Many, many thanks for your reviews as usual. They do make me smile.
Ray (Berzerker) is in this chapter because I've grown fond of him. He has silly hair and his voice is quite sexy, don't you think? No?
Oh yes.. and the green pants which landed on Pietro's head were a homage to Kurt's green boxers which he always lets ride above his trousers with such pride.. Long live the green pants!
*
Breakfast at the Xavier institute was always quite a grand event, or at least it was compared to breakfast at the Acolyte hideout. With the Acolytes, none of whom were particularly skilled in the kitchen, the best start to the day was a gritty cup of coffee and Pyro's specialty- a finely blackened piece of toast. With the X-Men however, everything was cooked to perfection with an extensive range of choices. So extensive, in fact, that there was not only Cornflakes but caviar and Chile Con Carne too.
Erik was just settling down to his muesli and Greek yoghurt when the arrival of a student with a large sack of letters sent the young recruits into a frenzy. The teenagers quite forgot the maturity Charles Xavier had spent so much time and effort teaching them, instead choosing to stand on chairs; jump up and down and talk in one continuous babble.
"Ray! Ray! Is there anything for me?"
"Anything addressed to Summers, Ray?"
"Hey! Who're the roses for, Ray?"
Erik couldn't help but smile. In his time, he had seen some quite unruly young mutants, but these were nothing compared to the supposedly civilised X-Men.
"Ray, is the pink one for-"
The long-suffering Ray screeched for quiet. Like scolded animals, the teens shuffled back into their seats and hung their heads in shame. Spiking up his extraordinary fringe, Ray picked up the bag of letters and searched through it.
"Postcard for you, Evan. Scott, that's a bill for something and a letter from the coast. Amara, want to explain these flowers?"
As he spoke, he threw the items at their rightful owners. Erik found that he had to duck rather frequently, getting hit once on the head by a large box of peppermint creams. Ray continued to sort through the post.
"Blah blah blah.. Rogue, Kurt, you've got a postcard from your mütti and she sends- ooh, look at that- eighteen kisses! Bobby- hey, don't freeze that. The ink's gonna run if you-"
"Ray, is there, like, anything for me?"
Erik looked up to see the girl who could walk through walls, who he now knew as Kitty, looking extremely dejected. It was easy to see why. Every other student had received at least one letter or gift, but she had nothing. Ray seemed to notice this too, as he put on a kindly face and searched the bag once more.
"Hey, that might be- er, sorry, Kit. That one's for me. But this one may be- oh. Also for me." He caught her looking more forlorn and shared a guilty look with Erik. "But, er, maybe I missed something."
Ray turned out the bag hopelessly, knowing that nothing would fall from it.
"Sorry, Kitty," he shrugged. "I'm sure it'll come tomorrow. You know what mailmen are like!"
Then the boy was gone. Erik watched him read his own letters for a while, unable to fathom his bizarre haircut. He soon grew tired of even trying and turned his attention back to the unhappy mutant girl. She seemed to notice him watching her straight away and rather than refrain, she began to talk incessantly.
"It's, like, so unfair, you know? They can't have just forgotten about me, right? They, like, always write on a Thursday. What if they're like, sick or something and can't write- what if they don't want to write?"
Erik blinked, trying to process her words. "I'm sure that's not the case, Kitty."
"But maybe it is! What if they don't like, like me anymore?"
"Like, like?" Erik wrinkled his nose in concentration. Was 'like, like' a new expression meaning 'to love', or had she just thrown in the word 'like' in her usual manner and simply wondered if her parents liked her anymore? Or, based on the fact that the word 'like' usually meant nothing other than a comma when she used it; was she really saying nothing at all?
"This totally sucks!" she declared, stabbing at her fruit salad with a fork. "Even Mystique writes to her kids! It's not, like, that hard to pick up a pen, you know. They didn't even have to write anything special, you know, just "Dear Kitty, blah blah, love Mom and Dad!" That's all!"
By this point, she had gained the attention of most of the people in the room. She blushed and mumbled that she was sorry before turning back to Erik. From what she had heard from the other students, he was a wonderful ear.
"Sorry, Mr Lehnsherr, it's just, you know, I miss them. They were, like, always there for me." She sighed, and Erik gave her a sympathetic little smile. "I miss my daddy."
Something in her last sentence moved Erik. Perhaps it was the realisation that he, himself was a daddy. Perhaps it was guilt, for not having been the best of daddies, particularly to Wanda. In fact, he had been a dreadful daddy to her and was still too scared to apologise for it.
He knew he would do it soon enough. Now that he was an active father to Pietro, he wanted Wanda to be a part of the family too. Yet how did one go about saying sorry to somebody whose life one had wrecked? Not without full body armour and a wall of bodyguards, that much was certain.
