Summary: Captured by Mystique as bait for his father, Pietro, and later Magneto, reflect on the nature of family, and where they go from here. Takes place after/spoilers for the series finale. Implied Erik/Charles.
Family Ties
The ropes bit into his arms and, to a lesser extent, his booted ankles, and Pietro sighed and tried unsuccessfully to wiggle free. In truth, he was mad at himself for falling into such an easy trap. By the time he realized that Lance, his sometimes-friend and Brotherhood cohort was, in fact, Mystique, it was too late to save himself from being abducted.
Mystique hadn't been seen for several months following the short reign of Apocalypse; she had fallen rather off the radar at the Xavier Institute, which, Pietro suspected, was the point. "Catch them off-guard" had been her motto when she had run the Brotherhood, usually from a distance, and Pietro and the other boys - and the occasional girl - had attempted to do just that, though the results had always been dubious, at best. The X-Men had always been better equipped and prepared, and so really, the Brotherhood couldn't be blamed too harshly for screwing things up, repeatedly, even.
He was still in the midst of grumbling over his lot in life and trying quite unsuccessfully to break free of his bindings when his captor sauntered into the room, bedecked in her natural, blue form. "So sorry the accommodations aren't as posh as Xavier's place," Mystique sneered, her mouth in a painted smirk, her eyes narrow and cruel. She waved her hand dismissively. "As they say, Pietro, it's nothing personal."
"I'll bet it isn't," Pietro muttered. Mystique heard this and smiled widely, baring her teeth.
"Well, maybe it's a little personal," she rescinded. "I could have lured out any of the institute brats and taken them here, after all." She gestured around at the run-down property, rather like the Brotherhood house, though Pietro had no idea how far out of Bayville they were. "But the fact of the matter is," Mystique continued, "that Magneto won't come here for just any brat."
Ah, so there it was, Pietro thought, gritting his teeth. He'd suspected as much; and then he saw Mystique check her watch for the umpteenth time, and his heart fluttered a little. "Maybe I should have abducted Xavier again," Mystique smirked, eyeing him briefly. "Then ol' Mags would have come for sure."
In spite of himself, Pietro gulped and looked away. He knew Mystique hadn't meant to be so pointed in her comment, but it had rather hit the mark. Noticing the change in his demeanor, Mystique clucked her tongue. "Oh, I know, believe me," she said with surprising sweetness. "Parental involvement is just so hard to come by these days." She sauntered over to where Pietro was tied up and lifted his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. Stubbornly, he pursed his lips. Mystique laughed. "You don't have to put on a brave front with me, Pietro. I know all about your messed up little family, including that crazy twin sister of yours."
"You didn't seem to mind when she was doing your bidding," Pietro snapped back, irritated at the current situation, and also automatically sensitive to criticism of Wanda. The years had not been easy on them, and he automatically felt protective of her, especially now that their relationship was on an upswing. "I think you're just a bitter old woman," he continued, his voice spiteful.
Mystique barked out a laugh. "Maybe there's a reason Daddy doesn't want anything to do with you," she retorted, though Pietro could tell that his jab at her age had riled her. "Maybe he just thinks you're too much of a nuisance to deal with."
The shattering of one of the large bay windows behind them made Pietro's admittedly lukewarm response unable to be heard. Though Magneto had all but abandoned his mutant terrorist brigade, having traded it in rather abruptly for a much quieter life as Xavier's right-hand man at his school, he still managed to cut a formidable figure when the situation called for it. Sure enough, he was dressed presently in his infamous super-villain attire, his head affixed with his tell-tale helmet. His cape flapped a little behind him as he floated through the entrance he'd made for himself.
Pivoting, Mystique was all smiles. "Erik," she said pointedly, grinning. "How nice to see you again."
"Mystique," Magneto said shortly, making it clear that this was not a game to him. "I've brought what you've asked. Now, hold up your end of the agreement and let Pietro go free." the Master of Magnetism glanced briefly at his son, who was watching the exchange quietly, his expression vaguely fearful.
Mystique appeared unfazed. "The money first," she said breezily. Hesitating only a moment, Magneto produced a small-ish bag from the folds of his cape. He tossed it at Mystique, who caught it easily in both hands. "I trust Xavier made sure the agreed upon sum was paid in full," she snarled at him.
