Disclaimer- I don't own anybody except...what? I don't own them either? Are
you sure? Well FINE! This is an outrage! A scandal!
Summary- See into the lives of Wanda, Pietro, and Magneto before the episode, "Speed and Spyke".
"Well, it looks like my old buddy has a few tricks of his own. But as usual, not as good as mine."
-Pietro Maximoff, Speed and Spyke
Chapter Six- Bad Dream
He stumbled, dazed, down the sidewalk of the little village not far from where he had lived. Dirt and grime smudged his skin, his clothes were torn in several places, his hair was unwashed and mussed up, and he looked like he had been deprived from sleep for several days.
The man was not young, but he was not very old either. He was forty-seven, but he looked several years younger. His hair was a light brown in color, graying at his temples and a few other places. There was dried blood that looked like it had run down the side of his face. Normally, he would look very clean and handsome, and indeed he would have shaved. The stubble on his face however, showed just how miserable and tired the man was.
He stumbled again, and kept walking very slowly from exhaustion. It was evening, and a few of the townspeople chose to take their evening walk at that particular time. Some of them recognized the man, and stared at him in astonishment and incredulity. But the man seemed oblivious of their stares, and he kept stumbling on.
Some of them called out to him in concern, and he slowed, turning slowly to face a woman he vaguely recognized and her husband. He seemed to have a hard time focusing on them. His mouth moved silently, trying to form words, and their concerned voices went through one ear and out the other.
Suddenly, with a burst of strength and adrenaline, he grabbed the woman's arm and looked at her with pleading eyes. She seemed surprised and slightly afraid, but she did not pull away from him.
His mouth formed a word, but no sound came out.
"What is it?" the woman asked, her husband coming closer. A few others gathered around as well.
"My-my" the man choked out in a raspy whisper, his voice sounding like it had been dragged over gravel a thousand times, "my wife. H-have you've seen m-my wife?"
The woman shook her head slightly, "Your wife is Magda right?" he nodded, "No, I'm sorry, I have not seen her. Has anybody else seen Magda Lehnsherr?" she asked the tiny crowd, and they shook their heads.
He shook his head, and kept shaking it until the people thought he was truly mad. His blue eyes were empty, there did not seem to be a spark of life in them.
"Mr. Lehnsherr, come home with us, we'll give you food and drink," the woman said, laying a calm and soothing hand on his arm. She tugged on his arm a bit, and her husband came and did so with his other arm, beckoning the broken man to come with them.
"My wife, my wife," he muttered over and over in despair. The man and woman still tugged at his arm, and he followed blindly, still muttering.
"Do you not have a daughter also, Mr. Lehnsherr?" the man asked softly, "Where is she?"
They suddenly felt themselves being dragged down slightly as Mr. Lehnsherr stopped walking and had almost fallen to his knees, the man and woman had pulled him up just in time and put his arms around their shoulders.
"Anya, my poor little Anya," he cried, tears leaving clean streaks through the dirt and grime that smudged his face. His shoulders shook and he let out a howl of agony. It was not a physical agony, but it seemed to be deeper, and much more emotional.
The man and woman glanced at each other briefly over Mr. Lehnsherr's head. They said nothing and kept walking, their house just a block further.
"Anya, Anya, Anya," he muttered again, as a fresh stream of salty tears leaked out of his icy blue eyes. "Burned, all burned. All gone. Gone. Gone...gone."
The man and woman gave each other an alarmed look just as they stopped just before their front door.
"She's gone, no more, burned. Burned. They burned her. They burned my daughter. My poor, sweet, little Anya..." he hissed, his voice rising, becoming angrier.
"Sweet, sweet, little Anya. No more. No more 'Poppa' no more...Anya... They will pay...they will all pay...my little Anya..." he rambled on insanely. The woman and man ignored it, leading Mr. Lehnsherr into their home.
"They will pay."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Erik woke, his eyes snapping open suddenly. The room was still dark, the moonlight seeping through the crack in the curtain. He moaned groggily. It was unusual for him to have dreams from his past, but that night it had happened. He hadn't remembered it clearly, being insane with grief that day.
