was right, but they were different in the way that Wanda was a realist and put me in my place while Jean was an optimist always hoping for people to find more in life. I felt bad avoiding Jean though. I didn’t want her to think I didn’t like her, so I did my best to get closer to her. Maybe the more I knew about Jean, the less she’d remind me of Wanda. It worked… and it didn’t. Jean may not have been Wanda, but over the years she did become something almost like a sister to me.”

And Erik watched as Peter spoke through the pain this conversation was causing him to relive, but his son was focused on the image in Erik’s hands instead. His eyes were locked on the little girl in the photograph – Wanda. When Peter continued speaking, his voice had become more distant, his eyes now looking through the photo rather than at it.

“The last time I saw Jean, it was on that street. We were going to get her back and bring her home, but evidently, that didn’t end up happening as we planned. The second I caught sight of her, when I heard her fighting with herself – the voices in her head – because she wanted quiet, I was hit with the most awful feeling of Déjà vu. I had seen that before. It used to happen to Wanda. Things would get to be too much, and she’d fight for control… but you can’t control chaos. It goes against the very definition of the word. But I remember her trying. I remember her being in so much pain, just like Jean was that day.

“I went to calm her down. It always worked in the past, but I knew in the past it had never been that bad. I knew I couldn’t help her, but I wasn’t about to let her go, so I held her. Before I knew it: red. Her scarlet wiggly woos rippled through the air from out of her. Everything was red… and then it wasn’t, and I felt it. Wanda… she was gone. She died and I felt it. This hole in my chest like my heart was ripped out and crushed into a mangled mess. I still feel it: this place where she was supposed to be now nothing but a ghost – a phantom pain I’ve carried ever since that day.

“When I was told that Jean was dead after I woke up, I thought she died that day. I thought I failed her. I remembered her powers rippling out of her just like Wanda’s. I remember running to her to try and help though I knew it would be pointless before I tripped and fell. I remember waking up and thinking I failed her just like I failed Wanda. I remember thinking they were more alike than I ever gave them credit for them to have died the same way. I remember realizing once more that it doesn’t matter how fast I am because I couldn’t save. I couldn’t save Jean, and I couldn’t save Wanda either.”

Erik wanted nothing more than to hold Peter and comfort him at that moment, but he couldn’t. Though Peter stopped speaking for a second, the speedster wasn’t done talking yet. He was simply collecting his thoughts before going on.

“I didn’t want to tell you how she died. I don’t want this to hurt worse, but you deserve to know. The burden might not be worth it, but that’s for you to decide. Either way, I don’t think I’ll be able to talk about that again after…” Peter trails off. He wanted to say, ‘after you know who Wanda was,’ but the words don’t come out, the words dying on his tongue.

‘After what?’ Erik wants to ask but doesn’t dare. He has a feeling it’s better not to push. Looking back down at the photo Peter handed him, he looks back at the silver-haired mutant. Tears were silently streaming down the younger man’s cheeks now and for the first time since their conversation began, Peter glanced up and locked eyes with Erik. They both held the other’s gaze, neither breaking it to look away.

“She was my best friend,” Peter explains once more to the metal bender adding a slight twist to the statement this time. His eyes had now taken on a look imploring him to understand what he meant. “She was my built-in best friend. From the moment we were born, we were inseparable, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

Peter spoke those words like a riddle Wanda would have been proud of. He was certain of that. But while Wanda would have walked out of the room before Peter had the chance to figure it out, he instead chose to stay and watch as Erik put the final pieces of the puzzle together.

It didn’t take too long before Erik’s eyes finally filled with tears, he was probably fighting from falling down his face. The man finally pulled his eyes away from Peter and looked down at the old photograph once more with a new set of eyes. Peter could only guess what he was doing: looking at Wanda and spotting all the similarities he hadn’t noticed before. Her auburn hair was undeniable the same color as Erik’s, and there were several other facial features on the man that both he and his sister shared between them like their blue eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he told the older man, breaking his hyper-fixated gaze from the small photograph. The man, remembering that Peter was standing there beside him still, pulled the speedster into a hug they both held tightly onto as if the other might slip through their arms at a moment’s notice.