In Kitty's youthful face he saw the Wanda he would have liked to have today. An energetic girl who was almost never seen without a smile, somebody he could share a laugh with.
Loath as he was to admit it, he wasn't content just having a son. He missed having a daughter.
"Kitty, I'm going to suggest something very strange," he announced, turning back to her with a hopeful smile. "How do you feel about adopting each other for the day?"
*
Pietro could distinctly feel his eye twitching as he stared into the 'Beware Of The Toad' sign. He had not been blessed with his father's calmness or bravery. In fact, standing on that familiar doormat, he knew that he may be facing his last hour.
Inspired by his father's massive change of heart, he had decided that it was time for him to do some good turns of his own. Unlike Erik, he was not starting quite so small. This was not making metallic mutants dance and nor was it cheering up your teenage-angst ridden son. This was, in his eyes, The Big One- a deed so good that it would change three lives for the better.
It was just making it work that was the problem.
"Eh, Piet, you gonna stare at me some mo', yo?"
Pietro shook himself and a familiar stench reached his nostrils. Ah. Dear, sweet Todd. Even with two, new state-of-the-art bathrooms in the revamped Brotherhood house he didn't care to wash.
"Come in, yo," the semi-Amphibian made a sweeping gesture and hopped in.
Pietro followed him, immediately being accosted by a concerned Lance. He had told Lance of his plans before coming and the rock tumbler had thought him insane.
"Pietro, you don't have to do this, man. Don't do this. Seriously, dude, she'll kill you!"
"He's gonna talk to Wanda?" Fred asked from an adjacent room before joining them. Pietro almost died upon seeing him. Gone was the mohawk, replaced by a small and demure black quiff. Not only that, but Fred was wearing what appeared to be a kaftan and had a small, neat square of facial hair on his chin.
"Oh, yeah," Fred nodded, noticing that Pietro was looking rather disturbed. "I had to change my image. It just wasn't.. deep enough."
"Fred's really getting into his poetry," whispered Lance, giving him a grave nod.
A silence followed, in which Fred thought deeply and philosophically about mankind. Pietro nervously twiddled his thumbs, feeling like he was on death- row and Lance bit his lip, wondering how hard it would be to scrape the remains off the speed demon off the new carpet afterwards.
Suddenly, the silence was broken by a very familiar sound.
"POOKIE!"
The mating call of the Toad.
Seconds later, Todd was blasted through the door and landed comfortably on Fred's stomach. Pietro noticed that his knuckles were now completely white. Wanda was obviously not having a good day.
"She's in the garden, yo," Todd said weakly. Pietro nodded, standing with a rousing symphony in his head. This was His Moment.
*
Erik and Kitty sat by the lake, watching their paper boats amble on the water. They were just finishing a well earned ice cream that had followed a little tree climbing. Erik had found himself to be particularly skilled in tree climbing, but considering his ability to levitate this was no great surprise.
Kitty picked a blade of grass and placed it between her hands. Then, to Erik, she did a most incredible thing. For, when she blew upon this mere blade of grass it made a sound! Erik had seen many great things in his life, but had never known that grass could make such a sound before.
"Good lord," he said softly, accidentally dropping the remains of his ice cream on to Pyro's expensive trainers. "You must teach me how to do that!"
Kitty smiled. "My daddy taught me!"
Somewhere, Erik felt a pang of sadness. He had never taught his own children such things. Certainly, they were well informed on such matters as world domination but could they take a blade of grass and blow on it, making that unearthly sound? Could they take a piece of newspaper and make it into a jaunty hat before turning it round to reveal a boat, of all things?
Teaching Magneto to blow a blade of grass should have been no hard task, but it was practically impossible. No matter how hard or soft he blew, the grass would not so much as squeak. This seemed to tickle Kitty somehow, and before long the pair of them were rolling with hysterical laughter.
"Seriously, Kitty," he gasped, after one last valiant attempt. This time, the grass made a sound but it was such an unfortunate, crude sound that the laughter started again. "Am I.. A bad father?"
"You were," she said, now making a daisy chain. "But you were, like, totally cool today. I think you're a great daddy."
"Really?" he said, blushing as she crowned him with the finished daisy chain. "Thank you."
And, in a way that only Kitty Pryde could get away with, she threw her arms around Erik's neck as if he were indeed her own father.
*
"Wanda- just- let me talk!" Pietro yelped as he zipped through various flying obstacles.
"I don't want to talk!" she screamed, sounding much like the angry Pietro of old. Pietro ducked as the contents of the washing line flew his way and he was pelted with various undergarments.
