Chapter VI – The Broken One

"That makes you the Scarlet Witch"

87 days before the tragedy

Erik landed at the gate surrounding the prison. He rose quickly and looked around. He spotted Peter, who was helping Charles sit up in his wheelchair. Wanda lowered her arms along her torso. A luminescent vapor emanated from her fingers as she brought herself into the air. Erik did not hesitate even for a second. He rose above the ground and soared toward his daughter.

"Wanda, wait! You can't leave."

He stretched out his arms and focused all his attention on the gate. The bars rose toward Wanda with a heavy clatter and wrapped around her body. They could not hold her off for long, but Erik gained the time he needed to get to his daughter. When she shook off the bars with a blast of energy, he grabbed her by the arm.

"You know you have nowhere to go, Wanda. Come with me. I'll give you home."

They were hovering about twenty feet above the ground. Wanda looked at her father, tilting her head. Her eyes glowed red. Erik watched as Wanda raised her hand, moved her fingers and sent a mist of red hue in his direction.

One minute he was holding his daughter and looking into her eyes, and the next he was falling. But instead of hitting the hard ground, he fell into a dark abyss. The world swirled around him and suddenly Erik found himself in Poland. He stood in the forest and looked at the dead bodies of Nina and Magda lying on the grass. He knew it all was not real, yet he took a step toward them. His heart was trying to get out of his chest as he slowly approached his dead wife and daughter. However, when he reached them, they both disappeared as if blown away by the wind.

"Dad?"

Erik turned to see Peter kneeling on the grass nearby. He was holding his stomach, blood flowing from his mouth. Erik's blood froze in his veins. He started to run toward his son, but instead of getting closer to him, he was getting further and further away from him.

He tried to scream, to utter his son's name, but the sounds were lost in his throat, unspoken. He kept running until he suddenly bumped into someone. It was a woman with black and green hair. When she turned around, Erik noticed that Lorna's eyes were completely black.

"I waited for you," she told him, "but you never came."

She drove a rod into his heart, never taking her eyes off his. Erik did not feel any physical pain, but he wanted it all to be over already. He had to find a way to free himself from Wanda's spell. He removed the rod from his body, turned away from Lorna and ran in the opposite direction.

And suddenly the scenery changed. He was on the beach, the wind brushing against his skin. He had his old helmet on his head. He was young and foolish again. In his arms there was Charles, who looked beautiful and young. He looked at him with wounded eyes, unable to rise. Erik knew he would never stand on his own again, unless you count that time when he was aided by medicine.

"Do you understand now, Erik? You'll be the death of me. You'll be the death of all of us."

No. That was not the thing Charles had said back then, in Cuba. He had never said such words. None of this had happened nor would ever happen. Erik snapped out of Wanda's snare and found himself back in front of the massive Pentagon building. Peter sat next to him on the ground, holding his shoulder. Erik had never seen such a concerned look on his son's face before.

"What did she do to you?" he asked.

"Nothing. I'm fine," Erik answered in the most assuring voice he could muster. He tried to get the sight of Peter bleeding out of his mind. "Where is she?"

Peter pointed to the sky with his hand. Erik looked in the indicated direction and saw Wanda hovering above them. She had not gone away. She was still here and looking directly at them. Erik was too far away to see the emotion on her face. Could it be that she was hesitating? Out of the corner of his eye Erik noticed Charles putting his fingers to his temple. He was probably trying to communicate with Wanda.

Suddenly, the prison doors opened and guards rushed out from inside. There were dozens of them. Erik stood up with the help of his son, then patted Peter on the shoulder. It was permission for the boy to show off. So when Peter got busy disabling the guards, Erik approached his husband.