Magneto just blinked. "He did." He gestured at Pietro again. "Now, do as you've said you would, Mystique."
Mystique laughed a little, and then strode over towards Pietro, tucking the money under her arm. "Do you really want him back?" she goaded, gripping Pietro's face with one long-nailed hand. She squeezed his chin and he made a small, displeased sound; Magneto noticeably tensed. "You could just go back to pretending you don't have kids, Magneto."
"That's rich coming from you," the caped man snorted. Then he held out a hand; before Mystique could react, a stray metal attachment that formed part of the gutted building's architecture wrapped around her throat, coiling several times. Mystique quickly dropped her hold on Pietro and the bag of ransom money, her hands flying to her throat. Pietro winced when he heard her gag.
"Now, I'm only going to say this once, so listen carefully, Mystique." Magneto began to walk closer to her, his hand still outstretched. "You are going to take the money, because Charles thinks you'll leave us alone if you can go fund your next ill-conceived plan on your lonesome. You're going to disappear again. And, most importantly" - at this, he tightened the metal even more around her neck, and she let out a strangled gasp - "you will never again use my family, or any of Charles' students, or Charles, as bait. Do I make myself clear? I can't hear you," he sing-songed when Mystique offered only guttural choking noises in response.
Finally, she managed a coherent response. "Y-yes," she rasped, and then sagged to her knees when the steel rod finally allowed her access to air flow anew. "I ... understand," she frowned, and it hurt a bit to speak. She watched unhappily as Magneto strode behind Pietro's chair and began untying him. When the ropes had pooled around his feet, he held out a hand, and the boy stood up, a bit shakily. Magneto briefly looked him over. Then, disdainfully, he nodded at Mystique.
"Good," he said shortly. He gestured at Pietro to move closer, and then, using the magnetism of the earth, carried them both off of their feet and into the sky. They left the dingy room and Mystique behind quickly, and never heard the blue-skinned woman curse, nor did they bear witness to the tantrum she threw that further decimated the already shambled digs.
When they arrived back at the Xavier mansion, it was dark outside, the sun long having set. Nonetheless, Charles sat at the dining room table, a smile flitting across his features when Magneto entered the room, Pietro in tow. "She took it, then?" he asked, and Magneto nodded shortly, and Pietro noticed that he took off his helmet, something he almost always did nowadays when it wasn't absolutely needed.
"She won't be bothering us again, I daresay."
Charles steepled his fingers. "There may yet come a time when she decides she wants to talk," he suggested idly, but Magneto's face was firm.
"If she knows what's good for her, she'll stay away."
"Hmmm." Charles turned his attention to Pietro, who looked down at the floor. "If you're hungry, Pietro, there is plenty of leftover food in the refrigerator. Eat all you want," the professor suggested, and Pietro nodded quickly, his mind on escape.
"I'm gonna go upstairs," he mumbled, and quickly did just that. Though he and most of the Brotherhood did not officially live at the mansion, preferring instead to retain some autonomy by staying in their old haunt - though it was a wreck, at least, they figured, it was paid in full - Charles had made it clear that there were would always be spare beds for them at his school. Not surprisingly, then, Pietro found an empty bedroom on the third floor, and, switching on the lamp first, was able to hunker down on the small mattress. He wasn't tired, per se, but the ability to simply be alone and decompress after the events of the past afternoon was something he craved. He was still staring idly at the ceiling, long legs hanging off the edge of the bed, when there was a knock at the door.
"Did Pietro seem ... off to you?" Magneto asked Charles once the boy was out of earshot. Charles blinked and pressed two fingers briefly to his temple, holding them there for several seconds.
"He's ... anxious," Charles said finally, removing his hand from his face and placing it on the table before him with its mate. "He's having some feelings of abandonment regarding his relationship with you; I can't help but think Mystique may have had a hand in drumming up some of that."
Magneto's face darkened, half with anger at Mystique, the rest with guilt. "Should I ... is it all right to talk to him?" he asked his oldest friend.
Charles considered this, and Magneto could tell that he was dipping into Pietro's surface thoughts anew. "Yes, I believe it would go over well if you were to address it with him," he replied. He watched as Magneto stood again and strode from the room, and smiled softly.
