{Author's Note: We have reached the end. I can hardly believe it.}

ERIK POV

The decision was not as impulsive as the other adults at the school might have thought. Just because Charles hadn't picked up on it or because Erik had been thinking about other more momentous things most of the time, did not mean that he had not been thinking about it at all. He had in fact been thinking about it for a good while now, way back to when Pietro had been recuperating at Al's farm, what felt like a lifetime ago.

And the decision could not possibly have been as impulsive as the others liked to believe, for it had taken a certain amount of planning and searching, something that Erik was not unfamiliar with, but he had never put such skills to a use so benign in nature before. And yet, even though his choice produced the desired result—or a degree of it—that he could see in the widening of Pietro's eyes and the slight upward curl of his lips, subtle next to Nina's unrestrained exuberance, Erik still felt that the outcome was incomparable to the scene he had once envisioned in his mind; because although Nina's unbridled joy brought a swell of warmth to his heart, it did not change the fact that Pietro's happiness paled in comparison and was all the more noticeable by the absence of another child who should have been sharing in their joy—Wanda. And maybe, even Lorna.

But still, seeing the pup scamper around, over, and under his children with what—for the time being—appeared to be an endless supply of energy that one might think on its surface would rival Pietro's energy on a good day (if he ever had one of those again)—Erik could not help but let a small sliver of contentment wither its way into his battered soul.

The pup was indeed that—a puppy. Erik had considered finding a full-grown dog for Pietro, and by extension Nina, but they all knew the dog was really for Pietro. Nina did not need one animal by her side when she could love them all and garner love from all of them without laying claim to any. That said, Erik was sure both Nina and Pietro would have bonded just as swiftly with a full-grown dog as much as they were with the young, yet unnamed pooch, and maybe it would have been better to have a dog ready and willing to protect his son, rather than an animal that was going to need protection and an abundance of attention for some time. But in the end, he could not bear to gift Pietro with anything that would leave his son sooner than necessary, so a young pup it had been; one who had years and years ahead of him, even if they may ultimately appear to be but a blip to a boy who would outlive them all.

Besides, though it would give Erik some piece of mind to know that his son would eventually have a loyal companion to defend him, comfort him, and always be by his side, ultimately, there was nothing a dog could do that would protect his son more than Pietro's own powers or that of the mutants in his company. So what did it matter if he gave his son a canine who was as young and innocent to the dangers of the world just as his boy should be? Still, Erik could not help but find Pietro a breed—or a mix of one—that was well-known for its protection, which is why Erik had chosen the mutt that the shelter had described as likely being part German Shepherd.

Rationally, perhaps the breed should have been the last Erik would seek out, for he could still see such hounds clearly in his mind as they patrolled with their masters along the grounds of Auschwitz, but any hesitation he had in selecting the German Shepherd mix was quickly dispelled as the pooch looked up at him at the shelter, tail wagging and paw swatting gently at Erik's foot. In a way, the pup had reminded him of Pietro with its dark soulful eyes and easygoing temperament. So there had been no question in Erik's mind that pup would not be the same as its canine brethren who never had a chance but to be anything other than tools to keep his people in control. Under the tutelage of his son and daughter, the pup would grow to be something altogether different—kind, loyal, brave, just like his children.

So as Erik watched the little runt of a dog dart back and forth across the lawn from one child to the other, licking a face, a hand, an elbow—really any available skin—with each pass, Erik had no fear that the pooch would harm Pietro or Nina now or ever. And yet . . . such peace at the sight of the scene unfolding around him could not last forever because Erik knew—or at least suspected—that at some point, Pietro would pull himself away from his sister and his new animal companion and confront his father because, having lived a life that had taken so much from him, how could he not expect that one piece of happiness would come at the cost of something else?

No sooner had the unsettling thought crossed Erik's mind than was Pietro pulling himself up off the ground using his crutches.

It was no simple feat with his leg the way it was, but nonetheless, Pietro had managed it before Erik could make a move to help him and was already moving away from Nina before Erik could take more than a step or two toward his son.

However, when Pietro did reach his father, he did not stop. Instead, he continued past the metal-bender, undoubtedly, knowing that Erik would follow him.

And of course he did.

Erik trailed silently behind Pietro until the boy finally came to a stop about forty yards away from his little sister and their newest family member. Pietro didn't immediately turn around. Instead, he just stared pensively off into the distance. Erik imagined that if Pietro was a weathered actor in some old movie, this would be the moment when he took a drag on a cigarette and contemplated the life he had lived or some pivotal decision he had made.

