Second Mutations

The sound of chatter and laughter echoed through the living room.

David was on the floor, lying on his belly, his tiny limbs moving with effort as he tried to push himself up. A group of younger students had gathered around him after class, sitting beside him and showing him colorful toys.

Erik sat nearby, his back against the couch, watching as David interacted with the children. It was sweet—the way they giggled when he grabbed at their toys, the careful way they touched him, as if afraid he might break. But despite their gentleness, Erik still kept a watchful eye on them.

No matter how careful they were, David was his, and Erik wasn’t taking any chances.

A shift in movement caught his attention as two older students approached and sat beside him. If he remembered correctly, their names were Jean and Scott.

Charles had told Erik a bit about them—Jean was a telepath, a very powerful one, and Scott was the younger brother of Alex Summers. As Erik looked at him now, the resemblance was unmistakable.

Alex.

The name alone stirred something uncomfortable in Erik’s chest.

He knew Alex had died. Charles never spoke about the details, never said how, and perhaps it was because the loss hurt too much to put into words. Erik couldn’t blame him for that.

Because it hurt him too.

Maybe not in the same way it hurt Charles, but still—it hurt.

He and Alex had been close once. But after the betrayal in Cuba, Alex had viewed him with a wariness and distrust that had never been there before. And yet, Erik still felt the weight of his absence.

Angel, Sean, Darwin, and Alex—all gone.

Only Charles, Hank, Raven, and himself remained.

But, in truth, could he and Raven even be considered X-Men anymore?

They had left. Walked away from that life.

Erik was back now, and he had no intention of leaving again. But could he ever truly claim that title again?

It didn’t feel right.

And maybe it never would.

Erik heard Jean speak beside him, her tone light with excitement. “David is adorable. I can’t believe he’s a telepath as well—so exciting.”

He turned to look at her, taking in the way her bright, fiery red hair made her stand out among the rest of the students.

“Indeed, it is,” he admitted, “but also a bit worrisome.”

Jean nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah… the Professor has told me about the many challenges that come with telepathy as you get older.”

Scott, who had been quiet until now, scoffed. “That’s an understatement.” He glanced at Jean before looking back at Erik. “I’ve seen her wake up from nightmares that weren’t even hers. It’s not an easy power to live with.”

Jean shot Scott a pointed look but didn’t deny it. Instead, she turned back to David, her expression softer.

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, simply watching the younger children play with David. The baby cooed as tiny hands waved toys in front of him, his eyes bright with curiosity.

After a while, Jean stood up, stretching her arms. "I should head back to my room. I have a test coming up, and if I don’t study, the Professor will definitely know.”

Erik and Scott, both gave her a nod, and with a small wave, she left the room.

Silence settled between them once more, but this time, it felt heavier.

After a few minutes, Erik turned to Scott.

“I’m… sorry about your brother.” The words left his mouth before he could fully think them through, but something in him told him they needed to be said. “Alex… he was a good kid.”

Scott was quiet for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the floor. When he finally spoke, his voice was measured but not unkind.

“Yeah… he was.” He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know, I spent most of my life looking up to him. He never talked much about Cuba or what happened back then, but I could tell it left a mark on him.”

Erik swallowed, nodding slightly. It left a mark on all of them.

Scott glanced at him then, his expression unreadable. “I don’t know what he would’ve thought about you being here now.” There was no malice in his words, just honesty. “But I guess it doesn’t really matter.”

Erik held his gaze, accepting the truth in that statement.

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

Scott nodded, then looked back toward David. After a moment, he smirked faintly. “You know, if he were here, he’d probably have some dumb joke about you being a dad now.”

Erik let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “I can only imagine.”

Erik fell silent for a moment before speaking again, his voice quieter this time. “Back then… I used to train Alex and Sean. And weren’t they the worst duo to have together? Always causing trouble, constantly testing my patience.” A small, almost nostalgic smile flickered across his lips. “I guess I never realized how much I missed it until now.”

