And Never Come Back If You Find Another Galaxy
Peter could feel something. It was like a whisper in his ear. Low, continuous.
Sad.
So very sad.
The voice was familiar and yet not.
It tugged at his heart.
Left him restless as he wandered the mansion in the twilight hours just to do something. Anything.
"Pete, are you alright?" Charles wheels into the room peter has currently decided to pace in. He briefly toys with his headphones before shrugging.
"Yeah..." though he knows the telepath already knows he's lying.
"This is the third night that you've been wandering around." He looks concerned. Imagine that.
Someone concerned over him.
His heart twinges suddenly, he begins to pace again. Thoughts going faster than his feet as he hears the siren call settling in his bones.
It feels like home.
Like long brown hair brushing his cheek as he leans into the arms of his—
"Peter?" He stops, he briefly prods at the feeling of home.
Flashes of red light suspended over pale hands.
"I have a sister, you know?" Peter pauses, hands coming up to fiddle with the connection to his headphones as he briefly ponders where he is going when he hears that voice brushing against him and feels sorrow, longing, despair in an all consuming tide that does not ebb but flows, flows flows, as if grief were a field with no end in sight.
He jolts back into himself, headphones ruined, holes worn into the wooden floor and Charles closer than before.
"They took her away. She's like me but not..." he remembers how cruel the kids at school were. And how much it hurt to see Wendy so angry at the world.
So sad.
Did they see how much pain she was in?
Had they seen her suffering?
Or had they simply seen a girl with power and anger and lock her away before throwing away the key so that she would never see the light of day again.
"She didn't deserve that Peter." He can feel a brief sensation, foreign from the one he was used to sharing headspace with and figures that Charles had sifted through his memories while he was in a downward spiral.
"I havenn't been able to feel her in years." And then all fo a sudden he could.
And yet.
"Peter." Charles sounds serious. As serious as when he asked if he would ever let Erik know the truth.
But he deflects.
Like always.
Running away.
It was his super power after all.
"She's calling me." He can see red creeping into the edges of his vision, Charles shouts but he is slow.
Too slow.
Everyone is.
No one was ever able to get him to slow down. Not like she could.
He's running.
Always running.
But this time he's running home.
Home in a place that feels foreign.
Home to a sister that is not his own and yet still his as he feels the world shatter and come to a halt as he dies.
He meets the eyes of his twin and even though they are not the twins of the same half, they are still missing pieces that fit together.
His arms fit around her as they embrace, her arms slot into place around him as if they had never left.
This isn't home.
But he's willing to step up to the plate and fill the role that was stolen from him.
All thoughts of their father that would never know them flee his mind.
Charles' misplaced concern slips away like water.
He is home in a world not his own, with a sister that is grieving and raging and hurting because of the world.
With wounds pulsing and aching in his body that mirror the end of a world.
But theses wounds make him feel alive.
So he will take this place.
He will follow the script.
And become Pietro Maximov instead of Peter Maximoff.