But Erik's son—though he had lived through more than his fair share of haunting experiences in his short life—was not some grizzled gangster. He was but a boy who, despite his years, could opine far more in his father's actions than others twice his age, so Erik was not surprised when his son did eventually turn to direct his gaze upon a face that was far too similar to his own, both in features and in that Pietro's face did not in that moment contain the warmth Erik had grown so fond of. Rather, his face was cold and his eyes haunted.

"I know." Said Pietro, his voice not quite accusatory, but not quite resigned to the inevitable, just certain that what he was about to speak was true. "I know what you're doing, giving me the dog, finding out what Alex's plans are, and—and the way you've been watching Nina and me the last few days. I know."

"What am I doing?" Asked Erik, though he didn't even dare attempt to feign ignorance by asking the question. He just . . . he didn't want to admit that Pietro knew. Because if Pietro knew, then it was nearly time.

"You're not going to say it, are you? Not until I do." Said Pietro, and this time there was a note of accusation in his voice. "Fine. I'll say it because saying it doesn't change the fact that it's true and that it's going to happen—you're leaving. Aren't you? You got us a dog because you think she'll make you're going easier. But, guess what? Just because you think that, doesn't mean it's true. Just because I'll love her one day—probably already do to be honest—and I'm glad to have her, doesn't mean she'll make it easier to see you go or that she'll make things better when you're gone."

"That's not . . . I don't—I don't want you to see her that way. I just . . . I thought she would be good for you. For both of you." Said Erik, running one hand through his hair.

"I noticed that you didn't deny that you're leaving." Said Pietro raising one eyebrow as he glared holes into his father's skull.

"I didn't . . . because I am. I have to. I have to leave. It's the only thing that makes sense." Said Erik, imploring his son to understand.

"No. Noyoudon't. And it doesn't make any sense! You only think you have to leave out of some misplaced sense of duty or-or-or guilt. Butyoudon't! Youdon'thaveto! No one is making you. In fact, I'm asking you not to. This is Your Choice." And if Pietro had been a different kind of person, he would have physically pointed a finger at his father as he summarized the facts as he saw them, but as it was, his words were forceful enough on their own, each one a dagger to Erik's heart.

"It is." said Erik slowly, searching for what to say, searching for how to get through to his child, even though he had had days—maybe even longer—to think about how he would say goodbye. "But it's better this way, for you and for Nina. Charles will keep you safe, . . . and he—he will be a much better father figure to you than I ever could be or ever have been."

"We don't need a better father figure. We need you. I need you. I need my Father, not someone play-acting as one." Said Pietro, gripping the handles of his crutches so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

Erik ran a hand over his eyes, shaking his head at the same time. "You don't Peter. Believe me. This is better for you and Nina. Your life is not better and will never be better for having me in it."

"No. It's j-just easier for you." Said Pietro, his body shaking almost imperceptibly along with his voice. Someone else might not have noticed how the boy trembled as he spoke, but Erik could feel the vibration passing through the metal crutches, and beyond that, as much as Erik was trying to distance himself from Pietro for the boy's own good, Erik was still his father. And he knew when his son was upset.

"It's not easy for me, Peter. Please don't ever think this is easy. It's not. It may be one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do. It's not an easy choice . . . but it is simply the safest one. Stryker—the man who took you from your home—is still out there. And as long as he is out there, it's not safe—for you, for Nina, for any mutant." Said Erik as he grasped his wrist with his other hand in an attempt to steady himself and to stay strong in his resolve.

At that, it was Pietro's turn to shake his head. "There will always be a Stryker. How can you not get that!? You had the Nazis, the other universe had its share of bad guys, and now we've got men like Stryker! You can't make the world safe for us, Erik! You'll never be able to do that! But you can stay here, and be our Dad."

Erik swallowed, pausing a moment before he replied for he was afraid that if he spoke too soon, he would find himself agreeing to stay. "Even if that's true . . . I still have to try. I have to try to give you—you and Nina—a chance to grow up without constantly looking over your shoulder in fear." Said Erik, adjusting his posture slightly so that they were eye level as he tried to impart that fact on his son.