"Wanda, you're being very childish," Pietro sighed as he flung a pair of green boxer shorts off his head with as much dignity as he could muster.
Of all things to say, this was the possibly the worst. He raised his eyes to the sky worriedly, waiting to see how she would smite him this time.
Jerome, their biggest coy carp from the ornamental pond was now sailing through the air towards him at a very slow pace.
"Wanda, not the fish!"
She ignored him, Jerome coming ever closer.
"Wanda, the fish doesn't deserve this."
"No," she scowled. "You do!" And promptly, the fish landed heavily against Pietro's face with an almighty slap.
"Oww, Wanda!" Pietro whined as he rubbed his face. "I was only trying to tell you that Dad changed. Why else would he decorate your house?"
"It's another scheme," she muttered, with a glare that could cut adamantium.
"I thought that too. But you must have seen how everybody's changed. Everybody's.. happy. Don't you want to be happy, Wandy?"
"No," she growled, her scowl deepening. "And don't call me Wandy."
"Don't believe you!" taunted Pietro. "Don't forget, we have Spooky Twin Connection. You're just too proud to show him that you've changed your mind."
"Am not!"
"Are too."
As arguments like this do, this continued for a good ten minutes until Wanda was too tired to be livid anymore.
"He abandoned me," she said, carrying Jerome back to the pond though not entirely sure he was alive. "He put me in an institution."
Pietro nodded. There was no denying that their father had once been an Evil Bastard. He was just lucky enough to be able to separate Magneto from Erik.
"Yeah, he abandoned me too once," Pietro said thoughtfully. "But if you met him just once- without trying to kill him or anything- I know you'd like him. Just.. think about giving him another chance, Wandy."
Her eye twitched, and Pietro knew she was having an intense moral struggle.
"Oh- oh, ALRIGHT!" she finally shouted, pointing a shaky finger at Pietro. "But this is not for you, or him, or anybody else! I don't care if he's Mother Teresa- just wait 'til I get my hands on him!"
Not quite the reaction Pietro had been hoping for, but it was a start. His father could work miracles, after all. They'd be playing happy families in no time.
"Wanda," he said softly, as they stared into the pond.
"Yeah?" she whispered in an equally soft tone.
"I just wanted to say that." he trailed off, not meeting her eyes.
"Wanda, I think Jerome is dead."
Ray (Berzerker) is in this chapter because I've grown fond of him. He has silly hair and his voice is quite sexy, don't you think? No?
Oh yes.. and the green pants which landed on Pietro's head were a homage to Kurt's green boxers which he always lets ride above his trousers with such pride.. Long live the green pants!
*
Breakfast at the Xavier institute was always quite a grand event, or at least it was compared to breakfast at the Acolyte hideout. With the Acolytes, none of whom were particularly skilled in the kitchen, the best start to the day was a gritty cup of coffee and Pyro's specialty- a finely blackened piece of toast. With the X-Men however, everything was cooked to perfection with an extensive range of choices. So extensive, in fact, that there was not only Cornflakes but caviar and Chile Con Carne too.
Erik was just settling down to his muesli and Greek yoghurt when the arrival of a student with a large sack of letters sent the young recruits into a frenzy. The teenagers quite forgot the maturity Charles Xavier had spent so much time and effort teaching them, instead choosing to stand on chairs; jump up and down and talk in one continuous babble.
"Ray! Ray! Is there anything for me?"
"Anything addressed to Summers, Ray?"
"Hey! Who're the roses for, Ray?"
Erik couldn't help but smile. In his time, he had seen some quite unruly young mutants, but these were nothing compared to the supposedly civilised X-Men.
"Ray, is the pink one for-"
The long-suffering Ray screeched for quiet. Like scolded animals, the teens shuffled back into their seats and hung their heads in shame. Spiking up his extraordinary fringe, Ray picked up the bag of letters and searched through it.
"Postcard for you, Evan. Scott, that's a bill for something and a letter from the coast. Amara, want to explain these flowers?"
As he spoke, he threw the items at their rightful owners. Erik found that he had to duck rather frequently, getting hit once on the head by a large box of peppermint creams. Ray continued to sort through the post.
"Blah blah blah.. Rogue, Kurt, you've got a postcard from your mütti and she sends- ooh, look at that- eighteen kisses! Bobby- hey, don't freeze that. The ink's gonna run if you-"
"Ray, is there, like, anything for me?"
Erik looked up to see the girl who could walk through walls, who he now knew as Kitty, looking extremely dejected. It was easy to see why. Every other student had received at least one letter or gift, but she had nothing. Ray seemed to notice this too, as he put on a kindly face and searched the bag once more.
