Every cloud has a silver lining (and a scarlet one)

“I’m telling you for the tenth time – I haven’t been to New York for over ten years. Let alone stealing my car from some parking lot!”

Maria Maximoff began to think that she took the wrong turn somewhere on her way to school and driven on the highway to hell otherwise how else could she end up in this stuffy police station, handcuffed and interrogated by some dim-witted cop who asked her the same questions over and over again, expecting to get different answers.

“You think it was a parking lot you stole it from?” officer A. Thacker (judging by the badge on the immaculately black uniform) latched on an innocent quip.   

“No!” the woman exclaimed.

Yesterday she woke up as usual at 7 a.m. to make a cup of instant coffee with two tablespoons of sugar and a bit of milk before going to Lora’s room but when she sauntered to the kitchen, a piece of paper in the middle of the table caught her attention. Having unfolded the note, she immediately recognized Wanda’s handwriting.

Sorry for being sneaky bastards and for keeping m.i.a. throughout the last week. There was a lot to unpack and still is but we want you to know that we love you endlessly, mom.

P.S. As promised, your car, safe and sound, has been returned to its place.

Yours truly,

Peter and Wanda

Maria wished she could hug and scold her children at the same time for coming home in the middle of the night and not even wakening her up. With the note still in her hands, she came out to the porch; a brief look at her car insisted that everything was alright even though the gut feeling testified against it.

I knew I should’ve called them right away!

“Mrs. Maximoff –”

“I’m not married,” she corrected him, letting out a heavy sigh.

Confusion drew a subtle line between the officer’s brows as he blinked at forty-two years old woman sitting across the table. She stared back, unyielding. Why is it a man is always a Mr. but the way to address a woman changes once she is married or had a bit more silver in her hair? The twin’s mother refused to obey this absurd rule of society.

“Ms. Maximoff,” the man began anew in a condescending tone, “your car was towed to the impound lot two days ago –”

“You weren’t able to find a car from the neighboring state for two days?” she rephrased his sentence with a scornful smirk. “It could’ve been already sold for a good amount of cash in such a time.”

“You were going to sell your car?”

“I didn’t say anything even close to that.” Full of indignation, Maria quenched the urge to slap the cop’s mustachioed face with that file he kept flipping through. “And I thought you pulled me over for drunk driving.”

“Yes, just about it.” Officer Thacker raised a pen as if he had already forgotten about the mentioned aspect of the case. “Ms. Maximoff, have you been drinking alcohol today?”

The clock on the sand-colored wall ticked like a bomb timer.

“Good afternoon.”

The woman flinched in her seat. She whipped around to the source and to her utter astonishment found Wanda. She stood in the rays of summery Washington that seeped through the half-opened blinders, her face was striped with light, the slightest hint of auburn she had always had in her hair now cut into consciousness in a fierce flash.

“Excuse me?” the officer asked, looking her up and down, assessing. “If you are here on the business, please, talk to officer Hansen.”

He directed a way to the man who pored over a pile of documents a few desks further into the room.

“Oh, I came here on the occasion of a big importance indeed.” The girl eased a chair over to the officer’s desk, the wood cavalierly dragged on the concrete tile before taking a permanent place a few feet away from its twin that was occupied by Ms. Maximoff.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” she said in a laid-back tone and extended her hand to the man, “I’m Wanda Maximoff.”

That mask of plastic amicability didn’t waver one bit when the gesture was left unanswered, the only sign Wanda even paid it attention was that the corner of her mouth curled into a wicked “suit yourself” grin for a fracture of a second.

Maria couldn’t take her eyes off her daughter. The girl looked like an attorney at law in the black trouser suit and hair combed in a slick ponytail, in comparison to her, the woman’s buttonless paisley-print pants and skin tone T-shirt complemented with a messy half-up hairstyle screamed “a single mom with love life issues”.

A chain of thoughts began to uncoil in her mind. How did she know I’m here? Did someone see me arrested? Did they call Lora’s school?! Good Lord!

“You shouldn’t be here, Miss Maximoff,” the officer noted matter-of-factly when Wanda took a seat.

“On the contrary, officer –” she posed as her eyes narrowed, running over the name on the badge “– Thacker. Since my mother’s car had been in my possession until yesterday morning.”

“Did I hear you correctly, Miss Maximoff –” there was a hint to his otherwise restrained self-presentation when he sat forward, resting his hands on the desk “– you want to tell me something I need to know?”

“It depends,” Wanda drawled evasively.

“What are you doing?” Maria whispered to her daughter with a pointed look, finally overcoming the loss for words.

Their eyes met and she could tell in an instant there were multiple plans formed in the mind of her girl to get away with this situation.

When Wanda’s gaze then fell on the pieces of metal that curled around her mother’s wrists, there wasn’t enough warmth in the light coming through those blinders to crack the ice in her voice when she spoke to the policeman again. “You see, the thing you need to know is that when I parked my car on one of New York’s streets and it was towed, unreasonably so, I went to the impound lot and paid the fee to get it back. Now, you tell me what I need to know to understand why my mother has been arrested and brought in here, handcuffed, that is, by the way, an unnecessary measure.”

To be fair, it wasn’t the arrogance that laced her words, but the terror from seeing someone she deeply loved being, in a sense, trapped, and the shame from knowing that her and Peter’s decisions led to this. For the most part at least, because the alcohol factor didn’t go anywhere.

“How old are you, Miss Maximoff?” officer Thacker decided to try another way, his tone switched to somewhat fatherly. “I want you to understand that if what you said is true, it means you just confessed to the theft since your mother’s car, Ford Ltd II FLA 178, went missing from the impound lot in New York City two days ago. There is no document confirming the fee was paid, the lock on the lot’s gate was nowhere to be found in the morning and the man who worked that night there said somebody asked him about the car but didn’t have the license or anything else to prove it was their property to pick it up. So, I’ll say it again, if what you stated earlier is true, you may face a conviction to one year in jail and your mother will have to pay the fee for drunk driving.”

By the end of that monologue, Maria fought the need to ask the man for a tissue because cold sweat beaded over her brow.  

“I have no inkling as to why the car is considered to be “missing”,” Wanda responded.

Or how this bloody fool could lose all the forms I filled out, she growled inwardly.

“As for the rest of what you said –” the girl lifted her shoulder in a nonchalant half-shrug “– It seems like a series of unfortunate consequences.” 

More like a badly performed plan, really, her inner voice amended with a pinch of bitterness.

Before the incredulity that edged the policeman’s features could grow into conviction in her involvement, thus being guilty with the brought charges, Wanda blurted out, “It’s a pity the impound lot employee lost the documents but its copy is in the glove compartment of my mother’s car.”

“It is?” her mother asked and the girl couldn’t say who was the biggest skeptic in the room at that moment.

Her attention flicked back to the man in the uniform. “Where’s the car now, officer Thacker?”

“I left it parked on Rhode Island Ave, but, you, Miss –”

“Look, just give me an hour to get the documents and put an end to this misunderstanding. It’s not like I’m going to step out of this office and run away into the sunset.”

The policeman opened his mouth to retort but once again, Wanda spoke over him, continuing to bend her line, “And even if I do due to some momentary lapse of reason, you still have a suspect fitting enough to charge with theft.”

“Excuse me?” Maria swiveled her head to her daughter in high dudgeon.

The girl didn’t dignify it with the answer, her eyes were locked on the colorless ones that belonged to the man who sat across the desk and smoothed his mustache, pondering over the voiced offer.

It took him a while, but, eventually, he leaned back in his chair, the shield-shaped badge on his chest gleaming authoritatively, and simply said, “Alright.”

“Alright?” Wanda repeated not quite believing if it were the real reply or if her mind conjured the desired.

Officer Thacker gave her a stiff nod. “In an hour I’ll start doing the paperwork, so…”

The soles of the girl’s loafers had briskly clapped against the stoned floor. “Shall see you in an hour then.”

She rounded the chair, giving her mother’s shoulder a light yet still reassuring squeeze, and walked away. The farther she went, the more her confident lawyer guise fell so that when she flung the police station doors open and stepped out into the street, uselessly gulping hot air, her heart thudded against her ribs like a wild bird suddenly caged.

Kurt, who was waiting for her on the stairs all this time, leaped to his feet.

“How did it go?” he asked, troubled by the look on her face.

Past him she staggered down one step after another, her eyes flicked from a municipal building to passing cars to strolling passersby before they stumbled upon a suspicious character standing under the window of the police station. He looked Wanda up and down, then pulled a small box out of his grey hoodie and silently offered a cigarette to her. Silently, she accepted it and watched the paper burn and smolder when the stranger lighted it.

Desperate to find anything to calm down the all-consuming emotions that only incited the power prowling restlessly within her core, waiting to be let out and reshape the mess into normalcy, the girl inhaled the smoke.

“Bad decision,” Wanda croaked to no one in particular because the feeling she experienced could only be described as “a fire-breathing dragon sneezing into itself”. Although it did work, knocking some sense back into her (together with the unnecessary doze of nicotine).   

With a “keep it cool, keep it together” smile the girl handed the cigarette butt to the stranger and held a feat of cough in until goggle-eyed Kurt guided her away from that place (but mostly from the unemotional guy).

“I didn’t know you are smoking,” he noted, hesitant as to why his friend was bending over red-faced.

“Does it look like –” Wanda quickly abandoned her attempt at giving a witty reply, fighting the agonizing tingling sensation in her throat.

“Can I help somehow?” the young man asked carefully, reaching out for the girl.

She shook her head but clutched at his offered arm, the soft fabric of his shirt crumpled between her fingers. Kurt didn’t mind it one bit.

“In a nutshell, we are fucked,” Wanda said and sniffed as she tipped her head back, a tear ran down her cheek. “Whew, that was intense!”

“What does it mean we are –” the young man stumbled on the swear word, searching for the substitute “– what you’ve just said?”

“It means that the impound lot clerk lost the documents and practically accused my mom of stealing her car. Jean croaked a disaster.”

“What are we gonna do?”

Wanda braced her hands on her hips and sighed. “Well, we have an hour to somehow draw the papers and sell them as a “copy” to the local cop because I’m pretty sure I saw Peter wrapping a bubble gum in the real release form.”

Kurt looked around and asked, voice lowered to a whisper, “Why don’t you use telepathy?”

“Because a mind is the only truly private space a human being has. Violating it means you’re either unable to put yourself in somebody’s shoes or think yourself better than the others, relying on the powers gifted to you by sheer luck. My mom has taught me that.”

Her features softened with love and some pleasant memories as she spoke.

“Plus, my power is practically a Russian roulette, you never know what would happen when you enter a foreign mind. As selfish as it may sound, I don’t want to see someone’s misfortunes, least – be trapped in them.”

“Actually, seems quite reasonable,” he said quietly, warmly. “Your mom is a good teacher.”

“The only one I had.”

They stood so close to each other, enveloped in something translucent yet so intricate, small smiles caressed the corners of their lips. In the rays of the slowly setting sun Kurt’s eyes reminded of two pools of blossom honey, sweet and healing. Gingerly, he skimmed a knuckle down her jaw, brushing away a remained tear. Wanda’s lips parted, her gaze locked with his, and…

The bubble burst under the onslaught of the high-pitched sound of a fire-truck siren howling somewhere down the street. Both youngsters flinched and made an involuntary step back, outstretching the distance between them.

“Yeah, so…erm…well, that teacher –” Wanda scratched her brow “– is now arrested and I–we have to get her out.”

Kurt tried to get out an agreeing “mm-hmm” but it came out too strangled, so he had to clear his throat.

“Yeah,” he managed to say, jamming his hands in the front pockets of his black trousers. “We need to figure it out.”

Every prayer eddied from his head, leaving him alone with the feeling in his chest and this girl.

“Do you remember the impound lot location? Can you make it there?”

The teleport’s gaze wandered elsewhere but her when he replied, “I can try to get there in several jumps. We’ve gotten here somehow, right? Two people is not a big crowd so I think I’ll be able to teleport us to the impound lot too. Eventually.”

“Good,” Wanda drawled, her palms met with a light clap as she shifted from one foot to another.

A long-drawn moment of inaction drew another, more awkward “good” from her.

“Oh, yeah! Erm…” Kurt pulled his hand out of the pocket at the same moment the girl reached out to him, two brisk gestures that led to a collision.

“Sorry, I just –” the young man stuttered, massaging his wrist.

“Aw, I thought you –” Wanda blubbered, rubbing her knuckles.

“Okay, I’ll put my hand here –”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

Kurt’s fingers carefully wrapped around her upper arm and they were lost in a wisp of bluish smoke that teleported them to a tiny eatery somewhere on the sideroad. Puff and they were standing on the brim of a bridge looking down at a lazy river. Another puff drew a scream out of them both as they faced an oncoming train.

“Sorry,” the young man yelled, still deafened from the rumbling of iron wheels come crushing against the railway when they found themselves safe and sound in the middle of some birch grove. “Are you alright?”

Wanda’s breathing was ragged, her pupils were so dilated her eyes seemed black like her brother’s, but she yelled back, “I’m alright, let’s keep going.”

The mutants had to visit two more places Kurt noticed during their ride from the Big Apple to Washington before their feet touched the gravel of the unfortunate impound lot.

“I feel like I’m gonna pass out,” the girl mumbled, no longer sure if it were her wobbly legs that still retained enough strength to hold her in a vertical position or if the credit belonged solely to her friend since his hands were wrapped around her in a supportive half hug.

“Please, don’t,” the young man replied and Wanda’s drowsy mind could swear there was a fair dose of facetiousness in his tone.

It was the second Maximoff who pinched Kurt that day.

A proper look around gave the youngsters a real picture of the place they robbed two days ago. The night served as a Fairy Godmother to that underwhelming landscape, its darkness enshrouded the rusted chain link fence, and playfully twinkling stars, together with the refreshing breeze, did a great job at distracting from the fact that this place reminded of a junkyard more than the specially allocated space for storing towed vehicles.

As they neared the clerk’s cabin, Kurt couldn’t take away his gaze from the “treasures” scattered all around the area, surprised he didn’t get injured last time while Wanda counted their almost successful hijack as a blessing because she could not find a single car behind the fence that was more than a dusted wreckage.

“Did you get the plan?” the girl asked, straightening the perfect lapels of her blazer.

“You distract the guy, I search for the documents or grab a blank form if necessary,” the teleport answered, repeating the phrase for the third time already.

“Hi!” Wanda chirped into the cabin’s window, making the clerk flinch in his seat. It turned out to be a young man barely older than her, the fancy glasses he wore made his brown eyes look too big for his face.

