A/N : I'm absolutely not tired of AUs, however, I must say I *loathed* writing the Magda in this one. But promts is prompts, and they take you where they take you…
1.Prompt! What would have happened if Erik had found Peter when he was littler? Like when his powers were first showing? Would Peter have "saved" Erik or would Erik drag Peter into his own anger? – Guest
2.You might be tired of AUs, but what about the opposite? What if Peter had been taken to the school earlier and not abandoned? Or what if he'd found Erik earlier instead of losing 10 years? – Petra
I will not yell. I will be totally calm. I will NOT murder my children… Magda thought, yet again pulling Lorna away from her handbag where the toddler was rifling though, looking for shiny things to stick in her mouth. She shouted for her daughter again, wondered how Wanda was always late for everything. The traffic was going to be awful if they didn't leave soon, and somehow Wanda had a knack for losing things at the last moment. At least this morning she'd been able to find a full pair of shoes, instead of terrorising her brother into telling her where he'd hidden the others.
Finally, Wanda came galloping down the stairs, hair tied back, swinging her kit bag over her shoulder. Every time her mother looked at her she seemed to get taller, long coltish legs and rounded hips developing already, though she'd only just turned eleven.
"I'm here! Sorry Mom, I couldn't find my towel"
"Peter!" Magda yelled, "Come on, you're going to be late for track again!"
"I thought he got kicked off the track team?" Wanda asked
"Not yet. But if he doesn't stop showing everyone up he's heading for it" she sighed angrily, yelled again, "Come ON Peter! Why are you only fast whenever you don't have to be somewhere!?"
She jumped out of her skin as her son emerged from the living room behind her, having been convinced he was down in his room.
"Can I stay home today, Mom?" he asked, "I don't feel so hot"
She frowned and took a look at him, laid a hand over his forehead. He felt cold and clammy, looked too pale. Standing propped against the doorframe with his hands pressed against his belly.
"You don't look too hot either honey," she said concerned, "Feeling sick again?"
He nodded, winced at a sudden cramp.
"I'm taking you to a doctor on Monday, no complaining. You've been sick for a week now. Take some more Tylenol and lie down, I'll…" she hesitated, made a face as if the words tasted bad, "I'll call your father to come look after you"
She dumped her five-year-old daughter into her sister's arms, retreated to the kitchen to make the call. It wasn't that she hated their father – far from it, she wasn't a hateful person – just that she didn't approve of a lot of his business. She was trying to raise her children right, give them stability, and having their Dad all over the world half the time wasn't helping that. Though they could hardly be in a room together without bickering, she knew how important it was for him to see his kids – especially since Wanda had blown up the toaster with a ball of red light that had made her scream in panic. She'd got a hold of herself a little now, but there were still those occasional accidents, which Magda found difficult to cope with but which Erik seemed to take in his stride. Arrangements made, she shepherded Lorna and Wanda into the car and got moving at last.
It was hard not to be concerned about every little thing, when you had three unruly children to raise with only the assistance of a mostly-absent and emotionally distant man who frequently picked up and left town for months on end. She'd handled the usual childhood ailments with grace under pressure, smothered the twins in calamine lotion when they'd got chicken pox, kept them off school and made chicken soup when they had sniffling colds, but she couldn't help feeling nonetheless that something more serious was wrong with her son. He must be feeling pretty rotten to skip track – having been dropped from the basketball team ('he's just not a team player, Ms Maximoff') the baseball team ('he's making the other kids feel bad, Ms Maximoff') and the football squad ('he's fast alright, but the others are scared to tackle him in case he breaks, Ms Maximoff') track was all he had left. He'd always been so energetic, to see him getting worn out like this was just not right. She hoped Erik wouldn't be his usual gruff self with him today, have a little sympathy and patience now and again. Tried to concentrate on the road and the two handfuls she had with her, and not worry about him.
Erik let himself in, as always through the back door, keeping quiet by habit. He could smell Magda's perfume in the house, felt as always like an intruder. Short-notice visits like this were very rare, since Magda had thrown him out for good four years ago saying that she could no longer stand two babies in the house, sent him packing with his tail between his legs. He'd stewed on it for almost six months, briefly distracted by a trip to Venice with Raven to find and recruit a young Mutant there, returning with the resolution that even if he couldn't get along with their mother he would see his children or be damned. Who did she think she was anyway? Some human, trying to push him around…. At least Wanda had inherited something worthwhile from him, even if he couldn't quite put his finger on the nature of her gifts. She'd decided just to call it 'magic' and he'd allowed it, having no better answer. Her brother on the other hand, well he was just plain odd.
He switched the kettle on to make himself some tea, called his son's name, answered by a weary little voice from the living room and going through to find him huddled under several thick blankets on the sofa, watching TV with the sound turned right down. It made Erik sweat just to look at him, cuddled up like that when it was blazing hot outside.
"If you have a fever, Peter, you shouldn't overheat like that – it won't help"
"M'not feverish," he muttered, "just really cold"
He certainly looked it, shivering under the blankets and ever so slightly blue around the lips. Well, that was the last thing Erik needed – playing nursemaid to his son when he had calls to make and things to arrange. He would just have to do it from here, and hope nobody traced Magda's number.