He turned his head to his left and gasped. A small, dark, figure stood beside his bed, twisting the covers nervously with its hands.
"Daddy...?" a small voice asked hesitantly. It sounded frightened.
"Wanda?" he asked, furrowing his brow. His immediate reply was going to be 'Anya', but then he remembered that she had been dead for quite some time. The lamp besides his bed on his night table clicked on, the metal chain pulling down by itself.
"What is wrong, child?" he asked his youngest child, sitting up against the headboard. Her face looked terrified, and she must have been or she would have called him father.
"I had a bad dream," she whispered, looking up at him with his wide blue eyes. "I didn't want to wake and scare Pietro..."
Erik gnawed on his lower lip slightly, thinking. Running a hand through his white-gray hair, he moved his legs so they would be over the side of the bed and the feet resting on the floor. She backed away slightly.
He reached out his hand to her, and she hesitantly grabbed it. He pulled her to him, and lifted her up so she sat comfortably in his lap. He had been a father before; he can start being one again.
"Tell me about the dream, Süßes Mädchen," he said softly, stroking her hair tenderly.
She sniffled. "There was a...I think he was a mutant. Red eyes, and he was blue. And I remember...all these fights. You were there. I-I think it was you. You had back eyes though, like clown makeup, but black." She paused, burying her face into his chest, sniffling slightly.
"Go on," he gently urged her.
"Bars and stale food. I saw the Professor. I saw Pietro. But he looked like you. Younger though. I think it was him. Rain. The rain was really scary Daddy! And Pie was trapped, pulling on bars like at a jail, and broken legs. Blood. And needles and hurting and monsters...it was scary!"
"Shh...Wanda," he whispered, pushing her hair back out of her face.
"I'm scared. I don't want to go back to sleep. I'm too scared they'll come back," she whispered, burying her face into his chest again.
"Don't be afraid, child. No one will come for you here. You are well protected. Maybe if I stay with you for awhile you will go to sleep?" he asked. She nodded against his chest, her hand grabbing a small handful of his shirt.
He carried her to her room, and laid her on top of the bed, pulling the tangled covers from their place at the foot of the bed and pulling them over her and up to her chin.
Her eyes drooped closed, but Erik stayed there at her bedside the whole night, falling asleep sitting up.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Aww, Erik and Wanda bonding moment! Little ironic that nine years from now she's gonna want to kill him...
I'm editing some chapters, particularly chapter three. I'm also writing a Magneto life fic, because he's really starting to grow on me. Gosh, darn, it must be the angst.
For those of you reading Up In Flames, I'm writing the next chapter, don't worry. I'm writing a little bit every day. It's been particularly hard to write, because something very important and major is going to happen, and I want it just right. I don't know when the next update is going to be.
InsaneBunneh- What going on on Saturday? Hmm? Hmmm? Thanks for your review!
Flamable- I'm glad you liked it! Just tone done on the cussing please? It's not totally necessary, but your review is appreciated all the same! XD Aww, c'mon, Magneto's not THAT bad! Thanks for your review!
Anon (girl)- Glad it's still intense! Clean your room yet? Thanks for your review!
I Am The Anonymous Reviewer- Pietro on sugar high... Let's just say Mags learns a valuable lesson later on. Thanks for your review!
Smelly-Pickles- Ah, wonderful AND unique? XD Yay! Well, as Pietro said in 'Hex-Factor' "Magneto's been no father to me either" I say he would have to be cold and stuff. I agree that he DOES love them, and if any of the two of them died it would torture him, like loosing poor Anya did. He's got a very dark past, and I plan on exploring that in a fic I'm planning on writing. And did you notice in 'Day of Reckoning II' Pietro called him 'sir'? And has called him that on several other occasions? Thanks for your review; I hope you keep reading this!
Also thanks for reviewing- rosie, Scarletwitch, la cour de belles fleurs, zephyr, Pauline L., and Wind Rider 2000. You guys rock my socks!
And if you haven't read this already, go and read "I Tried..." by The Phantom. It's in my favorite stories. Magneto comes to realize too late that he ruined his son. So go check it out!