“Hi! Can I help you?” The more he studied the girl, the pinker his freckled cheeks became.

Aw, a newbie, crossed her mind.

“I hope you can,” Wanda crooned with a foxy smile.

In a span of two minutes, she conned the ginger-haired guy into leaving his post to be her guide in that “labyrinth of abandoned cars where my broken birdy was waiting for her”. Kurt had to shake her magic of batting eyelashes as not to go and find that nonexistent car himself.

Once they left, the young man teleported into the cabin to do his part of the plan.

One hundred papers later he was sitting at the clerk’s desk, languishing from the heat, even though a small fan was blowing right into his face at the maximum speed of rotation.

“Hey, you!” he heard someone’s roar from the street. “I’m talking to you, you piece of shit!”

The young man lifted his head to look out of a small window that was violated by some spitting man.

“Where’s my car?!” A vein popped out on his reddened forehead as he went on with the screaming. “I left it for five minutes on Fletcher not for you morons to drag it here! Do you know who I am?! Do you know who the fu–”

“We are closed,” Kurt announced with a straight face and shut the window, too engrossed in finding the needed papers to notice his own cold-blooded composure.    

Jerry, Rhonda, Robin, Debbie, Troy, Alan…It seemed like with each new name the young man saw written in the countless vehicle release forms that were not Wanda Maximoff, the temperature in that tin grew one degree higher. He could no longer tell if the pounding was his racing heart, or the blood rush echoing in his ears, or the man who threatened to break in, demanding his car to be returned.

Two undid buttons on his barn red shirt hardly made any difference to the feeling of melting like butter on a pan but Kurt went on searching. Not for long though as two stacks of papers turned into one.

Desperate he sprang to his feet, a pen and a blank form in his hands, and looked around.

“Right, right! Go back to your fucking work!”

Though muffled, that outburst from the outside still caught the teleport off-guard so that he jerked back and bumped into a steel cabinet, knocking over the rubbish its top accumulated. It was not a cabin but a box, small, stuffy, and suffocating. There was too little space in there. The ceiling and walls were too close to him, they surrounded him, squeezing him down to the floor, leaving him no chance to escape.

Our dear Father, hold me in the…light of God…Hold me in the light of God. Protect me from danger.

He couldn’t breathe, just couldn’t take a single breath of air in his lungs.

Save me by Your command. Listen to my prayer…

Kurt’s heart was pounding so fast he thought he might throw it up.

Keep me safe.

His head emptied out, his vision blurred, tunneled to the crumpled papers scattered under his feet.

Wanda Elizabeth Maximoff

Breathing rugged, he hunkered down, almost losing his balance, and picked a vehicle release form.

Letters in black ink twisted like serpents on the paper but the name wasn't venomous, it was heartwarming, freeing.

Wanda Elizabeth Maximoff

Out, out, out. He needed to get out. Find Wanda and get the hell out of there.

Kurt rolled the paper up and hastened out of the cabin. He pushed the door open, nearly knocking the “Do you know who I am?” man to his ass.

“Mein Gott! Sie sollen mich doch nicht so erschrecken!*” the teleport scolded him, shaking the scroll just in front of that red with anger face.

The gesture, much like the tone (since the threatened side was not familiar with the German language (with no language but the boorish one, if being frank)) didn’t find a positive response. On the contrary, it provoked a new surge of hot rage and hands squeezed into fists, that luckily, were not destined to meet the target since the teleport called for his mutation and disappeared to pop up by Wanda’s side a second later.

The impound lot clerk let out a high-pitched yelp, but to his credit, it was an involuntary response caused by surprise rather than by fear of the young man’s unique appearance. He had been wandering among the rusting wreckages with the girl for quite a bit of time, searching for a blue Ford she thought up on the go.

Wanda’s whole posture loosed up once she realized her friend, whose face was beaming, held the ticket out of the problem.

She took the filled vehicle release form and handed it to the ginger-haired guy. “Could you please send it to Washington Police Department? I would be really grateful.”

He blinked repeatedly at the youngsters. “But –”

“Forget about the birdie, I must have mistaken the lot. But send this, alright? It’s really important,” Wanda said in a politely persistent tone and didn’t take her eyes from the clerk until he gave her a nod.

“Thank you.”

Kurt waved his hand as a polite goodbye and both turned on their heel to make a final exit, gravel scrunching under their feet when an aggressive exclamation caught with them. “Hey, I’m not done with you!”

“What’s going on? Who is he?” Wanda asked, furrowing at the hot-footed man.

“Let’s leave it to the impound lot guy to find out,” the teleport urged and placed his hand between her shoulder blades to puff the hell out of there.

This time the journey through space was a few jumps shorter, suggesting that constant practicing indeed helped to wield the mutant power, at least in the case of teleportation.

Unlike Wanda, who strode down the street with confidence, Kurt had no idea where they were but he liked the area much more than any part of noisy New York he had the chance to witness. They stepped on clean tiles, which sandy grains twinkled in the last rays of the sun, the well-groomed houses cozied up on either side of a wide road gradually gave way to one-story red brick buildings – grocery stores, small bakeries, exuding the smell of freshly baked buns, an art studio which large windows gave a glimpse at the work of its loyal visitors, a vintage store, fearlessly exhibiting its treasures outside. The birds, hidden in the green crowns of the countless trees, were singing their last song while striped bumblebees buzzed busily over the flowerpots peppered here and there along the avenue. Even the whirring of the passing cars blended in with the peaceful atmosphere.

“Hello there,” Wanda crooned and Kurt swiveled his head to her, half expecting to see the girl hug some old friend of hers or maybe an ex-classmate when in reality they stopped in front of a dark blue Ford. Well, in a sense it was her family’s pal of two years. It left the young man wondering how many adventures it and its predecessors had to endure having the twins as the almost owners.

The girl stepped onto the road, cautiously assessing both parts of the street, and, having rounded the trunk, stopped before the door to the driver’s seat. Even though the last time he was riding shotgun Kurt’s hair was that close to becoming as silver as the speedster’s, he walked to the front part of the Ford, aiming to sit next to his friend. He waited for Wanda to pull out the keys and unlock the car but she just kept standing, her expression strangely distant as if her mind was wandering somewhere miles afar.

“Wanda?” the young man asked carefully.

“In a minute,” followed a vague reply.

A light crease formed between Wanda’s brows as if she was listening to a whispered conversation. Then, the expression on her face brightened, her eyes lifted to the teleport’s and she jerked her chin at him, grinning. “Jump in.”

Already inside, Kurt realized what it was about. A red tendril of lively energy spiraled out of the girl’s fingers into the key slot and Ford’s engine purred.

“I always forget about this bloody thing,” she said with a casual shrug. “So I’m, like, a safecracker, I listen to the mechanism and choose the right combinations to open it up.”

She turned the steering wheel, smoothly changing the lines, and off they went into the sunset, quite literally since it was already mid-evening.

“No speeding, please,” Kurt pleaded, putting on the seat belt.

A wicked chuckle left her lips. “As you say, darling.”

They drove in silence for a short bit that was interrupted by the young man’s unexpected note. “You have a beautiful name.”

“All of a sudden?” Wanda glanced at him, sparks of amusement dancing around her eyes.

“No, it’s just I never knew your full name and I saw it on the paper today, so –” Kurt’s fingers fiddled with the blank vehicle release form he unfolded on his knees “– I think it sounds beautiful.”

“The name “Wanda” became famous because of a princess who lived in the 8^th century,” the girl said, taking a left turn to a narrow road. “She was one of the Vandals, a Slavic tribe that lived near Germanic settlements. Upon her father-kind’s death, she became the queen of Poland. All the legends say Wanda possessed an alluring beauty, however, one says it was the reason the German troops refused to fight her army, others – it was a damnation of sorts, the thing that men wanted to have hands-on thus were ready to wage war on the Poles, so she had to sacrifice her life for the peace of her people.”

They were driving past a street full of red cones and railings all along the way. A stripped building – a former office of some telephone company as it seemed –was a sculpture in the spirit of surrealism, its metal backbone screeched dangerously in response to the caress of the evening breeze.

“Turns out “The world will be saved by beauty” concept has a real flaw,” Kurt drawled thoughtfully before his lips pursed, sympathetic to the hardships of the medieval queen.  

“I’m familiar with Dostoevsky’s work,” he added, noticing Wanda’s brows going up, “though I can’t say I got the grasp on all the philosophical things hidden in it.”

“You know, I sometimes read the same book every year or two to see what new I can find there. And each time it’s different. It tells me different things and other people aren’t obliged to learn the same lesson I do.” The girl cast a glance at him, her eyes bright, then, as if checking herself, she grimaced. “Ugh, I sound like a total nerd at times.”

That sudden, quite comical shift in her expression drew a chuckle out of the young man.

“Well, you might be my favorite storyteller anyway,” he said, fond of the way she talked about things he never even really thought about.

The corners of her lips curled into a grin. “Don’t tell Peter, or that nice leather jacket you have would be hanging in someone else’s closet somewhere in South America in a blink of an eye.”

“Erm, you know, I think it already is.”

“What? Why? What did you do?” Wanda exclaimed not unamused, suspecting that something utterly ridiculous must have happened for her brother to conduct an act of mischief against one of the most modest young men she knew (though boredom could’ve easily been pretty good reasoning for the speedster’s deeds).

“I’m the main suspect in the “Twinkies theft case”,” Kurt mumbled, the expression on his face was one of obvious discontent. “I mean, I ate one biscuit but not the whole package! I don’t even like the thing; it tastes like you could wash dishes with it.”

Laughter bubbled up her throat, but she choked it down, the slightest shake of her shoulders the only evidence of the disrespect she paid to that serious problem.

“So you deny your involvement in the incident.”

“Of course!” The sudden gust of wind created by an overly expressive gesture of innocence the young man performed with his hand almost caught the documents and threw them right into the open window.

“Easy now, mate. I wouldn’t want you to chase down these pitiful papers when we are almost there,” the girl bantered.

“Sorry!” Kurt exclaimed, taming the blank form. “Maybe we should check the glove compartment after all. Just for the sake of it.”

Wanda tilted her head slightly in agreement, her focus mainly trained on the road as she outmaneuvered a particularly slow vehicle.

It took a moment for the young man to open a small cupboard hidden above the footwell of the passenger front seat as not to scratch the surface but once it was open a strong chemical smell meant to remind of strawberry banana flavor punched his nostrils.

“You were right,” he said, taking out a mercilessly crumpled ball of paper with a bubble gum cobble web inside. “Our drop by at the impound lot was a necessity.”

The teleport glanced at Wanda, half expecting to find a drop of amusement still lingering in her expression, instead her features became somewhat taut. Taking it as a sign of anxiety because of the cloud seen on the horizon, namely the police station building, his soft-spoken voice coaxed, “It’s going to be alright.”

The girl’s lips twitched in a semblance of a smile, not at all convinced by the soothing encouragement but grateful for the genuine attempt nonetheless.

When the Ford came to a complete stop at the free parking spot she pulled into, Wanda set the gear in neutral and got down to filling the blank vehicle release form her friend handed her together with a pen.

The yellow light of the lamp posts competed with the fading reds, pinks, and oranges of the sunset, twinkling at the pedestrians and drivers, harrying back home, hopeful for two days of blissful rest after a long weekend. Kurt absorbed the magic of mundanity and peacefulness like a sponge, wondering if his perception of Berlin he often times found cold and gloomy even in the brightest days of summer could’ve changed had he Wanda or the whole gang by his side. Perhaps not as much as he wanted, the fear of being captured had taken roots too deep inside his core to be stepped over that easily.

An unsettling thought slipped into his mind. Once a walking target always a walking target.

“Do you think you’re better than the impound lot clerk?”

The scribbling had come to an abrupt stop, a pen hovered an inch above the paper between Wanda’s fingers. Slowly, she lifted her head and turned her face to the teleport, a crease formed between her brows. He didn’t meet her stare and it was rather hard to guess what was going on in his mind since his face was half hidden behind long strands of blue hair.

“You know, you may give a start to a rivalry with such a question.”

“As much as I admire my mom as a teacher of morality, I’m not always a willing student,” the girl said, when the direction of Kurt’s thoughts finally caught up with hers, cutting off whatever apology was about to slip from the young man’s tongue because there was certainly one forming as his eyes were running frantically over her face. “I won’t pretend I’ve never used my power out of selfish reasons only, but overall, you must be really lucky if a thought to get into your head even sparked in me.”

The latter was said in a waggish tone to keep the teleport from making a mistake many did once they figure out there was a telepath in their inner circle – overthink every decision they made, pondering if it had been whispered, forced.

Yet nothing in her friend’s expression betrayed a shift in his judgment. On the contrary, it seemed like he was hoping to hear something similar. Wanda let loose a breath she didn’t notice she was holding.

She clicked a pen, rolled up the now filled document, took a look in the rear-view mirror, flicking some invisible imperfections off her face, and yanked the door handle. “Stay in the car. I’ll be right back.”

Armed with the most powerful weapon in a government agency – a paper with a stamp – Wanda instilled confidence in herself as if it were her shield against which nothing could stand, only shatter. She took the steps leading up into the police station, sauntering through a pack of policemen, who, judging by the dusted walkie-talkies perched on their shoulders and prattling on about who fined more people, were only rookies, and pushed the door. Not a ghost of evening coolness spied inside that building so that a strong odor of burnt coffee and sweat tighten around the girl like a rope.

The lit lamp on officer Thacker’s desk made him look like an old canary with a mustache. The clock behind his back ticked away fifty-five minutes since Wanda’s first visit when she slid the filled vehicle release form under his nose.

The man looked up at Wanda from under his brows, held her gaze for a moment, then dropped his attention back to the paper. He held it up to the light with one hand and propelled the square-framed glasses onto his nose.

“Why then the car was put on the list as missing?” the policeman mused, wading through.

“Not my concern, really,” the girl replied matter-of-factly. “Where is my mother?”

The two chairs at her side of the desk were empty.

Officer Thacker put aside the document. “Miss Maximoff –”

The ringing of the phone on his desk put whatever he meant to say on hold.

“Sorry, I have to answer.” The policeman gave her an apologetic look that made it harder for Wanda to keep her insolent demeanor perfectly intact. After all, he was just doing his job. “Officer Thacker is listening.”

He furrowed while he indeed listened to the speaker. In a minute, the fax on the windowsill to his left beeped and whirred, sticking out a sheet of paper with printed information. The man snatched it but his eyes barely ran through what was given in there.

“Next time check everything out before alerting the police. We have real cases to investigate,” he grumbled and hung up the phone, muttering something about “lazy bastards”.

