Chapter 17
Three days after a prototype of sentinel exploded, the residents of the mansion were stricken by another flashy scene. Around 9:55 a.m., Wanda walked into the cafeteria. The arm sling was still in place but it did nothing to how radiant she was in a white lace dress, her long dark hair flowing over her shoulders. Erik was strolling on her left, Peter – on her right, reminding of two guardian angels in those similar dark outfits they wore.
Even Charles, who had seen a lot over the years, forgot about his mouth-watering breakfast for a few moments. Partly because it was the first time in these three days that he saw his old friend. The telepath began to think Erik was avoiding him and no matter how many times he tried to start a conversation about it with Raven, his sworn sister wasn’t keen on sharing any details except that the magnetokinetic spent all his time with the twins. Charles had a nagging feeling there was some drama unfolding on the sidelines while he was trying to build a peaceful atmosphere for the young mutants to live in.
To the credit of the Lehnsherrs family, none of them planned an eye-catching appearance in the cafeteria or anywhere else, really. Erik simply came to Wanda’s quarter, as he did for the past three mornings, and found his children getting ready to come downstairs for breakfast (mainly his daughter’s idea since she got tired of being cooped up in her room). So, here they were.
A certain number of gazes directed at the twins had a spark of joy in them. These belonged to Jean, Ororo, Kurt, and Scott who finally came to sit at one table after they were subjected to the Professor’s reprimand. The speedster spotted them right away and was about to turn to the large window at which they gather, sure he and his sister would split ways with their father. However, when the siblings were about to outmaneuver a bunch of children running right at them, they felt a gentle pull that guided them closer to Erik. Judging by the sharp move in the opposite direction and surprised faces, the youngsters also experienced a shift in the magnetic field. These were the only ways that went split.
The twins swapped a glance as they found themselves next to the X-Men team’s table. Well, it looked like they were going to have breakfast in a different company than it was expected.
“Morning, Mr. Xavier,” the girl said, taking a seat across from the telepath with a rather bashful smile.
“Prof,” Peter acknowledged Charles’ existence and plopped down onto the empty chair at the head of the table. Of course, he didn’t forget to wink at Raven.
And Raven was watching her sworn brother watching Erik who, keeping it casual, sat down between the twins.
“Good morning to you all,” the telepath managed to say, emphasizing the last word.
In response, the Master of Magnetism lifted his eyes to the face of his old friend, brows slightly raised.
The shapeshifter tried to run off, not ready to participate in anything close to a family showdown. “I’m gonna go get more coffee.”
But can one really expect to succeed in such a matter when there is a speedster around?
“It’s already on me,” Peter blurted out, his foot tapping on the stone floor as his eyes darted between the mutants at the table. “One coffee for you, one for the old man, tea and biscuits for my sis. Any other orders? Prof?”
Luckily, the Professor had everything he needed because the young man catapulted from his seat long before any reply came out. He headed to the food counter, past the gang, answering their silent “What’s going on?” with a shake of his head. He genuinely had no intelligible answer on his mind.
Jean’s gaze flickered from her silver-haired friend to his twin, instantly meeting her green eyes. Wanda put two fingers to her temple, adding a short, encouraging nod to it before she made it look like she was tucking an unruly lock of hair behind her ear. The telepath read it as a sign and tried to go into the girl’s mind. It was like listening to a static radio yet one clear sentence passed through the mental bond:
Meet you all in the library later.
Then – silence. Peter’s twin turned her head to Charles.
“I feel like I should apologize for the mess Hank and I made in your office, Mr. Xavier,” Wanda said, being sincere. It also was an icebreaker of sorts because they were sitting in an uncomfortable silence. “That fancy window must have cost a fortune.”
It took a moment for the man to take his eyes off Erik but when he did, shifting his attention to the girl, a warm smile graced his features. “Don’t worry about it. The only thing that truly matters is that none of you got seriously hurt. Speaking of injuries, how do you feel?”
“Seven interrupted stitches sound serious enough for me,” the Master of Magnetism objected, giving Raven a dirty look.
The one she sent his way could’ve been put into something close to “I’m sorry, okay? What else do you want to hear?”.
