Pietro alerts Charles of what has transpired between Wanda, Magneto, and Mastermind, much to Charles' chagrin. Takes place after "The Toad, The Witch, and the Wardrobe."
One Step Forward, Two Steps Back
The diner is somewhat crowded with mid-day customers, and Pietro Maximoff sighs and slinks into his seat, a creaky barstool near the front counter, looking around surreptitiously, thrumming with impatience. Eventually, a waitress clicks her pen and pressures him for an order; he begins estimating how much change he's managed to pull out of couch cushions and between the seats of Lance's Jeep, and whether or not the culmination is going to be able to buy him a cup of coffee. His pale cheeks flush slightly as he stalls, because it wasn't his choice to go somewhere where he'd need to be able to pay when he knew he couldn't, and the man whose choice it had been wasn't even here, and ...
The hand on his shoulder surprises him. "Blue plate special," Magneto intones to the waitress, and she straightens and looks back and forth between them, her mouth quirking in a smile that, Pietro assumes, hints at her appreciation for their family resemblance. "Come with me," Magneto says quietly, and Pietro does, hopping off the stool and forcing himself to walk normally, rather than speed, towards the booth that his father directs him to. "How are you?" the older man asks evenly, and Pietro shrugs.
"I'm okay."
"That's not what you told me over the phone the other day," Magneto replies smoothly, and Pietro blinks. Magneto allows him to stew for several long moments before adding, "You are upset by Wanda's recent change of heart, her altered memories." It is not a question, but judging by the boy's stricken face at the mention of his sister, Magneto knows that he's hit the nail on the head. "Do not try to deny it, Pietro," he says sternly, and Pietro gulps. "I can tell when you're lying to me."
Pietro sighs. "I'm glad she doesn't want to like, kill you anymore, okay?" he says unhappily. A waiter stops in front of their table to drop off his drink, and the conversation momentarily ceases. "I don't know," Pietro continues when she leaves again. "She just has all these weird ideas that you were there for us a lot, and ..." He trails off, glancing up at his father's darkened face. "She just seems to have done a complete like, turn-around," he finishes quietly. "It's weird."
"Hmmm."
Before he's even halfway finished with his meal, the Master of Magnetism presses a neat wad of cash into his hand covertly, and stands up, an intimidating presence even without his usual helmet or cape. "Make sure to leave a tip," he murmurs, "and then keep the rest." Then he pats Pietro on the shoulder, and leaves as quickly as he came. Stewing a bit, still, Pietro sighs, tucks into the rest of his meal, and then takes his own leave.
He doesn't have much of an excuse for why he finds himself trolling around the Xavier Institute the next morning, on a school day, no less, other than that he's pretty sure the professor has sensed his presence there before when he's turned up unannounced, and has never made a point to kick him out, or even to send Wolverine after him. In this manner, Pietro decides that Charles probably won't be all that mad if he just happens by his office, either.
At the very least, the good professor has the courtesy of acting surprised, and even pleased, to see him. "Pietro," he intones, and the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly as Pietro slinks into the room. "What can I do for you?"
He watches as the boy skulks around a bit, before coming to perch, at last, on the edge of one of the spare chairs in his study. He wiggles his foot around, looking simultaneously impatient and nervous. "So Wanda's better now, kind of," he says without fanfare, as though expecting Charles to keep up with the goings-ons of his and his sister's lives. Fortunately, Charles makes it a point - one which his telepathy sort of gently aids - to be this kind of no-holds barred sounding board for his students and the occasional rag-tag youth who happens to grace the hallowed halls of his home, so the lack of context does not bother him much. Instead, he simply steeples his fingers and smiles disarmingly, waiting for Pietro to go on.
"Is she now? I'm glad to hear it."
Pietro's lips twist. "Yeah, but. Okay, so she's happier, but it's still not right," he adds, and now, Charles finds himself confused. He must look it, because the boy attempts to clarify: "My dad hired this guy to mess with her mind," he explains, and is gratified slightly to see Charles' face pale a little. "Toad went to go save her. It's fine that she doesn't wanna like, kill our dad anymore or something," Pietro grouses, his voice rising in pitch, "but now she's got all these new, fake memories in her head, too. I know our dad loves us," the boy says quietly, his face downcast, "but he's not perfect, either. Wanda doesn't know this anymore, and it's really weird."
Charles is silent for several seconds. Finally, he clears his throat and speaks in low, carefully measured tones. "I want to thank you for bringing this to my attention, Pietro," he says first, and then sighs. "It is, as you've expressed, a rather disturbing development."
"Yeah," Pietro agrees, and Charles watches him hug himself a little. "Like I think if he just took out the old memories, that would have been good enough, you know?" Charles nods briefly. "But now it's like, she thinks they have the best relationship ever, and it's a lie." He sticks his chin out stubbornly, and Charles braces himself in case he should start to cry.
Pietro holds his own, however. "I just, I don't know, sometimes you can get him to see things that he won't listen to from anyone else," he acknowledges, and Charles tries not to be unnerved by the rather apt assessment of his relationship with Magneto. Suddenly, seeming to feel as though he's outstayed his welcome, Pietro stands up. "I'm gonna go," he mumbles, and Charles can tell that he's getting ready to flee. "Um, thanks," the boy tells him, and then he's gone. In his wake, Charles sighs and rubs at his temples. "Oh, Erik," he murmurs to himself, looking at/through a small paperweight on his desk. "What have you done, now?"
It's a while before he sees Magneto again; they have their own agendas these days, and with Magneto's Acolytes taking up the bulk of his interest in terms of cohorts, he seems to be less and less concerned with the plights of mutant teenagers. For his part, Charles isn't sure if he should be relieved by this or not.