God bless the impound lot newbie, Wanda snickered to herself as she caught a glimpse at the faxed paper. It was the very same blank she asked the ginger-haired guy to send here.

“Well, the allegations concerning the theft proved to be unreasonable,” the policeman croaked rather awkwardly, earning himself an “Oh, really?” look from the girl, “so no charges would be pressed against you or your mother.”

“What about drunk driving?”

“I think everyone would benefit if Ms. Maximoff attends the alcohol treatment course. It’s just a few hours per week.”

Officer Thacker picked up the phone again, but this time he was the one to make a call.

Perhaps there was some truth to his words, but it’s one thing when such thoughts lurk in the back of the mind, and another when some stranger expresses them out loud. For Wanda, it felt like a slap.

“Did you have that device to estimate alcohol when you pulled her over?”

“A breathalyzer?” he supplied, putting the phone down. “No, I didn’t need to. It was quite evident she was under the influence.”

Back there, in Poland, the officers also did their job – lured a little girl into the woods like bait and killed her after, together with her mother. The latter being an accident did not negate the atrocity of their act as a whole.

“Evident from what? Your senses must be so assaulted from years of working here I doubt you can smell onion cut right under your nose.” Wanda put her hands on the desk and leaned forward. The man froze, taken aback. More because of the predatory gleam in her eyes than the violation of his personal space. “What is it, officer? Did you exceed your authority?”

“Miss, you forget yourself –”

“Woman, single, shitty job, a couple of DUI tickets,” she persisted, aggression rolling off her in waves. “Did I miss something? Or is that enough to be arrested and left with no chances that anyone would check out things twice just for the sake of clarity and justice before rendering a judgment?”

Wanda stared into his dilated pupils, unblinking. It was hard to tell if the man was breathing.

“Now, I’ll tell you how it all really happened.” Her voice turned thick like honey, sweet and treacherous. “My mother was on her way to visit some friends who are new in town and, as a good guest, she took a bottle of brandy with her. However, on her way out of the house, the phone rang and she was told her daughter got sick. A little girl, who, by the way, had to wait an hour for someone to take her home. So, when my mother rushed to the school, worrying about her sick child, a bottle of brandy rolled off the seat and shattered, spilling all over the car. And we both know how much such smells permeate everything around, so when you pulled my mother over, you mistakenly decided that she had taken alcohol, and, since you didn’t have a breathalyzer with you, you had no way to check if your suspicion was correct. Given that the car, again erroneously, was considered stolen, you had to arrest a poor woman. With all that being said, this case is nothing more than a blunder.”

The girl finished it off with a slight upturn of her lips, an expression short of any amusement.

Suddenly, a creak of an opened door was heard, so Wanda backed down, straightening, though her gaze lingered on officer Thacker’s face for a few bits more before she swiveled her head to the source of interruption. And not for nothing. Officer Hansen, whom the girl saw pore over a pile of papers an hour ago, was guiding her mother right toward her.

“Your purse, Ms. Maximoff.” He handed Maria her brown quilted top-handle tote. “Have a better evening.”

Wanda’s brow arched as she watched her mother and the man exchange small smiles before the latter took leave. Somebody had been busy flirting while she was running around two states like crazy.

“What?” Maria asked, meeting her daughter’s bemused look.

“The issue is closed,” officer Thacker interfered, rising from his chair. “I apologize for taking your time, Ms. Maximoff. You are free to go.”

The woman’s eyes darted between Wanda and the policeman, but nothing suspicious was betrayed by their faces except the equally strong desire to bid farewell to each other.

“Thanks for the assist,” her daughter chirped to the man. “I’ll take these with me. Just in case.”

She nonchalantly picked up some papers from his desk as if they were her own, gave him a quick smile, and linked elbows with her mother, dragging her out of the station.

“What was that?” Maria asked, freeing her hand from the girl’s grip once they stood on the stairs. “Did you make him let us go?”

Wanda huffed and turned her face away, smiling bitterly at the surroundings.

“Oh, sure, because I’m good for nothing else,” she muttered and began descending the stairs, ripping the documents to pieces with frantic hands.

“Wanda, wait.” Her mom followed after her. “Tell me what happened. What did you and Peter get yourselves into again?”

The girl stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face the woman, shaking destroyed sheets of paper in the air. “Peter and I fucked up, that’s what we did! What about you? Did you really get behind the wheel drunk? Do you know how many fatal accidents happen because of drunk driving? And you were going to pick up Lora from school!”

Maria’s face took on a hurt expression. “I would never – I had a glass of wine late at night but that’s all! Carol should’ve picked her up today so –”

“Who’s Carol?”

“Stacy’s mom. She’s Lora’s best friend.”

Despite frequent telephone calls some bits of her family’s life were still missing, unreachable for Wanda.

She hurled the torn documents into a nearby trash can.

“So, a glass of wine late at night? What’s the occasion?”

“You don’t have to lecture me like a little girl,” Maria noted dryly. “Don’t you think it should be the other way around? What were you and your brother doing in New York? Why did you come at night and didn’t even have the decency to say hello, or better, stay till the morning? Where’s Peter?”

“Where do you think?” the girl mumbled as they crossed the road and approached the Ford. The swirling anger inside her was tamed, coated in shame, and regret.

Maria opened the car’s door, threw her handbag inside, and settled on the driver’s seat. And screamed.

“Bloody Hell!” Wanda exclaimed and opened another door, letting out frightened Kurt.

Her mother jumped out of the vehicle too, the look on her face wild. “Who the hell are you?!”

“Mom! Mom! It’s alright!” The girl stepped in front of her mutant friend and held her hands up. “It’s Kurt. He is a friend of mine and Peter. Kurt, it’s my mom, Maria Maximoff.”

“Hi!” The young man gave the woman an awkward fangs-on-full-display smile. “It’s nice meeting you, Ms. Maximoff.”

“Oh,” slipped from Maria’s lips, her hand that clutched at her heart dropped, unobtrusively smoothing down her T-shirt. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

Finally, she wanted to add because her son was telling her about a guy who can jump in space, teleporting you from one place to another since the first call he made from that damned school. However, lately, it was not the focus of Peter’s stories. He buzzed about how “the teleport has developed a crush on our Wan but she keeps being blind about it”, sparking her motherly curiosity. Plus, the boy called her Ms., which earned him a point right away.

“Ahem,” Wanda cleared her throat when the moment outstretched of staring at each other, making things awkward.

“Alright, kids,” Maria said rather spiritedly, “jump in the car and let’s go. Kurt, do you mind having mac and cheese for the dinner?”  

To his credit, the young man, whose nerves were getting the better of him, pressing to puff away somewhere under the weight of those hazel eyes, managed to get out something Wanda’s mom took as a yes. She nodded and got into the Ford; its engine whirred half a minute later.   

“I know, mate,” Wanda said sympathetically, patting Kurt’s shoulder, “mac and cheese isn’t something you got used to dining with, especially after such a day, but trust me, it’s the best option in the Maximoffs’ household. You must have made a good first impression if she even offered it. The last time I brought someone home she fed them with spaghetti-o jello. Needless to say, I’ve never hung out with that person after.”

The girl scrunched up her face at the memory.

Such a day it was indeed - chaotic, stressful, adventurous in an unimaginable way. Yet a day when he enjoyed life outside Xavier’s school walls. Even when he found himself pushed to the seat above the transmission tunnel, Ms. Maximoff’s handbag on his lap, serving as a sort of buffer between the mother and daughter.

“Let’s go home,” Wanda said, buckling up.  

....

“Oh my, am I part of an important moment? Your first mustache!”

Even though Jean held her hand to her mouth to cover from an ear to ear smile, giggles came out of her, lighthearted and uncontrollable, caused by a fine chocolate line under Scott’s nose.

Once Hank allowed the young man out of the recovery room, cautioning him against going under the sun, they snatched an entire cheesecake from the fridge in the kitchen and cozied up on the floor in her room, settled on nothing less than feasting selfishly on this work of culinary art. 

“Is it all I’m getting today?” Scott exclaimed, indignant, before he swooped the girl into his arms and toppled them onto the plush carpet, the forks clinked as they nearly knocked over a plate with cheesecake leftovers.

He nuzzled into her neck, threatening to smudge the chocolate over her skin, his hot breath tickling her earlobe, causing a million goose bumps ran over her body. Jean squealed and squeaked and laughed, wiggling under him, until he pulled slightly away and her eyes landed on his face. Scott could swear his life up and down she saw him. Those bright, dazzling eyes looked into his through those ridiculous glasses like they were simply not there.

He smiled down at her, his voice a little raspy as he said, “You’re important by yourself, without any moment.”

A different kind of smile adorned her features then. Jean smoothed her hand over his shoulder all the way up to the back of his neck, stroking the warm skin. “Does it work well on the girls?”

“I guess we’re about to find out,” Scott breathed out into her lips.

The kiss was on its very close way to happening when the door to the room flung open with a high-pitched Jean! The red-haired girl flinched and so did her power, throwing the young man off her so that he landed on the bed to then bounced flat onto the floor. And that’s it about the romantics, folks.

Caught completely off guard, Jean sprung to her feet, eyes wild.

“Zoinks!” Jubilee exclaimed, disgusted, as her gaze ping-ponged from her friend to the young man, imagination drawing pictures of what she might’ve witnessed. “Get a room you two!”

The telepath threw her hands. “We are in my room!”

Unconvinced, the shameless intruder waved it off with a condescending “Urgh” but helped her friend

“Were you gonna tell me about it?”

Jean flashed her a look, her cheeks reddening.  

Jubilee rolled her eyes. “Not about that.”

She looked down at Scott who climbed onto Jean’s bed, grunting and wincing and probably pitying his ego.

“Were your gonna tell me about Peter and Wanda?”

The love birds swapped a glance that didn’t at all seemed suspicious.

Erik? Wanda’s powers? They aren’t twins after all? (the last one earned the young man a mental pinch)

The red-haired girl decided to play out the safest card. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on.” Jubilee folded her arms over her chest, resentment lurking in her tone. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t take a part in it. I’m sure you all buzzed like crazy and didn’t even think to invite me.”

The understanding began to sink in yet Jean was unable to wrap her head around how her friend could’ve found out about the epic trip to The Big Apple and why she mentioned precisely the twins. Neither Wanda nor Peter, as talkative as he was, would’ve never uttered a word about their extravaganzas, otherwise, they wouldn’t be the masters of mischief. 

“Look, I…We…” The red-haired girl appealed to Scott but he looked as lost for cop-outs as she was.

A shadow passed across Jubilee’s face, she looked down, then lifted her gaze back at Jean, eyes gleaming. Nodding, the girl began to move backward, the hoops in her ears jingling like Christmas bells that were not at all merry, and having reached the door, she proceeded out of the room.

“Jubilee,” the telepath called apologetically. She followed the girl but once she was in the hall a tall figure blocked her way.

“I take it the news caught up with you.”

Jean was not prepared for the fact it was Erik. Erik who had never wandered in that wing of the school, least talked to the students, except for the twins. The girl couldn’t help the feeling that the Master of Magnetism was no less baffled to find himself around her room than she was. Yet, there he was. Minus the dinner on Wednesday, she hadn’t seen him since the work on getting the ruins of the mansion to look like a building again was done. His fate-beaten aura was overwhelming then and although it progressed to a brighter side it remained hard for the telepath to even stand close to him.

“I don’t think you and I are on the same page in this,” the telepath got out after all.

Erik tilted his head slightly and gave her a long shrewd look. “I just thought it was a nice coincidence that the next day after I came across the boy sprawled under my window the kids’ car disappeared from Charles’ garage. Moreover, they got a call from the police about their mother being arrested for a hijack earlier today. I find it highly unlikely the poor woman went as desperate as to borrow someone else’s car to get to work or pick up her younger from school.”

The blood in Jean’s veins went cold but it only made the gears in her mind turn faster, working out a string of logic. For a fraction of a second, it intrigued her how the human brain chose to sort out more and less important points in known information – for Jubilee it was crucial that the gang didn’t invite her on a trip, whereas Erik, as it seemed, was concerned that the twins were in trouble while their friends enjoyed that lazy Friday afternoon.

Hundreds of questions aroused in Jean’s head but she ventured to voice only one. “Where are Peter and Wanda now?”

“Kurt helped them back to their hometown,” the man answered flatly.

Judging by the fact it was the Master of Magnetism who appeared on her doorstep, Jean dared to assume that he kept silent about the unfortunate meeting with Scott and, accordingly, the Professor did not yet know that they were all involved in the shenanigan.

“O-kay. But what do I have to do with that?” the telepath said though internally she cringed from her own nonchalant tone.

As if he didn’t expect to hear anything else, Erik snorted and shook his head ruefully. “I hope Wanda will handle it better.”

“Handle it” was not just about putting up with the situation, it had an underlying meaning to it.

He knows Peter isn’t the only one who’s got a mutated gene, Jean guessed.

Perhaps the shift in Magneto’s aura could be credited to Peter and Wanda and their efforts and openness, albeit not complete, that were put into the formation of the bond with their estranged father (whether the man recognized it or not didn’t really matter).

The telepath watched Erik’s gaze flick behind her back, a hardly readable emotion twinkled in those solemn grey eyes, but not a single word had slipped from his lips. Without further pronto, he simply turned around and excused himself from the youngsters’ company, strolling down the hallway.

“What did he want?” Scott asked cautiously, coming closer to the red-haired girl.

“Help,” she replied distractedly.

When Jean glanced over her shoulder at the young man, a slight crease of confusion drawn between his brows, she added, “We need Ororo.”

And so they went looking for the Storm Ruler, rummaging through the school only to stumble upon her in the library with Pride and Prejudice in her hands. The look on her face was not of a consumed reader but more of a warrior on the battlefield. Somebody clearly disagreed with some of Elizabeth’s decisions.

“We’re busted,” Scott declared dismally and plopped down on the sofa, throwing his hand over its back.

Ororo, who was sitting on the Persian carpet with her legs crossed, tore her gaze from the yellow pages and looked up at her friends, a brow arched in silent question.

Having cast a look around, Jean perched on the coffee table so that the three now remained a circle of plotters, and ventured into the most detailed explanation of the situation she could give. It prompted a bunch of obscenities in Arabic a few minutes later.

“How are we gonna fix this?” the Storm Ruler asked, putting Jane Austin’s novel aside.

Jean nibbled at her lower lip. Her confidence began to slip.

“Because we are gonna fix this, right?” Ororo asked again though her tone held nothing that could say she was waiting for a negative reply.