“She doesn’t take the pills, so…it feels,” Peter answered Charles’ question, putting a tray with drinks and food on the table. His father reached for the cup of black coffee in an instant.
“Actually, I did take one at night,” the girl corrected her twin, taking a sip of her hot green tea. “I must have tossed and turned in bed too much because towards morning it felt like somebody was drilling my shoulder. So, I took the pill and remembered why I opted out of it in the first place. I had such a realistic dream where I was wandering through the woods full of pink roses.”
The speedster was most definitely scandalized to hear that. He slept on a convertible chair just about seven feet away from her bed and she didn’t even ask him to bring a glass of water? “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wouldn’t mind having a dream like this,” Charles admitted, a slight crease formed between his brows, not quite getting why the girl painted the image in a negative palette.
“Because I know you, if I told you, you would’ve turned into an overbearing mother hen,” Wanda said to her brother, not unkindly, making him grumble something in denial. Then, she turned to the telepath, her tone jocular, “Those roses had fangs and were trying to tear me to shreds.”
Raven smirked. “That’s some rich imagination you’ve got.”
“In fact, we don’t have enough data to believe that dreams are a product of our imagination,” the Professor noted, a certain spark in his eyes exposed that nature of a curious explorer of his. “On the contrary, I’m inclined to think that these mini-films playing in our minds are a result of our experience and general knowledge of the world combined.”
A cheeky grin twisted the speedster’s mouth. “I don’t remember hearing about the existence of toothed roses.”
The shapeshifter pointed a finger at him, approving his remark.
“It’s true,” the telepath agreed with a nod and his opponents shared a smug look. Prematurely though. “However –” Raven and Peter clicked their tongues “– carnivorous plants do exist. For instance, Venus flytrap or Rafflesia. These species leave quite an impression.”
“Are these the ones that eat flies and stuff?” the young man asked, chewing on a muffin.
“They are the ones,” the Professor confirmed, enthusiastic.
Wanda’s hand froze over another cucumber sandwich she was just planning to put on her plate. “Can we not talk about insects at the table, please?” she asked, almost pleading.
“Or you might not talk at all,” Erik suggested offhandedly.
“I’m sure you would like that very much,” Charles muttered into his cup of Earl Grey.
For a moment there, everyone just remembered the main purpose of breakfast which is to fuel one’s body with hot drinks and food to get energy and start the day, basically fulfilling the wish of the Master of Magnetism. Although there still was a cacophony of sounds to put up with, it was the inevitable price to pay for living under the roof with quite a lot of people so the man just leaned back in his seat, observing. For the most part, the youngsters were minding their own business, a few cast stealthy glances at those who gathered at the X-Men team’s table and there was certainly a whisper of gossip going. From the corner of his eye, Erik noticed Wanda was waving to someone and, having scanned the space, his gaze stopped on a little boy who was waving back, his face beaming.
Benjamin, the name popped up in the man’s mind, bringing a flash of an “entertaining” night along. The Summers’ house. Schmidt. And…Wanda–his daughter pleading with a bunch of cops to help some guy that was bleeding in her arms. A sharp pop of a bullet being released rang through Erik’s ears.
All the teaspoons on the table bent over.
A pair of blue eyes filled to the brim with worry and sympathy bore into the man’s face.
Leave me be, Charles, the Master of Magnetism thought, shoving away the gentle touch of his friend’s power on his mind. With little effort, he returned the teaspoons to their regular shape.
The man turned his head to Wanda who was sitting beside him. Unlike the Professor, her method of ‘reading’ him didn’t include the invasion of privacy. The girl only eyed him shrewdly, a slight crease forming between her brows.
“Oh, look who’s here,” Peter drawled, amused notes easily discerned in his voice. “Our party animal.”
Everyone beside Erik channeled their attention to the doorway to see Hank emerging from the hall into the cafeteria, his head slightly bowed as if he were embarrassed to look into familiar faces. He probably was because after that night at the bar with Alan, he fell into a hangover coma, staying in bed for two days. In all honesty, Charles didn’t know how to deal with it – an injured youngster, one friend says he was leaving but stays and stops talking, another comes home drunk, also not keen on having any type of conversation, and a sworn sister who knows more than she is letting on. As if only anyone paid proper respect to the fact that he was the owner of the roof all of them were living under. Oh, dreams.