"Hey, that might be- er, sorry, Kit. That one's for me. But this one may be- oh. Also for me." He caught her looking more forlorn and shared a guilty look with Erik. "But, er, maybe I missed something."
Ray turned out the bag hopelessly, knowing that nothing would fall from it.
"Sorry, Kitty," he shrugged. "I'm sure it'll come tomorrow. You know what mailmen are like!"
Then the boy was gone. Erik watched him read his own letters for a while, unable to fathom his bizarre haircut. He soon grew tired of even trying and turned his attention back to the unhappy mutant girl. She seemed to notice him watching her straight away and rather than refrain, she began to talk incessantly.
"It's, like, so unfair, you know? They can't have just forgotten about me, right? They, like, always write on a Thursday. What if they're like, sick or something and can't write- what if they don't want to write?"
Erik blinked, trying to process her words. "I'm sure that's not the case, Kitty."
"But maybe it is! What if they don't like, like me anymore?"
"Like, like?" Erik wrinkled his nose in concentration. Was 'like, like' a new expression meaning 'to love', or had she just thrown in the word 'like' in her usual manner and simply wondered if her parents liked her anymore? Or, based on the fact that the word 'like' usually meant nothing other than a comma when she used it; was she really saying nothing at all?
"This totally sucks!" she declared, stabbing at her fruit salad with a fork. "Even Mystique writes to her kids! It's not, like, that hard to pick up a pen, you know. They didn't even have to write anything special, you know, just "Dear Kitty, blah blah, love Mom and Dad!" That's all!"
By this point, she had gained the attention of most of the people in the room. She blushed and mumbled that she was sorry before turning back to Erik. From what she had heard from the other students, he was a wonderful ear.
"Sorry, Mr Lehnsherr, it's just, you know, I miss them. They were, like, always there for me." She sighed, and Erik gave her a sympathetic little smile. "I miss my daddy."
Something in her last sentence moved Erik. Perhaps it was the realisation that he, himself was a daddy. Perhaps it was guilt, for not having been the best of daddies, particularly to Wanda. In fact, he had been a dreadful daddy to her and was still too scared to apologise for it.
He knew he would do it soon enough. Now that he was an active father to Pietro, he wanted Wanda to be a part of the family too. Yet how did one go about saying sorry to somebody whose life one had wrecked? Not without full body armour and a wall of bodyguards, that much was certain.
In Kitty's youthful face he saw the Wanda he would have liked to have today. An energetic girl who was almost never seen without a smile, somebody he could share a laugh with.
Loath as he was to admit it, he wasn't content just having a son. He missed having a daughter.
"Kitty, I'm going to suggest something very strange," he announced, turning back to her with a hopeful smile. "How do you feel about adopting each other for the day?"
*
Pietro could distinctly feel his eye twitching as he stared into the 'Beware Of The Toad' sign. He had not been blessed with his father's calmness or bravery. In fact, standing on that familiar doormat, he knew that he may be facing his last hour.
Inspired by his father's massive change of heart, he had decided that it was time for him to do some good turns of his own. Unlike Erik, he was not starting quite so small. This was not making metallic mutants dance and nor was it cheering up your teenage-angst ridden son. This was, in his eyes, The Big One- a deed so good that it would change three lives for the better.
It was just making it work that was the problem.
"Eh, Piet, you gonna stare at me some mo', yo?"
Pietro shook himself and a familiar stench reached his nostrils. Ah. Dear, sweet Todd. Even with two, new state-of-the-art bathrooms in the revamped Brotherhood house he didn't care to wash.
"Come in, yo," the semi-Amphibian made a sweeping gesture and hopped in.
Pietro followed him, immediately being accosted by a concerned Lance. He had told Lance of his plans before coming and the rock tumbler had thought him insane.
"Pietro, you don't have to do this, man. Don't do this. Seriously, dude, she'll kill you!"
"He's gonna talk to Wanda?" Fred asked from an adjacent room before joining them. Pietro almost died upon seeing him. Gone was the mohawk, replaced by a small and demure black quiff. Not only that, but Fred was wearing what appeared to be a kaftan and had a small, neat square of facial hair on his chin.
"Oh, yeah," Fred nodded, noticing that Pietro was looking rather disturbed. "I had to change my image. It just wasn't.. deep enough."
"Fred's really getting into his poetry," whispered Lance, giving him a grave nod.
A silence followed, in which Fred thought deeply and philosophically about mankind. Pietro nervously twiddled his thumbs, feeling like he was on death- row and Lance bit his lip, wondering how hard it would be to scrape the remains off the speed demon off the new carpet afterwards.