If Either of them noticed the way all the metal in the hallway was shaking around them, they didn’t mention it.

“You’re a twin,” Erik finally breathed right into Peter’s ear.

All the silver-haired mutant could do was nod.

*****

“Erik and Peter had something to discuss. It’ll probably be some time. I don’t think it’s worth waiting for them right now. We can always catch them up later, but Scott and Jubilee are headed out now,” She quietly explained to the professor as she entered the room before taking a seat at the kitchen table alongside everyone else. They were all snacking away and saying their goodbyes.

Charles hadn’t wanted to tell the news without Erik and Peter there, but Scott and Jubilee had a flight to catch and couldn’t be held any bit longer. This was his last chance and he really wanted to hear from everyone else before making the decision.

“These last couple of months, I’ve been thinking about this place,” he says, gaining their attention. “It was meant to be a safe place for mutants, where they could learn control and feel a sense of belonging. I can’t help but think that lately it hasn’t been doing a very good job at that, being closed, and collecting dust instead. I think it’s time to open it up again, but I want to know how you guys would feel about that before making any decisions.”

There was a long beat of silence before anyone spoke.

“I think it’s a good idea. Not to speak for him or anything, but I know Pete would agree too,” Ororo said with a supportive nod of the head.

“Maybe third time’s the charm,” Hank said putting down the sandwich he was eating. “If you want, I’d be more than happy to come back and help you open again.”

“Same here,” Scott says, placing a hand on the professor’s shoulder in support. “I think your right. Mutants could use a safe place to learn and feel accepted and this place did a great job of that.”

Charles couldn’t explain how great it was to hear them all agree about how important the school was while it was open. He’d always known that it was a good place for young mutants and anyone who might need help, but he also couldn’t help but remember Jean. He failed her, and for the longest time, he’d been afraid of repeating that. He didn’t want to fail anyone else like Jean or Raven, he just wanted to help. But if he didn’t try – if he kept this place closed – wasn’t he failing them all by default? And wasn’t that ten times worse?

Sure, he wasn’t going to be able to help everyone who came to this school, but he’d try. He’d give his all because that’s what these kids deserved. And he would learn from his past mistakes in hopes that no one would ever wind up as Jean or Raven did.

“And the X-men? Would that be making a comeback too?” Hank ventured to ask.

And though Charles knew the question was bound to be asked, he hadn’t an answer. He remembered all of the debates he and Hank used to have when it came to the X-men. Hank hoped for the best but planned for the worst. Hank had always known that the X-men would be needed, and though Charles would prefer to never put others’ lives in danger again, he understood where the man was coming from. After all, he had been right.

And truth be told, the X-men did a lot of good. He only wished the world didn’t need them. He wished that he wouldn’t have to put other people’s lives in danger again or lose his students to a death that came far too soon when they had so much more life to live. Charles just couldn’t have that on his conscience again.

“If someone’s willing to lead it, but I can’t involve myself in that again. I hope the X-men are never needed, but if the world needs saving, then I can only hope that someone stands up to save it. However, seeing as how I can’t stand, I’ll respectfully sit it out,” he finished in a light tone.

“So… in other words, you’re retiring?” Jubilee asked

“From the X-men, yes.”

“So should we all challenge each other to a game of rock-paper-scissors to see who gets to run it now?” she joked causing them all to smile. Scott immediately turned to her and began a game of three to see who’d win, but halfway through the second round, everything began to shake. Well, not everything – just the metal.

*****

It had been a day since Peter told Erik about Wanda, and he doesn’t know what to feel about it. It was freeing in the sense that he didn’t feel as though he was lying or hiding anything from Erik, but at the same time, it felt ten times heavier a weight knowing the burden he just put on the man’s shoulders. He still felt guilty, just in a different way.

After he had told Erik the truth, Kurt teleported over to check on the pair to make sure everything was ok. It wasn’t, but they both agreed to keep it between themselves. Erik parted ways back to his and Charles’ room and Peter ran off with Kurt in hopes to feel better about the whole thing or to at least distract himself for a little while. Kurt had always succeeded in raising Peter’s spirits and making the man happier.

