Chapter 1
It’s been already a week since the battle with Apocalypse, marking the longest time Peter had spent around mutants. He was leaning against an old oak tree now, crutches at his sides, observing Erik Lehnsherr, sprawled on a bench, and the Professor, in his wheelchair, having a conversation. Must have been something about the mansion, the speedster decided.
Nearby, in an ocean of lush green grass, the speedster’s new friends, Ororo, Kurt, Jean and Scott, settled down. Raven and Hank, along with the rest of the teachers, kept an eye on the students scattered around the school grounds.
He peered into his father’s features, his disheveled hair and growing beard, which in the light of the sun was glowing red. Although the man looked calm, dark circles under his gray-blue eyes betrayed his insomnia, caused, as Peter guessed, by the horrible memories of his family’s murder. Regardless of the way how Magneto was presented through the media as a terrorist and killer, the young man couldn’t see any of it in the man he was now looking at. Still, he didn’t tell him the truth, didn’t tell him that he is not alone in this world, that beside the family bounded by long friendship and a common feature they all shared, namely mutated genes, he had a family by blood.
But just like in the battle with En Sabah Nur, or “the blue dude” as the speedster called him, he didn’t have the courage, Peter, that silver-haired whirlwind who was still in fact a child, didn’t have the courage to look into those blue-gray eyes and confess. It tortured him every moment of being near Erik, but at least he had the opportunity to get to know him better, to learn more about his habits and moods, his relationship with Professor X, Mystique and Beast, the oldest and, perhaps, the only friends that were still alive.
What if, by revealing the truth, he scares Erik off, who had never been particularly eager to stay at school? What if he rejects the long-lost family, he didn’t even know he had and probably never wanted? These constant “what ifs” filled the speedster’s mind every time he approached his father with the simple “I need to talk to you”.
“How is your leg, boy?” Erik said so suddenly that Peter flinched. “Maybe you’d better sit down? There is enough space for two.”
Quickly recovering, the speedster answered lazily, “Nah, I’m all good here. You know, I can’t sit still in one place for long, like for real.”
Erik gave him a short nod, his whole expression turning rather indifferent. Peter almost sighed with relief and disappointment tangled in a messy knot.
“Is everything alright, Peter?” the Professor asked in his soft all fatherly manner, his penetrating gaze seemed to find its way into your soul, or rather into your mind. Though with Maximoff it was not an easy task, his mind was too fast even for Charles to read properly, and he tried once. Just to find out what was eating the speedster inside, nothing more.
The temptation to confess the truth with the telepath beside him was strong, but Peter fought it all the same. It felt wrong to drop such a thing on unsuspecting Erik, as if he were trying to replace his lost daughter, which he clearly didn’t intend to do.
“Don’t worry, prof,” the speedster replied, grinning. “Enjoy the peace while you can.”
“Best to heed the advice,” said a girl’s cheerful voice somewhere behind Peter. Painfully familiar voice, for some.
Maximoff turned around abruptly to see the girl, whose eyes were fixed on him, she was approaching the young man with a bright smile on her face. She wore a mahogany red leather jacket, a black T-shirt with the AC/DC name on it, black jeans and lace-up boots, that were matching the jacket perfectly.
Peter’s jaw almost dropped in surprise, his eyes stung a little. He flew up to the girl as fast as he could, forgetting about his crutches, squeezing her tightly in embrace. She wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him lovingly, her eyes closed, no hint of a smile left in her features. The two of them stood there clutching at each other as if they didn’t expect to meet again, for a moment, the world around them ceased to exist.
Everyone gaped at the scene, unaccustomed to seeing Peter so vulnerable instead of being sarcastic and witty from dawn to dusk and some more. The young mutants even moved closer on their blanket, ready to shamelessly eavesdrop. All of them were wondering at who might this stranger be to Maximoff. Even Charles and Eric swapped a glance, looking perplexed.
Pulling back slightly, the girl brushed tenderly Peter’s gray hair from his face, scanning his features. She then stepped back, her hands slid down his shoulders to his elbows, and stared at the heavily painted cast on the speedster’s leg, a line appeared between her brows, something like guilt crossed her features.
“I’ve barely been gone and look what happened,” she declared, shaking her head contritely.
Her gaze fell from Peter to the floating above the ground crutches at his sides to the mutants behind, studying them.
Her face brightened, before she chirped amiable “Hi!”, waving her hand in greeting.
Meanwhile, silver-haired Maximoff leaned back on his crutches, surprised at the second kind gesture from Magneto that day. He wanted to say his thanks, but the words failed him again, dying on the tip of his tongue. Not that Erik could notice it anyway.
The Professor gave the girl one of his charming warm smiles. “You must be Peter’s friend?”
“Well, it depends on what meaning you imply within this word,” she replied, then grimaced, a mirror expression of the speedster’s face.
The two of them exchanged glances, snickering at something known only to them.
“Seems like I’m doomed to live in the shadow of your glory,” she teased, her eyes sparking with amusement.