Wanda raised her hand in greeting and mouthed “Hey!” but the man just curled his lips in something hardly resonating with the positivity she radiated. Hank ignored the X-Men team’s table, approaching the one at which most of the teachers gathered instead. Mr. Edwards seemed to be surprised by the way this morning was going but gladly offered his new friend a seat beside himself.
“What the…” the girl began, feeling personally offended. A glance at the Professor gave her nothing yet there was a weird look that passed between her father and Raven.
“Aren’t you going to ask?” Erik said to Wanda, challenging her to translate that intent gaze of hers into words.
The girl arched her brow, the cut above it rolled like a river wave. “Are you keen on sharing?”
The man mirrored her expression. “Since when does it stop you?”
It would be foolish to deny that the dynamics between the Master of Magnetism and the twins did not change. Peter and Wanda were walking on eggshells around him since the beginning but somehow, they had more freedom with their words and actions. Now, when the secret was out and Erik chose to stay, the whole thing felt even more fragile. It seemed like one little thing could make him have a change of heart, scare him away, therefore, shattering the twins for good.
The speedster’s fingers were drumming on the table as he voiced his guess, “Is it because you ruined the operation room?”
“Peter!” his twin checked him. Quickly, she turned her face to Charles, an innocent smile playing on her lips, and crafted a simple though only half-truthful explanation. “Erik accidentally broke the glass drawers and Ms. Torres covered for him.”
“I’m gonna use my deductive skills and say you and Hank have got into a fight,” the young man went on, ardor sparked in his eyes. “Or better even, Raven is somehow involved in this.”
“I’m glad you find it amusing,” the shapeshifter put in grimly.
Peter grinned at her.
“So, what happened?” the Professor cut to the chase, massaging his temple.
Reluctance was rolling off Raven in waves. She folded her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair. “Hank walked in on me and Erik in the middle of –” The twins’ expressions were a perfect representation of what a mix of horror and disgust looked like. Charles’ face was also a delightful sight to behold.
“I had asked you!” the speedster wined as his imagination was already creating an image of the scene the scientist must have witnessed.
“Does anyone have scissors?” Wanda asked, anxiously tossing her hair over her shoulder and trying to draw out a couple of strands matted under the arm sling.
“Your take on this is wrong!” the shapeshifter fenced, her stare shooting daggers at the Master of Magnetism whose silence was in no way helpful. “Calm down your kids!”
“You don’t need scissors, just give me your scrunchie,” Erik said to his daughter in a calm voice, rendering his family (but especially the gang who was watching them all intently from their table) speechless.
He noticed that the girl had struggled with her stubborn wavy locks since the early morning, unable to tame them with one hand, and it seemed like now she came to a point where she was ready to chop the off and call it a day. Hence, the need for scissors (and not for some kind of bloodshed as Raven thought). It brought a few memories about Maria to the surface of the man’s mind. There were times when she, equipped with an angry speech and a comb, was fighting with the same long and wavy hair as Wanda now had. Every time Erik caught this moment, he couldn’t help but laugh.
He waited patiently for the girl to blink her surprise away and outstretch her arm so he could pull off the violet scrunchie from her wrist. When she did that and twisted in her seat, turning her back to him, the Master of Magnetism gathered her hair in his hands, and his fingers began braiding the locks as if he had been doing it a hundred times before. He probably did, in those days when he was a caring parent for Nina.
“I must admit it’s kind of heartwarming to watch,” Alan said to Hank, gaze fixed on Erik and Wanda.
“Please, not you too,” the scientist said on an exhale.
“Aw –” his friend nudged him with an elbow “– don’t get jealous.”
“I’m not jealous,” Hank retorted passionately, contradicting his own statement. “It’s just you have this face Charles always has when Erik is around.”
Alan drew his brows together, puzzled. “What face?”
The scientist gave him a look. “The all-forgiving one.”
“I sympathize with him, that’s all,” the chemistry teacher said, holding his hand to his heart. “He lost his child. Do you realize how devastating it must be for him? No parent should experience this kind of pain.”
