Chapter XIX - The Preparations
"No more hiding, no more suffering"
26 days before the tragedy
Lorna sneaked up on her father from behind and pressed the end of the knife to his throat.
"I don't know about you guys," she smirked, "but I'm really enjoying this game."
Wanda giggled and threw her knife at the tree. The blade landed almost right in the middle of the makeshift shield Erik had created. Not even a second had passed when Lorna, thought she was still standing by her father in the same spot, realized that her knife had disappeared somewhere. Looking around, she saw Peter sitting on the grass and playing with her weapon.
"Your jokes are quite disturbing," Erik said, turning to face her. "Mostly when there's a thin line between them and an actual attempt to assassinate me."
He did not suspect her of such plans, of course. His tone was serious, but his eyes betrayed him. The corners of his mouth twitched, as if he was struggling to keep from smiling. Lorna's control came with more ease, though part of her did wonder if it would be such a bad thing if for once she let herself laugh with her father.
"Believe me, if I wanted to kill you, I would do it without witnesses and with my own hands."
Erik only smiled in response. Lorna rolled her eyes, walked over to Peter, took her knife from him, and punched him in the arm, ignoring his reproachful "ouch." She had to turn away from them both so they would not see the amusement wandering across her face. Then she met the gaze of Wanda, who was openly laughing at her. Lorna stuck her tongue at her sister. This family really had a cracked sense of humor. Maybe that was why she felt so comfortable around them.
She did not know exactly when it had happened. Maybe when Wanda had encouraged Marcos to propose to her. Or maybe when Erik had given her a superhero suit and a metal necklace. Or maybe when Peter had come home and the sight of him, suffering but alive, had almost made her cry. In any case, at some point she had stopped fighting her feelings and accepted the fact that this was her family and that she would destroy the whole world for them. Even for Erik. Or, perhaps, especially for him.
"It's not a game, Lorna. This is training," Erik pointed out, transforming himself from a father who tolerates his children making fun of him to a strict teacher. "You are powerful mutants, each of you individually, but we are going to face someone who can take your powers away in an instant. You must be able to fight without them."
"We're not likely to get much done with these knives, though." Peter shrugged his shoulders. "It's a weak defense against someone who can cause you pain with one swipe of their hand. I speak from experience."
Lorna reluctantly remembered Peter not getting out of bed for days. Looking at him had hurt her. He had been a shadow of himself. She now realized that he looked so much better. The color had come back to his face, he had gotten the urge to style his silver hair again. He had even started using his powers and it was going quite well since he managed to outwit her. In addition, he had become more annoying than ever, something Lorna had previously found impossible.
She squinted as she watched him stroll across the meadow and play with the knife, in which she was surprised to recognize her own weapon. When the hell had he managed to steal it again?!
"It's better than nothing," Erik responded. "We don't know if Price has already stolen your powers so you have to train. Stop procrastinating, Peter, and give the knife back to your sister."
Lorna sent him a triumphant smile as he handed her the knife and immediately threw the object straight into the center of the shield. She liked the prospect of slitting someone's throat with that small deadly thing. What she wanted most of all was to murder that monster who had hurt her brother and killed her friends.
"If he steals my mutant powers, I'll still have my witch skills left, won't I?" Wanda wondered out loud. "I'll be able to cast spells."
"Can you actually do that?" Peter looked at her with suspicion.
"I've been practicing."
Erik smiled at his daughter, and the pride on his face was so evident that Lorna felt something dangerously similar to jealousy. No, she could not afford such feelings. For one thing, after all, she knew that Wanda was the most powerful being, and it never bothered her; rather, she herself was proud of her sister. Secondly, Erik did not favor any of his children. There was no doubt he loved all three of them equally even though each of them treated him differently. Thirdly, since when did she care so much about drawing his attention?
Peter took his own knife and threw it at the shield, but it landed right on its edge. Lorna walked over to him and taught him to stand properly so he could have a good throw. After an hour of practice, Peter was already throwing flawlessly. He no longer stole her knife and was visibly tired but refused to complain. Sometimes he just surreptitiously wiped the sweat off his forehead when he thought no one could see him. Lorna pretended that she had not notice it at all nor the fact that he had not used his powers so often anymore. It turned out that they were more alike than she had previously thought.