He made a comic face mulling it over. “Not anymore since you’re here.”
At that she tsked and rolled her eyes good humoredly.
“I’m Wanda.” The girl smiled, approaching Xavier and extending her arm. “Peter’s sister.”
Ororo, Kurt, Jean and Scott, who had been eavesdropping all the way, gasped, their eyes round with astonishment. You could hardly blame them; the boy and the girl were direct opposites. Peter, with his silver hair and almost black eyes, was a head taller than Wanda, whose wavy long hair was the color of dark wood and her eyes, framed by long black lashes, were bewitchingly green in the sunlight. The choice of clothes – the young man’s attire was all eye-catching silver in contrast to the girl’s darker tones – made them even more unlike.
If Xavier were surprised, he chose not to show it. Erik, on the contrary, assessed them as if these two were unsolvable riddles that he was challenged to solve.
“It’s nice meeting you, Wanda,” Charles replied, shaking girl’s hand lightly. “I’m Charles Xavier. This is Erik Lehnsherr.”
Wanda extended her arm to Magneto, her soft but cold hand met Erik’s warm and callused. She peered into his face as if spellbound, her smile faded, it looked like for a moment the girl forgot how to breath.
“Wanda. That’s an interesting name,” Lehnsherr said.
The handshake apparently dragged on because Maximoff heard Peter clear his throat.
“Right. Sorry,” she said sheepishly, finally letting go off of Erik’s hand and taking a few steps back. “Nice to meet you, both of you.”
The man gave her a small smile, wondering what caused such a response. Did she see his speech seven years ago? Or saw him in the recent news as a murderer of the policemen and destroyer of the world? Was she afraid of him? Despised him? At the end of the day, one human full of hatred more, or less, it didn’t really matter. Those who mattered, were again taken from him.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? Did something happen? Is everything okay at home? Have you been expelled from your school? How did you even get here?” Peter fired a hundred of questions at her, blurting them so fast only Wanda, accustomed to the speedster’s manner of speech, could really get the meaning.
“Surpriseee!” the girl crooned exaggeratedly, spreading her arms wide. Then her face lit up, finger pointed at Peter. “Also, thank you for reminding me!”
She hit him upside the head, taking him by surprise.
“Ouch,” he hissed, rubbing the back of his head though her touch was featherlike. “What was that for?”
“Oh, that’s from mom,” Wanda answered, crossing her arms over her chest and nodding to her words. “Apparently, she misheard you saying that you, Peter, are actually not fine, that you can’t come home since your leg is broken and your arm is dislocated. I just casually mentioned my concerns regardless your well-being and guess what, she freaked out! I barely talked her out of coming here.”
Peter’s eyes went round, but he quickly pulled himself together. If their mother had come here and accidentally, or worse, deliberately bumped into Erik…Phew, he couldn’t even imagine what would have happened then. Wanda practically saved his ass. Though he could swear he heard the Professor tsking disapprovingly and Erik glaring at him accusingly.
“I just didn’t wanna upset her, okay?” he exclaimed, defending. “What’s with your school?”
“Oh, Oxford is fine.” Wanda waved her hand dismissively. “Their hands are full with renovations and stuff. Besides, you know, I can be charmingly convincing.”
Peter gave her a quizzical look, knowing exactly how “charmingly convincing” she was. At times, his sister could be as impudent and dodgy as he was.
“Do you study at Oxford?” Charles asked, further marveling at the enormous difference between the two young people. If it weren’t for the similar body language and that mischievous glint in their eyes, the Professor might have thought that these two were trying to wrap him around his finger. “What are the fields of your interest?”
“English literature and foreign cultures.”
Inadvertently, Charles recalled his student years, how he sat for hours peering into the textbooks until his eyes turned red and the delight he felt when discovering the answers to the unknown.
Looking at Peter now, you could tell he was very proud of his sister. Though he himself never liked being at school and liked completing all the assignments even less, he was in awe of her desire to learn the world through classics and history books, it was a pleasure seeing her passion and joy when she talked for hours about the importance of Flaubert’s “Madame Bovary” in depicting a woman’s image in the 19th century, or about Germanic tribes settling across Europe to form the wealthiest in culture countries. In a sense, she was his private tutor from whom he never got tired and didn’t want to ruffle her hair or hide all the textbooks in the aquarium. And it happened before, rest assured.
“It’s been a while since I’ve visited Oxford,” the Professor mused. “A lot has changed, I assume,”
She smirked. “The world may go to hell, but that place is encapsulated in the Middle Age.”
Even Magneto’s lips were tugged with a smile at Wanda’s perky attitude reminiscing her brother’s.
“It would be nice to talk with a fellow Oxonian,” Xavier said, succumbing to Wanda’s charm. “Are you planning on staying here?”
“Oh no, no, don’t worry about it,” she said hurriedly, waving her hands as if to prove the words. She cast a glance at her brother. “I’ll find a place to stay somewhere nearby and –”
“There is no need for that,” the Professor interjected, his voice gentle. “If you want, you can stay here for as long as you like.”