Intellectually, Hank knew his friend was right, but deep in his heart, resentment was brewing for years. It was hard to hold it back now. “So, hopping in Raven’s bed is his way of getting through grief?”
“I thought you saw them on the floor,” Alan noted, teasing him a little. He heaved a sigh then and patted the scientist on his shoulder, looking into his eyes. “Regardless of what is going on between them now, you should stop with these stolen glances. Talk to her. Let it out. But for now, just be at this table and enjoy your breakfast, listen to the conversations going on here. You’ll be surprised to find that when it comes to complaining – teachers aren’t that different from students.”
The corners of Hank’s lips lifted in a small but grateful smile. Trying to follow his friend’s advice, the man took a sip of coffee with milk and focused on the people around him.
“I’m telling you, these students are a bunch of pencileptos*!” Ms. Jensen, a geometry teacher, proclaimed. “My drawer was full of pencils and they’re all gone now. It’s been only a month!”
“That’s why I started marking them,” Mr. Laghari, an art teacher, said proudly. “If you see anyone holding a pencil with a blue sticker, it’s mine.”
“They steal my cards with formulas,” Alan put in, earning himself sympathetic nods.
“I usually ask students to copy the most frequently used formulas on the cover of their notebooks so that they always have them at hand,” Hank shared his teaching experience.
Everyone at the table swiveled their eyes to the scientist, silence settling like fog.
Alan scratched his forehead. “With shame, I must admit that this idea never crossed my mind.”
“Maybe it’s for the better,” Hank began to back off, uncomfortable with all these inscrutable gazes centered on him. “Some may find it a loophole of sorts to skip memorizing the necessary because it’s always at hand.”
Silence stretched further so that the man was considering fleeing the cafeteria and never showing up there.
“I have long wanted to offer you to join forces and give a lesson together,” Ms. Russell, physics teacher, said in earnest. She snapped her fingers and pointed at the scientist. “We should definitely do it.”
“Do you have any useful ideas regarding pencils?” Ms. Jensen asked, hopeful, leaning closer to Hank across the table.
“Or maps,” Mr. Perez, a geography teacher, intervened. “They color them every time I buy a new one! It’s like these kids think that the printing office ran out of paint when it came down to Antarctica!”
One by one, Hank’s colleagues began bombarding him with questions and asking his opinion, finally realizing he was the man who built a jet right under the school, so he must have an ace or two up his sleeve. At last, a nerd felt like cool kids accepted him in their league and it felt pretty damn great. Just what the doctor ordered.
....
“Look who deigned to honor us with their attention,” Ororo teased the twins once the soles of their shoes stepped onto the Persian rugs in the library.
The gang settled waiting for them there, occupying the far corner of the room. Kurt was sitting in an armchair, his tail curled over his lap, Jean and Scott cozied up on the leather couch and Ororo perched on the windowsill, one leg up, arm braced casually on the knee.
“Blink twice if Magneto holds you hostage,” Scott quipped in a hushed voice.
Jean tsked though not unamused by her boyfriend’s remark. She escaped his side and stepped toward Wanda, circling her gently in her arms. Ororo dismounted the window ledge to give her friend a good hug too. The three of them exchanged a warm look, surprised to find out how much they actually missed each other’s company. Wanda then fist-bumped Scott and turned to Kurt, who was about to give up his seat for her. Smiling, the girl put out her hand to stall him and simply perched on the arm of his chair. If anyone looked closely at the young man’s face at that moment, they would see his cheeks coloring a deeper blue.
All this time Peter stood with his arms splayed and eyes closed, his expression blissful.
Ororo raised her brows. “Are you sunbathing?”
The speedster cracked one of his eyes open. “Don’t I get hugs?”
“Did you get seriously hurt recently?” the girl asked.
“Yeah! Like now!” the young man shot a reply right away, indignant. “I walked in a cast for weeks and then was cuddling with a cold. I don’t remember getting hugs for any of that.”
“Really?” Ororo smirked and waved his pretensions off, coming to take her place on the windowsill again. “You got a share of attention that should be enough for half a year minimum.”