Then it was time for duels. Lorna knew a thing or two about hand-to-hand combat, but was surprised when Wanda quickly defeated her. She must had had more practice. It was easy with Peter, but Lorna treated him gently, knowing how much it cost him. When she fought Erik, she tried to bring back her old resentment, but she could not put her whole heart into the duel.
They returned home late in the evening, just in time for dinner prepared by Charles and Marcos. Each of them felt tired, but no one said out loud what they all knew: Peter was exhausted, barely standing on his feet. He spent the entire evening keeping up appearances and constantly joking around, but when Lorna checked on him half an hour after he had gone to his room, she found him asleep. He had not even had time to change or bathe. She covered him with a blanket and left as quietly as she could.
In the hallway she found Erik standing there with his hands in his pockets.
"I'm glad to see how much you care about him," he said, clearly referring to Peter. "You also have a great relationship with Wanda. At first I was worried that you wouldn't feel at home here, but now I'm happy to see you so relaxed and at peace. I guess I should thank Peter and Wanda for it."
Lorna reflexively touched the necklace hanging from her neck. She felt her lips turn into a smile and a crazy idea formed in her heart to say something nice to her father for once in her life.
"Charles should also be credited for this. I criticized him a bit the other day, but I actually like him a lot." She looked her father straight in the eyes. "And you, d… It's because of you, too."
She let the unspoken words hang between them. She had almost called him dad and could not get out of her awe at how easily it would be for her. Still, something kept her from doing so. Just as she could not hug him, even though the abandoned girl inside her was dying to.
Erik looked at her with such love that she understood where the jealousy, however brief, might have come from. Lorna really did care about his attention. She wanted him to admire her. To be proud of her. She wanted him to be the same kind of father to her that he was to Peter and Wanda. It dawned on her that if he did not treat her like he did them, it was only because she did not allow him. She was ready to open that door and let him in.
So when he confessed to her that he fancied a game of chess, but Charles had already gone to bed, Lorna agreed to play with him. Despite her fatigue, she spent extra time with Erik. After all, she did not know how much of it they had left and she wanted to make the most of every second.
20 days before the tragedy
They threw a dance party. There was no other occasion for it than simply to clear away the heavy clouds hanging over them, heralding the coming storm. For a moment they wanted to feel that everything was all right, that their happiness could not be shattered.
All the mutants living in Genosha gathered at their house. Music played in the background as various couples danced in a room from which all the furniture had been removed, leaving only tables lined with food and drinks. If one wanted to take a breath and talk to others, they could go to the other room where a fireplace was burning and the music was pleasantly dimmed.
Erik danced with Wanda a few times, but spent most of the party looking at other couples. Peter also danced with Wanda, and then found Olivia in the crowd. Erik was now looking at them with a smile. They both had bright hair and laughing faces. Peter did not seem tired; on the contrary, he was finally exuding his characteristic energy. Erik remembered their conversation about Olivia and concluded in his mind that those two did not look like a couple of friends at all as they rocked slowly to the rhythm of slow music and seemed to pay no attention to the world around them.
After a moment, he shifted his gaze to another of his children. Lorna was dancing with Marcos, smiling sincerely. Even though she had already opened up to them, she had never been as casual around family members as she was around her fiancé. Erik was glad she had him. She deserved true love, and he apparently deserved her. Maybe Erik would not have to kill him at all, and maybe he would even grow to like him.
Although he did not get to dance with Lorna that evening, he allowed himself to hope that maybe he would do so during her wedding.
While the party was playing out downstairs, upstairs Dawn was sleeping in a magically muted room. Erik could not find Wanda in the crowd and guessed that she had gone to check on her niece. He worried that she thought too much about Vision that evening, that the sight of laughing couples reminded her too much of her lost beloved, even if most of the people dancing here were just friends or family members.
