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

The day had only started, the sun was peeping out from behind the mini tower of the mansion, dressed in pink shades of shyness when Raven stepped out of the shower. She wrapped herself in the soft terry towel and, having wiped the fogged mirror on the wall, cast a quick glance at herself. In part, this morning wasn’t much different from any other outside the school walls, it reminded her of all the times she woke up in nice hotels around the world where she sneaked in “wearing” someone’s face. However, back there first light meant another adventure was on the horizon and here the shapeshifter managed to develop a routine, sometimes planning her day ahead.

Water dripped from her coarse red hair, tickling the back of her neck, rolling down between her shoulder blades as Raven ambled into the main space of her quarter. She was about to plop down into an armchair at the window, maybe snuggle a bit with the fluffy cushions but this little plan was doomed to stay nothing more than a plan.

The door to her room flung open, the doorknob almost left a dent in the wall, crashing into the smooth surface with a thud. Flakes of milk paint flew to the floor.

“I thought we are long past this level of familiarity,” the shapeshifter quipped, raising her brow.

“How long have you known?” Erik asked without any preamble, his voice loaded with unhinged rage. The door behind him shut close, the lock clicked though the hall was empty of curious students or teachers.

The sun had time to roll behind the horizon and rise again, shushing away its twin and her twinkling friends as the Master of Magnetism paced up and down his room. At some point one of his neighbors must have been so tired of hearing his shoes clatter, they worked up the courage to knock on the wall. As if it could knock out the stream of thoughts drowning the man’s mind. 

His defensive mechanism was all about clinging to the idea of mind control. Wanda had no problem holding five consciousness linked together, trying to reflect the powers of that little boy and withstand the Professor’s attempt to get involved. For the time being here, the girl managed to conceal her powers so well, even Charles with his twenty-plus years of experience on that matter hadn’t been able to detect a mutant in her.  It said a lot about her power but also about the level of control she had over it. The fact that Erik was aware of her gift was a mere coincidence.

Yet Wanda could’ve erased this knowledge from his head or rewritten his memory like she seemed to do with Ms. Torres. The very circumstances that took the wraps off her secret were that the man bared his soul, shared the details of the loss he had to go through. Looking at it now, when Erik’s perspective had shifted…Nina was not just a little girl who didn’t deserve to die, she was Wanda and Peter’s sister.

There wasn’t enough air in the room. The chest of drawers squeaked beneath the man’s hands as he leaned on it, trying to steady himself.

It occurred to him only now how much care the twins had put in him. Apples preference wasn’t the only thing Peter managed to ferret out about him, the Master of Magnetism was sure of that. It seemed like the boy knew when Erik was at his worst, haunted by the memory of lost happiness, so he played the role of external irritant, chatting the hell out of him in those moments. At first, the man was on the verge of blowing his head off but the more he listened to the speedster, the more engaged with his persona he became, kind of socializing in the school, learning about the life here from Peter’s words. Wanda didn’t fall behind her brother. Gingerly yet with unyielding persistence she was pushing Erik to join the “gang of nerds”, making him wonder why. His assumption was that the girl hoped it might somehow spice up the lab routine, boring without a doubt since she worked with Hank, the nerdiest nerd of all the nerds the Master of Magnetism had ever met. When he finally succumbed to her wishes, it brought an unexpectedly significant change into his life. The nightmares still tagged along with Erik; however, there were times when he poured over the sentinels schemes with Wanda and Hank till late at night so once he trudged back to his quarter, he just collapsed on the bed and slept like a log. The girl’s purpose exactly he now realized.

With that came confusion. Why would these kids walk on eggshells around him but keep their silence? Why didn’t they tell him anything? Were they testing if he was worth knowing the truth? Apparently, he wasn’t, or how else to explain Peter’s dismission? The last thing the boy told him was that the blood bonds they shared were not so tight for the Master of Magnetism to stay in the school.

Migraine was forming around Erik’s temples. He shucked off his blazer onto the bed and rubbed his face.

Did they want him in their lives or did they change their minds? Did he want it?

The twins had already warmed themselves into Erik’s heart, it was just now he had to accept the fact that these kids were his. Only it wasn’t a simple task to perform since he didn’t miss their birthday or was absent for quite a while. He missed everything. Every moment of twenty-one years of their lives. The very thought wrung him physically.

Did Maria know then, the day they had seen each other for the last time, that she carried his children under her heart? Or did she hide it from him intentionally? Did she ever look for him to drop the news?

When Magda told him she was pregnant with Nina, the man was beside himself with joy, a little scared too, but after years of fighting with fate itself, he couldn’t believe he was able to create a happy family at last. With his hand on his heart, Erik couldn’t tell for certain what his reaction would’ve been two decades ago still he wished he knew. He wished for someone to tell him a lot sooner. For someone to –

The man straightened.

Your daughter is an asshole.

When he asked her, these words flew out of Raven’s mouth straightaway, so easily and organically like it was a well-established fact. The look of horror passed across her face before the shapeshifter made up an excuse, pointing out similar traits between his and Wanda’s characters. It felt far-fetched but the Master of Magnetism had no reason to look closely at that slip of the tongue, though insensitive even by his standards. Now he had all the reasons to analyze every conversation he had with Mystique. One stood out in particular.

In Cairo, she reminded–reassured Erik that no matter what he wasn’t alone in the world and there was a brief pause in her speech when she exchanged glances with Peter, whose lips parted as if to add that he was among those who cared.

You have more family than you know.

Again, the words belong to Raven.

“How long have you known?” Erik repeated his question, taking two steps toward Mystique.

The woman’s instincts wailed to grab a chopstick left on the dresser after yesterday's dinner. Hesitation as to whether she should play a fool or go straight to the problem took place in her heart but judging by the almost manic look on the man’s face, the only game that could be played right now was tag with a non-childish outcome.

Raven had no difficulty connecting the dots – the truth about Erik’s paternity must have come out at last– the question was how and what exactly the man knew. She gave him a rather discreet answer, just in case. “Peter told me at Stryker’s base just before Charles delivered an ominous message.”

A crease of suspicion formed between his brows. “Why would he tell you?”

“I never lied to you, and I never will,” the shapeshifter said in earnest. “He asked me about how well I know you and what you are…in real life. I guess he sensed I was being honest or maybe he trusted me because of this “hero” –” she cringed, so wrong this word tasted on the tip of her tongue “– image. I don’t know.”

“Did Charles know too?”

“No.”

“He came to the school looking for you. The same was with Cairo. He was only here because of you,” she added somewhat placatingly, guessing that whatever happened between Erik and the twins, it didn’t go as smoothly as one would wish.

“But he kept it to himself. And so did you,” the Master of Magnetism noted darkly.

“Was it my place to tell you when Peter was eager to do it himself?” Raven countered, crossing her arms over her toweled chest. “Think about it, how would it make me look in his eyes?”

“Better than in mine right now.”

“I know it’s a long overdue confession but I had to give the kid a chance to deal with it on his own. I thought with the advent of Wanda, things would resolve quicker but they kept wasting time, trying to come up with a plan.”

Erik had always been a die-hard so the woman didn’t expect to get through to him without a fight, only hoping that measuring swords would take on the verbal form.

She jerked her chin slightly at the Master of Magnetism, curious. “How did you find out? Did they finally tell you?”

A muscle in the man’s jaw twitched. “No. This nurse that works with Hank called Peter by his last name – Maximoff.” His gaze turned distant as if the name dunked him in some memory.

“Then, messing the cables in Hank’s robot wasn’t in vain,” Mystique muttered on an exhale, shaking her head. “Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t want to get Wanda on a hospital bed however annoying she is.”

Erik snapped back to reality, his eyes, blazed with something hot and dangerous, bored into the shapeshifter. His words were honed better than the sharpest dagger when he slowly said, “You set up that explosion?”

Raven’s muscles tensed. She was a panther ready to jump.

“I didn’t know it can explode! I thought a pair of incorrectly connected cables will short-circuit the system or maybe it won’t start at all so you will have to stay here for a little longer and the twins –”

Something flashed in the air but the shapeshifter managed to dash to the window in time so it only grazed the skin of her neck before piercing the wall. A quick glance over her shoulder was enough to realize it was a silver chain that stuck in the plaster, an oval-shaped pendant was dangling on it, swaying side to side.

Raven shot the Master of Magnetism a glare. “You could’ve killed me.”

“You could’ve rendered Wanda killed,” he seethed back.