When they do, at last, meet, it is in the dead of night, as usual, well after Charles should be in bed. Instead, he's relaxing in his study, a heavy tome on his lap, when he hears the tell-tale rustling of curtains. "Good evening, Magnus," he says without turning around, and feels more than sees the other man's small smile.
"Good evening."
The silence that lapses between them after that is pleasant enough, though Charles eventually decides that he cannot let the issue go any longer. "So, Mastermind," he ventures, and sees Magneto visibly stiffen. Then, in a slightly more disappointed tone, he sighs, "Erik, how could you?"
Immediately, the other man is on the defensive. "I had no choice, Charles," he interjects, his voice rising swiftly. He steps closer, a gesture that would be menacing to most other people, though Charles looks up at the face of his best enemy, unafraid. "She's made several attempts on my life even after her so-called 'cure' by that Harper woman whom Mystique brought in. What was I supposed to do?"
"I understand the need for self-preservation, of course," Charles argues, raising an eyebrow unhappily. "That doesn't mean you had any right to implant any false memories. What are people supposed to think, Erik, when she seems to have an obviously falsified recollection of your relationship with her?" He watches the other man's face settle into a deep frown. "What is your son supposed to think?"
Realization seems to dawn. "Pietro has been to see you," he murmurs, and Charles crosses his arms.
"He cares about his sister. You'll have to pardon him for not feeling comfortable discussing such matters with the man who brought them forth to begin with," Charles sniffs, and Magneto smirks a little.
"He's already been to see me." When Charles' cynical expression does not lapse, his eyes narrow. "He knows my opinion on the matter," he says stubbornly. "I did what I had to do."
"I see," Charles retorts. He can feel the other man's temper simmering. He continues to push him, anyways. "Does it make you feel better, then, Erik? Are you pleased that every time Wanda looks at you, speaks to you, hears your name, it's as if she's regarding a stranger? Does it make you proud to know that your grand solution to your daughter's severe mental trauma was to take away a part of what made her herself?"
Magneto's eyes flash. "What's wrong, Charles? Are you just angry that I found somebody who was able to do what you weren't willing to do? What you couldn't?" He bares his teeth. "Has my behavior overstepped some vague ethical boundary that exists only to soothe that gigantic ego of yours? Do you want me to apologize for it? To beg your forgiveness? You'll be waiting a long time," he rasps angrily, and Charles straightens in his chair.
"I wouldn't ask for things I know you are not able to give me. You might consider the damage you're causing to your children, however," he retorts softly, but it's a reprimand, nonetheless. When Magneto opens his mouth to reply yet again, however, Charles holds up his hand. "This is obviously pointless. I'm going to bed." He snaps the book he's still holding shut and tosses it with uncharacteristic anger on the floor, not seeming to care that it lands with a heavy thud, folding back some of the pages. "You can show yourself out, I'm sure," he says, and then makes to wheel himself out of the room.
He's almost at the door when he hears the soft, plaintive plea: "Wait. Please. I'm ... sorry," Magneto whispers, and something in the tone makes Charles turn back around reluctantly. "I did not come here to fight with you," the other man says, and Charles sighs and motions him towards one of the room's expansive armchairs, and then wheels himself forward, perching at its side. He watches Magneto close and re-open his eyes, and then reluctantly meet his gaze. "I know you have done everything for Wanda that it is right to do," Magneto continues, and Charles brushes away the remaining sting of his earlier comments, in favor of offering his friend an open ear. When Magneto dips his head and lets out what sounds suspiciously like a soft sob, he even musters up the ability to lay a comforting hand on the other man's shoulder. "I really do care about her, Charles," Magneto ventures brokenly, and Charles nods.
"Of course you do." He rubs a little at Magneto's arm. "Trying to take away some of her considerable pain was an act of love," he acknowledges. "However, there are limits. It's never not a gray area, Erik. You know this. We struggle with it every day."
"You more than I, my friend," Magneto replies, but his smile is soft and genuine. He rolls his shoulders forward a bit, and then straightens in his seat. "Were I to bring her to you to remove the fake memories," he continues cautiously, "could you ... would you be willing to do that?"
"Of course," Charles confirms. "And in the same vein, I believe leaving the mental blocks in place for now may be the best solution," he continues, and Magneto sighs with relief. He claps him on the shoulder, and watches the other man rise to full, glorious height anew. "It's never easy," he comments idly, and Magneto's brow wrinkles slightly in confusion.
"What's never easy, Charles?"
"Anything worth having," Charles intones softly, and is gratified to see the other man smirk; back to normal, then, he thinks; back to vaguely bantering philosophies back and forth, knowing that it's generally harmless - and useless, considering how often they tend to come together in spite of their differences - in the grand scheme of things. He contemplates briefly his increasing need to go to bed, and then, glancing down sheepishly, asks, "By the way, Erik, do you mind -?"
Magneto snorts. Then he stoops smoothly, and whisks the book that Charles dropped earlier off of the floor, picking it up with reverence and smoothing errant pages, and then handing it to the professor. "Thank you," Charles says gratefully, and then: "And if you please, don't wait so long between visits next time, hmmm? You're ... handy to have around, on occasion," he grins, and Magneto outright laughs.
He watches the other man take his leave, staring up at the night sky for several minutes, well after he can no longer spot the familiar purple cape flapping in the warm spring air. Then, when he yawns for the third time in a row for as many minutes, he blinks, rubs his eyes, and draws the heavy curtains closed, and then makes his way to his bedroom to tuck in.