Erik retreated to the other room, where he found Charles talking to a mutant named Joel. When Erik approached, Joel nodded to him and moved out of his way, leaving Erik and Charles alone in the room. Charles was sitting by the fireplace with a glass of whiskey and smiled at the sight of his husband.
"Has dancing worn you out yet?" Charles asked, when Erik sat down on the armrest of his armchair.
"I'd rather keep the love of my life company. Have you seen him anywhere?"
Charles laughed, shifting his gaze to the flames crackling in the fireplace. Erik rested his head on his shoulder and closed his eyes for a moment, soothed by the familiar scent and the feeling of being close to the one person whose company he could never tire of.
"I'm sorry I can't join you on the dance floor, darling."
Charles' voice was so quiet that for a moment Erik thought he had overheard. And then he broke off, grabbed his husband's hand, and shook his head as Charles' words struck him to the core.
"If you need anyone to blame for that, blame me, Charles. I'm the one who took this away from you." He felt Charles' hand on his face and nuzzled his cheek into it. "Do you really miss it?"
"I can make it happen," Wanda said, suddenly appearing in the room. Erik turned to look at her. His heart froze in anticipation. "I don't know if I would be able to reverse the disability forever, but I think I could easily create such an illusion. For a few minutes, maybe hours, I can get you back on your feet, Charles. If that's what you want."
Erik glanced back at Charles, who was staring thoughtfully into the fireplace, the light playing in his blue eyes. It could not have been a simple decision. It would cost him a lot, especially after the magical moment when he would have to sit in the wheelchair again.
"You don't have to do it, Charles," Erik whispered. "No matter the choice you make, I love you the way you are."
"I know," Charles looked at him with a soft smile, "but I don't want to do this for you, Erik. I want to do this for me."
They both watched as Wanda produced a red mist in her hands, moving her fingers. The red energy dispersed throughout the room. Erik opened his mouth but said nothing, too enthralled to form a single coherent thought into words. When he turned around, a sigh escaped his lips.
He reflexively held out his hands, but Charles did not need his help. He slowly rose from his seat with his gaze fixed on his legs, which he moved with ease. His hair had come back too, though he had not asked for it at all. Erik could not help himself; he stood up, reached out his hand and ran his fingers through the thick brown hair.
Charles smiled at him, tears shining in his eyes. Erik smiled and cried too as his husband pulled him into the middle of the room. Wanda had disappeared somewhere, giving them the privacy they craved. The music was muffled, but audible enough to dance to. It was some slow song, perfect for them.
They moved to its rhythm, pressed against each other so tightly that there was no longer any space between them. Erik felt Charles' hands on his hips. He put his arms around Charles, closing his eyes. His head was buzzing with excess emotion, silent tears streaming down his cheeks.
"How are you feeling, Charles?"
Erik's voice was no more than a whisper. Charles ran his hands over his back, then slid them under his shirt.
"Happy. I'm always happy when I'm with you." Charles' breath was warm when it found itself right next to Erik's ear. "I don't want to think about the consequences of my choice. I want to enjoy this moment, darling. There's so much we could do."
A shiver ran through Erik's body, a shiver of desire. Before he knew it, he was already holding his husband's face in his hands, kissing his lips and running his fingers through his hair. They managed to steal a few hours from the reality. A few hours full of love and passion. A few hours where they became young men again, but this time they both wanted the same thing. This time they did not stand against each other but became one.
When Erik later thought back to that evening, he was painfully aware that it had been the last time he had felt true, unwavering, memorable happiness.
14 days before the tragedy
"If you have any doubts, this is the right time to speak up, Peter. I won't lie to you - what I'm about to do will hurt," Charles told him. "A lot. Restoring memories is an uncomfortable procedure in itself, not to mention the mere things that will be restored. These are traumatic experiences. Are you sure you want to know the truth about them?"
Peter breathed deeply, squirming on the couch. Everyone was looking at him: Erik, Charles, Wanda, Lorna. He did not want to meet their stares because he knew what he would see on their faces. They were worried about him. They had gathered here like some kind of support group because they were worried about how he might react to the memories. Unnecessarily so. He was not as explosive as they were. He did not lose control of his power or kill people while being under the influence of strong emotions. He would be fine.