Raven didn’t wait for the piece of jewelry rattling in the wall to become the weapon of her murder so, having grabbed the first thing that was at hand – an expensive-looking white and blue vase, she hurtled it at Erik. She rushed to the window before the patter of porcelain filled the room but it slammed shut. So did the door to the bathroom.

“I didn’t mean to! You were gonna leave and I just wanted to help!” the shapeshifter yelled and rolled over the bed to snatch a lamp from the nightstand. In fact, it was a rather misfortunate choice because a moment later its cord snaked around Mystique’s neck. Give she up on the lamp now it would be almost the same as dropping an anchor.

“You could’ve just told me!” The man clenched his fists and magnetic force dragged his old friend to him, the towel fell off of her body somewhere along the way.

It was just what the doctor ordered. Raven punched Erik in the ribs with the lamp and once the pressure on her neck loosened, she threw the former light source aside and launched herself onto the Master of Magnetism, bringing them both down onto the floor.

“Your girl explained to me explicitly that I, I quote: “know better than to mess with Lehnsherrs’ business”,” she breathed out in his face. The man’s hands, which had already gripped her around the waist to throw her off of himself, contracted.

All of a sudden, the door to the quarter fell off its hinges and landed inches from the tangle that was Raven’s and Erik’s bodies. Hank tumbled into the room right after, his amber-red eyes bulged from worry, rolling from side to side behind the glasses.

“What’s going on? I heard –” he faltered when his gaze spotted the woman sprawled on top of the Master of Magnetism, his hold of her, their ragged breathing and disheveled look. The scientist staggered back.  

“It’s not what you think,” the shapeshifter said, giving the very “cop-out” Hank expected to hear.

With his gaze averted, Hank mumbled, “I’m already leaving.”

In a graceful, cat-like manner Raven raised to her feet and called after him, her tone almost pleading. But the man seemed to turn a deaf ear on her because he only picked up the broken door and covered the entrance with it on his way out of her quarter. She stood there for a moment longer, staring into the empty space while Erik collapsed onto the button-tufted ottoman bench at the foot of the bed.

“They already think you family, Erik,” the shapeshifter said, turning back to the topic and to her another crestfallen friend.

His elbows were braced on his knees and his face leaned against the hands he clasped in a prayer gesture. “Why didn’t they tell me then?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Because they were scared,” she answered simply.

Those grey eyes shot to her face, hurt embedded into them.

“Not of you. I checked,” Raven reassured him.

The Master of Magnetism watched her trudge to the bench and throw herself exhaustedly down next to him.

“They were discussing the consequences of telling you the truth and at first I thought that maybe they watched too much TV or their mother told them something –” the man loosed a sigh, the meaning of which his friend decided not to question right now “– so I gave them a glimpse into our history together. Only then it dawned on me –” she turned her head to face him properly “– they weren’t scared of you, they were scared that regardless of the relationships they managed to build with you, once you know the truth, you’ll run off on them.”

“Why would I do that?” The question was half rhetorical, half asked for an outside opinion. He could be one of the most powerful mutants walking the Earth yet the people he loved kept being taken away from him in the most tragic ways possible. Maybe he should withdraw himself from the picture now before it’s too late…

The woman’s mouth twisted in a lopsided grin. “Because they are your kids and being dramatic is in their blood.”

Erik huffed and ducked his head, staring at a piece of white and blue porcelain laying between his feet.  

“Just take it easy on yourself and on them.” Raven scooped him up in a half-hug, giving him a slight shake. “Together you will figure everything out.”

....

Overnight the interior of Wanda’s room went through a pretty impressive change and somebody might’ve even specified that it took only thirty-eight minutes to accomplish a more Feng Shui-ish vibe out there. The slip into the superspeed allowed Peter to lift rather heavy weights with ease and little sound so an ornamented closet migrated from one corner to another, the same fate befell the dresser, the coffee table, and the armchairs, remotely reminding of the Pac-Man’s labyrinth but in a good way. The space also welcomed some additional items like a framed image of a typical English landscape representing the Earth element, a few candles – Fire, and an aquarium with a lonely goldfish – Water. Reading about all of this newfangled stuff to “enhance different aspects of your life” made the young man doze off a couple of times over the latest issue of Architectural Digest he snatched from Jubilee’s quarter. It was a way to deal with numbness that suddenly overtook him, flooding every fiber of his soul where the shitty feeling was nestling all those weeks of lying to Erik.

The only discussion regarding the happened revelation of the family’s secret was held inwardly between the twins. They didn’t need to verbalize their emotions, knowing and feeling each other better than anyone could. In comforting silence Peter helped his sister onto the bed, took her boots off, and covered her with a blanket. Wrecked physically and emotionally, Wanda fell asleep long before the night settled, losing the battle with Morpheus despite her unwillingness to leave her brother to marinade in this on his own. She worried needlessly though because for the young man her presence alone was enough.

There was a moment when a light knocking on the door happened and Peter’s heart leaped in his chest. The disappointment he experienced finding Charles in the hall must have been imprinted on his face too clearly because the telepath limited himself to a couple of questions before he departed to his quarter, his eyes sparking with concern. The man was also the first one to appear on the threshold of Wanda’s room in the morning to make sure the youngsters were alright. At least relatively alright since he could sense something didn’t add up.

“Don’t sweat it, Prof,” Peter brushed off Charles’ concern. “My sis and I just got, like, traumatized but it’ll pass soon.”

Not a lie, but not quite true. The recovery of Wanda’s shoulder was a matter of weeks, and Peter’s anxiety for his sister would’ve waned off to a lower degree in the process. However, the look on Erik’s face…It was something they wouldn’t be able to get over soon. And it was not counting the fact that the twins had no idea if their father stayed or walked away. Of course, Peter could’ve checked it out but, for some reason, it didn’t feel right.

Then Kurt swung by, bringing a bouquet of daisies.

“I’ll tell her it’s from you,” the speedster reassured his friend with a wink.

It looked like Ororo came right after she woke up because the wrinkled pink and white set suspiciously reminded of a night attire. She patted the young man on the shoulder, promising to bring him and Wanda breakfast, yawned, and sauntered back to her room.

Next were Jean and Scott, looking like a typical couple living next door. The red-haired telepath even pinched the young man when he examined the girl’s room openly, peeking out from behind her brother’s back.

“What? I didn’t know Wanda has a pet fish,” he tried to exonerate himself, rubbing his arm.

By the time the fifth knock happened, Peter’s response to “How is Wanda doing?” was honed to a clear and laconic one with a pinch of annoyance.

“Wanda seems to be fine. She didn’t complain about anything, slept well through the night, and is still sleeping actually,” he got out with a big yawn as he opened the door, not allowing the visitor to even pose a question.

Once the young man’s vision cleared and his gaze settled on the figure standing right in front of him, his laid-back attitude broke down to crumbs. In fact, he barely kept the gasp of surprise in. He had to blink a few times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things after a sleepless night.

“You’re still here,” Peter mumbled, gawking at Erik.

It didn’t escape the speedster’s notice that, save for the blazer, the man was wearing the same clothes as yesterday. His hair was in complete disarrange, stubble shadowed his jaw and the lines around his eyes and between his brows seemed to deepen, anguish latched in them. In all honesty, he looked horrible, almost like in the first days after the battle with Apocalypse.

“You thought I would leave?” the man asked calmly.

There was a shift in the way he looked at Peter, the young man could sense it. A sort of wondering came into those grey hues of his, as if he had never seen the young man before, and yet, somewhere in the back of his head clearly a voice was reminding him about all the moments he and the twins had shared.

“I thought you might,” Peter admitted, his tone held no judgment whatsoever.

Erik couldn’t resist the urge. He needed to know, to hear the answer from his son. “Did you want me to leave?”

“I–” For a moment the young man averted his gaze, wanting to say “only if that’s what you wanted” or something subtle that would barely hint at the real thoughts swirling through his mind. Old habits die hard and filtering the truth over more than a month seemed to qualify from a newly acquainted skill into that exact category. But to move forward they needed to be honest with each other, so he looked back at the man and said, “No, I wanted you to stay. And so did Wanda.”

The Master of Magnetism nodded as he took the words in, his rigid posture seemed to lose a bit of the tension.

Somewhere from behind him came a click of the doorknob and some kid plodded into the hall, eyeing Erik and Peter with undisguised curiosity. As if it caused a chain reaction, or maybe it was just that the morning finally kicked in, another click was heard and it became obvious that this conversation could no longer take place at the threshold.