Wanda landed across from them. She seemed to have abandoned her intention to fight them, but scarlet mist still emanated from her fingers. Erik had to admit that she looked quite impressive. She had curly red hair decorated with an intricate red crown. Her hands were covered with fingerless gloves of the same color reaching above her elbows. The rest of her costume - meaning a red chestplate with angular faulds extending into an ankle-length skirt, thigh-high boots and a cloak with a hood - was somewhat reminiscent of the one Erik used to wear. This little detail brought him a certain pleasure, though he still could not get rid of the distaste Wanda's illusions had caused him.

As if sensing his emotions, Wanda said, "I'm sorry for that. I haven't used my powers in months, I haven't talked to people all this time… I really appreciate your help, but I don't understand how…" She gesticulated at him. "This… this can't be the truth. My parents died when I was a child."

"This is the truth, Wanda. I found out only days ago. It's new to me as well but I believe we can figure it out together."

Peter appeared by his father's side. Erik looked behind him and saw dozens of guards tied to the remains of the gate. Fortunately, they had not done much damage. If Charles erased their memory and Erik fixed the gate, maybe no one would even know that a powerful mutant managed to escape from here. It all depended on whether Wanda would agree to go with them.

She looked at them without saying a word. Erik saw in her an immense power that could wipe them off the face of the earth, but he was beginning to notice something more. Through the shell of a powerful mutant, there was a lonely, life-experienced woman breaking through. Erik knew only a fraction of what she must have gone through in life. There was too much pain in her eyes for him to ever completely understand her suffering.

"Come on, Wanda." Peter turned to her. "This family is a mess, but it's better than being alone."

"We have no intention of forcing you to do anything," Charles added. "It has to be your decision."

Maybe it was the given right to choose, maybe the prospect that no better option existed. In any case, Wanda had made her decision. Her impressive costume transformed into simple jeans and a light sweater. Her red hair fell to her shoulders. Wanda walked over to them and grabbed Peter's hand. If the young man was surprised by the sudden gesture, he did not let it show. Erik looked at them with a certain pride as they walked towards the plane.

Erik and Charles stayed behind to repair the damage and then joined the siblings, who seemed as close as if they were twins instead of two people who had met barely half an hour ago. Erik watched them the entire trip to Genosha and could not stop the feeling growing in him. It was something he had not felt in a long time – hope.

86 days before the tragedy

The travel was long and tedious. Wanda spent most of it listening to the man who, it turned out, was no one else but the infamous Magneto. She had heard of him once or twice, but had never paid much attention to the stories about his impressive actions. He did not look threatening to her. When she herself had mastered powers that could destroy the entire world, no one seemed like a worthy adversary.

The other man, the one in the wheelchair, turned out to be his former enemy and current husband. He was a telepath and in that respect, Wanda could not match him. It was true that she could read people's most important thoughts, memories and fears. She could mess with their heads, as she had done with Erik only a few hours before, but not everything was accessible to her. People were not open books to her but rather summaries of them.

She learned everything they thought was important for her to know: that Erik had learned the truth barely days before, that Peter had long hidden their relationship from him, that some lawyer wanted to get Wanda out of jail, and that Erik had another child, a daughter named Lorna, who had rejected his biological father as soon as he had found her. Wanda listened to this with interest but also with doubt. The evidence that suggested she might be Erik's daughter did not quite convince her - just the word of some man who had picked him up off the street and told him all those crazy revelations.

However, owing them her freedom, Wanda kept her doubts quiet. Something made her feel comfortable in the company of a former teacher, her supposed father, and her brother. She especially enjoyed the company of the latter, so on the plane she sat next to him and even allowed herself a short nap, resting her head on Peter's shoulder.

When they finally arrived, Wanda was struck by the difference between her tiny jail cell and the house she was to live in. Peter led her across the hall upstairs to a room adjacent to his own. At Wanda's exclusive disposal was a sizable bed, a closet, a chest of drawers and a dressing table. There was a view of the lake and the surrounding meadows from high windows.

"You can decorate it however you like," Peter told her. "I've noticed you don't have any belonging so maybe we could go shopping. I gave mine a good makeover. Records, posters, games..."