The grimace Peter pulled made his friends chuckle. He plopped down onto the empty part of a couch, the leather of the seat squeaked beneath him in shock.
“Wie geht’s Ihnen? (How are you?)” Kurt asked, looking up at Wanda. His eyes were two flames of care burning brightly in this half-dimmed library.
The girl swapped a glance with her brother. She took a deep breath and said slowly as if she didn’t believe her own words, “Erik knows the truth.”
Her friends’ expressions changed drastically.
Ororo nodded thoughtfully. “I got that impression when I came by your quarters a few days ago.”
Scott sat straight in his seat. “How…how did it happen?”
“If you’re waiting to hear a story where we’ve finally worked up the courage to tell him, you’re waiting in vain,” Wanda said and her lips tightened.
“Doc called me by my last name when we were all in the operation room,” Peter smirked somewhat ruefully. “I didn’t even pay attention to it.” The young man felt a light caress on his arm – Jean’s reminder that he and his sister were not alone in this.
Wanda took over, unwilling to lose the light mood. “Long story short, the name Maximoff has not faded from his memory. He pieced this puzzle together and for the last several days the three of us were just trying to, you know, accept this new reality.”
Kurt smiled at her and said, “Well, it looks like he isn’t going to let any Maximoff out of his sight ever again.”
“Which means next time we want to hang out with you, we’ll have to plan it ahead and coordinate it with Erik,” Ororo joked.
They weren’t alone in the room – kids sneaked in and out, some were picking books on the second floor and others were already reading near the corner where the gang gathered – and the habit of looking around or lowering voice preserved yet there were no more big secrets to guard. It was freeing not only for the twins but for their friends too.
“Speaking of plans,” Wanda jumped at the opportunity to discuss a topic she and her brother were mulling over the other day. “What ideas do you have regarding the X-Men project?”
Perplexed glances went full circle before they settled on the girl’s face.
“What do you mean?” Jean voiced a collective question, her brows drowning together.
“We were gone for, like, a week in total and they’ve already given up on the idea of becoming superheroes,” Peter drawled in feigned shock.
Scott’s eyes narrowed behind those futuristic glasses he wore, Wanda could tell for sure. He asked, his tone secretive, “Have you thought of something? Another big adventure?”
“Oh, please, New York was just a drop in the ocean.” The girl waved her hand nonchalantly. “If we hadn’t lost the car, it wouldn’t be such a vivid memory.”
“Were there bigger adventures in your life?” Kurt asked, unable to think of anything grander than slipping unnoticed from the most powerful telepath’s nose and almost getting away with it.
The same shadow crossed Peter’s and Wanda’s faces. It was bleak and eliminated the glimmer of mischief in their eyes with the snap of the fingers, making the image from the nightmare resurface again, this time in the minds of Scott and Ororo. It happened so that they never discussed what they saw and slowly it shifted into the background, faded in the face of the present’s problems. They used to buy it, that the twins’ life was a long escapade, but what if it were only an illusion?
The brother and sister indeed had things they did not intend to share with anyone. Even with their parents. Mom would be better off without that knowledge. Even more so would be Erik.
“Vielleicht wird dieser größer (Maybe this one will be bigger),” Wanda answered to Kurt, putting her smile back on.
Peter crossed his ankle over a knee and said, “We need to find a task that requires teamwork. If we complete it successfully, it will show Prof that he was wrong to write us off so quickly.”
“And if we fail, it will bury us even deeper,” Ororo mused, her voice deep.
Jean offered a more positive outcome, “Or it will push us to work harder and do better next time.”
“It may also prove that we are a shitty team,” Scott put in grimly.
“But it’s better to try and fail than sit around, right?” Kurt said, his gaze travelling from one familiar face to another.
“That’s my thought exactly,” the twins said in unison.
A couple of reading youngsters lifted their heads from their books, condemning that loud enthusiasm.
Wanda’s expression turned apologetic. “Sorry,” she mouthed to them.
The gang decided to form a closer circle so Ororo relocated from the windowsill to the coffee table, Wanda sat next to her brother whereas Scott and Kurt slipped to the floor, settling on a red and blue oriental rug.