Having opened the door wider and stepped aside, the young man offered his father a refuge from the mayhem of noises that would inevitably outburst within the following minutes. It was also an invitation to spend some time in his company and the Master of Magnetism accepted it without further ado, walking into the room. His steps were soundless as he headed toward Wanda’s bed, stopping at its feet. The girl was lying on her side, one of two blankets was carefully tucked behind her back so that while sleeping she wouldn’t roll over onto her injured shoulder. Her face was peaceful, serene even, but her skin was still too pale and that ugly beige Band-Aid above her brow didn’t make things look better.

Peter came to stand beside his father’s side, sneaking a peak at him as he slipped into superspeed. Worry clearly was etched in his features. It made the young man wonder if Erik saw Nina in his twin. He often asked himself what was his little sister like. Did she have those chameleon eyes like their father had? Were her hair auburn or dark like Wanda’s and like his when he was a young kid? Or maybe the girl was a copy of her mom, with a sweet smile and gentle soul (for some reason it was the way his imagination depicted Magda).

The speedster spotted how Erik’s brows began to bend as his gaze focused on the aquarium, sparking on the dresser first, then probably noticing the overall change in the room’s space.

“I couldn’t sleep so I tried on the role of interior designer,” he explained, keeping his voice quiet.

The Master of Magnetism turned his face to his son, not hiding his surprise. “At night?”

Peter gave him a shrug. “Once I grow restless it doesn’t matter if it’s night or day, I have to work off the excess energy, you know?”

“In a sense,” the man confirmed. He was never good at sitting quietly in the corner and even now, when it would probably be better to wait a little and give yourself the time to process everything, he rushed to seek the answers that would inevitably start another circle of questions.

Erik’s hands slipped into the pockets of his trousers; his lips were a hard line for a long moment before he spoke again. “Peter, I–I want to know why you didn’t tell me the truth back in Cairo.”

In no way he had the intention to exclude Wanda from this conversation but it sort of started with the two of them and the peak moment happened in the city of pyramids when the world could’ve come to its end and everything would’ve lost itself under the rubble. However, the circumstances still seemed to be insufficient enough for Peter to say those very words.

The young man released a desperate puff of air. It wasn’t like he truly hoped this question wouldn’t pop up at some point yet it felt like all the answers he could muster up sounded pathetic and he didn’t want to look like a wimp.

“I’m not here to judge you,” Erik said, trying to encourage the boy to open up. He had already judged Raven so the clouds over his soul cleared a little.

A nervous smirk twisted the speedster’s mouth. “God, sometimes it feels like you’re a telepath.”

“I have a good read on people.”

“Arguable point.”

The Master of Magnetism gave him a flat stare.

The truth hurts and so Peter couldn’t keep a grimace off his face as he started, “I chickened out at the last minute, okay? I’m sure you can tell so much yourself. It’s just…”

He threw his hands in the air, pacing away from the man to the opposite part of the room, navigating through the labyrinth of furniture.

“I saw that news report from Poland and – I don’t know, I had this urge to go and find you and just tell you that I’m your son, that you have two kids looking for you.

Erik’s throat bobbed.  

“No doubt you pieced it together already but I came to the school hoping you’ll be there. ‘Cause I thought you and Prof are, like, really good friends. I don’t know.” Peter shook his full of silver locks head. “I was dead set to tell you. I thought it may be reason enough to stop you from taking part in that shitshow and helping us but honestly, most of it was just pure selfishness because I…I always wanted to have a father.

Those black eyes finally stopped on the man’s face.

“Then you asked me why I came and my reason felt so insufficient. Like you were gonna shrug it off or laugh me in the face if I told you who I was. So, I said what I said.”

“I knew there was something else,” the man said quietly.

Peter’s face lighted up. “You did?”

There was a hint of a smile around his lips. An awfully important and relieving hint. “Did I tell you I have a good read on people?”

“Fine, maybe I buy into it. Just a little,” the young man drawled with a boyish grin, slowly falling back into his easy-going self. He perched on the arm of the chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Why didn’t you press the issue if you suspected me of being sneaky?”

He watched the Master of Magnetism walk to the armchair across from his and having lowered himself on the seat, lean back into the velvet roughness. 

“I wasn’t keen on making acquaintances. My sole purpose was to repair the damage one of the causes of which was me,” Erik replied on a weary exhale.

“Past tense.” The man didn’t seem to pick up on what Peter meant – a crease formed between his brows – so the youngster elaborated his remark. “You said: “I wasn’t.”. What about now?”

“Now I want to get to know you and Wanda.”

“Well, though we omitted an important detail –”

Erik arched a brow. “You think?”

It earned him an eye roll albeit of restrained nature since the speedster was testing the waters.

“What I’m trying to say is that you know us better than, say, Raven or Hank. Or Prof, if he kept his psychotic powers away from my mind.”

“Psionic,” the man corrected him, fighting a chuckle. Mentally, he noted the word, storing it for the next time Charles decided to pester him with some piece of advice. “Psychotic attack” was the best name for such situations because of the effect they had on Erik’s nerves. “You’re worried for your mind but not Wanda’s? Are you so sure of her resistance to telepathy or it’s a well-established fact?”

“Oh, I didn’t suspect we’ll dive into interrogation so soon,” the speedster bantered, grinning. He slipped off of the chair’s arm onto the seat, sprawling on it like a king. “My sister is not fond of the idea when someone’s privacy is disturbed and likes it even less when it’s about her own mind. Whereas I’m not sure of the level of resistance her power provides her with, I know for a fact how well she can explain her point of view. And if there are any complications...Well, I’ve got her back.”

The proof of that was his immediate reaction to the rustling of the sheets and a light groan that came from the sleeping area of the room. In the blink of an eye, Peter was at his twin’s bedside.

“Pete?” she called out, squinting at the sunlight coming from the window.

“I’m here,” he replied gently.

“What time is it?” the girl asked, trying to hoist herself up.

It pained the young man physically to see Wanda so frayed. Like him and their father, she didn’t have enough care to change her clothes in the evening thus she was still in the same light-blue jeans and bright yellow top. The word “smile” embroidered on its front contrasted sharply with the dried blood stains and missing shoulder strap (Ms. Torres cut it off to provide an easy excess to the glass cut).

“Are you sure it’s a good idea? Just tell me what you need and I’ll bring it to you.”

Stubborn, the girl brushed off his concerns, her bare feet touched the wooden blocks, and slowly she stood up from the bed. Peter stayed close, her fail-safe. Wanda’s gaze became more focused as it traveled from the bunch of daisies on her nightstand to the aquarium on the dresser to Erik, standing in the middle of the room to – Her eyes snapped back to the man’s figure. Then, to the flash of gold in the fishbowl. As her attention ping-ponged between those two points in space, confusion was deepening between her brows until she mumbled, “These painkillers are no joke.”

“We’ve been waiting for you to wake up over here,” Peter apprised her, letting his twin know that everything she saw wasn’t a side effect of the pills Hank gave her. “Kurt brought daisies. Ororo, Jean and Scott also swung by.”

“Oh,” escaped Wanda’s lips, her pupils dilated from the realization. Slowly, she turned her head to the Master of Magnetism. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he responded in a quiet, soothing voice. “How you feel?”

“Um…Honestly? Like I was hit by a bus. I bet I look the part.” The girl glanced down at herself, at the arm sling and the bandage covering her injury. She closed her eyes for a second, struggling with a sudden feat of nausea.

“Bring your sister some water,” Erik said to Peter, taking two steps toward the twins.

The young man gave him a quick nod and disappeared, leaving the door to the quarter half open.

Straight to the point like the Master of Magnetism himself had always been, Wanda said, “So you decided to stay after all.”

“I get your frustration with my “silent” departure that may seem sudden to you, but I’ve never planned to remain in the school for long, to begin with,” the man answered, composed.

“Yet here you are, which means you found a reason to stick around for a little while longer,” the girl drawled an assumption, keeping her hopes at bay.

The speedster appeared at her side, silver hair ruffled, handing her a glass of water. “There you go.”

Keeping her gaze locked with her father’s, Wanda accepted the drink but didn’t make a single sip, waiting for him to tell what their now joint state of affairs was. At this point, it was all up to him.

“Knowing what I know now –” Erik looked at both of his children, shock still lingering in his features “– I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” Peter blasted out enthusiastically, causing faint smiles.

“Maybe we should hit the reset button?” the girl suggested.

The men swapped glances, not quite picking up on her idea.