As Peter was listing the things that one could find in his room, Wanda took care of her own. She moved her fingers, from which a red light flashed. In the blink of an eye, the interior décor underwent a huge change. Maroon curtains appeared in the windows and several potted flowers on the windowsill. The plain white bedding gave way to silky smooth sheets in a shade of gold. Wanda also added a few extra fluffy pillows. A soft Persian rug appeared on the floor. The dresser and closet were filled to the brim with clothes. Cosmetics now stood on the dressing table and photographs on the dresser.

It took Peter a moment to pick his jaw up off the floor.

"So cool," he mumbled under his breath. "Is there anything you can't do?"

Wanda shrugged, looking out the window. She caught herself smiling sincerely for the first time in many months. Maybe this was the place where she would regain her peace of mind. She could live like that, strolling through the green fields by day and sitting by the fireplace in the evening with a mug of tea in her hands. Maybe she would never have to fight again. Maybe she would even be able to reopen her heart and find love for a family she had not known existed.

"Who are these people?"

As Peter picked up one of the photos, the smile on Wanda's face faded. She did not have to look over his shoulder to know what Peter was looking at. Every time she thought her wound had healed, something or someone had to scratch it. Usually it was her own thoughts. This time it was Peter. She could not blame him – she had had put those pictures in plain sight herself, as if she had been asking for uncomfortable questions from the rest of her companions.

"It's my family," she whispered. "My husband, Vision, and our sons: Tommy and Billy. Tommy had the same power as you do. Now I understand why."

Peter seemed embarrassed. He probably was not used to comforting people and Wanda did not expect that from him at all. She had lived with pain for a long time, and even if her life depended on it, she would not be able to express her suffering through words. She preferred to keep silent, to lock it away inside herself. It was easier that way.

She watched as Peter put the photo back in place and stood beside her at the window. The sun's rays illuminated his silver hair. There was something lively, joyful about him, something that made it hard not to like him. Wanda felt their unspoken connection, and just as she had tried to lie to herself until now, in this very moment she accepted the undeniable fact that he was her brother.

"I have no idea what you've been through," he started with a serious voice that contrasted with his humorous attitude, "but I'm here for you, Wanda. You can tell me everything."

"I know."

Wanda returned his smile, which was a wonderful sight after months of being alone. She rested her head on his shoulder and they stood side by side, looking at the landscape outside the window. It was a beautiful, peaceful place. It could be her home if only she let it be.

A knock resounded behind them. They turned to see Erik leaning against the doorframe. They had left the door open, but Wanda did not think Erik had been standing there for long, waiting for a convenient moment to interrupt them. She would have sensed his presence. She locked eyes with Peter's… their father, who was watching them affectionately.

"I figured you guys were hungry. Dinner's ready. Do you like mac and cheese?"

"I love mac and cheese!" Peter replied with exaggerated enthusiasm.

He left the room, patting his father on the shoulder in passing. It was a brief, barely perceptible gesture, but it must have meant a lot to Erik, because he looked past his son and smiled. The role of father was visibly something new and surprising to him. Wanda guessed he still had not completely digested the thought of having three grown children, one of whom had been very close to him all this time.

Being alone with her father, whom she had just met, Wanda did not know how to act or what to say. He was a stranger to her. At the same time, however, she had looked deep into his memories and fears and could now tell that she knew him better than anyone else. He was misunderstood, powerful, broken. Just like her.

"I see you changed some things." He looked around. "Does it mean you're planning on staying here longer?"

"I don't know. Maybe. It's not like I have many options."

Erik glanced fleetingly at the photos, then focused his gaze on his daughter. The entire length of the room separated them. Wanda began to wonder how much he knew about her past. He showed her the files he had gotten from the mysterious lawyer. The information was pretty truncated, but it contained enough truth to paint Wanda in a very unfavorable light.