“And how are we gonna find our task?” Scott asked in a half-whisper.
For a moment silence fell.
Ororo bit her fingernail, deep in thought. “I overheard a conversation between some kids the other day,” she drawled. “They were talking about how cool it would be to have a treehouse.”
Peter smirked. “Of course it would be. Who doesn’t want to have a treehouse?”
The pain of betrayal pierced his heart when his twin raised her hand.
“What am I, five?” she quipped.
Ororo raised her hand too. And so did Jean.
“I’ve climbed enough trees and houses in my life to realize that the concept of these two things being combined is overestimated,” the Storm Ruler proclaimed.
“I mean,” the red-haired telepath drawled, her shoulders lifted, “I’m fine sitting under a tree and watch life from the ground.”
“Oh, come on! Don’t be such buzzkills!” Scott cried out. One particular girl in glasses that made her eyes look eerily big shushed him. He went back to half-whispering, “A treehouse is fun! You climb up there and no one bothers you. All you do is chill.”
“I’ve always wanted to have a place like that,” Kurt admitted, smiling wistfully.
“Do I have to remind you that if, and that’s an extremely big if, we are going to build a treehouse, we will do it for the actual children?” Wanda said with an impish grin.
The speedster was about to push the girl but remembered that her shoulder was injured just in time. So he just pinched her nose (very maturely).
“Building a treehouse is much more than just teamwork,” Ororo fairly noted. “We need materials, and tools, and a suitable location with a strong tree. And given that this project is solely ours, it wouldn’t hurt to read a couple of books on construction works.”
Jean’s gaze turned pensive as if she was leafing through a journal, looking for a certain record. “Actually, I think there were quite a lot of boards and different fasteners left after the school’s reconstruction. They must have been piled in the church’s backyard.”
Kurt nodded and said, a note of disapproval clear in his tone, “I confirm. I’ve been trying to organize this backyard for weeks now but there’s too much clutter for one.”
Scott drew his brows together as he turned to the teleport. “You could ask me for help.”
“Really, man,” Peter agreed, slightly indignant. “If you had me at hand, it wouldn’t have taken you weeks to deal with it.”
“You were all…busy with your own things,” the young man said quietly, gaze trained down at the chain clipped to the front belt loops of his jeans.
“So, what?” Ororo puzzled. “We would still come.”
Wanda watched Kurt’s fingers fiddle with the chain as if it were the rosary, its silver links shimmered in the light coming from the window.
The battle in Cairo didn’t make a team out of these young people, nor did the trip to the Big Apple. Not really. They liked hanging out together and being “the gang” yet this chain had a weak link, namely – relationships formed unevenly, dividing the group into smaller units that cooperated with each other with relative success. For instance, there were Jean and Scott, Wanda and Kurt, Peter and Ororo but such combinations as Ororo and Jean or Peter and Scott without a third wheel were hardly possible. It just didn’t feel natural. And it was a problem all along, Wanda realized. The needed level of openness and vulnerability between all the members of the gang was only about to be reached.
“That’s better even,” the girl chirped, drawing her friends’ attention from the teleport to herself. “If we take on building a treehouse, clearing the church’s backyard will be a bonus task.”
“Or a starting point,” Peter amended casually. As he turned his face to Jean, his sister winked at Kurt, cheering him up a little. “What are the chances that Prof will approve our idea?”
They screwed up big time, yes. But Charles Xavier wouldn’t be Charles Xavier if he weren’t a proponent of giving second chances. Especially when it came down to young people, more so – his students.
The look in the girl’s eyes was bright and clear like the sky outside when she answered, “I think it’s all in how we present it. But it might actually work out well.”
“Then I say we develop a plan through and through before we go to Mr. Xavier,” Wanda offered and when everyone nodded in agreement, she clapped the arm of the couch, sealing their deal.
Imbued with enthusiasm, Peter hopped off the couch, Ororo abandoned the coffee table, and Scott and Kurt shot to their feet too, dusting off their jeans.
Already on the way out, the speedster glanced over his shoulder at his twin and Jean, noticing that they stayed in their seats. He asked, brows raised expectantly, “Are you coming, or what?”