Truth be told, Peter just wanted to run away, but he knew it wouldn’t help anything. Yes, Erik needed time to come to terms with what he’d just learned, but he didn’t need Peter disappearing. Knowing this, Peter promised himself that he wouldn’t leave until he talked things out with the ex-terrorist first.

However, that being said it had been a day, and Erik had yet to even look Peter in the eye let alone talk. It had the speedster anxious to run even more because it was obvious Erik didn’t want to talk. But what if he did? If Erik decided, he wanted to talk, and Peter wasn’t there? No, Peter would stick around until he could make sure the man was going to be ok because wasn’t that what he had been doing this whole time for Peter?

But it had been a whole day. That meant it had to have at least been like six to Peter right? And Erik was taking his sweet old man time grappling the news Peter told him, but Peter was rapidly becoming impatient. He just wanted to get it all over with. But he couldn’t rush him, which infuriated him and made him feel like a complete asshole at the same time.

Peter sat at the kitchen munching on a bowl of cereal, his knee bouncing up and down so rapidly he was practically vibrating. He honestly didn’t think he’d be able to make it another day without finally breaking. Erik was clearly avoiding him, and it only helped to serve the thought that Peter should just bolt out of here and stop burdening the man.

*****

Three days had passed since Erik had learned of his daughter. While he had put together the pieces about who Peter was a while ago, the truth about Wanda came right out of the left field. He needed time to process, and he knew that every second of time he spent processing was another Peter spent rapidly becoming more anxious. But it wasn’t like he could face him yet.

What was he even supposed to say?

Erik looked down at the photo Peter had left with Erik in the hallway after their talk. At the very least, he needed to return the photo to the speedster, but to be honest he wanted to hold onto it a little bit longer. It wasn’t just because of Wanda, his daughter he’d never get the chance to meet.

First, he couldn’t help but look at Peter and think about how much he looked like his mother. He had her caramel hair and big brown eyes filled with love and hope, they shone so brightly. And Peter may not have the hair anymore, but they still shared the same eyes. Erik didn’t know whether it was just time or a lack of innocence, but while Peter still to this day had some of the brightest eyes he’d known, they were far dimmer than those of the photograph. He didn’t know whether he preferred it due to growing up or the trauma the boy had endured. If it was age, then at what point does a child lose that glimmer? It wasn’t like Nina had ever grown old enough for that to happen. But if it was because of trauma, Erik couldn’t help but feel immense guilt at the fact that Peter had to go through that. He knew it was likely to be the latter reason after hearing what happened to the boy’s twin – his daughter – and that made him sick.

It seemed as though he’d cursed the boy into a fate similar to his own: losing those you love most.

*****

After five days, Peter couldn’t take it anymore and run off, not before leaving a note to alert Erik that he’d be gone visiting his sister for an undetermined amount of time.

Arriving on the front steps of the duplex she lived at, he knocked a few times, waiting what felt like an eternity for an answer. It never came, so he walked down the street until he found a shop with a phone he could borrow. Calling the number he memorized a long time ago, Peter waited for the dial tone to end. Lorna didn’t answer. So, he called again, this time trying to get a hold of the small Motorola Flare phone she’d taken to carrying around with her lately. Man, he needed to get himself one of those.

Ring… Ring… Ring

Actually, never mind. What was the point in having one if you don’t answer it? Trying again and again and again, Peter finally gave up and looked at his watch noting he’d wasted a whole 12 minutes attempting to get a hold of her.

Sighing, he decided to run over to his mom’s house. Maybe Lorna was just being a petty bitch not answering his calls in retaliation for ignoring her lately. It was entirely within the realm of possibility, that is if you ignore the fact that she would have had no way to know it was him calling her. On second thought, it might be best to check her house again just in case there are signs he missed.

From the outside, it didn’t look like anything was wrong though. All the doors were locked. Same with all ground windows. And when he looked through them, nothing looked out of place. That is at least no more than the usual organized chaos she has going on. It’s something she got from him. Chairs were piled with clothes and blankets to make room for what appeared to be yesterday’s pizza, she put on the coffee table. The TV was playing that one show about nothing: Seinfeld. It was just another rerun episode – the one about the group trying to find their car in a parking garage only for it to not start.