She put the glass of water on the dresser, extended her arm to her father, and as he took it, experiencing a sort of déjà vu, she said, “Wanda Elizabeth Maximoff. Born on February 10th, 1959, in San Francisco, California.”

Next in this game of introductions was the silver-haired boy. “Peter Julian Maximoff,” he chirped, shaking hands with the Master of Magnetism (for the first time, actually). “Also born on February 10th, 1959, in San Francisco, California but at 11:03 a.m. which is twelve minutes earlier than my sister so I’m officially the firstborn.”

Wanda gave him a pointed look, fighting the reflex to cross her arms over her chest. “Will you let it rest?” 

A wicked grin spread over Peter’s face. “I will. When it stops annoying you.” Which basically meant never.

“So, San Francisco?” Erik cut in, guiding them away from sibling bickering toward productive conversation. “Washington isn’t your hometown then.”

“In a way, it actually is,” the young man mused. “We’ve been living there for like –” he lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug, casting a quick reassuring glance at his twin “– nine years? It’s the longest we’ve stayed in one city.”

“We grew all over the place,” the girl put in, allying with her brother on this. “After mom quit her job in New York, she went on a “spiritual journey”, as she likes to call it –” there was an amused quirk to the edge of her lips “– where she basically traveled around the states, working here and there just to have enough money to fill up the car and have a snack on the go. When we came into her life, she kind of adjusted that lifestyle to us.”

“Fan fact: We were born in a hippie commune so technically we have two birthday dates because mom took her time before going to the hospital to register us,” Peter babbled.

Erik’s gaze switched from one kid to the other as if he was trying to see how his ex-love interest’s approach to parenthood worked out. “I expected nothing less from Maria,” he said at last, looking not that surprised indeed.

However, working on Peter’s and Wanda’s expressions, surprise showed off all its might.

“Wow,” the silver-haired boy drawled, unblinking. “I wasn’t prepared for this.”

Their father furrowed. “For what?”

“It’s kind of hard to explain,” Wanda replied, visibly struggling to find the right words. “It’s always been a one-sided narrative where mom…made an effort to enlighten us on who you are and draw a picture outside of the news reports we were seen and then we met you in person, lived with you under one roof, learned some things about your life and…It feels like two different realities, it…”

“Doesn’t quite make any sense for you that your mother and I were actually together,” Erik finished the thought and his children nodded. He let loose a heavy sigh, running his hand across his face. The summer sun was bathing him its rays but the man didn’t feel their warmth, his whole being was already overloaded.

“I know it’s a lot,” the girl’s soothing voice broke through pulsating silence, drawing her father’s gaze to her glistening eyes. “Trying to make things right we only screwed it up for you and you have every right to be angry with us. For what it’s worth, we’re sorry.”

“Yeah, it would’ve been better to just go with the flow like Raven suggested,” her twin added, pursing his lips in a guilty line.

“Pete!” Wanda checked him out.

Don’t bring her into this, she admonished him through their ethereal bond.

The girl couldn’t care less about the impact this disclosure would have on the shapeshifter. What bothered her was that their father could feel even more betrayed if he knew how many people were aware of the thing he should’ve found out first.

The Master of Magnetism waved her concerns off with one sentence, noting nonchalantly, “She and I had already had a conversation about her consulting skills.”

A dramatic “oi” escaped Peter’s throat. “Now I get why you’re so reserved.”

He directed his chatter at Erik the second he noticed a question shining in the man’s bluish eyes. “I mean, I didn’t imagine you being up in flux but, you know, I didn’t rule out the possibility of getting a haul over the coals. And I would totally get it, it’s one hundred percent deserved but...If you are going to do it, is there any chance you can postpone it until after breakfast? I’ve been cooped up here for –” his family members barely registered a flash that indicated the speedster took a look at his wristwatch “– sixteen hours and twelve minutes! And I ran out of fuel long before I decided to explore the interior design options of this room!”

“Speaking of that,” Wanda cut in, fueled up with indignation. “Where the hell did you get this poor thing from?” Her finger was pointed at the lonely goldfish circling in the aquarium.

“Darren’s. You know Darren? He lives on the third floor three rooms down from Scott,” the young man replied right away, gesturing in the direction with his thumb. “He has plenty of them. I bet he didn’t even notice the loss.”

From behind the door left ajar by the speedster, a flurried voice was asking the students in the hall, “Did you see Goldie? Anyone? Goldie-the-fish?”

The girl pinned her brother with a glare and, having shaken her head, marched past Erik to the door, fully opening it. The rush of children’s voices practically swept her off her feet.

“Hey, Darren,” Wanda called out a teenage boy with a head of curly hair and square glasses on a perky nose, guessing a distressed fish owner in him. “Come over here for a sec.”

“Where did you get the aquarium, may I ask?” The Master of Magnetism said to Peter meanwhile. Although his expression was layered with shock and tiredness and something way more elusive, the young man believed somewhere out there, deep, was a spark of amusement hidden. Otherwise, why would he even ask about the aquarium?

“Darren had a spare one in his closet,” the speedster replied in a lowered, secretive voice.

All his father had to say on this subject was “Hmm”.

Darren himself stood on the threshold of Wanda’s quarter, shifting from one foot to the other, discouraged by Erik’s presence. Though Peter didn’t inspire much trust either because there was no way Goldie would “swim” here herself.

Realizing prompting the kid verbally wouldn’t do much, Wanda gently patted his shoulder. “Come on, pick your friend up. It–She must have missed you by now.”

The boy glanced up at her but his gaze quickly fell down to the bloodstains adorning her yellow top and he almost staggered back.

An encouraging smile never truly formed on the girl’s mouth, knowing it wouldn’t trick the kid if he had already gotten scared. “Just take the aquarium and go,” she said on a weary exhale.

It was exactly what Darren did. Holding his Goldie to his chest, he trotted his way out of the room, looking somewhat pale.

Wanda pushed the door and when it closed, relative silence blessed the quarter.

“So, breakfast?” she asked, feigning enthusiasm.

“You sure you don’t want to sit it out?” the Master of Magnetism asked, picking up on certain signs that said the effect of the painkillers began to wear off. All it would take to make the girl’s injury express itself in bright colors was a kid, running carefree through the school’s halls, bumping into everything on their way.

“It’s just a cut, not that big of a deal,” the girl replied with a small smile that did nothing to the worry etching her father’s and brother’s faces. She tried to reason them anyway, “You need a cup of coffee, Peter needs high protein foods, and I want a cup of tea, maybe a cookie and definitely a short-distance walk to stretch my muscles.”

Adamant in her decision, Wanda was already on her way to retrieve some clothes to change when it dawned on her that the wall parallel to the bed was no longer hidden behind a closet. A stretch of emerald wallpaper was now on full display, decorated with a picture of grassy hills overlooking the countryside. The girl stopped dead in her tracks, her gaze made a half circle around the room in search of her closet’s whereabouts. “Get things back to how they were,” she said to Peter, more of a warning than a request.  

The young man tsked, resigned to the tragic fate of his first interior design project. “Whatever. You’ve already ruined the balance.”

“Planning to do something about the armchairs?” Erik asked him, jerking his chin toward two velvet pieces of furniture.

“Not before I eat my breakfast. Why?”

The man proceeded to the armchair he previously occupied and sank into it, obviously experiencing the aftermath of stress and a sleepless night. An answer to Peter’s question enough.

Having found a one-shoulder top in the closet, Wanda threw it over her healthy shoulder and treaded to the bathroom, picking up a bouquet of daisies from the nightstand on her way there. “I’ll be right back.”

“And that’s a lie,” the speedster quipped, plopping down onto another armchair.

He and his twin exchanged mocking grimaces before the latter closed the door.

When Peter twisted in his seat and his gaze drifted back to his father’s figure, the man was sitting with his eyes closed, his head propped on his hand as if it were so heavy, it needed additional support. A sigh almost as painful to behold as Wanda wincing from pain and still carrying about others more than herself.

“Why won’t you go get some sleep?” the young man asked carefully.

“I don’t think I can,” the Master of Magnetism admitted quietly.

Even though they were in this together, marinating in the emotional turmoil that was painful and relieving in a sense at the same time, the speedster felt guilty. He and Wanda had seven whole years to accept the truth and sort out their feelings, decide that they want to find the lost part of their family. For their father, things were very different. The wound from the loss of his child – a child he knew about, whom he most likely wanted and whom he had raised – and his beloved wife had not yet healed when the stitches were torn open again by the knife of what could’ve been called betrayal. Because whatever one might say, they kept him in the dark intentionally.