Wanda hesitated, then looked back at her brother’s beaming face. “Well, if it’s really fine with you, I guess I’ll better stay around Peter. Thank you for the hospitality.”
He gave her a nod, before Maximoff, as happy as a child on Christmas, dragged the girl to meet his dying to know all friends.
Erik and Charles only heard that Wanda had come from Washington to here by car, the one she borrowed from their mother and it sounded like she forgot to ask her permission first. Well, “borrowing” things without asking seemed to be a family trait.
….
Swiftly, Peter introduced his sister to the young mutants, who were openly gaping at his sister. Before they tried to conjure any questions, the Maximoffs were gone.
“How is mom?” Peter asked, walking beside the girl to their family’s car.
Wanda gave him a half shrug. “A bit more under the influence, but all in all seems fine.”
“And –”
“I didn’t see Lora. She was already at school struggling with math. Just like we did not so long ago.”
The two of them swapped a glance, grinning.
The speedster tried to take Wanda’s suitcase out of the car like a gentleman he has never been, but she ignored his feeble attempts like an independent woman she has always been.
Together they walked to the main entrance of the mansion, each thinking about the strangeness of the situation in which they found themselves
Although during her time at Oxford and life in England in general, Wanda got used to the slightly outdated but charming style of the British, Professor X’s school bewitched her as soon as she stepped in. Dark hues of the interior combined perfectly with light ones, curved wooden panels and imposing staircase were mixed with soft rugs, golden chandeliers and cream stone walls somehow creating a very cozy home-like atmosphere. They walked along long corridors with numerous rooms, children were darting back and forth, cackling.
Peter found a spare room for his sister, which turned out to be quite spacious and bright, there was even a TV set.
All the while she was unpacking her luggage, her brother kept talking, bombarding her with numerous facts and useless information about the inhabitants of the mansion. But she loved hearing his chatter, she missed it greatly, missed him. After all, the silver-haired speedster was the very reason she left her own school and came here. He and Erik Lehnsherr, if being completely honest. Knowing that he was here, she couldn’t miss the opportunity to meet him. Even if he wasn’t aware who she really was, who they were to him, she still wanted to see him in person.
Neither Peter nor Wanda plucked the courage to discuss that here and now. They diligently avoided the subject, talking about all and nothing, excitement and anxiety tangled in their cores. Besides, it wasn’t really safe to talk about such private matter with God knows how many other mutants with various powers. In Wanda’s opinion, already too many people knew something that still remained a secret for the one who should have known.
When she finished with her luggage, the girl threw a cardboard box at the speedster.
“Twinkies?” Peter exclaimed joyously. “Oh, thanks, sis. You’re the best!”
Wanda grinned. “You bet.”
....
In the evening, the Maximoffs went down to the dining room that was full of people. As soon as they entered the hall, Mystique approached them to meet a mysterious newcomer the whole school was buzzling about. She, like Hank, didn’t look like mutant at all tonight, their skin lacked that remarkable blue they shared.
Saying her greetings, Raven invited Peter and Wanda to join her and Hank at the table, Erik and Charles were already waiting for them. Ororo, Kurt, Jean and Scott, who were late after another outing to the mall, had to sit awkwardly with them, too. No one had ever dined at the same table with the fantastic four. No one would even dare to sit down with them. Not because they were frightened or because it was forbidden, but because the X-men were respected among the students, they were role models for many (even Magneto, for some).
Peter and Wanda sat between Raven and Hank respectively, Ororo joined Mystique, Jean and Scott, seemingly inseparable love birds, sat on the corner of the table next to McCoy, Kurt was twitching nervously in his seat, across from Wanda and sandwiched between Lehnsherr and Xavier. The table was fully occupied with mutants Maximoff felt like she already knew, thanks to her brother. She was aware that Raven was the first person Peter told about Magneto being their father, she later revealed the secret to Ororo, the girl who originally fought on the “blue dude’s” side, that Jean was also know because she accidentally read it one day in Storm’s mind and couldn’t resist telling Scott. Kurt was the last to find out and it made him even more awkward around Lehnsherr. But none of them let the Maximoffs’s family drama slip, though they tried to encourage the speedster to open up to Erik on numerous occasions.
Now the young mutants were casting glances at Wanda over their plates with beef stroganoff and mashed potatoes.
“So, Wanda, is everything alright at home?” Charles asked, breaking an uncomfortable silence hovering over their table. He really was interested in whether everything was fine in their family, but he also wanted to see Washington through Wanda’s eyes, to understand the extent of the destruction after the battle with En Sabah Nur and what uninvolved people thought about it. Of course, he could easily look into the head of any person, but his moral principles didn’t allow him to invade other people’s minds unless absolutely necessary.
“Pretty good, actually,” Maximoff replied, guessing Professor’s stream of thoughts. “Seems like the government truly cares about their people this time. Local police officers are checking houses, asking if there are major distractions or family members missing and all.”