"Many other mutants live in Genosha, Wanda. I hope you'll feel at home here."

"I'm not a mutant," she denied automatically. "I got my powers through experiments."

Or at least that was what she had thought for most of her life. She remembered vividly the moment when she had reached out for the Mind Stone and the image of herself as the Scarlet Witch appeared in front of her eyes. Was there a possibility that the stone did not give her powers, but instead forced them to manifest or even amplified them?

"Charles can help you figure it out," Erik told her, speaking about his husband with softness in his voice. "He's very good at helping others understand who they really are."

Wanda crossed the room and sat down on the bed. It was much more comfortable than the spring with a bit of fabric she had to sleep on in prison. She looked at her father, who hesitated for a moment, then took the seat next to her. Something had changed in the atmosphere in the room. It became more serious, dark even.

"Is it true what they say about you, Wanda? Did you bring the man you loved back to life?"

When their eyes met once again, she blinked a few times to ward off tears. She sat with her legs crossed, playing with the sleeve of her sweater.

"No." She shook her head, pain kneading her heart. "I created another version of him. He was not real to the world."

"But he was real to you," Erik guessed.

It was hard for her to talk about it. Until now, she had had to deal with her grief alone. The last time she had allowed herself an outlet for her emotions, she had taken control of the city and its inhabitants, creating her own reality. Even in her wildest dreams she had not suspected there would ever be someone willing to listen to her. Much less someone who could understand her suffering to some degree.

"I know you lost your family, too. I'm sorry about your wife and your daughter." She looked down. "I'm also sorry for getting into your head. I shouldn't have."

"What did you exactly do?"

"I showed you your greatest fears. The thing you are the most terrified of is losing your loved ones."

And now she was one of those people. If she needed proof that she was safe here, a look inside Erik's head had to be enough. She looked at him, but he escaped from under her stare. Something had changed in him. She was already beginning to wonder if she had said a wrong thing when he raised his gaze shyly. Uncertainty was painted all over his face and that surprised her.

"I'm not the best option for a father, Wanda. There's a reason Lorna prefers to stay away from me. I know he would never admit it, lest he hurt my feelings, but Peter is scared, too. Before you let me into your life, you need to know that I tend to hurt the people I love even though it's the last thing I want to do."

She could say the same thing about herself. She had hurt Vision. It was not even that she had killed him. He had asked her to do it. It was that she had created a new reality for him without bothering to ask him first. Maybe he had not been the real Vision, maybe he had not had his memories, but he should also decide for himself. She had deprived him of that choice.

"I'm not scared of you," she said with strength in her voice. "I could easily defeat you."

"I know," Erik agreed.

He smiled at her, as if by her words she confirmed his assumption that he had reasons to be proud of her. Wanda tilted her head, not hiding her surprise. There were things they had in common, but apparently they viewed the matter of having powers completely differently. On the other hand, for the first time someone did not judge her, did not consider her a freak, a threat. The man sitting next to her admired her.

By the time she realized what was happening, she also smiled. Sincerely, showing her teeth. Erik helped her up and they both left the room. Suddenly she felt hungry. She marveled at the prospect of eating a meal with her family, even the strangest one, rather than alone in a prison cell.

As they found themselves in the hallway and headed toward the dining room, the doorbell resounded.

"Are you expecting someone?" Wanda asked.

"Not really."

Erik straightened up, suddenly stiff as if expecting danger. He walked to the door and looked through the peephole. His back was to Wanda, so she could not see the expression on his face, but she sensed his sudden surge of emotion. He seemed nervous. Wanda reached for her power to stand by her father's side if necessary, but it appeared there would be no need.

When her father opened the door, a young woman with green-black hair looked at him. It had to be Lorna. Behind her stood a man with a small child, perhaps a year old, in his arms. Wanda felt Erik hold his breath at the sight of his other daughter.

"Is your offer still valid?" Lorna asked.

And that is how the whole family came together.