It didn't take long to find his son with Charles' mental coaxing. 'Second door on the right,' he instructed, once Erik had made it to the third floor. Quietly, he used his powers of magnetism to turn the doorknob. As he entered and the door slid shut anew, Pietro looked at him and then quickly sat up. "Is something wrong?" he asked quickly, and Magneto shook his head placatingly.
"I should ask you the same thing." He crossed the short distance and sat next to his son on the bed, Pietro automatically moving over to accommodate his larger frame. "Charles said that you were up here," Magneto noted carefully, "feeling ... alone." He placed a bracing hand on Pietro's shoulder when he saw the boy tense up. "He meant no harm, Pietro. I asked him if you were in pain."
"I'm fine," the boy said stubbornly, and Magneto bit back a sigh.
"That's not entirely true, is it, now?" he asked, and Pietro looked away a bit guiltily, but Magneto gently took hold of his jaw and moved the boy's head so that they were facing one another again. "You feel abandoned by me. It bothers you that our relationship up to this point has not been more."
Pietro's eyes slid down. "Maybe a little," he said quietly, and Magneto shook his head.
"I can't change the past, Pietro." He caught the boy's wary glance and amended his words: "I wouldn't change the past again. I know how much more harm it does than good."
Pietro sulked a bit. "That hasn't stopped you from keeping Wanda's old memories of the asylum under lock and key."
Magneto sighed heavily. "I should ... I will talk to Charles about removing the false memories. I think, for all of our sakes, it would not do any good to re-implant the memory of her time away," he said ruefully, "but at least that way, what she does remember will be true."
Pietro nodded shortly. "Good," he says, but still seems downtrodden.
Magneto ran a hand affectionately through the boy's short hair. "My boy," he murmured, and Pietro blinked in surprise. "I want us to have a good relationship from here on out, Pietro," Magneto told him frankly. "I have ... realized only recently how little I've been there for you, and for Wanda, in my quest for power. I want to make that up to you. I want us to be a family again, perhaps for the first time, if we can. If ... if that is what you want, as well."
Pietro nodded, and then buried his face in his father's shoulder as emotion unexpectedly overtook him. "It is," he said quietly, and Magneto held him firmly while he got what he needed to out of his system. Eventually, Pietro looked up again, wiping at his eyes in embarrassment. "I love you, Dad," he said, and Magneto smiled.
"I love you, too, my son." He glanced down at Pietro's digital wrist watch and frowned a bit. "And Charles cares for you quite a lot, as well, hence his offering you dinner. You should take him up on it."
Pietro nodded, but did not yet move off of the bed. "You care about him, too, don't you?" he asked carefully, and Magneto blinked.
"What do you mean?"
Pietro raised an eyebrow. "Come on, Dad. I'm not like, stupid. It's pretty obvious."
Magneto mimicked him with his own raised brow. "What's pretty obvious, Pietro?"
Pietro rolled his eyes. "That you guys are like, together, or whatever. That's why you came back here really, isn't it? Because now that you're on the same side, you don't have to keep hiding your relationship."
Magneto took this in. In truth, he had expected that much of what he got up to was still largely ignored or unseen by the world at large, including Charles' students. It was vaguely anxiety-inducing to be called on the spot like this, and by his son, no less. Still, he suspected that there was a higher purpose to Pietro's line of questioning.
"This isn't about me and Charles, really, is it, son?" he asked blandly, and Pietro startled. "Is there something you want to tell me about yourself, Pietro? Something you maybe haven't told a lot of people?"
Pietro's face was considerably paler. "I just ... I've heard it's pretty normal," he said, his voice small. "Like, one in ten people are ... you know."
"That's what I've heard, yes." Bemused, now, Magneto patted Pietro on the shoulder. "I think, if you have the types of feelings that I might for Charles," he said carefully, "then that's all right."
Pietro nodded. "Okay," he said, and then he smiled shyly. "Okay." He stood up and Magneto did, as well. "I think I'm really hungry now," he explained, and Magneto laughed when Pietro high-tailed it downstairs, aided by his mutation. Relieved, he followed, more slowly. He would, he knew, be speaking soon to Charles about Wanda's rehabilitation; but unlike the fear and anger that usually accompanied the very thought, he couldn't help but feel hopeful. This was his new lot in life, he decided, and he was determined to enjoy it.