Erik’s forehead creased, the only evidence of him even listening to the people around. That or he just didn’t like the mushrooms on his plate.
Peter smirked, imagining his mother’s face when another police officer knocked on her door.
“No, not our house, of course,” his sister amended, sneering. “I’m pretty sure it went like that.” She lifted her hand, peering at her open palm as if it were a list full of names. “Lebowski, check. Smith, double check,” she said in a poor imitation of a man’s voice, then scowled. “Maximoff??” The girl lifted her eyes, round in resentment. “Triple dash!”
Peter huffed a nervous laugh, and only then did Wanda realize that she made a mistake. She gave out their last name sitting at the same table with Erik. Luckily, or unluckily, the man was immersed in his own thoughts and didn’t hear Maximoff’s joke. None of them was sure he would remember their mother’s name anyway, still Wanda made a mental note to be more careful next time.
“Why is that?” Ororo asked, genuinely interested.
Wanda glanced at her brother. “Well, Peter and local cops have their history together.”
At that Lehnsherr lifted his head, a question playing in his steel-like eyes.
“It’s not me to be blamed for their outdated mindset,” Peter said lazily. “A few borrowed stuff isn’t a crime.”
Hank and Charles shared a look, remembering how several years ago they, together with now disappeared Logan, went to Peter’s house, and had been greeted with “What has he done now?” as soon as the door opened, his mother even offered to write them a check. They were bewildered than. Before stepping in the basement full of whatnot, from TVs to numerous Twinkies boxes, the place was stuffed to the brim.
“You yourself made a contribution, sis,” the speedster went on with a sly wink at Wanda.
“Shut up!” the girl exclaimed indignantly, smacking her brother on the arm. “It was one time only! We made a bet and I won.”
“Sore loser,” Peter coughed in his hand. Wanda returned the favor sticking her tongue out.
“I wonder which of you is the oldest,” Raven grinned, clearly amused by the scene.
“Also, are you like, half siblings?” Summers asked offhandedly. The question nagged him for hours so he jumped at the opportunity to finally pose it.
Jean nudged him with her elbow, offering Peter and Wanda an apologetic smile. But in all truth, these were two main questions that arose in the head of everyone who sat at this table.
Peter put his arm imposingly over Wanda’s shoulders. “I’m the oldest.”
“Since when twelve minutes make you truly older?” the girl sneered. “I just kicked your lazy ass out so I could see the world finally.”
“Hey!” the speedster exclaimed, then sighed resentfully. “We’re twins,” he admitted rolling his eyes, but the words came out as a fact the young man was actually proud of.
All the eyes were on Peter and Wanda now, peering into their faces for conformation. Even Charles, with his all-gentlemanly manners, could not resist the urge to compare the youngsters. To their credit, they just sat there completely unbothered, letting the mutants accept this hard-to-believe fact. The twins have become accustomed to incredulous glances.
“You must be punking us,” Scott puzzled, not wanting to give up on his idea of Peter bringing his girlfriend to the mansion under the guise of a sister.
“Well, genes can be tricky,” Wanda crooned with a smug expression on her face. “I reckon Mr. McCoy can explain it to you, Scott.”
Hank’s eyes lit up at her words, looking at Maximoff twins as if they were his new genetic research project. “Indeed. Chromosomes can turn specific genes on or off, the environment for fetal development also has an important impact. Identical twins with identical DNA can look different, not to mention behavior and personality traits. There are also non-identical twins that are known as –”
“We got it, doc,” Peter interjected with a look of disgust. “It’s a dinner, not a nerd committee.”
Wanda giggled into her glass of water, nearly chocking on it.
“Are you super-fast, too?” Kurt asked the girl, his eyes filled with curiosity.
She gave him a quizzical look. “As fast as a snail.”
“I like running fast, she likes driving fast,” Peter amended. “Speaking of that, when did you return to the States?”
She scrunched up her face, doing mental calculations or trying to belittle the question. When her brother didn’t relent, she capitulated, “Today, I guess.”
Peter’s brows went up. “Today?! Did you even sleep?”
“Well, how much of a sleep is a real sleep for you?” Wanda hedged, sipping her water.
She then glanced up at his dark eyes, an unstoppable force met an immovable object. The tension between two siblings crackled like static when they turned to their regular inner conversation. It wasn’t a superpower they possessed, at least not in terms of mutation. Since the day they were born, Wanda and Peter had this otherworldly twins’ connection when the one could look the other in the eye and in most cases unmistakably tell what their feelings or thoughts were. Just like now.
But I asked you before going.
I admit, I downplayed the danger. I should have stopped you, or better, come with you. Now I feel like I’m a shit of a sister.
That’s a bullshit and you know it. Besides, nothing really bad had happened.
But it could and I’m honestly pissed with mom’s attitude ‘I can’t stop you. Nobody can.’ Like hell no one can! I could but I was too busy with…
You’re too busy with blaming yourself for something you didn’t have control over.