Overall, nothing looked wrong from the outside, and he felt creepy just watching from the window. It also kind of reminded him of Erik and the way he had been just watching Peter that day he took him back to Genosha with him. Leaving the premises, he ran over to his mom’s to find out Lorna had been there all along.

Great. Glad to know he just wasted 17 minutes slightly panicking about the possibility something may have happened to her for no reason. Don’t get him wrong, he’s happy she’s ok, but seriously?

“Hey, why didn’t you pick up?” he asks her the second he’s through the door’s threshold and hugging his little sister.

“I left my phone at the house last night. I kind of left in a rush to meet up with friends but when those plans went south, I came here instead to crash on the couch and steal Mom’s food.” Or in Lorna speak, she didn’t want to be alone. Peter doesn’t blame her, he never really liked being alone, it was his least favorite part of his mutation. “Didn’t even think about someone needing to get a hold of me.”

“So, I’m guessing I came to the wrong place for a quick snack. You probably cleaned out the fridge already, didn’t you?” He jokes.

“Yep, guess you’ll have to go to the deli and grab some sandwiches to munch on. While you’re there, you might as well bring back a couple more for Mom and me. It’d be much appreciated.” She tells her brother with a glint in her eyes and an evil smirk, knowing full well that Peter would do anything for her and their mom.

“Wow,” Peter says giving a playful roll of the eyes, “I’ve only just walked through the door and you’re kicking me out. I see how it is.”

“Glad we’re on the same page. Now, you might want to hurry, he’s about to close for a break soon. Would hate to make Mom wait any longer for lunch,” she tells him turning back toward the door and opening it for Peter. He walks through the threshold once more flipping his sister off before running off into the distance.

He came back with bags full of freshly made sandwiches for them all. This time his mom answered the door, a smile on her face and cigarette in her hand.

“I thought that was you just a second ago,” she tells him, ushering him in the door. “She tried to convince me it was Willis looking for his damned cat again – almost had me. He’s come three times this last week asking if I had seen Oliver – who’s Mrs. Oliver, but his grandson wanted to call her Oliver from that one Disney movie and that’s what they went with.” She took another puff of her cigarette and led Peter into the kitchen grabbing plates and setting the kitchen table. “It’s a cute cat, but I swear it’s evil, and Willis is miserable trying to care for the thing. I told him to take it to some shelter, but he refuses. If I were him and that cat ran off, I would have thrown a party, not been asking my neighbors if they had spotted it. Hell, even if one of us spotted the thing, we wouldn’t dare go near it.”

“She’s convinced it’s part demon,” Lorna adds, unwrapping her sandwich and taking a bite of it.

“Doesn’t she always? Nobody hates cats more than Mom.”

“Hey, you two don’t get it. Those things are vicious. Even your dad would have agreed with me on that,” she said, waving a finger at Peter.

Peter remembers the stories his dad told Wanda and him when they were younger. Mayra wanted a cat so badly, she and her brother picked one up off the street and convinced their parents to let them keep it if they had cared for it. It was just a simple stray, who only needed a bit of love and food. Mayra was so happy until she learned how much the cat hated her. The cat wouldn’t stop chasing Mayra, scratching her all up and down her legs and hissing at her anytime she approached. Mayra had nightmares of the cat for years afterward and has never liked cats since. Truthfully speaking, his dad loved the cat and was sad when they had to give it up, but out of solidarity with his sister (Peter’s aunt and Lorna’s mother), they had agreed to never like cats again.

They sat at the table enjoying their lunch and laughing at old memories of their childhood together before Lorna says something that turned to mood into one more serious.

“You seem to be doing better. Looks like you’re still a fair amount away from good, but definitely better.”

“Yea, I guess I am. I’ve been getting closure after everything that happened, so that’s helping. But things have also gotten a bit more complicated. I don’t know. It’s not bad necessarily, but I can’t stand waiting for everything to sort itself out. I told myself I wouldn’t just run off, but I couldn’t stay any longer waiting for him to come around.”