“Is there any way I can help you?” Peter wanted to fix at least some part of this messy situation. “Do you like bedtime stories? I have a bunch. I have lots of stories, actually. Or maybe you need to listen to music? You can borrow my Walkman. Though I’m not sure our music tastes are similar. Do you like Rush? AC/DC? Queen? Bob Dylan?” He leaned a bit forward, voice laced with incredulity, “Elton John?”

Something out of this whole chatter made Erik crack his eyes open.

At that moment a dull, hollow sound came in from the hall as if someone kicked the door to the room with a heavy boot. It repeated a second later and then once again before the door knob magically turned, letting the intruder in. It happened to be Ororo, holding a tray stocked with various foods in her hands.

“I didn’t know what the two of you would like to have for breakfast so –” she began but the words faltered on her lips when she lifted her eyes, finding the Master of Magnetism sitting across from the speedster. “Erik.”

She was also the only one out of all the youngsters beside Wanda who dared to call the man by his first name in the face, dropping “Mr. Lehnsherr”.

Erik gave her a nod of greeting.

“Whoa, I didn’t think you were serious,” Peter said, looking at the food with eyes wide with surprise and, well, hunger.

The girl lifted her brows, challenge and amusement entwined in her brown eyes. “When wasn’t I?”

Grinning, her silver-haired friend held his hands up in surrender. He took the tray from her and put it down on the coffee table.

“So, Wanda’s finally up?” the Storm Ruler asked, noticing that the bed was empty.

“Yep. She’s in the bathroom, primping,” the young man got out, chewing on the ham and cheese sandwich.

He handed his father a cup of coffee and a croissant, but the man accepted only the drink, though with gratitude, sticking with his morning meal preferences. The croissant went on a separate plate, joining a couple of chocolate chip cookies, and was put on the edge of the table together with the second cup of steaming liquid – most likely Wanda’s breakfast. It leaned family atmosphere so strong, Ororo felt like she was out of place. That was the reason she politely declined Peter’s offer to join them.

As the speedster walked her out, the girl briefly turned her face to him to say, “Hank was up to coming here, by the way. Do you want me to stall him?”

It was a simple smile that tugged at his lips. “He’ll swing by anyway to check on my sis. But thanks.”

She shrugged her shoulders in an “as you wish” gesture. “See ya around.”

As soon as Peter closed the door and returned to the armchair next to his father, the man remarked, sipping unsweetened coffee from his cup, “You never told me anything about that concert night.”

The young man’s hand holding a croissant froze midair. “You really want to know?”

“I really do,” the Master of Magnetism replied in a tone perhaps way too serious for such an occasion.

For his son, it was enough of an encouragement to lay bare the full story. “It all started with Wanda’s bragging.”

He had told his father about the emotional turmoil the gang had to go through prior to the trip to New York itself, omitting the altercation he had with Scott (for the most part because it simply lost its colors as a memory), gave his perspective of the moment they sneaked out of the mansion and shared his impression of Elton John’s concert, promising to show the pictures from this trip as soon as he develops the film.

“Sorry it took me so long,” Wanda said a bit embarrassed with herself since she emerged from the bathroom twice as late as she promised.

She put a vase with daisies on the nightstand and rounded the armchair with a silver “shrubbery” sticking out from its top to find her brother sprawled in it, sleeping with his mouth half open, holding a croissant in a death grip. A glance at Erik made the girl realize that he wasn’t just sitting there, leaning wearily onto his hand, but exploring Morpheus’ domain too. It struck her so hard that she just blinked at them in complete incomprehension for several minutes, then bend over slightly, looking into Peter’s face, her eyes two narrow slits of suspicion. There were too many times when he was pretending to be asleep or busy over something only to jump out of a sudden later and give her a fright. Wanda even tried to free the croissant, but Peter only squeezed it tighter, turning it into a kind of bow, and smacked his lips. She had to press the back of her hand against her mouth to stifle her chuckle. It really wasn’t a ploy.

The girl tiptoed to the window and closed the curtain, plunging the room into semi-darkness. She had never seen her father so peaceful; the lines life drew on his face smoothed out, his shoulders relaxed, and looking at him sleeping in an armchair just next to her brother filled her chest with warmth. It filled her to the brim and, in a sense, pushed her out of the room.

Gingerly, Wanda closed the door to her quarter and walked down the hall, heading to the Day Room.

On the flight of stairs, she met Hank. The expression in his sky-blue eyes was so crestfallen, the girl outstarted him with an “Are you alright?” question.

“I should be asking that,” the man noted with a thin-lipped smile.

“After I saw myself in the mirror?” She pulled a dramatic face. “It’s an emotional trauma for life.”

There was some truth to her quip. When Wanda saw her reflection, she literally flinched (the reason the pain in her shoulder went from mild throbbing to mild burning). The Band-Aid pulled itself off of her forehead, hanging above her brow only out of spite, her hair was a nest of curls she had spent the majority of her time on, untangling it. And that’s not to mention the stained top she really tried to take off but gave up at some point, simply cutting it into pieces.

“So, spit it out. What’s wrong?” the girl prompted.

“When your expectations are as high as the sky it’s always hard to walk on in the reality,” her friend muttered, looking down at his shoes. Wanda saw hesitation taking over his face until he pushed his glasses up on his nose, pushing away whatever was brewing in his head. “Never mind. I was actually on the way to your room to bring this.” He pulled out an orange mini bottle from the pocket of his blazer. “These painkillers are quite strong so one pill a day after lunch will be enough.”

Before he could give it to her, the girl put out her hand. “Uhm. You know, I’ll try to do without them.”

“Why? Did you have side effects?” Hank asked, concerned.

“If feeling like you are a Snow White on acid is one of them then my answer is yes,” Wanda said with a smirk. She clarified her answer, knowing the man wasn’t really friends with sarcasm, “I slept for sixteen hours. It made me question reality.”

The scientist raised his growing-out brows. “Usually, it works the other way around.”

“Crazy, right?” the girl drawled in an exaggerated manner. “Well, my brother is in part to blame for that.”

“What did he do?”

“Rearranged my room. He even borrowed a fish from some boy.”

All of a sudden, a school of children invaded the stairs, turning and twisting between the man and Wanda, sweeping them into two different whirlpools. Their movements seemed to be so fast and inhumanly synchronic that the girl started to feel sick. Luckily, Hank fished her out, maneuvering them to the large stained-glass window.

“Perhaps I should have listened to Erik,” she muttered under her breath, closing her eyes for a second.

“You spoke with him already?” The surprise in Hank’s voice was unmatched.

“First thing in the morning,” Wanda confirmed without a second thought. “I bet he and Peter are performing a snorting symphony by now. Both fell asleep in the armchairs in my room.”

The light penetrating the stained-glass window painted the man’s face red, or maybe the responsibility rested solely with the emotions swirling somewhere inside him. One thing was clear – the girl had never seen him so piqued.

“Hank?” she called out carefully.

“Take these,” the scientist said in a reserved tone, handing her a plastic bottle with pills. “Just in case you change your mind.”

Wanda knew he wasn’t pissed with her but her usually sharp mind was still too hazed to figure out what threw him off balance. “Hank,” she pressed on, wanting to help her friend somehow.

But Hank stuck to the trajectory of silence. “Don’t forget to come to level one in the evening for the dressing change. Ms. Torres will be there until seven.”

He put the painkillers in her hand, gently folding her fingers over the bottle, and walked off. The girl stood there, on the flight of stairs, until the figure of her friend disappeared from her line of vision. There wasn’t anything she could do right now so she switched her focus back to the task that brought her out of her quarter.

Having reached the Day Room, Wanda eased herself slowly into the armchair and took the phone from a small glass table standing nearby, dialing a set of numbers that seemed to be engraved inside of her head.

“Hello,” came a soft voice from the other side of the phone line. 

“Hey, mom. It’s me,” the girl replied quietly, awkwardly. If it weren’t for the searing pain in her shoulder, she would have been picking at the lid of the pill bottle already.

“Wanda.” There was nothing reluctant in the way Maria said her daughter’s name, much to the latter’s relief. A little kid deep down in the girl’s soul was scared that one day her sharp tongue might slaughter her mother’s love for her.

However, this call wasn’t about taking her words back. She only spoke her mind out that day at home. “I just wanted to let you know that he found out the truth.”

Minutes ticked away before the taut silence was broken with a sigh. “You finally told him.”

“Not exactly,” Wanda drawled, tucking her legs underneath her body. “The showdown went nowhere near the way we planned it to happen.”