Maximoff could see it better now. Weariness lurked at the corners of his sister’s mouth; the dark shadows begun to build under her eyes. He noted it as soon as he saw her earlier that day, but was too taken aback by her coming here that he didn’t look closer.
“Anyway,” Wanda broke first under the weight of the silence. “Sleep chose the path of becoming the nemesis of my mind lately, so I’m more of a nocturnal creature right now.”
I close my eyes and feel your pain and horror all over again, wondering what I would do if something had happened after all, her eyes said instead.
Peter had enough of “what ifs” this past week and didn’t want to entertain any macabre possibilities. It wasn’t in his nature to begin with. But when he put himself in Wanda’s shoes it dawned on him, her fears and despair, the guilt, he would feel the same way if something happened to her.
The speedster drew his sister tighter to him, reassuring her that he was there, right next to her, as always. Wanda got his message because she pressed her lips in a small but warm smile.
Charles debated if he should offer Wanda his help, after all it would be nothing for him to calm down her mind and put her in a long much needed sleep. One look at Erik eloquently said “don’t you think that slipping into one’s mind would be appreciated”, Raven’s eyes shone with short and simple “maybe”, whereas Hank was consumed by the idea of running a few tests on the twins, which Xavier didn’t approve.
“If you have trouble sleeping, I might help you,” the Professor said gently to the girl.
“With all due respect, Mr. Xavier,” she begun, startling him with already rusty address no one really used these days, “I’m not inclined to let anyone rummage in my own mind, it’s a measure of a kind I do not have the need for.”
Raven clamped her lips together to keep the smirk in. Wanda really was her father’s daughter.
Erik’s face lit up with a smug “I told you”, guessing a hell of a temper behind the mask of an affable Oxford student.
Peter, ever the attention seeker, drew focus on himself. “Did you see my flight suit? It matches my goggles. Though I would add more silver to it. And made the collar more flexible so it wouldn’t make me claustrophobic. And Walkmen. And headphones.”
“And you still need to give it to me,” Hank intervened but went unnoticed by Maximoff.
The speedster jumped up from his seat, too nimble even with the crutches. The boundless amount of energy in his mutant body demanded to move more than one hundred times within two minutes.
“Thank you for the dinner and your company,” Wanda said, standing up, too. Then she looked at Kurt, adding with a warm smile, “Schönen Abend noch und gute Nacht*.”
Before Nightcrawler had a chance to reply anything his mind could conjure at that, the Maximoffs withdrew from the hall. He couldn’t say he missed home, because he practically had none, yet it was nice to hear his mother tongue in a new, still unfamiliar environment. It made his heart miss a bit and his cheeks heat up from an unexpected sign of attention intended only for him. Wanda’s simple gesture eased up Kurt’s anxiety for the whole evening, the first one when even Magneto’s presence didn’t get on his nerves.
....
Truth to be told, Maximoff never managed to sleep in new places, and then there were two telepaths with the ability to penetrate your mind at any time of the day, but especially at night, when you lose your guard. After tossing back and forth in the bed for an hour, Wanda finally gave up and took out a book from her suitcase.
She liked classics or something that didn’t seem clear after the first reading, but sometimes she gave a discharge to her brain and read something that entertained her or distracted rather than made her think.
She spent her night with the “Interview with the Vampire”, drawing pleasure from reading about the life of someone who never existed, wandering with him through the back streets of fictional events. When it was nearly dawn, sleep had mercy on the girl and she dived into a dreamless oblivion, a book instead of a pillow under her head.
But it didn’t last for long. The welcomed darkness was frightened away by the clattering of children’s feet somewhere down the corridor. When Wanda opened her eyes, the hands of the clock on her nightstand were slowly reaching out to the number eight. With nothing left to do Maximoff got out of bed.
She did her morning routine, then shimmered into denim mini skirt and bright multihued shirt, put on white slouch socks and Nike sneakers and left her room to meet a new day.
Surprisingly, the school was still empty except for her sleep’s intruders, two boys playing hide and seek, and a woman in a plain dress who Wanda thought to be a teacher. Maximoff went down the stairs, intending to explore Xavier’s mansion while it wasn’t occupied with chattering students, or her boisterous brother.
After the dinner Peter took her to his room showing off his flight suit, which, by the way, really impressed the girl. Whatever inconceivable fashion trends came over the last years, she had never seen anything like this before: impeccable black stretchy material, with stone-hard armor plates on the chest and shoulders, and the neckline really looked like it was going to suffocate you once you put this all on. Peter chatted late into the night, retelling the battle with Apocalypse with new details to his sister, whose company ha had been missing dearly. Wanda patiently listened to the story she already knew well, again thanks to the speedster, until his babbling turned into gibberish and then quiet snoring. Maximoff covered her brother with a blanket, brushed the unruly strands of gray hair from his forehead, and watched him sleep peacefully for a few minutes before going back to her room.
