A/N : Oh, like... hey... I'm so so sorry I've been so flaky with this story of late. I really REALLY appreciate how many of you are still following, posting lovely reviews, and most of all appreciating that I have this completely insane life (which I've made way more insane for myself lately) that sometimes gets in the way of writing and publishing. You're all awesome, thank you.

Anyone who cares, IRL ramble down at the bottom in the postscript :) Until then - da-dah! The next two chapters are really short but hey at least you get new chapters right? Enjoy! xx

10

She may not be a Mutant, Erik thought to himself, looked up at the sweaty man gesturing with a telephone from the bar, But there must surely be a little Witch in her. To his own surprise, he smiled slightly as he rose from his seat.

It was a risk, being here at all. More so to call attention to himself like this. He'd rummaged in secondhand stores, come back with a long, brown leather jacket whose boxy shoulders concealed his distinctive posture. Hadn't shaved since he had escaped, dismayed to find that the black stubble was heavily seasoned with grey now. A slightly battered brown fedora pulled low to conceal the bright, hard eyes. Still, a risk to stand and stroll across this crowded public space despite that.

"Erik Magnus?" the sweaty man called again, looked around, receiver held aloft, "telephone, Etats Uni"

There were few people alive today who would use that name. Fewer still who would dare to have it shouted across a French bar. Erik held out his hand, gestured to the man

"Ici" he muttered, "c'est pour moi"

Without further confirmation, the man handed him the receiver. It felt hot and greasy, and Erik shuddered a little as he put the receiver to his ear.

"Dzien dobry." That faint, crackly, familiar voice said, "wszystko w porządku?"

Again, that involuntary twitch of the face. Almost a smile, more regretful than tears. Not because he was fond, not because of hate, but simply the tug of the memory of a beautiful young woman with high cheekbones and the darkest eyes he'd ever seen, speaking vehemently in Polish into a public telephone before slamming the receiver down and walking into his path looking close to tears. Of impulsively raising his hat to her, and speaking those very words in his native tongue to her.

"Magda" he said quietly, "What's wrong?"

Because when had she ever done this when something catastrophic was not happening? He didn't know how she was connected to always be able to find him like this, but he knew that for her to do so, the news was not good.

"Erik, are you sitting down?" the line was bad, but she seemed to be a little breathless. Erik slid onto a barstool

"Yes"

"Good. I'm sorry you have to find out like this, but there's no time to be nice. You have a son, Erik. He's seventeen years old and his name is –"

"Peter" Erik said quietly. Heard nothing but static on the line before Magda tried to whisper something. He cut her off again, "To tell you the truth, Magda I've been wondering who would call the other first"

"You… when you –"

"Careful my love. Loose lips?" He warned gently, sighed, "Were you ever going to tell me?"

"No. Maybe. I don't know – Erik, he's in trouble. We can talk about this some time but please, right now Peter's in trouble. Please help him"

For the first time since that night they met, Erik heard the desperation of familial love and terror quavering behind her voice. Knew that on the other end of the line, thousands of miles away, her eyes were welling up. Softly asked

"Where and when?"

"This afternoon – DC, if you're with Professor Charles –"

"He's here. I'll get your address" he said hurriedly, "He'll be alright, Magda"

"Erik!" she said, brought the receiver back to his ear suddenly, took a shuddering breath, "Make them pay."

She knew as the line clicked dead that he had nodded, once, decisively before he had hung up the telephone. Knew that he was leaving the place he had taken her call even now, as she sat twisting tissues around her long, trembling fingers. Heart thudding in her throat, wondering what terrible force she had set loose on her family, knowing that whatever the cost, he was her only guaranteed way to bring Peter home alive.

And at least, perhaps, with whoever was responsible to vent his fury on, he might have a little less to expend on her when he finally saw her again.

IRL : So for anyone who sort of pays attention to what's going on in my life, I'm starting my first RMN job in a few weeks. Just waiting for my professional registration to come through and I'm there! So obviously things have been a neverending cavalcade of fun like criminal records checks, health clearances, identification checks (problem being I didn't have any ID, oops...) etc etc. But yay! First registered job! :D

I've also started studying for my driving theory test, will be learning to drive, and am in training for this year's Tough Mudder Half in Yorkshire UK which I'll be doing to raise money for a mental health charity and *Oh Boy* don't think I won't promote the back end out of that when the time comes! You'll be sick of it.

So yeah, basically I go work, home desk, gym, bed, repeat right now. But I can write too, and I really do genuinely love your reviews, follows and favourites. So thanks, Constant Readers, you're most excellent. xx