"What's the matter anyway? Are you still not sleeping?"
Peter shook his head glumly, slowly so as not to make himself dizzy again. Truth be told he felt a lot worse than tired, but he wasn't about to let his Dad know that. He already got the impression that he loved Wanda more, with the cool little tricks she could do and that red stuff she could seemingly pull out of thin air. Peter guessed there probably hadn't been enough X-gene to go between the two of them. She was special - he was just weird. And sick, apparently.
"Well, I have work to do. I'll be in the kitchen, do you want anything before I get settled? Are you hungry?"
"Yes, and no"
"You're very unhelpful you know" Erik sighed.
"Yes, I'm hungry. No, I don't want anything, I ate a whole box of cereal before you got here and I'm gonna throw up if I eat another thing"
Erik hesitated a moment, wondered if that was normal for pre-teen boys, then left him to it. Whilst he had little patience for sick children, he did find Peter's peculiarities a little worrying at times, and though he couldn't bear him whining he still didn't particularly want him to suffer. He tried to dismiss the thought, but kept it at the back of his mind whilst he went about his work, interrupted by the return of his daughters and former lover and tutting in irritation. He soon cheered up when Wanda had bounded over to give him a hug though. She smelled of chlorine and some sort of strawberry-scented stuff. Lorna broke free of her mother and ran over to crawl up into his lap.
"How is he?" Magda demanded, set her bag down, kept her distance.
"Hello, Erik, it's nice to see you. How are you today?" he said sarcastically, "I'm well thank you Magda, and why yes I'd love a cup of coffee"
"It's not nice to see you. Get your own damn coffee. How is our son?"
"I'm fine, Mom" Peter had shuffled into the kitchen still wrapped in a blanket, took a seat at the table, "Well, everything hurts and I feel sick and I'm cold and I'm dizzy and I wish I could sleep, but apart from that I'm fine"
"You'd better have been looking after him, Erik, not ignoring him"
"He's been great" he offered his father a little smile, "Really"
"Oh I'm sure he has. After all caring kindness is one of your defining characteristics, isn't it Erik?" she spat, "You can go now, incidentally. I'm sure you've more important things to do than see your family"
She had moved to slip her hands onto her son's shoulders possessively, feeling him shiver under her fingers. She could feel the little points of his shoulders far too well under the blanket, worrying her all over again, her tone much gentler as she addressed him.
"Honey you really should get yourself to bed, you look awful"
"Your mother's right. Go to bed" Erik said firmly, "And Wanda, take Lorna for a little while. I need to speak to your Mom"
"Like I'll sleep anyway," Peter said quietly, picking himself up with a visible effort, shuffling back out and down the stairs to his room. Wanda obeyed, scooped Lorna up in her arms, left the two of them alone. Magda heaved a long-suffering sigh and sat down at the table
"What?" she asked, rancour colouring her words. Erik looked at her calmly, saw th worry and tiredness on her face.
"How long has Peter been ill?" he asked
"A week, he's been out of school. I'm taking him to a doctor on Monday"
"Really though, Magda, how long has it been?"
"Are you accusing me of not being able to take care of my son?" she demanded bitterly, "I don't know if you've noticed but he's almost a teenager now, he'll be fine, he's just growing"
Erik rubbed a hand over his eyes, bit down hard on the urge to yell. The woman was just infuriating sometimes, he wondered how he'd stood her so long. Finally looked up at her and said
"He's too thin, and it's not normal for a boy to get so tired. There's something else going on here, and you know it. He's *not* a normal almost-teenager"
"So what do you want me to do?" Magda laughed humourlessly, "He eats us out of house and home, and he's not gained an ounce. I give him painkillers for the growing pains, he can't sleep, I tried giving him sleeping pills. Nothing does anything, Erik. What more can I do apart from pray that he grows out of it?"
"I know a doctor who might know better what to do" he said, tried to be calm, keep his tone even, "If you'll let me take him to him, perhaps we can get some answers"
"Peter's normal," she insisted, "He doesn't need the kind of doctors *you* know* "
"Wanda is normal too. A perfectly normal Mutant"
The look on Magda's face lashed him with its ferocious fury, but she kept her voice low as she said
"He hasn't inherited your defective genes, Erik. He's just an ordinary boy who needs some extra years to fill out. How *dare* you suggest that he's…"
"Gifted?" Erik suggested, fixed her with a malevolent look, "Superior to you? A step above you on the evolutionary ladder?"
Magda looked hard at him for a moment, then got to her feet and pushed her chair in very carefully. Said in the quietest most seethingly furious voice Erik had ever heard
"Get out of our house"
He obeyed. Gathered his papers in silence. Left without a word to her or to their children.
Back at home, he had been half-dozing over a book at half past midnight when a knock at the front door had startled him. Tucked a gun into the back of his belt, pulled back the door on its chain and stayed well back, surprised to hear a faint, shaky voice from outside ask
"Do you really know a doctor who could help?"
He opened the door fully, and brought his son inside shaking with cold and exhaustion.