He must have been still sleeping and Wanda didn’t want to wake him up, at least someone in this family should be vigorous and cheerful.
The girl wandered through spacious halls and long corridors. Specs of dust swirled in the morning sunlight slipping through large windows. Maybe she was too delirious from days deprived of sleep or the place was truly magical, but being here seemed like an improbable dream, it simply couldn’t be real. A school for mutants? With teachers and opportunity to learn your powers without being judged or feared? Sounded like an improbable dream indeed.
“Didn’t expect to see anyone here so early,” a soft voice said, awakening Wanda from her thoughts.
She didn’t notice that she stopped in front of a closed room, simply standing here, silently peering into the wooden doors. When she turned around, she spotted Charles Xavier dressed in cashmere sweater and light grey trousers, looking fresh and ready to deal with any problem that came his way even at eight something in the morning. Or at least it appeared so.
Maximoff lifted her brow. “I thought when you’re literally living in school, full of kids and teenagers, you can’t really expect anything but unexpectable.”
Charles chuckled. “Couldn’t be truer.”
The corners of Wanda’s mouth turned up. Against her better judgement she liked the telepath. She used to censure him for bringing Peter to the Pentagon, taking advantage of his curiosity, childishness and arrogance of sort, for even asking a teenager, regardless of his powers, to break into a highly secure facility and basically steal an infamous criminal (who, ironically, turned out to be their father). Now, looking at Xavier she couldn’t resist his charm and kindness, his willingness to help those who needed it the most, his desire to achieve peace in the world constantly engulfed in feuds and wars. So maybe, just maybe, her better judgement was nothing more than her mother’s admonitions and prejudice planted by those who divided entire nations for their own selfish benefits.
“So, what are you doing here so early? And where is “here”, actually?” the girl asked genuinely confused as she was unfamiliar with the layout of the building.
The Professor gestured her to open the door and she obeyed. A high-ceilinged room that was hidden behind it took Wanda’s breath away, she walked in as if bewitched, her eyes shone with admiration. Charles watched the girl with a smile.
“Amazing,” she muttered, her fingers tracing old book spines.
It was a beautiful library, filled with countless volumes of classics, scientific and historical works, the smell of old paper and ink wrapped you in a tight embrace as soon as you stepped in.
“Feel free to come here any time,” the Professor offered, taking a book from the shelve.
Maximoff was positively puzzled. “But the mansion was practically wiped out of the ground! Where did you find all of these books so fast?”
“That’s true, many works were destroyed,” the telepath admitted ruefully. “However, many of them were stored in the chapel nearby, Hank also moved some of the books to the bunker as there was not enough space for them. Initially I was against his idea, but now I’m glad he insisted.”
Indeed, when the girl looked around more attentively, she spotted empty shelves here and there.
“Mansion, chapels, bunkers. What a life you must have had as a child growing up here,” Wanda wondered.
Xavier sighted. “Not as fabulous as you imagine.”
Maximoff tilted her head, studying him. Whatever it was that she found, it made a line appear between her brows, her eyes turned pensive, distant even. Then she blinked it away.
“That’s a pity,” she crooned. “I expected to find the door to Narnia somewhere on your grounds.”
The sudden change in her mood caught the telepath off guard, his mouth opened, then snapped shut as his brain tried to comprehend the stream of her thoughts and moods that, as it seemed, switched pretty fast. Once he realized it was her way to cheer him up, a smile touched his lips.
“Did you meet C.S. Lewis?” Maximoff asked enthusiastically.
“No, unfortunately I didn’t,” he replied. “But every once in a while, I walked through the alleyway, past that door and a lamppost, wondering how complicated human brain is. To look at something one might find ordinary and create a whole different world, write it down in a way that catches other minds. Fascinating!”
“I find it quite fascinating that you, with your brilliant mind, even read a children’s book when you must have been around my age or even older, on your way to get your Ph.D.s in completely opposite fields.”
“How did you know? Did you read my works?” the Professor asked astonished.
The girl gave him a half shrug. “I wish Homo Neanderthalensis and Homo Sapiens intrigued me as much as a magical wardrobe and talking lion, but nope, not my thing really.” Then she added, teasing shamelessly, “Or maybe it’s the writing style.”
Charles laughed outright at that, enraptured by Wanda’s wit one could consider irreverent, but he found strangely refreshing and captivating. It reminded him a bit of young Erik with his sharp remarks and sarcasm, lighthearted if he was in a good mood.
“Well, maybe you would like my history lessons more,” Xavier suggested. “Care to join my students after breakfast?”
Before Wanda could reply, they heard a rather dreadful pounding and clattering, and in a span of a minute Peter appeared on the threshold of the library, his hair raffled from sleep.
His eyes narrowed, darting from the girl to the telepath. “What are you planning here? Spill the secrets!”
“Good morning to you, too,” Wanda said with an impish grin. “You must have woken up the whole house, running as if it were the last day of Pompeii.”