"But if you go, we'll grow up without you." Said Pietro quietly, no longer attempting to hide his true emotions behind rage, and when that angry façade faded away, all that remained on the boy's face was sadness and pain. And it cut Erik to the core to know that in that moment he was the reason for it, even if he was trying to do was best for the boy in the long run.

You already did. You grew up from baby to a toddler to a child to a teenager all without me.

"But you will grow up." Said Erik with a certainty he had to hold onto in order to justify his decision, or he'd never be strong enough to leave. "And that's what matters."

At that, Pietro looked away, breathing deeply through his nose, and Erik thought for a moment that he may be about to cry, but then, Pietro turned his head back, making eye contact with his father once more. When he spoke, his voice was soft and, for the first time, pleading.

"I could go with you." He said with more than a little desperation in his voice.

And that short, quiet appeal nearly shattered Erik's resolve and his heart in one blow. And the reason for that heartbreak was in part because Erik desperately wished to say 'yes, come with me,' and maybe, if Pietro were older—perhaps his rightful age had they never universe hopped—Erik would have said yes. But the fact was that Pietro was a child still and because of that, his answer—though difficult to deliver—was not a difficult choice to make.

"No, Pietro. You cannot." Said Erik as gently as possible, matching the volume of his son's voice.

"But—but I could. Icouldhelpyou! And—and it makes sense for me to come! I was taken from my home. I was taken from here! Why is here better or safer than with you? If you just wait until my leg is better then I'll be just as strong as you."

"You are already stronger than me in every possible way. But you still cannot come with." Said Erik, more certain of that than any other statement he had yet to make. "Because anywhere is better than with me. I am a magnet for trouble, and I always will be. Being around me will only ever put you in danger. I realize that now."

"So am I!" Pietro shot back, and if he could have, Erik imagined he would have stomped his foot, which would have only served to enforce just how young he was in the grand scheme of things. "Look at me! I'm constantly getting into trouble!"

"No, Pietro." Said Erik, placing a hand on his shoulder. "you've merely been caught in my magnetic field."

At that, Pietro looked up at him, and for a moment, Erik thought the boy would hit him. But he didn't. Instead, Pietro blinked back angry tears and threw his arms around Erik, his crutches falling to the ground so that Erik was the only reason he stood up right.

"Please. Please don't go, Dad." Said Pietro into his father's chest. "I don't want you to go."

And if there would have been even a sliver of a chance that Erik would change his mind, that would have done it. But Erik believed this was the best path for his children. And when Erik believed in something so strongly, there was nothing and no one—not even his children—who could sway him from his course.

"I don't want to." Said Erik, as he wrapped his own arms around his son.

"Then don't." said Pietro, barely above a whisper.

Erik sighed and spoke quietly into Pietro's hair, "I wish it were that simple."

"I still don't see why it can't be." Said Pietro, pulling back from his father's grasp and wiping his eyes with the back of the sleeve of his army jacket that covered his blue Atari shirt, the former of which Erik suspected actually belonged to Alex.

"One day you might." Said Erik, still imaging shaping a world where even Pietro could grow old and grey-er with his own children by his side as he left the world behind. Erik took a deep breath and continued. "I'll call when I can. Write when I can't. It won't be forever. It doesn't have to be."

Pietro shook his head again slightly, eyes looking upward for a moment before they returned to his father's face. "It might as well be."

Erik swallowed, forcing down not only his saliva, but also how much that statement hurt.

"Are you sure this isn't what you want?" asked Pietro, studying Erik's face, perhaps looking to see if there was anything there that told the boy he still had a chance at persuading him to stay. "To be alone because that's all you've known for so long?"

"I won't be alone. . . . Raven is coming with me." Said Erik after a beat. But he knew that was not what Pietro meant, but he lashed onto it all the same.

"Then let her go! She can find Stryker! She took you down before, taking him down will be easy compared to that." Said Pietro, and it hurt Erik to realize that a bit of hope had snuck into Pietro's voice at the thought that he had found the solution to their disagreement.

"There are certain things that she can't do on her own," said Erik calmly. "I can't leave this in her hands."

"Can't? Or won't?" Pietro questioned as he gripped his father's sleeve, his crutches still discarded on the ground.

"I can't let her go alone, because the potential cost of not doing this myself is too great. I can't risk it. I can't lose you too. Or Nina. I can't—" Erik voice cut off as it broke with raw emotion.

"You're losing me right now." said Pietro, desperately trying to get his father to see that.