He took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts before continuing. “Alex’s mutation always astonished me—the sheer power of it. I knew from the moment I saw it that he had the potential to be extraordinary.” Erik glanced at Scott, his expression thoughtful. “It’s not surprising that you share a similar gift.”

Scott nodded, his jaw tightening slightly as he blinked rapidly, as if trying to hold back tears.

In truth, he hadn’t known much about Erik. Neither Alex nor Charles had spoken about him in great detail, and what little Scott did know came from history, from reputation.

For a long time, he had believed that if he ever met Erik, he would hate him. That he would look at the man and see only the destruction, the pain, the mistakes.

But sitting here now, listening to him speak about Alex with such genuine respect—he didn’t feel any of that.

And maybe that was when he finally understood why Alex had looked up to Erik the way he did.

It made sense. Alex and Erik had more in common than Scott had ever realized. Maybe, in some ways, Erik had been the closest thing Alex had to a father figure.

Scott swallowed before clearing his throat. “You know, tomorrow all the students are training down in the bunker. If you want… you should come.”

Erik looked at him, slightly surprised. Then, after a brief pause, he nodded, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I think I’d like that.”

Scott gave a nod as he stood up. “I’m gonna head up now.”

Erik nodded in return, watching as Scott walked away. He lingered in thought for a moment, but the sudden cry of David quickly pulled him back, tearing his focus away from his emotions.

Pushing himself up from the floor, Erik walked over and gently lifted David into his arms, rocking him slightly in an attempt to soothe him. Some of the younger students, realizing that the baby was likely tired and no longer in the mood to play, got up as well, quietly gathering their things.

Erik offered them a small nod. “Thank you for keeping him entertained.”

A few of them grinned, waving as they headed off.

With David still fussing softly against his chest, Erik made his way toward the kitchen. As he entered, he found Charles already there, calmly preparing a bottle as if he had anticipated this moment.

Charles glanced up, smiling. “Perfect timing, as always.”

Erik huffed, shifting David in his arms. “He’s impatient, just like his father.”

Charles chuckled as he finished warming the bottle. “Which one?”

Erik rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips as he stepped closer.

Charles handed the bottle to Erik, who adjusted David in his arms, shifting him into a more comfortable position. As soon as the bottle reached his lips, the baby’s cries quieted, replaced by the soft, rhythmic sounds of sucking.

With a quiet sigh, Erik made his way to a chair and sat down, cradling David close. Charles rolled himself nearer, his gaze warm as he reached out and gently ran his fingers over the baby’s soft hair.

Has it really been a month already?

It felt surreal, how quickly time had passed. The days blended together in a haze of late-night feedings, quiet moments, and the small, everyday changes that came with raising a newborn.

Charles let out a soft chuckle, as if reading Erik’s thoughts. “It’s crazy, isn’t it? How fast time moves.”

Erik nodded, his gaze fixed on David. “Yeah… it really is.”

And as he sat there, watching their son eat, he realized just how much his life had changed.

And he wasn’t afraid of the change—not anymore. Once, he might have been. But now, he was embracing it.

Erik had never imagined his life turning out this way.

As a boy, lost in the throes of suffering, death, and Shaw’s cruelty, he had believed he had no future. Hope had been a dangerous illusion, a false sense of security he refused to let himself cling to. He hadn’t believed in happy endings, in a better world, in anything beyond survival.

But then he met Charles.

And, despite everything, he began to hope again.

Through countless nights and mornings—after Cuba, in the Pentagon, with the Brotherhood, in cheap hotel rooms or abandoned buildings—he had clung to the smallest flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, a happy ending was possible for him. He was never one for optimism, but perhaps Charles’s influence had rubbed off on him more than he cared to admit.

And in those lonely nights, when no one was around to see, he let himself believe.

Erik tilted his head back, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling as he closed his eyes. A soft smirk played at his lips.

He had won.

After everything—after all the pain, all the loss, all the chaos between him and Charles—he had made it.

Shaw had always told him he wouldn’t live long. That he would never know love or kindness because he didn’t deserve it. That he was too tainted, too broken to receive anything good.

But Shaw had been wrong.

And Erik reveled in the knowledge that he had proved him wrong.