The speedster’s forehead furrowed.
That’s who a history lesson would not hurt, the Professor though.
“I assure you, it would be in vain,” the girl retorted as if reeding his mind. Noticing his surprise, she explained, “You may have the greatest mind on planet Earth, but some things can be easily read on your own face.”
“What are you talking about? Some nerd stuff? Books? Don’t tell me you slept here!” Peter interjected, looking at Wanda.
“Don’t be ridiculous, I wouldn’t fall asleep here,” she replied, making a sweeping motion over the shelves filled with books. “And I’m actually wearing different clothes.”
Maximoff waved her words off. “C’mon, breakfast is waiting! I’m starving.”
As in proof his stomach rumbled, drawing a giggle out of Wanda.
The girl fell into step beside her brother, halfway through the corridor she looked over her shoulder at Charles. “Thank you for the invitation to your class, Mr. Xavier. Maybe some other time.”
And off they went.
....
Somehow the Professor managed to drag silver-haired Maximoff to his history class one day, hoping that the young man might like at least a part of it, precisely the debates where all the students expressed their opinion on various topics they study.
When Peter entered the room full of kids waiting for the class to begin, he practically choked on his chewing gum. There was one particular person he didn’t expect to see here at all. In the far corner of the room, perched on the windowsill, Erik was writing something in the notebook.
“Please, come on in and take a seat, Peter,” Charles said, trying to embolden the young man.
Maximoff could have tried to sprint out of here (Xavier wouldn’t chase him down the hallway, would he?), but Magneto had already spotted him, so it was too late to back out and look like a complete weirdo.
The speedster tramped to the only empty chair that was, as luck would have it, unnervingly close to Erik and sat down awkwardly with a heavy sigh.
“Alright, class, today we will focus on ancient history.”
The children enthusiastically opened their textbooks, ready to hear the lecture. Meanwhile Peter got bored already, his foot tapping with superhuman speed, drawing Lehnsherr’s attention.
“Aren’t you too old for the ancient history class?” he asked, lifting his brow.
“Aren’t you too old to repeat your junior year or something?” Maximoff deadpanned. He caught a glimpse of his father’s smirk and encouraged by that response, added, “But seriously, what are you doing here? It’s like I’m here against my will. Not that prof got into my head and forced me to come here, but he managed to sweet talk me in his usual manner, you know? One minute I was in the hall and boom I’m already here. That’s a rare feeling for me really. And my sister slipped away somewhere. Charming some poor dude, probably. She woulda definitely loved it. The history class, I mean, not charming some dudes. Though…”
Erik put away his notebook, trying to comprehend the speedster’s babbling and regretting that he opened his mouth in the first place at the same time.
Alright, I can’t ignore that monologue, can I? Although I can, but it won’t stop him from chattering further, Lehnsherr mused. He seems to be asking why I’m here. Why am I here really?
“I’m helping the Professor to rebuild the lower level of the school,” he said at last.
Peter narrowed his eyes, nodding. “Cool, cool, cool.”
He remembered what that strangely fancy place looked like before the explosion, but he didn’t know what it was used for.
“Does prof have like a club with exclusive membership and they like gather there?”
One of Erik’s eye muscles began to twitch. “What? No. It’s not some secret society.” But then he gave it a second thought. If Xavier were really planning to create the X-Men team the kid wasn’t really wrong. “Well, I wouldn’t frame it like that, it’s –”
“Oh, so prof has a secret club.” The speedster’s face lit up. “Are you a member?”
Lehnsherr sighed in defeat. “No, I’m not a member of any club.”
“Too bad,” Peter said with disappointment that surprised the man.
“Why is that?”
That would mean you’re not a bad guy after all. Probably. And that you won’t leave the school and disappear for another seven years, Maximoff thought.
The speedster shrugged. “I dunno, you look like you should be. You’re very powerful and all, right? So maybe you and prof can help people.”
Erik’s face darkened. “Charles may have hope for humanity, but I’ve seen firsthand what kind of unspeakable things people are capable of doing. It’s not my job to help them.”
“Still, you helped to defeat Apocalypse,” Peter parried.
“That doesn’t change anything,” the man objected. “Why do you care? Did Charles send you to brainwash me?”
Magneto cast an annoyed glance at the Professor, who simply talked about the ancient Egyptians building their pyramids.
Super-duper great, shot through Peter’s mind as he realized he pissed off his own father.
“Take a chill pill, man,” the speedster said conciliatory. “Brainwashing isn’t my thing, though my mom often says that I can blow anyone’s mind with my talking. But it doesn’t count as brainwashing, right? At least I don’t think it does.”
Poor woman, Erik thought as his anger started to dissipate.
“If you continue tapping, we would need a woodworker.”
Peter’s brows drew together in bewilderment. Lehnsherr pointed to the speedster’s leg that still tapped on the floor making a noticeable hole in it.