Erik grimaced. "I hope—" Erik's voice cracked again and he coughed before trying once more. "I hope that is not the case, but I understand if it feels that way to you."

Silence fell between the father and son at that statement until Pietro finally broke it.

"I'll come after you when you leave, once my cast is off. I know that's why you're leaving now, so that I can't follow you. But I will. And I'll find you at some point." Said Pietro with the confidence that only a teenager could possess.

"No, Pietro. You won't." said Erik and of that he was sure, even if Pietro himself hadn't realized the truth of it yet.

"Yea. Yea I will! Why don't you think I will!? You're my family, as much as Nina and Mila. I'm not going to give up on you or just let you leave!"

Erik gave his son a sad smile. "You won't try to find me because, even though you're still just a boy, you're a much better man than I'll ever be. So you won't come after me, because you won't leave Nina or Mila behind."

Pietro looked down at his feet, silently absorbing his father's words, which they both knew to be true. But eventually, Pietro looked up again.

"You know, I can forgive you for a lot of things . . . but if you leave, I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive you for that." Said Pietro, and Erik could tell by the tone of his voice that he had finally accepted the inevitable.

Erik nodded, taking a moment before he spoke to let the gravity and the consequences of Pietro's words sink in. "That's fine. You don't need to forgive me. There is so much I want for you and Nina, but for you to forgive me . . . That is not important."

Pietro pursed his lips. "Don't you think it should be?"

"I've never been worthy of your forgiveness, Peter, so any ounce of it that I receive is an unexpected blessing." Erik paused to pull Pietro's crutches up to the duo. He caught them in one hand and held them out to his son. "I'm very proud of you, do you know that?"

Pietro took the crutches and put them back in their rightful place under his arms and stepped back from his father. Then he turned his attention back to Erik. "Yea, I know." He leaned forward, balancing his weight on his arms so that he was able to kick a bit of dirt up with his good leg. "This is it, isn't it. You're really leaving."

It wasn't a question.

"I am. I have to." Said Erik, repeating the mantra he had told himself so many times.

"You don't . . . . but I'm not going to convince you otherwise, so . . . ." Said Pietro, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket.

Erik reached out and grabbed his son's hand to stop his fiddling to make sure he had his full attention. "If you need me, really, truly need me, Charles has Cerebro. If you call, I will come."

Pietro nodded. "Okay. Sure. But that's the thing. I need you now. I shouldn't have to call you."

"You don't. You lived a life without me before. You can do so again."

"I can. But I. Don't. Want. To." Said Pietro, annunciating each word, so that there would be no chance that his father would miss want he said.

I don't want you to either.

"Life is never what we want it to be." Said Erik, reaching out to straighten Pietro's jacket, even though it wasn't crooked. "But that doesn't mean it can't still be something good."

"You're starting to sound like Chuck." Pietro replied and there was maybe the beginning of a shadow of a smile on his face.

"Don't let Charles catch you calling him that. And if that's the case perhaps it's good I'm leaving." said Erik with a small smile of his own.

"No. It's not." Said Pietro, and any sign of happiness left his face once again. "It will never be. . . . But I can't—I won't stop you. And you're right, I won't follow you either, at least not while Nina and Mila still need me. But as soon as you do whatever it is you think you have to do. Come back. Please. Promise."

Erik swallowed. He knew it wasn't something to promise lightly. Even if he eliminated Stryker, Pietro was right; Stryker wasn't the only threat to mutants and in particular to his son and daughter, but that wasn't what Pietro had asked him to promise. He'd asked Erik to promise to come back whenever he had done what he thought he had to do. But even though Pietro had asked him to promise, Erik knew that Pietro knew that there was always going to be more for him to do.

Erik pulled his son into another hug, drinking in the memory of him. Even though he would have a few photos of his children to keep with him always, the images could never compare to seeing them in person, alive and well.

"I promise."

{Author's Note: I feel like this ending probably disappointed a lot of people (let's pretend a lot of people are reading this lol), but if you listened to the lyrics of What Becomes of the Broken Hearted, it really told you where this was going all along. Also, if you care to know how some things might have played out differently in this story, feel free to shout questions at me in the comments. I definitely debated letting some people live who ended up dying and vice versa.

Also, the "But you will grow up" part was inspired from a scene in The Day After Tomorrow and the "I could go with you" from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2.

Thanks for reading everyone! It's been a wild ride! }