“You go,” Wanda began, waving her hand in polite dismission.
“We’ll catch up with you in a moment,” Jean finished the girl’s thought, a restrained smile tugging at her lips.
Their friends swapped a glance but left these two alone.
The girls lingered in the library not out of a big love for this place or because of some matter that needed to be discussed tete-a-tete. The reason was much more prosaic.
“Did you stick too?” the telepath asked in a secretive tone.
The reply Peter’s sister gave was quick and laconic. “Yep.”
“On the count of three?”
“Screw it. Three!”
The problem with leather couches is not only their excessive musicality but also the fact that anyone whose outfit does not cover the better part of their body risk sticking to the cushions’ surface. So, the girls hissed and grunted as they were trying to unmarry the skin of their legs and the leather seats.
Wanda pointed her finger at the girl in glasses who checked Scott earlier. “Don’t you shush me. I’ve got red crab legs over there because of this couch.”
A laugh burst out of Jean. She clasped her mouth with her hand as if it could stop the sound from bouncing off the walls.
“Go, go, go,” the red-haired telepath blasted out in a hushed voice, pushing giggling Wanda out of the library, a dozen condemning stares chasing them down.
....
How does one rekindle a relationship with someone when one has missed out a lot of their history? On all their twenty-one years of history, to be precise. This question burnt in Erik’s heart for the entirety of the day he had spent outside of his children’s company.
After the re-introduction they had, he had come to Wanda’s room every morning and left it late in the evening. It doesn’t necessarily mean they did a lot of “important” talking, bombarding each other with stories from their lives but rather tried to maintain an atmosphere where the three of them felt comfortable and inclined to share whatever they had on their mind. In other words, they had come to the basics, to those first days of being under one roof as complete strangers. Take the last month away, they were strangers and the same blood running through their veins did nothing to that fact.
The farther the man moved through the cobblestone walkway in the arboretum, the more anger swelled in his core. It was cruel and unfair of Maria to strip him of his right to at least know he would become a father. The love they had for each other, did it mean so little to her that she walked away and never looked back? For all Peter and Wanda knew, their mother never tried to find him. And they didn’t hurry to do so either. Seven years. That was how long it took them to finally venture to find him. They didn’t need him then, why did they want him now? If they thought him a broken doll a “long-lost family” needed to fix, they were wrong.
Consumed by somber thoughts, the Master of Magnetism walked right by Charles and Jean. If he noticed them, he didn’t slow his pace to show it.
“Did Peter or Wanda mention Erik in your conversations by any chance?” the Professor asked the red-haired girl, his gaze following the receding figure of his old friend. “I feel that there are a lot of things happening at once and I want to offer my help but I’m not sure what way to go.”
“I don’t think there’s something you can do. Now it’s complicated but I believe that eventually they all will be in a happier place,” Jean replied rather distractedly.
Frowning from the bright sunlight coming through the crowns of mighty oaks, the man glanced up at her.
Naturally, Charles was disappointed to learn that the girl whom he raised since she was twelve and perceived as something close to a family member rather than a student went against what he was teaching her and answered his openness with lies, indulging her friends’ actions. However, when everything was said and done, the telepath tried to put himself in her shoes. For all the years that Jean lived in the mansion, she had never acted up, always was invested in her education whether it was an ordinary school program or her mutant powers, and had only one friend – Jubilee. Now there were more people who appreciated her for who she was. They grew up in a world different from hers, the one that had more opportunities and freedom as well as danger. He couldn’t deny her desire to explore it and if anything, it would be better to step on that path fully prepared. Maybe his decision regarding the new X-Men was rushed and picked at the youngsters’ sensitivity too hard. Maybe Jean’s invitation to enjoy some fresh air together was nothing more than the call of duty of sorts because the look on her face said that her thoughts wandered elsewhere.
Melancholy washed over Charles and he bantered to draw the girl’s attention, his voice gentle, “Am I missing something or do we go around a museum?”
The question seemed to bring her back to reality. “Hmm?” Jean hummed perplexedly.
The telepath gave her a smile. “You’ve been studying every tree on our way as if they are art pieces.”