“Crap!” Maximoff hissed as he stopped destroying Xavier’s newly rebuild property, his face became a mask of an angelic innocent kid in a second. “That was already here when I came.”
“How old were you when you broke into the Pentagon?” Erik suddenly asked.
The speedster crossed his arms over his chest with a cheeky grin. “Why do you care?”
The man gave him a pointed look, so he shrugged in “whatever” and simply said, “Fourteen.”
“Fourteen?!” Lehnsherr exclaimed. “Charles would've never put a child in danger.”
Charles cast a suspicious glance at them but didn’t stop talking about the Egyptian hieroglyphic script.
“A teenager,” Peter corrected. “And it wasn’t really dangerous. Practically, I got in and got out. Didn’t even take anything as a souvenir. Other then, you know –” he winked conspiratorially at the men “– you. And that guard’s cap.”
Back than Erik thought that the silver-haired miracle looked a bit young, childish even. Especially when he broke that glass with such a joy as if someone gave him the stars right from the sky. If all these swaggering politicians found out that their super-secret prison was robbed by a fourteen-year-old kid, they would have pulled out the rest of their hair from their heads. Well, it sounded like back then, Charles apparently lost not only his powers, but also common sense.
“Why did you even agree to that?”
“Who doesn’t want to break into the Pentagon?” Maximoff sneered.
“But what about your parents? Didn’t they try to stop you? Reason with you?”
Peter crinkled his nose. “Nah. Mom quit trying when I was like in the six grade.”
Erik frowned. “And your father?”
The speedster felt extremely uncomfortable hearing such a question from a person who was his father. He fidgeted in his place, looking anywhere but the man, and mumbled, “That’s a damn hard question.”
“I shouldn’t have asked,” Lehnsherr said in earnest. “That’s none of my business.”
You couldn't be more wrong even if you tried, Peter thought regretfully.
“You didn’t have a beard seven years ago,” the speedster noted suddenly. “Though it looks kinda bad.”
Involuntary Lehnsherr touched his chin, smoothing the stubble that, unnoticeably for him, began to turn into a real beard. “Said the boy,” he quipped.
“Said the old men,” Maximoff mocked slightly offended. “That’s a shitty way to accept a compliment, you know?”
Erik lifted a brow. “You just said I look bad.”
Peter rolled his eyes, letting out an annoyed sigh. “If I say ‘bad’ it doesn’t mean like ‘bad’, it means ‘good’.”
“What happened with the word ‘good’ then?”
“‘Good’ is good, but ‘bad’ is like really good.”
Jesus Christ, what an illogical logic this generation has, Erik thought to himself, fighting the urge to slap his forehead.
“But you better do something with that or else you’ll look like a bum in a few days,” Maximoff suggested, forgetting that uneasiness he felt just several moments ago.
Magneto was marveling at how offhandedly Peter talked. It didn’t really matter if it was the Master of Magnetism, the Professor or the President himself, the silver-haired youngster was the same with everyone, it wasn’t even a mask. Erik caught himself wishing the speedster not to lose this trait on the road of life.
Charles tried his best to ignore the fact that Maximoff wasn’t listening to his lecture, but, to Xavier’s surprise, was involved in rather lively conversation with Lehnsherr instead. He never doubted Peter’s ability to make a conversationalist out of anyone, yet Erik was a real challenge not every could handle.
In fact, these two, although they were talking in hushed tones, distracted the children, who occasionally turned around to watch how their favorite “adult” chattered with the infamous…antihero.
“Let’s discuss what we learned today,” Xavier said, interrupting his own stream of thoughts. “Peter, would you like to share your opinion on the daily life in ancient Egypt?”
The whole class turned to Maximoff as if on command, waiting for his answer.
Peter gawked at the Professor, blinking rapidly as if the man poured a bucket of cold water on him or woke him up in the middle of the night to ask if he was sleeping.
“They were sort of cool, right?” the speedster began. “All these pyramids, strange signs on the stones and linen robes. Though I knew one ancient dude, he had this, you know, leather skirt and strange tubes around his head. That one wasn’t cool. And he had this kinda creepy voice.”
“Alright,” the Professor said hesitantly. “Thank you, Peter. Who else wants to share their thoughts?”
Erik folded his arms over his chest, watching silently the scene.
“Did he use hieroglyphs?” the girl asked Maximoff.
“Nope,” the young man crooned. “Used only English.”
“I think we –” Xavier tried to intervene, but was interrupted by the boy who exclaimed, “Did you see the pyramids?”
One after another, the students bombarded the speedster with questions, completely forgetting about Xavier and the lecture he had given today. Charles’s half an hour talk was in vain.
I should have taken Wanda’s word for it, shot through his mind.
....
In the morning, after brushing his teeth and washing his face, Erik looked in the mirror (for the first time in the past few days that were an emotional roller-coaster of sort for him) and furrowed. The boy was right, two days have passed and he looked like a bum now.
Lehnsherr sighed and opened the drawer in search of a beard trimmer.
....
*Have a nice evening and good night