Scott leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees, hands clasped tightly in front of him. “Does anyone have their phone number?”

The girls shook their heads.

“Even if we had what’s the point? I doubt they’re at home now,” the red-haired girl fairly noticed.

Ororo fell back in desperation, bumping into the sofa the young man occupied. Both watched Jean rubbing her temples as if the world around was too loud about their failure, causing the telepath a headache. An idea sparked in the girl’s violet-haired head.

“Is there any way for you to –” the girl wiggled her eyebrows meaningfully “– you know, get in touch with them?”

“Yeah, actually,” Scott drawled in agreement.

Just like in most cases, the telepath didn’t share their enthusiasm. “Maybe we should ask the Professor?”

“Magneto wouldn’t come to you if he hadn’t talked to the Professor first,” Ororo said flatly. “For whatever reason – he is out, so we have only you.”

“I’m not sure I can ­– Alright, I’ll try.”

You won’t leave it up anyway.

Jean closed her eyes and sighed through her nose, trying to relax the muscles in her body, but mainly – her brain. She strained to listen to something more intimate than murmur of the students in the corner of the library or the chirping of the bird on the windowsill. It took every ounce of her will to find the right tune, to detach herself from the world material to get into the world of ethereal and beyond fragile. Finally, a flow of indistinctive chatter poured into her head, her psionic power clenched desperately at the others’ thoughts, jumping from one mind into another in search of the twins.

Don’t bogart the boob tube, you’re not the only one who’s bored! Something freaky deeky happened to me last night. Dream on, fucker. Where’s my joint? I only allow good vibes in my pad. I only allow –

I’m scared!

I know, but you won’t learn control over your powers if you keep locking them inside.

Scott pretended he didn’t jump in his seat when Jean’s eyes suddenly fluttered open, the pupils in them dilated. “What is it?”

“I ran into Professor’s mental class with Benjamin,” the red-haired girl replied with a grimace of guilt.

“Did he, like, notice you?” Ororo asked.

“I hope not.” The telepath loosed a disappointed sigh. “I can’t find them. They’re too far from us.”

“You do you, but I can’t just seat here.” The Storm Ruler stood up, straightening the creases on her khaki pants. “I’ll go to the town, look if there are any direct bus routes to Washington.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit radical? What if you-know-who grass on us and you wouldn’t be here?” the young man shared his concerns in a lowered voice.

“I’ll tell you one thing –” the girl pulled on a conspiratorial face “– just don’t come out of the window.”

Scott let out an irritated tsk while Jean had to cover her mouth to hide the grin. Ororo winked at her and picked up Pride and Prejudice from the table, ready to execute her plan.

Thus, it meant that out of the whole gang only Jean and Scott stayed within the walls of the school. As luck would have it, Charles was always somewhere around that day, giving his protégé a warm, kind smile whenever their gazes met and it felt like a mockery of her conscience. Erik on the other hand disappeared from the radar as if he was gone from the school too or locked himself somewhere.

Toward the evening anxiety began to get the better of Jean.

“Don’t you, like, have classes to give or something?” she yelled at the Professor when she almost tripped over him in the hall.

His brows went up. “We’re doing half-day Friday, I guess. Wanda suggested the idea to Hank and we all kind of picked up on it.”

“What’s happening?” Charles asked in his soft manner.

“Nothing!” the red-haired telepath exclaimed, then pinched the bridge of her nose to ease the tension. “And that’s the point. We should have known something by now.”

In all honesty, the Professor didn’t immediately understand the issue. After all, even on half-day Friday, his mind was overloaded with work, with Benjamin’s case in particular. The boy still couldn’t get used to the school environment and it took a toll on the process they made regarding his mutant powers.

“Whatever unfortunate situation happened with Mrs. Maximoff I’m sure it will be solved and your friends will come back here soon,” the man reassured the girl, thinking that the devil might work hard, but Jubilation Lee was definitely working harder with the gossip thing.

“But what if they need help? Like mutant help,” Jean insisted. “You could use Cerebro.”

Charles looked into her eyes; worry was coming from him in waves. “Did they tell you something? Are they in danger?”

It was at that moment that the lack of knowledge made itself known. Yes, the man had visited the Maximoffs’ house and had a brief meeting with the twins’ mother but it was so long ago and he remembered so little. What did this woman look like? Were there really so many liquor bottles or were they memories from his own past? Did they have a father? Where was he? What was the address of their house then? Did they still live there? What was actually the environment in their home? As the principal of the school Charles felt bad he didn’t have the answer to any of those questions, as a man who owed Peter a lot and sympathized with him and his sister in general he felt even worse.

“Jean, if there is anything you want me to know…” the Professor tried to encourage the girl.

The fire inside Jean calmed, giving way to the shameful need to escape. She folded her arms over her chest and glanced down at the rough stone floor, a change they made to the original version of the mansion for the sake of keeping the youngest, prone to the active games students safe.

“Jean?”

His paternal kindness built a bridge to her soul and opened the door that was shut in order to keep Wednesday’s outing in secret anew. The girl never really kept secrets from Charles, to begin with, so it was no wonder she resigned quickly.

Keeping her gaze away from the Professor, Jean took a laughful of air and said quietly, “We were all there. On Wednesday night, we left for New York in Mrs. Maximoff’s car to listen to the Elton John concert. And everything was great, we got to see Time Square and the show was fun, but the car was towed to the impound lot and…well, none of us had that much money…and we retrieved the car without paying.”

The girl stopped inspecting the floor and finally lifted her eyes to the man. If Jubilee was pissed with her, with Charles it was much more complex. In addition to chagrin and disappointment, she felt guilt emanating from him and doubts about his teaching and human qualities. It was a parent upset by the actions of his child in the upbringing of which he invested the best of his heart, soul, and mind.

“You know what really hurts me in this situation?” the man said, his voice thick with emotions.

“That we left without permission?” Jean picked at her nails.

“That you didn’t even think of asking.”

“But you wouldn’t let us go.”

“Knowing what a mature path you choose to deal with the problems, I wouldn’t now indeed. But then I would trust you on this. Perhaps it would have required a bit of talking on your part and a bit of thinking on mine, but eventually, I would’ve said “yes”.”

Jean’s heart ached.

“Professor, I –”

“Jean, please,” he asked, closing his eyes for a second. “Just go back to your room. There’s a lot I need to think about.”

Her eyes welled up when he turned his head from her, looking into the fountain seen through the open door, but whatever she could say at the moment wouldn’t fix the hurt she caused to the closest person she could call her family.

....

Scott was watching some dumb commercial on the boob tube and Ororo was standing in line at the bus station in Salem Center when they heard the Professor’s voice in their heads. Both were strongly advised to visit his office as soon as possible.

....

“Whew, it smells funky!” Lora pulled a grimace staring at the bowl full of chicken soup.

“Don’t get smart with me,” Peter parried offhandedly. “Eat the thing or I’ll tell mom the real reason why somebody got sick.”

The girl stuck her tongue out and made an enormous fart noise with her mouth, but essentially the older sibling’s authoritative look made her surrender. She pinched her nose with two fingers and pushed a spoonful of hot soup into her mouth.

Having been teleported from Xavier’s school to Washington, the twins played a game in to decide who would go where. Since on an intuitive level, they often guessed each other’s thoughts, rock-paper-scissors was a poor solution to the problem, so from the very childhood, they came up with something else. They chose a catchy tongue twister and repeated it until one of them go astray. Even though Peter minted words like coins at any speed of speech, his sister still managed to beat him from time to time. However, that day was not a lucky one for her so Peter left her with Kurt and rushed off to Holloway Elementary School.

He spent quite a lot of time in that building, not as a student since he spent his childhood in other states, but as a caring brother, taking her to school or picking her up after classes. Thus, teachers saw him even more than Ms. Maximoff and weren’t surprised when he appeared on the threshold of the school doctor’s office looking all worried.

Sitting in a taxi on the way home, Lora admitted that when Stacy’s parents, at whose house she stayed overnight, went to bed, she and her friend stole a whole bucket of ice cream from the fridge. In the morning, her stomach ached, and her throat was sore, but she kept her mouth shut until it got much worse during the reading lesson.

“And Stacy didn’t even cough,” she complained to her brother, her usually silvery voice hoarse.

Luckily one of the wooden cabinets in the kitchen hid a can of chicken noodle soup the contents of which Peter dumped into a pot and heated up on the burner.

“Are you sure it won’t make me feel worse?” Lora asked, forcing the soup down her throat.

“What are you talking about? It’s an omnipotent remedy.”

“How you know? You never even got sick!”

“That’s not –” He scratched the back of his head. Actually, it was true. Well, to a certain extent. He wasn’t some vampire after all. It happened that he caught a cold, but the symptoms passed rather quickly compared to the average person, a fact that, by the way, always infuriated Wanda, who could suffer a runny nose for half a month. “I’m just at home all the time.”

“Not lately.”

Peter peaked out from behind the door fridge at the downcast note in his little sister’s voice. The girl was sitting at the kitchen counter that served as a built-in table, completing a U-shaped cooking area. A noodle in her soup was experiencing a voyage around the bowl.

The young man abandoned the fridge and leaned forward, forearms propped on the wooden counter so that his face was now on the same level as the girl’s. “Are you saying you missed me?”  

“No,” Lora bubbled, gaze trained down, “it’s just now I have to color all the maps for geography class myself. It sucks.”

A grin bloomed on Peter’s lips. “So you missed me.”

Her stubbornness and his teasing tone worked well together, provoking the girl to lift her head and give her brother a look. “Where’s mom? Why did you pick me up from school? Why are you here?”

“Look at you, clearly feeling better if you’re bombarding me with questions. And you doubted the power of chicken soup. Big bro won’t give you bad advice!”  

It seemed that Peter’s talkativeness did not deceive any member of his family if the unchanged expression on the little girl’s face was any indication. The speedster conceded.

“Our latest shenanigan has backfired and mom was sort of –” He scrunched up his face, ashamed actually “– arrested because of it.”

Lora’s grey-green eyes went round.

“Yeah. Wan went on a rescue mission.”

The warm light of the kitchen lamps installed in the wooden balks on the ceiling distracted from the fact that day and night were a step away from switching shifts. Peter glanced at his wristwatch. They should have been at home by that hour. If only –

“Wanda!” A shrike of joy cut through the space when the speedster’s twin appeared in the corridor.

“Don’t you want to give your favorite sibling a big hug?” the girl crooned and spread her arms.

No further prompting was needed because Lora jumped from the stool and rushed to her sister. She wrapped her arms and legs tightly around her, eyes shut, an ear from ear smile playing on her lips.

Wanda lifted the little girl, squeezing her in return, and murmured into her hair, “I missed you too.”

These two giggling huggers blocked the passageway to the kitchen so that Maria had to roll on her toes and amble along the wall to get there from the corridor. And even though she clicked her tongue at them, it was made out of amusement, not reproach. Her maternal gaze passed over Lora’s face, guessing that the blush on her cheeks was most likely caused by a raised body temperature and not from excessive excitement. However, she didn’t interrupt the touching moment of the girls’ reunion and made her way to another baby of hers.

“My little hurricane is back home.” She wove her arms around Peter’s neck and shoulders, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“Mom!” the young man grumbled but didn’t try to free himself, his hand tenderly rubbing his mother’s back as if he knew tears pricked at her eyes. Although Kurt, who was quietly watching the whole scene unfold, received a not-so-tender “I’ll dump you in a pond if any living soul finds out about it” look. After all, it wouldn’t add to his cool image.

When Lora’s grip on Wanda loosened, the girl gently set her sister on her feet and turned to the teleport. “This little monkey over here is my sister Lora. Lora, it’s my friend Kurt.”

The young man waved his hand in greeting. Involuntarily, he tried to catch the similarity between the little girl and her older siblings, but at first glance, it was easier to recognize it in behavior than in appearance.

Lora’s inquiring gaze traveled from the teleport back to her sister. “Is he like friend-friend or more friend-boyfriend?”

Wanda was positively sure her twin’s conversation with their mom was interrupted by his snicker.

From the tight angle of her jaw, Kurt made a wrongful assumption so he hastened to reply, his German accent evident all the more from the effort to seem casual. “We’re just really good friends.”

It was just what the doctor ordered to distract Lora from the topic. “Where are you from? You have a weird accent.”

“Honey,” Maria checked her out, softly though, “not weird, but unique.”

She tucked an unruly lock of the girl’s hair behind her ear and proceeded to the front door to put away the bag she had casually “left” there.

“Shit,” the woman muttered once her eyes laid on two empty Red White & Blue that cozied up under the TV set.

“I’m from West Germany, Munich,” Maria heard her kids’ friend say.

She had no desire to march into the kitchen with the empty beer cans so she shoved them into the first drawer that wasn’t too stuffed with things. Cookie wrappers, a couple of T-shirts, and Lora’s colored pencils shared the same fate.

Jesus Christ, how much trash this house can accumulate? the woman thought in dismay.

“The Capital of West Germany?” She could see Peter snapping his fingers and pointing at Lora.

“Bonn,” the girl answered right away.

“Neighbor countries?”

“Denmark, Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg, France, Switzerland, East Germany.”

The spark of excitement was evident in her daughter’s voice as well as in her son’s. Both of them had a hard time studying, often getting bored reading books and finding the beginning of an essay on their cheek because they fell asleep while writing it. However, if a small challenge was given the information settled easily in their minds.

“East Germany’s capital?”

“East Berlin.”

“Neigh –”

Lora didn’t let him finish the question. “Poland and Sheko – Checko –”

“Czechoslovakia,” Wanda helped her out. “Don’t get me wrong, I really admire your devotion to geography, but I dare to remind you we have a guest who must be hungry for food and not your knowledge of Europe’s map. And objects picking.”

Insufferable, crossed her mom’s mind, not without a great deal of fondness. They had seen each other so little since the girl moved to an overseas country and didn’t manage to have plenty of conversations on the phone even, their work and study schedules always colliding, and sometimes it felt like the miles between them wasn’t the only distance that grew out of the blue. The idea of disconnecting with Wanda, or any children of hers on that matter, inspired a disquiet in her soul that was fearful of fate repeating itself ­– completely different by nature, Maria and her mother had been losing points of agreement with each year passing by until one day they came across a wall between them, transparent and fragile at first glance but solid like a diamond if one attempted to break through. Now, when Erik Lehnsherr’s figure rose on the horizon, a magnetizing promise of missed opportunities, there was one more feeling uncoiling in the woman, one that she wasn’t ready to admit yet it caught up with her every day her children didn’t call home.