*tosses out comics to crowd* Here, free comics for all! Sorry, ran out of cookies.
Like it? Hate it? Either way, review!
Summary- See into the lives of Wanda, Pietro, and Magneto before the episode, "Speed and Spyke".
"Well, it looks like my old buddy has a few tricks of his own. But as usual, not as good as mine."
-Pietro Maximoff, Speed and Spyke
Chapter Six- Bad Dream
He stumbled, dazed, down the sidewalk of the little village not far from where he had lived. Dirt and grime smudged his skin, his clothes were torn in several places, his hair was unwashed and mussed up, and he looked like he had been deprived from sleep for several days.
The man was not young, but he was not very old either. He was forty-seven, but he looked several years younger. His hair was a light brown in color, graying at his temples and a few other places. There was dried blood that looked like it had run down the side of his face. Normally, he would look very clean and handsome, and indeed he would have shaved. The stubble on his face however, showed just how miserable and tired the man was.
He stumbled again, and kept walking very slowly from exhaustion. It was evening, and a few of the townspeople chose to take their evening walk at that particular time. Some of them recognized the man, and stared at him in astonishment and incredulity. But the man seemed oblivious of their stares, and he kept stumbling on.
Some of them called out to him in concern, and he slowed, turning slowly to face a woman he vaguely recognized and her husband. He seemed to have a hard time focusing on them. His mouth moved silently, trying to form words, and their concerned voices went through one ear and out the other.
Suddenly, with a burst of strength and adrenaline, he grabbed the woman's arm and looked at her with pleading eyes. She seemed surprised and slightly afraid, but she did not pull away from him.
His mouth formed a word, but no sound came out.
"What is it?" the woman asked, her husband coming closer. A few others gathered around as well.
"My-my" the man choked out in a raspy whisper, his voice sounding like it had been dragged over gravel a thousand times, "my wife. H-have you've seen m-my wife?"
The woman shook her head slightly, "Your wife is Magda right?" he nodded, "No, I'm sorry, I have not seen her. Has anybody else seen Magda Lehnsherr?" she asked the tiny crowd, and they shook their heads.
He shook his head, and kept shaking it until the people thought he was truly mad. His blue eyes were empty, there did not seem to be a spark of life in them.
"Mr. Lehnsherr, come home with us, we'll give you food and drink," the woman said, laying a calm and soothing hand on his arm. She tugged on his arm a bit, and her husband came and did so with his other arm, beckoning the broken man to come with them.
"My wife, my wife," he muttered over and over in despair. The man and woman still tugged at his arm, and he followed blindly, still muttering.
"Do you not have a daughter also, Mr. Lehnsherr?" the man asked softly, "Where is she?"
They suddenly felt themselves being dragged down slightly as Mr. Lehnsherr stopped walking and had almost fallen to his knees, the man and woman had pulled him up just in time and put his arms around their shoulders.
"Anya, my poor little Anya," he cried, tears leaving clean streaks through the dirt and grime that smudged his face. His shoulders shook and he let out a howl of agony. It was not a physical agony, but it seemed to be deeper, and much more emotional.
The man and woman glanced at each other briefly over Mr. Lehnsherr's head. They said nothing and kept walking, their house just a block further.
"Anya, Anya, Anya," he muttered again, as a fresh stream of salty tears leaked out of his icy blue eyes. "Burned, all burned. All gone. Gone. Gone...gone."
The man and woman gave each other an alarmed look just as they stopped just before their front door.
"She's gone, no more, burned. Burned. They burned her. They burned my daughter. My poor, sweet, little Anya..." he hissed, his voice rising, becoming angrier.
"Sweet, sweet, little Anya. No more. No more 'Poppa' no more...Anya... They will pay...they will all pay...my little Anya..." he rambled on insanely. The woman and man ignored it, leading Mr. Lehnsherr into their home.
"They will pay."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Erik woke, his eyes snapping open suddenly. The room was still dark, the moonlight seeping through the crack in the curtain. He moaned groggily. It was unusual for him to have dreams from his past, but that night it had happened. He hadn't remembered it clearly, being insane with grief that day.