He had some doubts, of course, but he was not going to admit it. Whatever had happened, though he did not remember it, had changed him. He was no longer the same person he had been before the kidnapping. He did not know if he had only been tortured physically or mentally as well. He was afraid of the truth, but at the same time he could not find peace without knowing it. He felt as if something was missing deep inside of him. He would not know what it was unless he regained his memories.
"Let's stop prolonging this because otherwise we'll all die of boredom." Peter grinned at his family, trying to infect them with the enthusiasm he did not feel himself. "I'm ready when you're ready, Charles."
The man was not fooled, not that Peter had expected it of him, but he obediently set about his task. Peter could not stop a reflexive twitch as Charles put two fingers to each of his temples. For a long moment they were just looking at each other. And then Peter got sucked into his own painful thoughts.
The truth consisted of isolated snippets that constituted the parts of his abduction when he had been conscious enough to know what had been happening to him. The pain had accompanied him from the very beginning, as soon as he had woken up in his cell. Peter remembered everything. The bars, Olivia's parents, the men he had managed to defeat and the one he had pushed too hard. He remembered Pine, who had caused him immense pain just by raising his hands. But now Peter knew that the physical pain was nothing compared to what he had felt when he had killed a man and had found out about Olivia's lies.
Time slowed down around him. Peter looked at Charles' frozen face as he slipped out from under his hands. He glanced at his father and siblings, who were anticipating what had already come. They simply had no idea. Peter passed them, but only managed to reach the hallway when his legs collapsed under him. He did not know if it was because he was still too weak, or if the truth was simply too heavy to carry. The only thing he could do was to lean against the wall, despair shaking his body.
He did not cry. He was just shaking, as if someone was sending electric shocks down his spine. The irony of that proved to be almost funny. Olivia could do such a thing to him with her powers but she did it with her betrayal. How could he ever believe that she liked him? How could he trust her so implicitly?
And that man... Peter looked at his hands, as if expecting to see blood on them. If there was blood on them, he could wash it off. Perhaps the gesture would bring him solace. However, for what he felt, there was no solace. There was no going back from this. Peter started missing the oblivion and wondering if the truth might kill him.
He did not even know when he restored the flow of time. He did not care about anything anymore. He heard calls from the room as the others realized he had disappeared. Suddenly they appeared right there, one next to the other, almost arguing over who would comfort him, and Peter looked at them as if through a fog, thinking only of how they were all the same now, how they were all murderers.
"Peter?" Erik knelt beside him. "Peter, son... Can you hear me?"
I'm like you dad, he thought. I killed a human. Are you proud?
"Lorna, could you please go find Olivia?" Charles asked in a firm voice.
"Why? Do you really think that's what he needs? His girlfriend instead of his family?"
Peter listened to them as if their conversation was taking place behind some sound-dampening wall. His head hurt. His father holding him by the shoulders seemed to him no more than an annoying insect. Wanda standing over him merged with the world around them. He was not even sure if she was definitely the one standing there.
"She betrayed us."
"She betrayed me," Peter interfered, drawing all the attention. "And I killed a man. Maybe that speaks badly of me, but I really don't know which is worse."
There was silence for a moment, as if it really moved them deeply that he had killed someone, and yet death was nothing new to them. They had inflicted it themselves and watched their loved ones die. They should have gotten used to it by now. And then, in a sudden sobering of the mind, he realized that they were so shocked because of him. Because they knew what it meant for him.
Lorna did not move. Wanda sat on the ground opposite to him. Charles, who knew exactly what Peter was going through, looked at him sadly. Peter was sure that he would recover quickly. He always did. But now, for that brief moment, he allowed himself to really be affected by all he had learned that day.
When his father took him in his arms, he did not resist. When the image of the killed man appeared before his eyes, he did not ignore it. When the tears finally fell, he was not ashamed of them. When Lorna went to get Olivia, he did not protest. When his heart broke into little pieces, he made no attempt to put it back together.