“Don’t you know how to boil water and be one step closer to having dinner?” Maria teased her kids, coming back to the kitchen.

“I’ll give Kurt a tour,” Lora chirped and grabbed the young man’s hand, dragging him out of the room.

“Don’t touch Ms. Pac-Man!” the speedster yelled to their backs.

“And don’t rummage through my drawers!” Wanda added. She took off her blazer, threw it on one of the bar stools, and rounded the kitchen counter, leaning closer to her brother. A derisive grin graced her lips when she muttered, “There is a double entendre to your words, by the way.” 

Peter mimicked her in mockery.

“Well, shed some light for me on what you two were doing in New York City,” Maria said, perching on the stool.

Her daughter took the pot out of the cabinet near the stove and, having poured cold water from the tap, put it on the burner.

“We just gave that guy –” the silver-haired boy gestured with a thumb back to where Kurt was supposed to be discovering all the wonders of his cave “– and a couple more a city tour. Also went to listen to some Elton John’s music. Overall, it would’ve been an awesome trip if the cops didn’t tow our car for illegal parking –” he used quotation fingers around the last word combination “– You know Wan, she isn’t the one to go that way.

Wanda stood with her back to him and their mother and therefore he couldn’t see it, but a small smile tugged at his twin’s lips while she was unpacking American cheese to make a sauce for macaroni.

“We went in circles through NY until we found your car on the outskirts guarded by a real grumbler. So we had to come up with a plan, that, other than a few complications, worked out rather well.”

“And Wanda had managed to compress it all in a short and laconic “we fucked up” when I asked her what happened,” Maria smirked.

Peter lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug. “She is a woman of few words.”

He swapped a glance with his sister, their inner bond felt almost palpable as they came up with the same thought.

“We are sorry, mom,” Wanda said in earnest, fully turning around to face the woman.

“We never meant to cause you such a headache,” Peter added quietly.

They reminded of two little owls that nestled together, shoulder to shoulder, and blinked at her expectedly with those big endearing eyes. Her babies.

“Please, don’t tell me that shithead called Lora’s school,” the woman begged, her features twisted in a faint hope.

Wanda hastened to reassure her. “No. Officer Hendrikson called Mr. Xavier’s school and Kurt happened to be nearby. I had a nice chat with the old man.”

Relief surged through Maria’s body so that she loosed a sigh.

When they moved to Washington and Peter's powers were gaining momentum, prompting him to act mindlessly (in other words rob the hell out of the local stores) officer Hendrikson was the only policeman who was able to gather some information and find the little brat. However, he didn’t come to the Maximoffs’ house to put cuffs on the speedster or ask to buy his silence. No, the man tried to have a conversation with Peter, to brainwash him in a good way. The attempt had little success but the officer turned out to be exceptionally patient and empathetic and helped the family in all legal ways he could. Maria even baked an apple cake as a sign of gratitude but Wanda threw it in a trash can, attributing it to the fact that she didn’t want to lose one adequate representative of authorities due to poisoning.

“I’ll call him tomorrow, thank him,” the woman said, rubbing her eyebrows. “So Mr. Xavier’s school, huh? The same shaggy and bearded one that came with glasses and a macho man?”

“He’s bald now,” Peter amended, plopping down on the stool across from her.

His mom lifted a brow. “The headache from being the principal was that strong?”

“Nah, it’s gotta be the blue dude’s fault.”

Having added macaroni to the boiling water, Wanda stepped to her brother and with no ceremony whatsoever twisted his wrist, marking the time on his watch. One of the first things he stole.

“Ouch!” the young man exclaimed, indignant.

“I beg your pardon, tenderling.” The girl pouted mockingly and ruffled his silver locks.

“No fighting!” their mom intervened once the speedster’s hand flew up, holding a piece of cheese that he no doubts intended to smear over his twin’s face.  The youngsters leveled each other with stares but obeyed with Wanda leaning against one of the cabinets near the stove. “And how do you find this school?”

The girl gave her a “whatever” shrug while Peter was more talkative. Nothing new, really. “It was boring when I dilly-dallied in a cast but now it’s kinda cool.”

He sent a piece of cheese into his mouth.

“Are you going back there?” Maria asked, feigning nonchalance.

“Well, we’ll probably stay a couple of days –” Peter glanced back at his sister “– until Lora gets better, and then...”

Wanda had an inkling where this conversation was going. “Why don’t you want us to go back there?”

The woman pursed her lips as if trying to keep the nagging thoughts shut.

“Mom?” the girl persisted, trying to look into her face.

“He is dangerous!”

“You always say that!”

Peter winced from the outburst of raised voices. He hated when his mom and sister got into a fight stance, every time a conflict was on the horizon, everything inside him clenched. It always led to him picking sides and inevitably hurting someone.

“He never did anything that had even the potential to be dangerous at the school,” the young man hesitantly weighed in on.

Despair flickered in Maria’s hazel eyes. “He tried to kill the President on national TV, talking about one race’s superiority over another just like the very people that took away his family, millions of families. He killed those policemen and tried to destroy the world. Isn’t it enough?”

“They killed off his family, mom,” Wanda noted dryly. “His wife and child. What would you do be you in his shoes?”

“Don’t play that card. I was close to losing you, both of you –” Maria’s pointing finger switched between Peter’s and Wanda’s direction “– at different times and I didn’t side with some psycho or talked speeches on TV.”

“That’s different,” the girl retorted.

The speedster aided with a nude fact, “We are still alive.”

“And I want it to stay that way,” their mom noted sternly.

“Look, I’m not trying to justify his actions,” Wanda said carefully and held her hands up. “I only say wouldn’t you crave justice and retribution if someone took the things that meant the most to you? If you had the real power in your hands to bring the world down? Because he has and he acts instead of curling up in the corner. Wrong or right, it’s a different matter.”

A deep line settled between Maria’s brows. She feared this. Erik didn’t need telepathy to get into one’s head and implant his dangerous ideas. “Is it what he’s teaching you out there? Wreak havoc when life gives your bitter lemons?”

A groan of exasperation escaped the girl’s lips as she threw her head back.

Peter shot her a look before his attention flicked back to their mom. He asked, his voice placating, “Aside from his universally known deeds, why do you think him dangerous? Did he do something in the…course of your relationship?”

“You never told us neither how long it was nor the reason behind you two parting your ways. All we have are the scarps and pieces of that period in your life,” he pressed on when the tension flailed between them all. A soundless coolness sneaked into the room from the open window.

“Ever since I remember myself, I didn’t want to be like my mother. To exist in a godforsaken city, hiding and waiting for trouble at the door,” Maria finally spoke, her voice quiet. She was looking at her palms, the lines imprinted in her skin – threads of intricately woven memory, a map of a carefully forgotten past. Wanda slinked to the stool beside her brother and warily sat down. “I ran off right after the graduation. Seventeen, no money, no friends, I roamed the neighboring states until I met Mel in some rathole in Louisville.

One could count on their fingers how many times the twins saw this woman, but almost three decades later Mel was still present in their mother’s life. They sent pictures and called each other at any time, chatting for hours. Both held tight to that friendship.

“It was an overnight decision to go to New York but we took the risk. You can’t imagine the trouble we’ve been in.

The corners of Maria’s lips curled up.

“We managed to find the worst room ever which we shared with two or three more girls and Sam. Oh, Sam did the best makeup I ever could. And he also introduced us to a bar owner who was looking for the waitresses.

Wanda’s brows went up. She never told her about the job in a bar, fearing her mom would not understand and lecture her on how irresponsible of her it was to work in such a place. They seemed to have a lot more in common than the girl thought.

“Many say you need to live in New York for at least a decade to become a New Yorker but I think you’re one when you feel it. And with the lessons I’ve learned by my twenties, I felt like one. I met your father when I was twenty.

The twins exchanged glances.

“It was another night at the bar I’d got tired already when he showed up. Dressed like no other man there – black turtleneck, pressed trousers, leather jacket, and shiny boots – but something else was off about him. For the time I worked in that place I’ve heard plenty of sappy stories but Erik was not the one who yearned to share his over a glass of whiskey.

Peter couldn’t remember their mom ever calling their father by any name but Magneto or simply him. It was a new feeling hearing her say Erik with that familiarity like she really knew the man and not the mutant activist.

“He was there the next night and the night after that. I didn’t even know his name then. All the girls in the bar were crazy about him but he didn’t seem to notice or he simply didn’t care. I don’t remember at which point we were introduced but soon I knew his accent was German and he came to New York on business and he knew I ran away from a Jewish mother who was too traumatized by what she saw to have a real life. The more we talked, the more the connection between us built. It built to a point where we moved in with each other in a small hotel.

Never did the brother and sister talk about it even with each other but it was a relief to hear they weren’t a result of a drunken one-night stand.

“I knew he was after those Nazis from Auschwitz, but I guess I didn’t want to think about what he did or intended to do with them. I never asked, he never told. On the day when I found out I was pregnant, he offered to leave New York, leave America for Europe. But with the changes that awaited us, how could we leave somewhere so far? I tried to convince him that if we stayed our happy life could get even better. If he could just abandon his obsession with revenge. His temper flared up and…

Wanda covered her mom’s hand with hers when the woman’s voice trailed off.

“A clock flew inches from my face before crashing into the wall.

But it did hit Peter’s heart as if he witnessed the scene himself.

“I decided then and there if I was going to bring a new life into this world it will never know violence or fear. Not if I can prevent it. So I walked away and never saw him again until the day of his speech on TV.”

Voices were heard somewhere in the back of the house, most likely the tour of the speedster’s cave came to an end and Lora was dragging Kurt to her room to show off her impressive collection of stuffed toys.

“Why you never said a word about it?” Wanda asked softly.

“How could I?” Maria looked at her son, soft sadness lined up her features. “Peter always wanted to have a dad. Regardless of your denial, you wanted it too.” She gave her daughter’s hand a light squeeze. “You wanted to have a real family, like the kids at school had, with two parents, lots of toys, and a big backyard. Instead, the three of us dangled from one place to another always out of money. It was easier to tell you that your dad just went out to buy some groceries and disappeared.”

The silver-haired boy scratched his brow. “I never believed in it.”

“Yeah,” his sister drawled somewhat guiltily, “granny said you were too much of a hustler back in your “big city” days and hang out with some rascal that dumped you.” 

The woman’s brows shot up at the same time as a surprised laugh huffed out of her. “Your grandmother told you that?”

The twins nodded in unison.

“Mom had her way of saying things,” Maria muttered, shaking her head ruefully.  

She lifted her eyes but instead of checking if her kids were alright after the whole truth was revealed they went round and she sprung to her feet with “holy macaroni!”, startling the twins.

“Oh, looks like dinner’s ready.” Lora giggled, watching her mom hightail to the stove with speed worthy of Quicksilver as she came back to the kitchen, Kurt just behind her.

“Don’t forget to add garlic powder and onion powder when making the sauce,” Wanda mumbled to her brother and headed out of the room.

“Where are you going?” Peter asked, puzzled.

“I need to get some fresh air,” the girl said matter-of-factly and a click of the closed door echoed half a minute later.

Life-altering moments seemed to develop a particular liking of her family in recent years, but the last month reached a whole new level. Regardless of how collected or detached the girl might have looked from the outside, emotions swelled in her chest, tightened something inside to the point of pain. Who could have known that coming to school just to take a look at the man whose blood pumped through your veins and keep this knowledge unshared would be such an energy-consuming task? Well, when the whole thing is framed this way, it sounds painfully obvious, so that Wanda puffed in exasperation with herself, yet it felt like a harmless idea in the beginning. Now she felt drained.

“The air is fresh when you are getting it alone, brother,” she said, walking down the street.

The muffled sound of footsteps persisted but no response followed. She cast a glance over her shoulder and her lips rounded in an inaudible “oh”, her pace slowed.

It was hard to tell if the nature of that “oh” was one of relief or disappointment or bore no meaning at all, yet, overcoming his hesitation, Kurt caught up with the girl. They went on strolling through the neighborhood together.

“Did you tell your mom we were all involved?” Kurt asked carefully, breaking the silence.

A confused line appeared between her brows. She turned her head to her friend but the question downed on her with no further prompt. She waved her hand. “Don’t worry about it. The matter was settled peacefully. It’s just…”

A shiver went through her body so she hugged her shoulders.

“I would offer you my shirt but I guess the neighbors won’t appreciate my gesture,” Kurt confided, his unintentional banter drew a smirk out of his friend.

“This color suits you better anyway.”

The windows of the houses were like living pictures, the light pouring from them into the street outlined a rare housewife chopping some vegetables for dinner or children dangling their feet impatiently at the table. People were returning to their homes, a refuge of love and comfort mostly, ready to call it a day.

“Mom gave us another piece of the “what is with this fucked-up family” puzzle and –” Wanda let out a weary sigh “– I’m not sure I want to untangle that mess anymore.”

The young man pursed his lips and after a while said quietly, “Perhaps it would be better if I don’t stay for the dinner.”

“Wow. Seems like I became spaghetti o-jello.”

He halted before her, his hand glided down hers, gently asking to stop for a minute. The tree crown domed over their heads as if protecting them this time from the outside world.

“You are no such thing,” he said in earnest, looking into her face. “I just thought you might need space to figure things out.”

“Did I tell you Kurt means “wise” and “polite”?” A wistful smile lifted the corners of her lips. “Maybe your parents didn’t give you that name but you live up to it. And there is so much more in here.” Wanda put her hand on his chest, where his heart pounded, her gaze lingered on the few first buttons of his shirt that were undone, or, to be precise, on the bared skin that was graced with swirling patterns. Slowly, her eyes slid to his, persistent with an idea. “Never let anyone take advantage of your kindness and your gift. Not even those you think your friends.”

She patted him lightly before her hand dropped. “I’m sorry for my rude behavior earlier today. I should’ve asked you instead of just using you like a magical portal. Thank you for helping me and Peter.”

It wasn’t that the teleport paid much attention to the “order” she threw at him as if he was indeed a lower being and perhaps it was a matter he should’ve pondered over, but that warm palm and her gaze clouded his judgment.

It seemed like for Wanda it was all insufficient as she went on with rendering him speechless. 

“When we worked in the lab today my father mentioned something I think you should know. He said he once knew a mutant with similar powers and appearance to yours. Unfortunately, he is no longer walking the Earth but if you want to know more, you could ask him. That conversation may benefit you both.”

Kurt’s lips parted but no word came out because there were too many of them in his head.

“Gute Nacht*, Kurt,” Wanda said with a soft smile and rolled on her toes to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek.