“What happened?” his mom asked reaching across the table to hold the speedster’s hand, squeezing it to let him know that she’s here for him.

Peter didn’t quite know how to break the news though. He remembers Erik being one of his mom’s biggest fears. She had always been afraid of him coming for the twins, especially since the Pentagon incident all those years ago. He remembers when she begged Peter to tell her that Erik didn’t know who he was. Telling Mayra now seemed cruel to do, but he knew she deserved to know. If there was anything he had learned these last few weeks, it was that just because it’s not an easy truth to accept, doesn’t mean it’s not one someone should know.

Taking a deep breath, Peter told her.

“Erik knows.”

He could hear the sharp intake of breath from Lorna, but his mom sat there frozen. There was no change to her expression aside from her slightly wider eyes – a detail most would never notice. Slowly Mayra closed her eyes and released her hold of Peter’s hand. The kitchen was deathly silent as she then got up out of her chair on shaky knees, walked over to the cabinets, grabbed her old friend – a bottle of vodka, and returned to her seat. Sitting down she opened the bottle and took a drink straight from it.

“He knows,” he breathed out. “Fute.” Fuck.

Sure, his mom had gotten better at understanding that Erik wasn’t the same Nazi hunter/terrorist he used to be, but that didn’t mean he trusted him in the slightest with knowing who Peter was. She was already conflicted with Erik’s interest in Peter when he told her about Genosha. Of course, she wants Peter to get to know his father if said father wasn’t a fucking psychopath who ruins everything. And it’s not like Peter can’t handle things himself. She trusts him. But she doesn’t trust Erik. She doesn’t trust that he won’t hurt Peter or anyone else in his name. Erik was not a good man. The last thing she wanted was Peter to ignore that only to be reminded of it at the worst moment.

“How much?” Mayra asked wearily, dreading the answer – any answer – because even knowing the slightest bit was too much.

“He knows,” Peter just says, leaving the ‘everything’ unsaid, but understood, nonetheless.

“I won’t talk to him,” she says finally getting herself together and begrudgingly accepting that this was it, but she still refused to see him. “I’d sooner hold a gun to the man than talk to him again.”

“I figured,” is all Peter was able to say.

Running her hands over her face, Mayra breathed out a line of curses in Romani.

“Did you tell him?” Lorna asks. Her face is tense. She’s only ever known Erik through news outlets and word of mouth and the only people she knew who spoke of Erik as if he wasn’t evil were Peter and his friend Lance when they were younger.

“About me?” he asks which Lorna nods. “No. He put the pieces together on his own, but… I did tell him about Wanda.” He looks back at their mom begging for forgiveness as he says, “I’m sorry.”

She grabs Peter’s hand again, looking him in the eyes with a forced smile on her face.

“It was your choice. I can’t be mad at you for that. I just hope that he doesn’t hurt you. That’s all I want. I just don’t want you to suffer because of him. You know I don’t think highly of that man. I never will, but I don’t have to for you to get to know him. I know that. I trust you, Peter, to make the right choices. I just don’t like this one, but I don’t like anything where he’s involved.”

Peter knew how hard that was on her to say. She probably never will again, and because of this, he gets up out of his chair and hugs her. He needed to hear that so bad. He wasn’t able to get Wanda to understand why he told Erik, but he could get his mom’s – and he got it.

“You said he still hasn’t come around?” Lorna asks, interrupting their hug breaking the two apart and leaving Peter to return to his seat.

“No,” Peter sighed in defeat.

“Not everyone’s as fast as you. Give him time. He might, he may not, but you can’t expect him to want to talk about it after only… how long?” she asks.

“Five days,” Peter supplies.

“Shit. Five Days? Never mind. I feel like someone should be able to say something about the situation by then. You at least have an idea of what you’re thinking after that long, right?”

“Not helping,” Peter points out.

“Sorry,” Lorna says putting her hands up in surrender before leaving the table and going through all the junk drawers finding a slip of paper and heading upstairs.