The woman instantly went alert. “Are you and Peter alright? Did he do something?”

“No, no. He did nothing wrong. He actually stayed here, with us, even though he was planning to leave…before everything happened.” Maria didn’t say anything, giving her daughter the space to share what had happened. However difficult it was because her instincts screamed to drop everything and hightail to the school to cuddle her kids and take them back home. “Hank and I did an experiment that failed and I needed a bit of medical assistance.”

“Honey! How bad is it? Why didn’t anyone call me?!”

“Mom, I’m fine. I promise,” the girl reassured her mom, trying to cut off her panic. “It’s just a cut that needed a few stitches. The point is that Ms. Torres, the school’s doctor, called Peter by our last name and it sparked a thought in our–in–” she took a cautious glance around the room but she was alone there “– in Erik.”

“Huh, so he remembers,” Maria huffed rather acridly, making her daughter purse her lips. Then, her voice pitched to a comforting tone, “I’ll take a day off and come to you.”

“You’ve already spent a week at home because Lora got sick. If you take another leave, especially so soon, they may fire you,” Wanda made a reasonable note. “Besides, you made it clear you’re not ready to be here.”

The woman tried to cut in, “About that –”

“It’s alright, mom. You don’t have to explain.”

“On the contrary. That’s exactly what I should do if my kids think I don’t care about them that much anymore,” her mom said in earnest. There was a brief pose taken, probably to collect the thoughts, before she spoke again, her voice deeper than it was. “I cried when Peter first called me after that, so to say, trip to Egypt. You know he didn’t tell me about his broken leg so the first week I only worried if this school was a safe place to be in. Then you told me everything and I was ready to jump in the car and go, even if it meant I had to meet with Erik, but you dissuaded me. I got it right away that if you came to the school, you and your brother made a decision and my presence might’ve complicated things. Believe me, it wasn’t easy to stay away from you both knowing all it takes to be around you is a five-hour drive.”

“And they say a romantic long-distance relationship is hard,” the girl mumbled, leaning back in her seat. “Try out family relationship with a dramatic secret, pals.”

She heard a chuckle and a sniffle on the other side of the phone line. Her eyes pricked with tears but she threw her head back, fighting them. “Come here with Lora when you have time, alright?” Wanda said in a brittle voice. “Pete and I can meet you in town. I heard they have the best cherry-chocolate ice cream in the state.”

“We’ll come. But only for the ice cream,” Maria joked. There was some rustling heard as if she ripped off a piece of paper towel.

“Sounds good enough to me,” her daughter joked back. “And mom…Uhm…About Oxford –”

“As long as the reasons aren’t those that somebody bullies you there or you were expelled, I think I can be fine with the “teachers are teaching, students are studying” thing,” the woman said in a way that suggested whatever it was – her girl being offended by some posh dorks or expelled by dorks older – she might very well get on the plane right now and teach them manners.

“You know, Hank told me something today that really stuck with me,” Wanda drawled thoughtfully. “He said: “When your expectations are as high as the sky it’s always hard to walk on in the reality.”. I think that’s what happened to me. I’ve been dreaming about going to Oxford for so long, I accidentally idolized it, and when it turned out that even one of the oldest universities in the world has big flaws…It’s just lost its charm for me. But it doesn’t mean I’m going to quit Oxford.”

“Thank God! Because I had already started collecting university brochures.”

“Oh, wow. You’re truly a forward-thinking woman.”

The girl could hear her mom smirk. “You bet.”

“How–how are you doing? I haven’t heard any gossip from work for quite a while.”

“Ooh, you have a lot of catching up to do,” Maria crooned rather dramatically.

Grinning, Wanda made herself comfortable in the armchair. “I’m all ears.”

....

It was late evening when Peter left his twin’s quarter in search of snacks for the movie night. Erik left for his room to sleep through the rest of the time after he woke up in the armchair with his neck and back asleep but his children were keen on staying close to each other so the young man kind of pitched his tent in the “living area” of Wanda’s space. Just like in old good times when they were little and had to huddle in motels with their mom, switching cities and states every couple of months or so. The Professor’s mansion would’ve never survived any level of comparison to those beautiful places of temporary residence, missing out on such joys like having little mustached friends setting up gatherings between the yellowish sheets or listening to the debates of a lady of the night and her ungrateful “friend”. Walking down the long hallway of the school now, the speedster’s mouth twisted with a lopsided grin at the memory of him and his sister running along the corridors that had the exact same lighting – unsettling if one wasn’t fond of closed spaces and mysterious for those whose imagination was in full swing once the boredom hit.

The door to the last quarter in the row opened, letting out Raven with a trash bag in hand.

“36-19, Westchester. I got eyes on the murder suspect, coming in contact,” Peter said into his hands clasped over his mouth so his voice sounded like it was coming from the walkie-talkie.

The shapeshifter gave him a pointed look.

The young man tipped his head toward the black plastic. “Who’s the victim?”

“Charles’ property,” Mystique replied matter-of-factly.

She opened the bag for detective Maximoff. Inside, there were pieces of painted porcelain and something that pretty much resembled a plaster, a lamp shade, a bulb, a lamp base…   

“Don’t like Prof’s interior design choices?” the speedster asked, brows raised.

Having closed the door to her quarter, the woman moved for the stairs, Peter following.

“It’s not about Charles’ taste. His attachment to old-fashioned stuff is rather endearing,” Raven said, the tips of her lips lifted for a brief moment. She turned her head to her silver-haired friend, serious. “Erik and I had a productive conversation in the morning. I take you and your sister talked to him too or else you wouldn’t wander around the school at regular speed.”

A shadow passed across Peter’s face, as well as the last sentence, went past his interest. “He destroyed your place?”

“Well…Actually, he put his hand on the wall only, the lamp and the vase are on my conscience. But Charles will be better off without this knowledge,” she noted jokingly.

It didn’t necessarily bring down the negative spark but the young man played along. “I’ll think about it.”

Raven stopped right at the round table in the main hall, stalling the speedster. “Look, our fight has no impact on your relationships with him whatsoever. He and I had never been good at hearing each other out. It’s one of many reasons things didn’t work out for us in the past.”

“Aaand thaaat’s the part I don’t want to know about more than I already do. Thank you very much,” Peter crooned, grimacing in a such exaggerated manner the woman couldn’t help but smirk.

Whiskey river, take my miiiind*

Don’t let her memory torture me

At first, the speedster thought he had an auditory hallucination so suddenly two muffled voices started singing somewhere nearby. However, a baffled expression settled on the shapeshifter’s face said otherwise.

“What the hell –” she didn’t have the chance to finish her thought for the weighty wooden door opened with a high-pitched creak, drawing her and the young man’s attention to the school’s main entrance. Or rather, to the two figures that stumbled into the hall.

Whiskey river – hiccup – dryyyy

You’re all I’ve got, take caare of me

Some hard liquid obviously took care of Hank and Alan because the men were leaning onto each other, one threw his hand over the other’s shoulder and the other hugged his drunken buddy by the waist. Judging by the wrinkled, half-unbuttoned shirts and dirt on the trousers, the struggle to stay upright on their feet was real for quite some time already. But what truly stroke the eye was the fact that the better part of Hank’s face was covered with red imprints of lips.

The trash bag slipped out of Raven’s grip, the sound of its fragile contents hitting the stone floor was soberingly loud.

Seven hours earlier… 

Hank tried to go back to the lab and bring himself to work but failed to gain focus every time he took the soldering iron in his hands.

The way Raven pinned Erik to the floor, sitting atop him, hair all messy…The way his fingers sank into her flash, gripping her waist roughly and greedily…

Several years of living separate lives and recently killed wife and child didn’t seem to extinguish whatever it was between those two. He was a fool to let himself believe that this time things would be different just because the Master of Magnetism lost his wife and child over a month ago.

There was no way the man could go through this day without a generous portion of alcohol. But, when your circle of friends consists of three and a half people that are an ex-alcoholic, a long-term illness from which a strong drink was a temporary remedy, a five-minutes-ago-teenager on painkillers who also happened to be in an unidentified type of relationship with that damned half – Erik Lehnsherr, your choice is reduced to two options. First – to get wasted alone, which in itself is too bleak, or to find a drinking buddy. That was why Hank found himself outside of school.

“Billy, don’t put it in your mouth!” Mr. Edwards shouted to a little boy who was about to check the taste of the garden soil.