With that, she left him alone, heading back to her house.

Kurt just stood there, staring into the distance, no longer sure if he was in a whole piece or his being dissipated into atoms. The latter might’ve been true to a certain extent as the semi-darkness of the street in Washington changed into bright lights of the room. The young man hid his face in the crook of his arm, blinded by the sudden contrast. Persian rug under his feet, carved wooden buffet cabinets set with bronze figures on the left, and a fireplace and a chessboard table on the right – it didn’t take much to realize he was in the Professor’s office.

Now, one may want to point out that it was an odd place to teleport to after a hard day but the truth was that a telepath had a hand in this, namely – Jean. Not quite intentionally, it was more of an impulse – she felt that the young man got back all emotional and without the twins, so her power appealed to his mind. “It’s officer Hendrikson, Washington Police Department, can I talk to Wanda or Peter Maximoff?” – an elevated point for the roller coaster train, it fell down with a heart-clenching speed that only accelerated when the young man entered the impound lot search loop followed by a full-fledged panic attack twist he managed to go through without blacking out to then ride upward half loop, tied tightly to his seat between silent Mrs. Maximoff and Wanda, the moment the latter told him about another teleport known to Magneto the track twisted him downward and the train fell down one last time when the girl laid her palm on his chest, her face so close –

Jean stopped there, recognizing the boundaries. Her power, on the other hand, dragged Kurt to her, into Charles’ office.

Puzzled, the young man made a 180 degree turn around, his eyes stumbling upon the mutants assembled in the room.

That’s not good, flashed through his mind.

“That’s not good at all,” the Professor agreed.

The striped white-sky blue shirt he wore diminished the seriousness on his face, making his hands-casually-clasped-in-front-of-him position at the table look like a boyish attempt at being the one in charge. Or like he was in charge…of a bunch of mischievous children who failed to steal cookies from the kitchen while adults weren’t watching. Because that’s exactly what Jean and Scott looked like, seated in the leather chairs across from Charles. Ororo was also there, with her arms crossed over her chest she was leaning against the wall, her heavy laced-up boots would definitely leave a rugged imprint on those varnished wooden panels if she did put her feet down.

A blush was blooming on Jean’s cheeks as her gaze was seemingly nailed to something the teleport did not immediately figure out. He looked down at himself, at his formerly black trousers, their bottom hem severely dusted, and the linen shirt that was unbuttoned at the top. His hand flew to his chest when he somehow puzzled it out that the redhead must have seen his moment with Wanda.

He cleared his throat and his friend resumed blinking, blushing some more.

“What’s happening?” Kurt asked, coming into the circle of the assembled.  

“Jean grassed us up,” the Storm Ruler grumbled.

“I did what was right from the very beginning,” the red-haired telepath muttered in defense.

Scott pressed his lips together, refraining from any commentaries.

Charles loosed a heavy sigh. “That is why you are all here in the first place. But before I start, I have to know if the Maximoff family is alright.”

“Wanda settled all the issues so Ms. Maximoff is back at home. And Lora too, Professor,” the teleport replied obediently.

The tension wavered as the burden of responsibility and worry on the man’s shoulders lost an ounce of weight.

“The last thing I want is to put you in danger,” he said, his gaze traveled from one young face to another until it stopped on Jean. Something softer, paternal shone in those blue eyes when the Professor looked at the girl. “I had no other choice when I appealed to you in Cairo, asking to find me. I knew Hank would go with you, as well as Raven and Alex. I could not imagine three other young people who would be willing to take the risk and be the only line of defense against the world’s destruction. You had to overcome the loss –” Charles cast a sympathetic glance at Scott who hung his head “– make difficult choices –” Ororo pursed her lips “– and use your power like never before –” Kurt and Jean looked down, recollecting that day.

“The world needs the X-Men. A team that can defend humanity from unforeseen threats and build a better world for all of us to live in. It’s not a safe road to take but after so many years of teaching only history and mathematics, I realized it’s the right road…I thought I saw that team in Cairo when you all cast your fears and doubts aside to join forces. But now I wonder if the bravery and unwavering moral compass were just recklessness and overconfidence that go hand in hand with youth.”

“You’re being unfair,” Jean mumbled but didn’t dare to look the Professor in the face.

Silence, thick and troubling settled in the room like a fog over the sea. None of the youngsters could see through it but every one of them expected a disaster.

“Hank has been working on a special project for the last month. The Danger Room where the X-Men could train and hone their skills, learn the most about their powers and how to use them.” Charles leaned back wearily in his wheelchair. “I was too quick to agree with that idea. You are not ready for that and as I’m not willing to put you and people around in danger, I don’t see the need for that project anymore.”

And that was it, the disaster. Even though nobody ever talked with them about becoming the X-Men, it was always hovering in the air. A calling or maybe the destiny to fulfill, it didn’t really matter, they just knew there was a purpose in that all, and now they just flushed it down the toilet together with Hank’s work.

So, on the wreckage of their expectations, they drifted out of the telepath’s office and each rowed to their rooms.

Except for Kurt. His soul did not crave the solitude within four walls, it sought the caress of the breeze and brightness of the stars and crickets’ lullabies poured in the ears. Thus, his feet carried him to the yet uncluttered attic, and from there, through a narrow wooden door – to the roof. As soon as the glittering night sky opened before the teleport’s eyes, a draft hurled passed him, messing with his jet-black hair that tickled his nose. The tips of his lips quirk up in a silly smile.

“I take it Charles didn’t penalize you with a “not a single step outside the school after 9 p.m.” curfew?” the husky voice said from somewhere above so the young man threw back his head, his gaze sliding all the way up of the little turret to find two yellow eyes watching him intently. Raven squeezed in between two merlons, her booted feet dangling in the air. “Or are you rebelling? Please, don’t tell me you’re going to toilet paper the school because I’ll have to do something about it and I really don’t want to.”  

“Why would I toilet paper the school?” Kurt asked, puzzled. “And I’m not sure there are so many rolls of toilet paper in my bathroom.”

“Forget it.” The woman waved her hand because nobody explains fun. “Why won’t you come up here?”

In two accounts the young man climbed up the wall like it was a trifling matter and there he was, settled in a crenel next to Raven.

“Are you going to tell me you used to come here as a kid?”

The woman cocked her head, but he just kept looking at her, expectation shining in his eyes. She pulled a face. “Your buddies show too many movies to you.”

“You didn’t come here?” His voice was full of surprise.

The shapeshifter shook her head, her wavy blond locks dancing around her face.

“If I were you, I would. It’s so peaceful here.” Kurt chanced a glance around: behind them was the driveway to the building, the fountain was gurgling measuredly, its water reminded of liquid silver in the light of the stars, and in front of them was the arboretum with its ponds, tall trees, and dozing flowers. “And beautiful.”

“The governesses would be pissed. I tried to keep my head down and don’t do anything that would provoke them or Charles’ parents to kick me out of this place,” she drawled on an exhale. “Plus, I liked my room. That was where I really felt at peace. Safe.”

“Don’t you now?”

“I’m not a little girl anymore. I know a soft pillow and a warm blanket won’t protect me. And I try not to get attached to things and places, it gives a false sense of stability and belonging. Once I thought that this was my home, but it was never really mine. I didn’t belong here, I just lived here.”

It seemed like an unimportant matter she lived through and left in the past. Nevertheless, sadness pitched its tent in the teleport’s heart. He wanted all those things and he wanted them to be immutable. Wanted to belong to a place and things and share it with people he loved.

“Speaking of peace,” Raven cut in the chain of his thoughts. “What’s up with Peter and Wanda?”

“Erm…they managed to work things out,” Kurt answered, scratching the back of his head. “Does the whole school know about it now?”

The shapeshifter shrugged in a “more or less” gesture.

“Charles poured his heart out as if I know something about parenting.” She snorted but it came out somewhat bitter. “Erik, on the other hand…He has been pouring buckets of resentment since, like, afternoon. Seems like the twins got under his skin.”

A crease of concern formed between the teleport’s brows. “Is it a bad thing?”

“It’s the most alive he has been in the last month,” the shapeshifter said in earnest. She held out her hand and pointed somewhere in the distance. “I guess you can see him somewhere by the ponds. He has more problems with sleep today than usual.”

The young man narrowed his eyes and indeed saw a tall figure strolling across the bridge.

…he once knew a mutant with similar powers and appearance to yours…if you want to know more, you could ask him, Wanda’s voice echoed in Kurt’s mind.

“You knew a lot of mutants. Have you ever met anyone –” Kurt stuttered, not wanting to sound desperate or too interested “– anyone like me? A teleport?”

Raven’s attention remained fixed on her restless frenemy, but her gaze clouded slightly as if her memory was flipping through all the faces she had seen throughout the years.

“I did,” the woman said slowly, her tone somewhat bittersweet. “He could jump through space like you, faster even. A brief puff of red smoke and you are already on the other side of the world.”

“What was his name?”

“Azazel,” she replied in a moment too long.

Raven turned her head to Kurt and every question that formed on the tip of her tongue melted away – the answers were written in his every feature.

“Maybe you were related or maybe it’s just a coincidence that you have things in common. There’s no point in guessing,” she said but realized it was cold-hearted of her to say such things when the young man hung his head, looking somewhat ashamed. She reached his shoulder and gave it a light yet reassuring squeeze. “The main thing is – you can choose your family.”    

Vaguely, he knew it himself, witnessed the existence of real bonds between some performers in the circus, similar to those parents and children or siblings shared, and he asked God for forgiveness every time envy pricked him. Still, those words coming from someone who proved them to be the truth broke the last seal on his hopes, and even if he never found whose blood flowed in his veins, it didn’t mean he had to be alone. Maybe he was not alone already.

Kurt leaned against the merlon and let it all go. At that moment, it was enough for him to be alive and free. For the first time in a long while, he truly felt that he had a tomorrow and the chance to figure out everything else.

....

Soft pillows and sheets just out of the laundry may very well be the creatures created by Morpheus himself with the inexplicable ability to hold half awaken body and mind in their embrace, enticing to take off into the world of dreams the minute one’s decides to hit the real ground with their feet. Like many on Saturday morning, Maria fought the magic of “five more minutes and I’ll get up”, snuggling up to a blanket.

After the conversation with her children, she couldn’t fall asleep for a good while, all those thoughts and worries in her head were too loud and persistent, making her toss back and forth in her nightie. When she finally managed to quiet them down it was already far past midnight.

Groaning, the woman pulled herself out of the polyester cloud and squinted at the clock on her nightstand like a pirate in her half-slipped sleep mask. The green figures stared back at her, unimpressed.

“Five more minutes you said, huh?” they mocked. “Well, it’s more like forty-five minutes, dear!”

Maria rolled onto her back and pushed herself from the bed. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to make a “welcome back home” breakfast but if Lora was feeling better, they could drive to a small bakery and eat banana buns in the park, getting a highly necessary dose of vitamin D from all the sunlight this summer was gifting them with. The woman threw on her pink, roses-printed robe, tied up her fluffy hair with a velvet scrunchy, and opened the door.

A bit nutty, tinged with vanilla and sugar aroma wafted out of the kitchen, instantly filling Maria’s nostrils. She sauntered there and found the source – a plate loaded with pancakes, a bowl with, as it seemed, strawberry jam and another one was half empty of whipped cream. It was a feast this house did not see since Wanda left for university.

Speaking of the girl, she was pouring batter on the pan with the precision of a Michelin-star chef while Peter hovered over a dish loaded with pancakes, almost drooling over them. Lora was sitting at the kitchen counter table, tapping on the stool’s crossbar in impatience.  

Wanda slapped her brother’s hand when he mustered up the courage to reach for the fluffy cake. “It’s the last batch. Won’t you wait for one more minute, huh?” 

“We are dying from hunger!” her sister cried out, the fork was belligerently clamped in her hand.

“See?” Peter took up the thread of the blackmailing. “You’re starving the kid. And your favorite brother.”

Flipping carefully a pancake, Wanda crooned, unmoved, “No, you are just two demanding vultures.”

“That’s mean,” the silver-haired boy grumbled in faint hurt.

“Damn right that is!” Lora agreed.

“Hey! Language, young lady,” Maria finally intervened, making all her kids look over their shoulders. “Have a free spot for me?”

“If you are not a part of the vultures flock, then sure,” Wanda bantered, making her siblings roll their eyes almost synchronously.

“Didn’t know you could make something out of the things stuffed into these cabinets aside from cereal with milk,” their mom said, perching on the bar stool next to her youngest child. Briefly, she put her palm on Lora's forehead, checking the temperature. They were fighting it along with a sore throat the whole Saturday and, luckily, it seemed like they succeed.

“You couldn’t,” Wanda agreed with a smirk. “Peter went grocery shopping early in the morning.”

Maria looked at her son, her brows raised. “Like, walked there?”

“Like, got there in your car,” Lora shared her confusion with their mom.

Only runners glowing in sweat and yawning dog owners weren’t cozied up in beds when Peter cruised out of the neighborhood, accompanied by the murmur of Ford’s engine. The speedster took in the tranquility of the morning, driving past empty streets, then wandered between the shelves in the grocery store, listening to the music no one would listen to on any other occasion. It felt odd to exist at the same pace as the whole world without being forced to, but he indulged in that experience nonetheless.

“What’s the big deal?” Peter gave his mom and little sister a pointed look. “I can drive.”

“Yeah, he shook off that raccoon like a pro,” Wanda weighed in on matter-of-factly as she put a plate with mouthwatering pancakes onto the kitchen counter table.

“What?” Maria asked, unsure if she really heard the word “raccoon”. Although “shook off” inspired nothing positive either.

“Guten Appetit*,” the girl crooned with a sweet smile.

Their mom narrowed her eyes, scanning the twins with suspicion they deliberately ignored, taking their seats across the table. The silver-haired boy loaded his mouth and his plate with breakfast at the same time, not bothering with the fork (very much like Lora), while Wanda cut her pancake into small pieces before she chewed on it with the elegance worth of a true English lady.

She got her hands on her daughter’s mug of milky coffee and shamelessly took a sip. “So, what’s the latest news? Did your friend call?”

“Who, Kurt?” Wanda asked. “No, he doesn’t have our number. He wouldn’t have called even if he had it.”

“Why?” Maria wiped strawberry jam off her youngest daughter’s cheek.

It was almost like in old times when little Wanda would sit with her in the morning after Peter consumed his breakfast and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving the two to have a small girl talk. The girl grew older and the talks grew thinner until they became too small for her mom to know what was on her daughter’s mind and in her soul.