Suddenly, the silence was broken by a very familiar sound.
"POOKIE!"
The mating call of the Toad.
Seconds later, Todd was blasted through the door and landed comfortably on Fred's stomach. Pietro noticed that his knuckles were now completely white. Wanda was obviously not having a good day.
"She's in the garden, yo," Todd said weakly. Pietro nodded, standing with a rousing symphony in his head. This was His Moment.
*
Erik and Kitty sat by the lake, watching their paper boats amble on the water. They were just finishing a well earned ice cream that had followed a little tree climbing. Erik had found himself to be particularly skilled in tree climbing, but considering his ability to levitate this was no great surprise.
Kitty picked a blade of grass and placed it between her hands. Then, to Erik, she did a most incredible thing. For, when she blew upon this mere blade of grass it made a sound! Erik had seen many great things in his life, but had never known that grass could make such a sound before.
"Good lord," he said softly, accidentally dropping the remains of his ice cream on to Pyro's expensive trainers. "You must teach me how to do that!"
Kitty smiled. "My daddy taught me!"
Somewhere, Erik felt a pang of sadness. He had never taught his own children such things. Certainly, they were well informed on such matters as world domination but could they take a blade of grass and blow on it, making that unearthly sound? Could they take a piece of newspaper and make it into a jaunty hat before turning it round to reveal a boat, of all things?
Teaching Magneto to blow a blade of grass should have been no hard task, but it was practically impossible. No matter how hard or soft he blew, the grass would not so much as squeak. This seemed to tickle Kitty somehow, and before long the pair of them were rolling with hysterical laughter.
"Seriously, Kitty," he gasped, after one last valiant attempt. This time, the grass made a sound but it was such an unfortunate, crude sound that the laughter started again. "Am I.. A bad father?"
"You were," she said, now making a daisy chain. "But you were, like, totally cool today. I think you're a great daddy."
"Really?" he said, blushing as she crowned him with the finished daisy chain. "Thank you."
And, in a way that only Kitty Pryde could get away with, she threw her arms around Erik's neck as if he were indeed her own father.
*
"Wanda- just- let me talk!" Pietro yelped as he zipped through various flying obstacles.
"I don't want to talk!" she screamed, sounding much like the angry Pietro of old. Pietro ducked as the contents of the washing line flew his way and he was pelted with various undergarments.
"Wanda, you're being very childish," Pietro sighed as he flung a pair of green boxer shorts off his head with as much dignity as he could muster.
Of all things to say, this was the possibly the worst. He raised his eyes to the sky worriedly, waiting to see how she would smite him this time.
Jerome, their biggest coy carp from the ornamental pond was now sailing through the air towards him at a very slow pace.
"Wanda, not the fish!"
She ignored him, Jerome coming ever closer.
"Wanda, the fish doesn't deserve this."
"No," she scowled. "You do!" And promptly, the fish landed heavily against Pietro's face with an almighty slap.
"Oww, Wanda!" Pietro whined as he rubbed his face. "I was only trying to tell you that Dad changed. Why else would he decorate your house?"
"It's another scheme," she muttered, with a glare that could cut adamantium.
"I thought that too. But you must have seen how everybody's changed. Everybody's.. happy. Don't you want to be happy, Wandy?"
"No," she growled, her scowl deepening. "And don't call me Wandy."
"Don't believe you!" taunted Pietro. "Don't forget, we have Spooky Twin Connection. You're just too proud to show him that you've changed your mind."
"Am not!"
"Are too."
As arguments like this do, this continued for a good ten minutes until Wanda was too tired to be livid anymore.
"He abandoned me," she said, carrying Jerome back to the pond though not entirely sure he was alive. "He put me in an institution."
Pietro nodded. There was no denying that their father had once been an Evil Bastard. He was just lucky enough to be able to separate Magneto from Erik.
"Yeah, he abandoned me too once," Pietro said thoughtfully. "But if you met him just once- without trying to kill him or anything- I know you'd like him. Just.. think about giving him another chance, Wandy."
Her eye twitched, and Pietro knew she was having an intense moral struggle.
"Oh- oh, ALRIGHT!" she finally shouted, pointing a shaky finger at Pietro. "But this is not for you, or him, or anybody else! I don't care if he's Mother Teresa- just wait 'til I get my hands on him!"
Not quite the reaction Pietro had been hoping for, but it was a start. His father could work miracles, after all. They'd be playing happy families in no time.
"Wanda," he said softly, as they stared into the pond.
"Yeah?" she whispered in an equally soft tone.
"I just wanted to say that." he trailed off, not meeting her eyes.
"Wanda, I think Jerome is dead."