Alan was a chemistry teacher who came to Charles’ school about a year ago, battered by life but still enthusiastic about teaching children Boyle’s law and all the magic of mixing powders and liquids to blow up a classroom. His appearance – white like snow hair, brows and lashes, eyes reminding of thin ice over a lake, and love for three-piece suits – created a false impression of an unsympathetic kind of person when in reality he was a total sweetheart. At least that was how the female part of the staff and his students described him.

Now, the man was sitting on a chair on the patio, legs crossed, looking posh and more English than Charles in that camel beige trousers and a vest worn over an immaculately white shirt, with a newspaper in hands and a cup of tea on the round table at his side. He looked like he was the one who owned this mansion.

Hank couldn’t remember the last time he spoke to the man, probably never, judging by the perplexed look he received when settling on a vacant chair across.

“Mr. McCoy,” Alan said, his deep voice sounding a touch unsure. “It’s a nice day, isn’t it?”

It very much depends, a gloomy thought crossed the scientist’s mind. But out loud he said, his tone amicable, “It’s just Hank, really.”

“For God’s sake! Heather, please, take Billy inside and wash his mouth!” the chemistry teacher suddenly burst out with an instruction to the oldest girl on the playground downstairs. “Sorry.” He folded his newspaper and put it on the table, giving his companion an abashed look. “I’m Alan, by the way.”

“Yeah, I kind of…know that.”

The men exchanged awkward, thin-lipped smiles.

Before his mind decided to question its own sanity, Hank blurted out, “Are you down for a drink?”

“Tonight?”

“Right now.”

Slowly but surely Alan’s brows were coming close to his hairline. “At four o’clock in the afternoon?”

He peered at the scientist, unblinking, as if behind the glasses he saw not the eyes but a journal with private thoughts that were decoded.  

“I’m sorry. Never mind.” Hank sprung to his feet, regretting he got up from the bed today in the first place. This whole thing would make a perfect gossip for all the other teachers who had already thought him weird enough. Cool. Great. Co-pa-ce-tic. “It was a stupid idea from the very beginning.”

Alan must have read something between the lines because he hastened to stop his new friend from leaving. “Between you, me, and the bedpost, a change of scenery, especially if the scenery doesn’t include children, is rather welcomed,” he said, the corners of his lips slightly lifted in a soft smile. He rose from his chair, smoothing out wrinkles on his trousers and fixing his vest. “Give me ten minutes to find a replacement to fill in on my kindergarten shift and fetch my wallet and I’m ready to go.”

“I invited you so the drinks are on me,” the scientist reassured him, perking up. “I’ll go get the car.”

A nod of acknowledgment passed between them and Hank headed to the garage. He started the only car Charles had left – a lemon Oldsmobile straight from post-war time - and drove it out to the courtyard, tapping some beat on the steering wheel as he waited for Alan to hop in. For once, he had no idea what he was doing and it felt surprisingly freeing.

The ride to the town was rather short and unremarkable, sans awkward silence and one remark that came out of the blue.

“You know, I have to confess –” Alan cast a sideways glance at Hank, tugging at his shirt collar “– I’m not really into tall brunettes.”

“Erm…Neither am I, I guess,” the scientist drawled, his mind racing chaotically through the reasons as to why this topic would even come to light and finding none. However, it stuck with him and while they were cruising through a nice neighborhood, Hank was questioning what kind of women attracted him. Another thing that was so out of his character.

Eventually, they parked near a one-floor building with a grey brick façade, black glass doors, and red awnings featuring a sprinting fox painted in white, a rather fitting image since the sign above the entrance said “The Brazen Fox”.

“Have you been here before?” Alan asked, closing the door of the Oldsmobile.   

“Nope. It’s a new place I didn’t know I wanted to try.” Hank held the door open for the man, letting him go ahead.

Despite the early hour, the bar wasn’t empty – here and there people sat at the tables with a bottle of beer and a plate of French fries or a burger, some watched a basketball game, most likely recorded. An ebony bar counter polished to a perfect shine was silently chosen as the place to settle and once the new friends perched on the high stools, they ordered a drink.

“Seems like a nice place,” Alan said, his gaze traveling across beige walls peppered with black-and-white pictures of New York in the early decades of the century and movie stars that had never been to this place throughout the entirety of their lives. “How did you find it?”

“I spotted it the last time Charles and I came to the town to purchase all the necessary things to fix the school. I–I don’t know.” The scientist lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug before he took a sip of beer from the bottle. “I just thought that Raven might like it.”

“Oh, so, we’re scouting?” Hank got an impression it was relief that laced the words. It formed a crease of puzzlement between his brows. His new friend elaborated when the pause dragged on, “For a nice place where you can bring Raven for a dinner.”

“That’s highly unlikely. She’s pretty much occupied with Erik,” the man said rather dejectedly.

“Magneto?” Alan clarified in a cautiously lowered voice.

His colleague grimaced – an answer to more than this particular question – and chugged on Budweiser with alarming enthusiasm.

Frowning, Alan looked down at the wooden bar counter as if it were a map with dots and he was trying to connect them so it would’ve made sense. At last, he leaned back in his stool and slouched. “Honestly? For a long moment there I thought you asked me out on a date.”

Hank choked on his drink right away. He was coughing so violently that the people around the bar began casting worried glances at him.

“Good Lord. That was really bad timing,” Alan muttered, taking the bottle from his friend’s hand to put on the counter and then clapping him on the back. “Are you alright?”

The scientist gave him a thumbs up and rasped, “All good. Sorry. I–I had no idea. I didn’t mean to mislead you. I’m –”

“Henry, it’s alright,” Alan cut him off, though gently. “You have nothing to be sorry about. I misread your very much unromantic invitation, my mistake.”

Now that short conversation in the car made sense.

“Oh my.” Hank took his glasses off to rub his face, his cheeks blooming with embarrassment. When he perched them back on his nose there was a warm, slightly amused smile playing on his companion’s lips. Out of pure curiosity, he decided to ask, “Why did you agree to go then?”

The man splayed his arms. “Free drinks?”      

It drew a chuckle out of Hank.

“I thought you needed a friend and for one reason or another you saw one in me,” Alan added, far more serious this time. “How could I say no?”

For a while they just set there, in mutual silence, watching the bartender making artful maneuvers to create some fancy drink called Cucumber Cosmo ordered by a newcomer.

“It’s been a while since anyone called me ‘Henry’,” the scientist admitted quietly. “If being completely honest, nobody called me that besides my parents.”

“Do they call you ‘Hank’ now too?” Alan asked and took a sip of warming liquid from the bottle he barely touched.

“They both passed away several years ago.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s fine. My father used to work at a nuclear power plant and that’s what killed him in the end. He faded away on my mother’s hands in two years. She didn’t live long after he died.”

“Do you have any siblings?” When Hank shook his head, the man offered, keeping his tone light, “Well, then, it’s good you found the Professor and all these children to work with.”

“I guess it is,” his friend agreed with a ghost of a smile around his lips. “What about your family?”

“I lost touch with my parents when I said that I’ll never have a family the society claims to be normal,” Alan replied, his overall calm exterior didn’t match those heart-wrenching shadows lurking in his eyes. “And my sister–Mary lives in Connecticut with her family.”

Hank decided to stick with the positive part of the story. “Connecticut? It’s practically around the corner! Is that why you decided to teach at Charles’ school?”

“Well, there was a bunch of reasons to come here. But…Yeah, mainly because I wanted to be closer to all the family I have left.” A bitter smirk burst out of the man. “Ironic since her husband, Tom, doesn’t let me anywhere near her and their children.”

The door to the bar opened and a young couple with two children stepped inside, their littlest – a girl of about five years old – rushed to a man who had been sitting at the corner of the bar counter for quite a while, watching but not really seeing the basketball game a TV set was showing. Now it became clear that he was just killing his time here, waiting for his family – judging by the similar features he was the young woman’s brother – to arrive. When he leaned down to pick up the girl, she wrapped her little arms around his neck, squeezing him too hard. It caused a good laugh in that little circle. It seemed like life had always had a rather perverted sense of humor.

With his heart full of aching sympathy for his new friend, Hank offered the only thing he could, “I’m sorry.”

Alan raised his hand, signaling to the bartender. “I want to make a rule for today’s evening,” he proclaimed to the scientist, looking quite pleased with his own idea. “We’re not allowed to say ‘sorry’. Every time one of us says it, he should take a shot.”

In a moment an alchemist of alcoholic mixes put a salt cellar, a small plate with lemon slices and two shot glasses filled to the brim with tequila on the counter.