“He would’ve hung up before the phone in our house rang, thinking that we may still be sleeping, so he would postpone the call for later, but that later would never come because he would simply be afraid to disturb our family pastime.”

Wanda raised her brow noticing a slight upturn of mom’s lips, but the woman only gave her an innocent shrug. “Seems like you know him quite well. It’s a pity he didn’t stay for the dinner, I hope they gave him something to eat.”

Peter clicked his tongue (a true miracle, considering his mouth was full). “I told you, it’s not like some survival training camp, mom. The guy in charge has enough money to build the mansion from scratch, furnish every room nicely and enroll dozens of students. I mean, he clearly doesn’t mind sharing mac and cheese with someone.”

The woman held up her hands in peace.

“If I remember correctly, he’s an Oxford graduate?” she asked offhandedly a moment later.

Wanda took her Dart Wader mug back. “What are you driving at?”

“I mean, you must have some things to discuss, stories to share. Like fellow Oxonians and all.”

The girl’s face stayed an unreadable mask.

Lora and Peter exchanged glances. Not that their sister was a talkative kind, unless one asked about some historic fact or looked for a book to read, still her secrecy seemed off.

Maria let out a sigh of defeat. “I haven’t heard anything about your school in a while and I’m a curious mom. Give me something.”

“Everything is as usual. Students are studying, teachers are teaching.” Wanda sipped her coffee, obviously disinclined to discuss this topic.

The woman blinked at her. “And that’s it?”

“Mom, I have to go to school tomorrow and survive a math class,” Lora decided to intervene, her tone reproachful. “And Peter goes to school now too. We don’t want to talk about it, it’s totally bogus!”

“I didn’t quit the uni. And I’m not expelled.” The young man noticed a twitch in his sister’s jaw as she said it. Something was definitely off and he knew nothing about it, didn’t even suspect what it could be. “If that’s what you really wanted to know. With everything that’s happening and not happening lately all the Oxford matters are as far from my concern as Oxford itself.”

“But I am concerned,” Maria said in earnest. “You come home in the middle of the examination session, barely said two words to me, and disappeared with my car. It’s not normal behavior!”

“Do we really want to ruin this morning?” Peter appealed to his twin and their mom, shooting them a placating look.

“Like letting your son go hell knows where is normal!” Wanda snapped. “Peter nearly died there! He was left injured and you didn’t even deign to come to the school, too scared to meet a face from the past.”

Maria’s face contorted. “This isn’t you, Wanda.”

“These days everyone seems to know who I’m better than I do.”

Peter’s eyes widened in fear when he spotted the germs of scarlet energy curved at Wanda’s fingertips. It corrupted the mug she was still holding, carving lines that were glowing viciously like lava flows all across Dart Wader’s helmet. The speedster darted to his sister, the world around him almost motionless. One by one, he took out shards of breaking ceramic from her hand before they could cause harm, his fingers working fast but gingerly. Yet there was one thing he didn’t manage to neutralize in time.

“Jesus!” the girl hissed out and jumped off her stool, almost stepping on Peter’s foot.

Confused, she looked down at herself, finding the right leg of her biker shorts soaked with coffee that had also stained the floor. Her attention quickly flickered to her now empty hand and her brother, whose face was edged with sorrow. Anger, shame, remorse… many things crossed the girl’s face. At last, she averted her gaze from Peter.

“What’s –” The question died unborn when Maria’s eyes met her daughter’s – the dilated pupils were rimmed with red. Dart Wader’s helmet was laying on the table between them in pieces.

Lora pushed her stool back and stormed out of the kitchen.

“I got this,” the silver-haired speedster muttered and followed after the little girl.

The door to her room was half open yet Peter still knocked on it before coming in. His sister was sitting on her bed, her knees pulled to her chest, face hidden behind her arms folded in a self-embrace.

“Does your sudden departure mean I got to eat all the pancakes?” the young man bantered and plopped down next to her so that Lora had barely managed to keep her solemn position intact. Peter’s fingers curled around her wrist and he gave it a slight, playful shake. “Come on.”

The girl didn’t budge.

“Listen,” he said on an exhale, more genuine this time, “Wan didn’t want to hurt anyone, herself included. She just –”

“Is it true?” He heard her mumble.

“What’s true?” Peter asked, furrowing in concern as he was certain he heard a sniffle after that.

“Hey, look at me.” He tried to unfold her arms. “Look at me.”

When Lora lifted her head, her eyes glistening. “That you almost died? Is it true?”

Shit

The twins were used to speak freely around each other, more so at home, and often time, they forgot that some things should not touch a child’s ear. As a result, Lora attained a knowledge her peers could not even think of and had definitely learned a couple of phrases neither her mom nor her teachers found particularly impressive.

Perhaps Wanda should’ve minced her words better at the table but he with his puppy eyes was not a paragon of matureness either as well as their mom who decided to reprimand her daughter in the very morning in front of her siblings. Sometimes it felt like fucking things up was the most adult act one could perform in their life. However, there was a much more important truth to realize: all this time Peter thought the events in Cairo left a scratch on Wanda’s soul, it required a mild scolding of a thoughtless brother and maybe some worrying about the abovementioned until he would get rid of the cast, when in fact it turned out to be a scar. And apparently, it still hurt.

With all that the young man didn’t have the gut to say “Wan is just dramatizing” and make a “you know how she is” face to soothe Lora’s fears.

Peter kept his tone facetious just to get the tightness off that pretty little face. “It was dangerous and scary out there, and you would never ask Santa for such a trip to the pyramids but it taught me a bunch of valuable lessons. Like, listen to mom more…show off less…”

The grey in her eyes lightened, warmed to a greener tone.

“Some of my ridiculous choices had already led to broken bones, this time I’ve just unlocked a new level. But, as you can see, I’m fine now. Right here and not going anywhere. If you need me.”

There was another sniffle that made the young man’s heart clench. He drew his little sister into his arms, her dark-haired head resting under his chin. “Please, don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying,” she replied simply. “I think I caught a cold.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah.”

They sat like that for quite a while before Lora pulled back far enough to see her brother’s face and said, “I’m not afraid of Wanda’s magic.”

Peter’s lips were tugged by a light smile. “And what mom often says?”

“Actions speak louder than words?” the girl drawled in a guess and when the young man nodded, she added, “Then let’s go find her!”

Up from the bed they stepped into the narrow corridor and tiptoed past mom’s room, catching a glimpse of her reading a fashion magazine. The look on her face suggested her thoughts were consumed by far more serious matters than new fashion trends. Lips pressed into a hard line, Peter and Lora swept a glance and shook their heads, agreeing that the best tactics now would be to give the woman some space. Thus, the young man knocked on the third door instead. Seconds passed but nobody answered.

“I’m coming in,” he warned, keeping his voice relatively low.

Wanda’s room hadn’t changed much since they were in high school – the pale lavender walls, the fluffiest peachy carpet on the floor, a patterned throw across the bed, a green wicker chair, and colorful beanbag in the corners, shelves full of books basically everywhere – yet it screamed that the owner rarely stayed here nowadays. Something ached in Peter’s heart, a distant sadness as if the last weeks were a work of his imagination and his twin was still on another continent, busy with her own matters, detached from that family. The doubt that the pieces of their new lives fitted together any longer lingered flourished in his soul.

He shook his head and closed the door with a snort at his momentary silliness. They were adults, after all, she didn’t have to languish here only because he lacked far-reaching life purposes.

But where she did languish was the living room. Wanda sank into the velvet burgundy corner sofa, the soles of her bare feet were pressed into the edge of the coffee table. She was staring at the TV screen, Three’s Company on, albeit the look on her face didn’t correlate with the funny nature of the episode’s plot.

“Watch out!” the girl heard Peter exclaim. She was only able to swivel her head and spot him and Lora shooting out around the corner before these two launched themselves at her, burying her in between the sofa’s cushions. It was a full-fledged tickle attack and she held the defense as long as she could before she burst out with laughter and squealing and fruitless attempts to escape from under these two bastards.

Soon both girls were tucked under the speedster’s armpits. Their hair was a complete mess and their cheeks were tinged with bright pink yet their faces beamed with pure amusement.

“Thanks for war– warning, bro. Ve– very helpful,” Wanda got out in between the hiccups.

Lora tried to resent too. “I tho– thought we were on the sa– same team.”

“What can I say?” The young man glanced down at his T-shirt and his sisters followed his example. A half-washed print on the dark grey fabric said “I AM CHAOS”. The girls rolled their eyes.

Chrissy, Janet and Jack were planning a trap for the latter’s scheming classmate when a cooling breeze slipped into the room, bringing an earthy, musky smell that quickly permeated the air. Sparkling drops of silver dotted the window glass and a few moments later a harmonic thrumming of summer rain accompanied them.

Wanda chanced a glance at her little sister. “I am sorry, monkey.”

“Why did you say mom was scared of some face from the past?”

“Because I should’ve watched my tongue better.”

As if he could protect her from self-reproach, Peter drew his twin a little bit closer to his side. The girl nudged him gently with her elbow, appreciating the effort but also letting him know she was fine.

“It was about your dad, wasn’t it?” the girl pressed on. “That man from the TV? Magneto?”

Wanda couldn’t help it but smirk. “You are our mini Sherlock Holmes.”

Instead of satisfaction, a shadow of concern crossed Lora’s features. With all these unpleasant things she heard about that man from the TV screen swirling in her head, the girl eyed her brother and sister, people she trusted the most, and desperately tried to put two and two together. It occurred to her that there were things much more complicated than mathematics. “But…isn’t he, like, a bad guy?”

Peter furrowed. “The way you see the world largely depends on how it introduces itself. And the first impression he had gotten…”

Outside, the lightning cracked the sky.

“A lot of things, bad things happened to him,” Wanda continued. “And I guess there just came a point where he couldn’t absorb it anymore. He tried to bring a positive change using morally dubious methods and, as it often happens, people remembered only the bad part. Made him a villain.

“When he lost his family and was alone again those old feelings, this pain and rage he left behind came back and he just…snapped.”

“But he is not alone, you’re his family too,” Lora fairly noted.

“Maybe it would be so if we told him the truth,” her silver-haired sibling drawled distractedly.

“You stayed in that school for a whole month and didn’t tell him?!” The compassion for Erik that had been shining so brightly in her eyes turned into flaming indignation. Peter’s head got hit by a teddy bear which then flew directly into Wanda’s face. “Why are you still here? Go back to the school!”

“It’s complicated!” Wanda fenced, puzzled with why her own tone was so high pitched.

Peter backed her statement up with a confident “Yeah!”

“You, adults, always make complicated things even more complicated.” With that Lora sneezed.

“At least we can eat a bucket of ice cream without hiding it,” her sister teased, sticking her tongue out in a very mature way.

The girl’s mouth formed an “O” of indignation, her gaze snapped to her brother. “I knew you couldn’t be trusted!”

He held up a finger. “I still didn’t tell mom.”

If the teddy bear was still around, Peter would’ve definitely gotten hit in the head again.

Lora crossed her arms over her chest. “What about your friends?”

“What about them?” Wanda asked, her brow arched.

“They must be worried. And you said Kurt doesn’t have our number. Maybe you should call them? Ask how they and…your dad are doing?”

The twins shared a look and in the blink of an eye the seat Peter occupied between his sisters emptied as he whizzed to the other side of the corner sofa a phone already held at his ear.

“Heyo, what’s up?” The pause that occurred right after testified to the fact that whoever picked up the phone at the school decided to really answer the question. The expression on the speedster’s face said he wished there was a rewind button in life. “I got it, got it. Erm…Can you call Ororo? or Kurt? or Jean? Or Scott, if there’s nobody else around? It’s urgent.”

By the flirtatious note slipped into their brother’s voice a few silent bits later, the girls realized it must have been Ororo who was in the close vicinity to come to the phone. Wanda waggled her brows, grinning like a fox while Lora pouted her lips, smacking her lips in a very dramatic “kiss”. The young man flipped his middle finger up at them and turned his face to the TV, Three’s Company was no longer playing on the screen.

From the Storm Ruler, the siblings learned that Jean had “grassed on them all to the Professor” and that he was, to put it mildly, underwhelmed, and lectured them about the “impossibility of irresponsible youngsters to become the X-Men”. Now the small drops of water on the window glass reminded of angry tears that resonated perfectly with Ororo’s mood. She also told them that Charles and Erik had barely said a word to each other in the last two days and that the latter was even dining outside despite Raven’s best efforts to drag him back to their table. In a nutshell, the twins were needed in the mansion.

“I told you that you overstayed here,” Lora drawled smugly when Peter said his goodbyes to Ororo.

“I thought you wanted to spend the weekend with your old bro and sis,” the young man noted.

“I still do but you –” the girl sneezed “– better go back there.”

Wanda drew her brows together, her maternally shrewd gaze scanned her sister. “You okay?”

Maybe if she hadn’t asked the question everything, absolutely everything that followed after would’ve taken another turn. But she did. And it sparked an idea in that clever little head of Lora’s.

The little girl sneezed again, this time feignedly. “I think I got a cold. So if you don’t want to stuck here sneezing, coughing, and experiencing all the nice things that come with it, I would put my ass on the train to New York right now.”

The struggle edged Wanda’s every feature. On the one hand, how could a good sister and daughter leave home at a time when everything called for her to stay? On the other hand, what if Erik grew on them enough to go look for them? Or what if the disagreement between him and the Professor made their father want to flee from the mansion? None of these prospects inspired much optimism.

But eventually, the scales tipped to one side and half an hour later Wanda blew Lora a kiss, Peter gave their mom a brief hug, and off they went, sloshing through the puddles to the train station.

The sky above them was still clouded, but the storm seemed to rein in its temper, only sprinkling those weirdos who risked leaving their house on such a moody Sunday.

Peter flicked a particularly impudent droplet of water off his shoulder casting an “accidental” sidelong glance at his twin. There was some emptiness about her that was almost palpable.

“Mom will mellow. Unlike you, she could never keep a sulky face for long.”

“Probably,” the girl replied, not buying the tease.

The accusation Wanda threw at their mom was real, it wasn’t said out of spite, it was a raw and honest thought that must have been cooking up in her mind for a while. Peter would be a liar if he denied he wasn’t thinking about it too, but for some reason, it was his twin’s soul where resentment chose to settle. Maybe there was an unresolved feeling between Wanda and mom or maybe Oxford had something to do with it, the thing was that his twin deliberately left him in the dark about what was going wrong in her life.

“You sure you don’t want to talk it out?”

Just talk to me. You can tell me everything. I’m right here.

“Not particularly, no.”