Hesitation lingered in the girl’s movements, in the way she picked at her nails but eventually she said, “There’s a project I’m really invested in so I’m out here calculating the chances of it being successful.”
“I knew this walk was a double-purpose pursuit,” the Professor drawled, not unkindly.
“A moment ago you asked me if I know anything about Mr. Lehnsherr so…” Jean lifted her shoulders in a jocular shrug.
“Fair point.” Charles held his hands up, chuckling lightly. At the crossway he stopped his wheelchair and turned his face to the girl, his expression more serious. “Jean, you can always come to me. Whatever it is, I’m here to listen.”
“I know,” she said in earnest. “And once I’m sure this project is worth it, I’ll come to you. I promise.”
The look he gave her was long and shrewd, albeit not devoid of softness. Despite the New York shenanigan, the Professor’s trust in his stepdaughter was not shaken greatly and he didn’t doubt she meant every word she said. At last, he nodded and they resumed their tour through the arboretum, choosing the walkway that led to the ponds.
“I genuinely wanted to spend time with you,” Jean said all of a sudden. “You’ve been so busy lately and we didn’t have a chance to have a moment like this.”
The man’s brows rose. “Did you read my mind?”
“No, but you just proved that my observation was right,” the girl answered, light complacency tugging at her lips.
It was one of the first lessons she learned here, that a telepath may only sneak into someone’s head when there is an urgency for such a thing (like Erik’s power freaking out and distorting metal objects in a room full of people), in all other cases a quick eye and empathy should suffice.
Charles had no trouble admitting he was that much easily readable individual. On the contrary, it made his cheeks curve.
“With the end of the academic year, you might assume that I’ve got more free time and should be able to see you more often, but it works the other way around. It saddens me,” he shared as they moved through the series of arches heavily twined with ivy.
“Well, next time you’re piled with work send me S.O.S. I’ll drag you out of the office. Literally, if I must,” Jean offered, half-joking
Light splashed across the Professor’s face as he rolled out into the clearing, making his smile even brighter than it had already been. “Then we made an agreement,” he bantered in return, no longer feigning a lightweight mood but actually experiencing it.
They’ve spent the entirety of the afternoon together, catching up, maybe even letting a few gossips slip at both ends and rounded off this father-daughter kind of day with a dinner on the patio, watching as the dark blues of the night consumed the last rays of sunshine.
Late in the evening, Charles went up to the second floor to say Jean good night and spotted Erik slipping into what looked like the first quarter that wasn’t locked, surely to skip a looming conversation.
The Master of Magnetism braced himself once he realized the room he was in belonged to Peter, whom, together with Wanda, he had been avoiding for the better part of the day. What the man was going through at the moment could be compared to grief. Erik was morning the lost opportunity to raise his children and knowing one wrong word or a minor conflict could turn an emotional swing to a bad side, he kept his distance from them.
When the man was slowly turning around, he didn’t anticipate finding the youngsters sleeping – his son on the bed, face down in a magazine, and his daughter nestled on a bench nearby, a book on her chest rose and fell with each breath. Judging by the blanket carefully thrown over the speedster, he dozed off first, unsurprisingly so.
He stepped farther into the room and settled himself at Wanda’s feet, occupying a free piece of the bench.
The Complete Outdoor Builder, the Master of Magnetism read on the cover of the book the girl was reading before she fell asleep.
10 Golden Rules of Framing, the yellow letters on the page under Peter’s cheek said.
Erik had no idea as to why construction works became a subject of his children’s interest all of a sudden but didn’t doubt there were plenty of ideas going through these wavy-haired heads. Even in their sleep, the twins looked like mischief incarnate. The stories they told him were only proof of that.
The man couldn’t help but think how happy Nina would’ve been to discover she had two older siblings, how she would’ve introduced them to every inhabitant of the farm and the three of them might have arranged something that would’ve added a thread of silver to Magda’s hair. He knew she would’ve accepted Peter and Wanda as if they were her own. She was a loving soul, his wife.
He watched every breath his children took even though his vision was blurred and his cheek was damp.
Life had driven so many people away from him.
No more.
....
Pencilepto - someone who steals pencils.