“Wow, that was fast. The man must be into you because when I made an order, it took him fifteen minutes to just get the beer out of the fridge,” Hank made a fair remark.

Alan nudged him with his elbow, slightly cheered up.

They sprinkled a small pinch of salt onto the skin between the thumb and forefinger, licked it, downed their tequila shots in one synchronized gulp ,and bit on the lemon.

“You know, I don’t regret coming out to my family,” Alan got out, face still scrunched up in the aftermath of citrus’ sourness. “Of course, I would love to have them by my side but at least I don’t live in a lie, pretending to be someone I’m not.”

“This reminds me of Erik,” Hank said, a negative undertone missing for once.

“You two seem to have quite a relationship.”

“I’d rather have nothing to do with him at all.”

Alan’s gaze shifted from the mini glass he was toying with for a while to his friend, studying him with the thoroughness of a man of science. Then he risked voicing his observation, “I take it Raven and Erik are in an on-and-off relationship. Judging by the fact you, somebody who’s a rare guest not only on the Thursday’s briefings but even in the cafeteria, ran away to the town for a drink, they are in an ‘on’ phase right now.”

Recent memory settled like a storm cloud on Hank’s face. “I walked in on them in the morning.”

His colleague heaved a sigh. “I know we’re supposed to be hating on Erik right now,” he began very carefully. “But…Have you ever told Raven you have feelings for her?”

“No. But she knows. She used it in the past for her own purposes.”

Old feelings were stirred, mixing with the sharp tips of shattered hope, and seemed to bloom with new colors. With little success, the man tried to drown them in a bottle of cold beer.

“Oh, wow, sounds bad,” Alan drawled, genuinely indignant on his friend’s account.

“It was bad. But I–I don’t–I can’t,” Hank trailed off, shaking his head ruefully.

“You don’t just stop loving someone because things get hard.” Alan put his hand on the man’s shoulder, the gesture as much comforting as the tone of his voice. “At least I don’t. And as far as I see, that’s the case with you too.”

Unaccustomed discussing his hurt ache with anyone, Hank felt pressured to apologize for being “whiny”. “I’m sorry I burden you with my problems. Not sure if free drinks are worth of evening listening to the story about my pathetic love life.”

As if it were exactly what Alan expected to hear from his friend, he raised his hand and called out the bartender, “Excuse me, can we have two more shots, please?”

“What are you celebrating?” a dazzling brunette chirped as she hopped onto the empty stool at Alan’s side.

“The answer may vary,” the man joked, having exchanged glances with his friend. “You?”

“Eight mimosas, please,” the young woman asked the bartender, showing the number on her fingers. She twisted in her seat to face Alan properly, the skirt of her off-shoulder dress rustling, and showed off the pink sash that went across her chest, the intricate silver letters said “bridesmaid”.

Alan cast a glance over his shoulder, spotting laughing women huddling at one table. Six of them were wearing the same sashes and one was dressed in a white elegant jumpsuit, a cowboy hat perched on top of her blond head. “Oh, so it’s a big night.”

“Congrats,” Hank added, peeking from behind his friend’s figure.

Her eyes immediately landed on his face, something sparked in them before her red lips twisted in a smile. “I’m Alisia,” she introduced herself explicitly to the scientist which almost drew a chuckle out of Alan.

“I’m Hank,” the man said, shaking hands with the beautiful intruder, much to her surprise. He made a sweeping motion over his drinking buddy. “And this is Alan.”

The chemistry teacher shot a two-fingered salute to her.

“Al, your mimosas,” the bartender intervened, putting a tray full of champagne flutes in front of the young woman.

Alisia lingered for a moment, then asked Hank in a pretty much innocent voice, “Would you mind helping me? I’m not sure I can get this to my girlfriends safely.”

“Me?” The man’s eyes widened. Unsure, he cast a glance at Alan who was silently sipping on his beer. “Erm…I had a few drinks already so I might not be –”

“Please,” she crooned, batting her eyelashes.

“Help my friend out, man,” the bartender weighed in on, a boyish grin playing on his lips.

Being nothing less than a gentleman, Hank got off his stool, took the tray, and followed Alisia, clueless like a sacrificial lamb.

“Let the party begin,” the man behind the bar counter drawled and winked at Alan.

Everything that followed next was chaos unleashed. The bridesmaids welcomed Hank with their arms open (it turned out that The Brazen Fox was not the first place they stopped by, but rather the final point in their alcohol tour around the town) and practically held him hostage at their table until they got him drunk with a gallon of mimosa. When Alan finally stopped chit-chatting with the bartender and ventured to rescue his friend, he was captured too. It seemed like everyone who was in the bar that evening participated in this wild celebration in one way or another. Laughter was ringing in every corner, people were dancing and singing, the pitch of their voices rising with each refilled glass.   

Out of the tandem, Alan turned out to be the soberest, figuring out that it was time to press ‘stop’ around nine p.m.. Yet still, he wasn’t sober enough to get behind the wheel so he had to drag Hank out of the stuffy bar and through the town’s streets before they were on the right road to the mansion. When the last song of the birds ceased, the men began their own, and it was with it that they tumbled into the school hall.

“Whoaaa, Raven! The-the apple of my eye,” Hank slurred, a blissful smile twisted his mouth.

“What’s the meaning of this?” the shapeshifter asked, not yet parsing the situation. Even in their days of youth, when the X-Men team was only forming, she had never seen the man in such a state.

“Mr. Edwards?” Peter asked, his voice soaked with pure astonishment. In his wildest dreams he couldn’t imagine “Prof’s lost bro” – a nickname he gave the teacher for his immaculate style and manners – getting wasted. “Holy Moly!”

Alan smacked his lips as if saying “oops, busted”.

The door to Charles’ office opened and the man himself appeared in the doorway. “What is the meaning of this?” he repeated his sworn sister’s question, eyeing an unexpected gathering in the hall.

“You both aren’t really perceptive today, huh?” Hank teased, pointing at his friends. Or he thought so because, in reality, the targets of his index finger were a tall Ficus in a pod and an antique drawer.

The man giggled and his drunken buddy joined him right away, their union leaned to the side, on their way to meet with a column and most likely the floor. Luckily, Peter slid into superspeed to come to their rescue, grabbing them by the collar of their shirts and steadying them. It prompted even more giggles.

“Shall I walk you to your rooms, sirs?” the young man said, finding the whole situation highly amusing.

“It’s better to actually walk them,” Raven noted, coming to Hank’s side and throwing his arm over her shoulder. “Or else they will puke on all the carpets.”

The scientist pouted, resentful.

“Peter, help Mr. Edwards to his quarter, please,” Charles said, rubbing his temple.

“It’s Alan, really,” the chemistry teacher slurred into the speedster’s face, dosing him with an alcoholic breath.

“Oh, wow. O-kay, Mr. Alan,” Peter drawled with a grimace. He hugged the man by the waist, threw his arm around his shoulders, and added, when approaching the stairs, “Lift your right leg. Mm-hmm. Now your left. Here we go.”

Slowly, they were going up the stairs, Raven drugging Hank ahead.

“Peter,” the Professor called out, forcing the young man to look over his shoulder and Alan’s arm. “Did you...I know Erik is still here and I feel that mentally he is in some kind of distress, but I–Did you see him?”

“Mr. Magneto is busy,” Alan crooned with a suspicious grin.

Peter glanced at the man, incredulous, but decided to ignore whatever this drunken nonsense was about. To Charles, he said, “Yeah. We kinda spent the day together at Wanda’s. He's resting in his room now.”

“Oh” was everything the telepath was able to say before the speedster resumed drugging the chemistry teacher upstairs. It was quite a task since they were moving at a snail’s pace and Peter struggled with the itch to drop into superspeed, hightail to the needed quarter, shake off Mr. Edwards, and ran to Wanda to share all the details of this weird interaction. Without superspeed, it took him eight minutes and about forty-two seconds to deal with it all.

“You’re not gonna believe what I’m about to tell you!” the young man blasted out once the door to his sister’s quarter closed behind his back.

The girl arched her brow, unfazed. “I swear to God, if it’s another ghost story –”

His enthusiasm cut her off. “Hank came back from town totally wasted! With Prof’s lost bro!”

“What?!” Wanda’s eyes went round. “No way! Tell me everything!”

And so the movie night was postponed till later.

....

*Whiskey River (1972) by Willie Nelson (really didn't expect that I'd like the song but I ended up singing it while I was writing Hank's drunken adventure...)