Wanda tamed her wavy locks in a half-up, half-down hairstyle and put on a hood of her yellow raincoat.

Even though she shielded from the further questions that touched upon the things she had no inclination to discuss at the moment, the girl still bothered to keep them both away from burdening silence. Those were small talks people have only when walking down a street or a park, some random things that seem meaningless or barely noticeable but can lead to a great conversation. In no way that strategy dulled Peter’s concern and curiosity but he surrendered, satisfied with what his sister was willing to give. For now.

When they plopped down on the hard velour seats in the train, the young man took out a stack of cards he snatched from a group of old men at the front of the car. In his defense they also had crossword puzzles and chess, solidifying the young man’s belief only fossils played that game. New nicknames for Charles and Erik were on their way.

With all that, three hours of inaction made themselves felt, wearing down the patience of both the speedster himself and Wanda as he couldn’t stop fidgeting in his seat, making hers shake all the more. It was hard to tell who jumped out of the train more eagerly when they reached New York.

If Washingtonians might have enjoyed a measured thrumming of the rain against their windows and flinched slightly in surprise when thunder rolled somewhere close, laughing at their own primal reflexes, then New Yorkers waged umbrella battles against each other and taxi drivers honked even more aggressively than they used to on any other day. Actually, it looked like the storm really raged here – plastic bags were flying like ghosts over the streets scattered with leaves and broken branches. Sullen buildings were looking down at streams of rainwater, the trash floating in it advertised a broad variety of products.

Having bought bus tickets to Salem Center, Peter and Wanda had two spare hours they had no idea how to spend. They decided to try and go watch a movie, but the fogged-up windows of the cinema suggest to decide better. Whenever they went – the crowd had already swallowed every inch of free and not so much space. An irking feeling they fell into some loop was building up in the twins’ chests when a voice broke through the roar of the downpour, calling their names. Two stores back Mr. Ehrlich was waving at them.

“Don’t tell me you are still looking for your car,” the man said half-jokingly, once they were inside a quaint café. They eased into the chairs at the small table where judging by the half-eaten croissant, a cup of what smelled like mint tea, and opened newspaper, their new friend had spent quite some time already.

Wanda smirked. “Oh God, no.”

“We were obliged to find it that day or –” Peter made a “slashing throat” gesture that raised Mr. Ehrlich’s brows.

“It’s our mother’s car,” the girl clarified. “We wouldn’t find it without your help. And we didn’t even pay for the map you gave us.”

The man put out his hand, a warm smile tugged at his lips. “I wouldn’t take a cent from you, anyway. The fine must have been tremendous.”

The twins grimaced, drawing a soft chuckle out of their now twice savior.

For the rest of the conversation, it was mostly Peter who did the talking whereas Wanda observed the place they were at. It was quite cozy there, a kind of English gazebo with a touch of French chic sandwiched between New York’s giant skyscrapers. There were a bit shabby white chairs and small round tables, plants in pots everywhere, croissants and biscuits and people were coming in and out every two minutes.

Time seemed to turn into a substance, something viscous and infinite, and fly by at a supersonic speed at once so that when the hands of Peter’s watch showed that the bus to Salem Center would leave in half an hour, the girl didn’t believe them at first. It was time to go.

The young man retired to the restroom, leaving Wanda and Mr. Ehrlich alone.

“I’m glad we met again,” the man said, warmly.

“And under different circumstances,” Wanda added in a waggish tone. “Although you helped us out again so not that different really.”

Mr. Ehrlich shook his head. “I’m not sure who helped out whom. I’ve been seriously considering to give these comics on the eighth page a try.”

A smile was about to brighten the girl’s features…

“Wendy?”

…instead, she stilled as death.

“Wendy, is that really you?”

Slowly, Wanda turned her head to the right and her gaze stumbled upon the face of a man she thought she would never see in her life again.

“Christ! For so long I thought you were –” A relieved smirk escaped his thin trembling lips. He came closer, reaching out for the girl’s shoulder as if he needed further proof she was not a hallucination.

Something frozen, far more complex and vicious than anger poured through Wanda, breaking the shackles of stupor. The man was on a dangerous path of meeting the same fate as the late Dart Wader mug.

Mr. Ehrlich watched the scene unfold, unsure if he should intervene. He wouldn’t have the chance anyway. One moment the stranger neared the table, and the next…the space was empty save for the napkins swirling in the air.

“What…was…that?” the man said slowly, dumbfounded.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go,” Wanda babbled apologetically. “Biz shpeter*.”

Without further delay, she burst out of the café, looking around. Luckily, all the girl had to do to find her brother was to follow a trail of stunned people left in his superspeed wake. Paying no mind to the honking drivers and a gust of wind that seemed to team up in their effort to stop her, Wanda ran across the road and turned onto a hidden nook of the street.

Peter was pinning the man against the wall, crumpling the collar of his brown leather jacket in his fists.

“I swear I wasn’t going to hurt her,” the man tried to explain himself, holding his hands up.

His ruffled hair was all gray and the stubble on his cheeks and chin reminded of dried-out shaving cream, but otherwise, he looked like Lonnie Patterson. Hewas Lonnie Patterson. A long-forgotten nightmare of a stepfather.

His gaze instantly flicked to Wanda when he spotted her from behind the speedster’s back. “You’re alive!”

“No thanks to you,” she said coolly.

“I know, I know. And you have the right to be angry –” The girl couldn’t keep herself from snorting at the audacity “– but I’m really sorry that I ran away.”

“Who knew that “away” was only a three-hour drive from Washington,” Peter sneered and abruptly let go of the man, taking two long steps back to the opposite wall.

“No, no, I’m new around here. Arrived a couple of days ago, actually,” Lonnie replied, straightening his jacket. “After everything that happened, I moved to Bloomington. Under a false name, of course.”

“Of course,” Wanda reiterated, her tone mockingly serious.

A police car siren howled somewhere near, and people’s indistinctive chatter broke through at times, but still, it was only the three of them on that filthy New York street.

“I had a lot of time to think about all the mistakes I made, Wendy.”

The girl folded her arms over her chest. “That’s not my name.”

A crease formed between Lonnie’s brows. Of course, he didn’t remember. ‘Wendy’ appeared because of people like him, people who couldn’t get her Polish name right or thought it strange. Especially kids at school. And with frequent moves through numerous cities, with Peter’s appearance, with the fact that their mother had two children but had never had a husband, they were already cast as ‘freaks’. ‘Wendy’ was a mask of sorts, almost a different identity – an ordinary girl who did the same stuff as all her American peers were doing.

“Look,” the man began anew on a weary exhale, “the last decade wasn’t easy for me. I left everything behind and began a new life from scratch. I had no money, no home, no food, nobody I could rely on.”

Peter eyed him up and down. Judging by the way their “stepfather” was dressed whatever the job he had now, it paid quite well.

“So what are you doing here anyway?” he asked.

“It’s been ten years already, you know?” Lonnie looked down, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I mean, not a day went by when I didn’t think about my girl, my little Lora.”

The twins swapped a wary glance.

“I went so far as to venture back home just to have a glimpse at her. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that a new family was living there. They, like, bought this house, my house, almost a decade ago. And nobody knew anything about you or your whereabouts. Strange, isn’t it?”

The speedster lifted his shoulder in a nonchalant half-shrug. “Stranger things happened. Can't think of any right now.”

Wanda was more straightforward. “What else did you expect? Mom sitting by the window, waiting for you to come back?”

“How did she even sell it without my permission?” the man pressed on, narrowing his eyes.

Here it was. Through all the theatrics the real Lonnie was peeping through. A sleaze and uncouth just like he had always been.

“Are you after having your daughter back in your life or the house?” the girl asked, her tone deceitfully calm. The way he lingered with the answer said enough to her. “Because either way you are not gonna get anything.”

“You know, when your mother and I started things up, I knew there was something wrong with you two at first sight. But I thought: “It’s nothing, Lonnie. It’s just you’re not used to spend time around kids. You’ll grow on them.” Fine!” He splayed his arms. “But it just kept progressing with the stealing and temper tantrums when things were flying in the air like it’s a damn horror movie! What a freak Maria had slept with to have you I have no idea, but I tried to make normal people out of you. To make a normal family for Lora to live in.”

Lonnie shook his head and added with a smirk of exasperation, “I should’ve taken her with me. Take her away before you could mess with her head.”

In a moment, a tendril of red energy licked his throat, spiraling around it in a deadly noose.

Peter cast a sideway glance at his twin whose face betrayed nothing.

“If I ever see you around my family or get a hint you are up to something, I’ll make you regret every choice you made in your miserable life.” With each cold word Wanda uttered the noose around Lonnie’s throat tightened, making him grimace. “Pack your things up and get the hell out of here.”

At last, the girl snapped her fingers and Lonnie started coughing, holding a hand to his throat.

“Leave,” Wanda gritted out, the irises of her eyes flamed the shade of spilled blood. “Now.”

He gave the twins a look dripping with distaste as he was moving backward and, having reached the corner of the nook, he finally turned his back on them, hiding within the chaos of the busy street.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to let him go like this?” Peter asked, approaching his sister from behind.

“I should’ve just strangled him on the spot, shouldn’t I?” she muttered and turned around to face him.

“We single-handedly cut Lora’s father out of her life.”

“Well, you didn’t really do or say much against him, so if anything, you can blame me.”

The speedster drew his brows slightly. “I’m not quite getting if you’re throwing shade or being serious, but don’t you think it comes as a bit double-crossing on our part? Like, we told Lora just hours ago about how our dad is judged only by the bad things he had done and now we do just that toward her father.”

“It’s different,” Wanda countered.

“Is it?”

“One was throwing clocks, not fully controlling his powers, another was throwing kids around the house just out of spite. For me, there is a big difference.”

Deep down Peter knew it all well himself, yet a part of him hoped there was a way to resolve things differently, that maybe they should’ve behaved differently so Lora could experience what it was like to grow up in a complete family. “Maybe he would be a good father for his child.”

“He and mom were fighting all the time, don’t you remember?” the girl said, looking into his eyes, coaxing his conscience. “It would be a toxic environment for a child to grow up in. He would turn her not only against us but against everyone who is different.

Wanda threaded her hand through her hair. “Even now, after so many years of “thinking”, the only thing he apologized for was that he ran away, and not for trying to beat “normalcy” into a teenager. A man would never do that, a father would never even think about it.”

Lost and confused, the brother and sister lingered in that nook for quite some time before they decided to stick to their original plan – go back to the school. Peter hightailed them to the station and, having caught their bus in time, they collapsed on their seats, tongue-tied.

By the time they got to the Salem Center, it was already quite dark outside, partly because of the black clouds hanging over the town. All the roads turned into swamps, impassable and deceitful like quicksand so that even the supersonic speed was of little help here (mostly because Peter didn’t want to ruin his Nike sneakers). Wanda had to do the thing she hated even more than going into people’s heads – “flying”. Every time she hovered in the air, her feet went cold from anxiety, and then, there was also her brother whom she had to wrap in a sort of cocoon made of energy to carry him. On the plus side, it helped her work off the strain of her power that craved to be used for something more than breaking mugs and scaring off morons.

“You look like popsicles in these raincoats,” Raven kind of greeted Wanda and Peter when they walked into the school.

“Thanks. I was dying to hear that after a six-hour journey,” the young man grumbled. Hungry Peter wasn’t fun Peter.

“Where’s Mr. Xavier?” his sister asked.

The shapeshifter tilted her head to the left. “In his office. With Erik.”

The speedster lifted a brow. “Are they best buddies again?”

“They better be by now,” Raven replied somewhat ominously.

Wanting to get this over with as soon as possible, Wanda headed to the Professor’s office and knocked on the door. A few seconds passed and it opened on its own. Although it would be more accurate to say at Magneto’s will.

The two men were sitting in what righteously could be called a “chess area” – the Professor took a spot near the fireplace and Erik planted himself in a chair at the chess desk. A light woody smell of whisky wafted in the air.

“Wanda, Peter, you’re back,” Charles said when the twins peeped out from behind the door. His tone wasn’t cold like they imagined it would be, inspiring some hopes in the youngsters’ hearts. “Come on in, take a seat. You must be tired after the road.”

Both twins felt their father’s gaze on them as they drifted into the room and eased themselves into the sofa, their shoulders touching in support.

The girl folded her hands in her lap. “Mr. Xavier, may I say a few words first?”

The Professor nodded his “sure things”.

“I know that our actions saddened you and I want to express my sincere apologies on that matter. As guests in your home, we should respect and follow the rules you set. It was wrong of us not only to sneak out in the middle of the night without letting anyone know but to continue the deceit on the days that followed after. I just want you to know that the sole purpose of this all was to make our friends feel like they are ordinary young people, not weighed down by the burden of…everything that happened in their lives recently.”

“Yeah,” Peter weighed in on. “And Jean was, like, trying to reason us out since the very beginning. She kept saying ‘that’s not what the Professor teaches us.’”

He chanced a glance at Erik, but the expression on his face was inscrutable. The hairs on the back of the speedster’s head rose.

“As I already said to your friends it’s not so much about the rules but about the trust,” he drawled pensively. “I’m not your enemy. I’m here to listen and offer my support, help if it’s needed. But how am I supposed to figure you out, if you don’t trust me with such simple things as telling me you want to go to a concert?”

Wanda bit her lip and looked down at her hands, her silver rings shimmered in the light of a fireplace.

“However, I see where you were coming from and I can’t ignore the positive side of your…shenanigan.”

Peter almost smirked at that.

“I must admit I was disappointed to learn what this whole story was about,” Erik finally broke his silence. “Such a waste of your gifts.”

“Oh, I can see that,” Wanda said slowly, her gaze suddenly fixed on an impish uplift of his lips. They haven’t seen each other for over two days and that’s the first thing he uttered? That they…she didn’t fulfill his expectations? Because everyone seemed to have some, whether it was mom with Oxford, or Peter, waiting for her to spill all the secrets she had, or even that damned moron Lonnie with his “oh, you’re alive!”. She had enough of it. “Although I don’t see how you have the right to be disappointed with anything we do.”

Her gaze clashed with his, but the look in those gray eyes wasn’t hard as steel. Something cracked in it.

The girl flicked her eyes to the Professor.  “I’m sorry Mr. Xavier, but if it’s okay with you, I would prefer to retire for today. I don’t feel well.”

“Of course,” the man said carefully. “Tell Hank if you need anything.”

Almost gaping, the silver-haired boy watched his sister raise to her feet and walk out of the office, leaving them all behind.

....

*My God! Don't scare me like this!

*Good night

*Enjoy your meal

*See you later