He turned his head to his left and gasped. A small, dark, figure stood beside his bed, twisting the covers nervously with its hands.
"Daddy...?" a small voice asked hesitantly. It sounded frightened.
"Wanda?" he asked, furrowing his brow. His immediate reply was going to be 'Anya', but then he remembered that she had been dead for quite some time. The lamp besides his bed on his night table clicked on, the metal chain pulling down by itself.
"What is wrong, child?" he asked his youngest child, sitting up against the headboard. Her face looked terrified, and she must have been or she would have called him father.
"I had a bad dream," she whispered, looking up at him with his wide blue eyes. "I didn't want to wake and scare Pietro..."
Erik gnawed on his lower lip slightly, thinking. Running a hand through his white-gray hair, he moved his legs so they would be over the side of the bed and the feet resting on the floor. She backed away slightly.
He reached out his hand to her, and she hesitantly grabbed it. He pulled her to him, and lifted her up so she sat comfortably in his lap. He had been a father before; he can start being one again.
"Tell me about the dream, Süßes Mädchen," he said softly, stroking her hair tenderly.
She sniffled. "There was a...I think he was a mutant. Red eyes, and he was blue. And I remember...all these fights. You were there. I-I think it was you. You had back eyes though, like clown makeup, but black." She paused, burying her face into his chest, sniffling slightly.
"Go on," he gently urged her.
"Bars and stale food. I saw the Professor. I saw Pietro. But he looked like you. Younger though. I think it was him. Rain. The rain was really scary Daddy! And Pie was trapped, pulling on bars like at a jail, and broken legs. Blood. And needles and hurting and monsters...it was scary!"
"Shh...Wanda," he whispered, pushing her hair back out of her face.
"I'm scared. I don't want to go back to sleep. I'm too scared they'll come back," she whispered, burying her face into his chest again.
"Don't be afraid, child. No one will come for you here. You are well protected. Maybe if I stay with you for awhile you will go to sleep?" he asked. She nodded against his chest, her hand grabbing a small handful of his shirt.
He carried her to her room, and laid her on top of the bed, pulling the tangled covers from their place at the foot of the bed and pulling them over her and up to her chin.
Her eyes drooped closed, but Erik stayed there at her bedside the whole night, falling asleep sitting up.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Aww, Erik and Wanda bonding moment! Little ironic that nine years from now she's gonna want to kill him...
I'm editing some chapters, particularly chapter three. I'm also writing a Magneto life fic, because he's really starting to grow on me. Gosh, darn, it must be the angst.
For those of you reading Up In Flames, I'm writing the next chapter, don't worry. I'm writing a little bit every day. It's been particularly hard to write, because something very important and major is going to happen, and I want it just right. I don't know when the next update is going to be.
InsaneBunneh- What going on on Saturday? Hmm? Hmmm? Thanks for your review!
Flamable- I'm glad you liked it! Just tone done on the cussing please? It's not totally necessary, but your review is appreciated all the same! XD Aww, c'mon, Magneto's not THAT bad! Thanks for your review!
Anon (girl)- Glad it's still intense! Clean your room yet? Thanks for your review!
I Am The Anonymous Reviewer- Pietro on sugar high... Let's just say Mags learns a valuable lesson later on. Thanks for your review!
Smelly-Pickles- Ah, wonderful AND unique? XD Yay! Well, as Pietro said in 'Hex-Factor' "Magneto's been no father to me either" I say he would have to be cold and stuff. I agree that he DOES love them, and if any of the two of them died it would torture him, like loosing poor Anya did. He's got a very dark past, and I plan on exploring that in a fic I'm planning on writing. And did you notice in 'Day of Reckoning II' Pietro called him 'sir'? And has called him that on several other occasions? Thanks for your review; I hope you keep reading this!
Also thanks for reviewing- rosie, Scarletwitch, la cour de belles fleurs, zephyr, Pauline L., and Wind Rider 2000. You guys rock my socks!
And if you haven't read this already, go and read "I Tried..." by The Phantom. It's in my favorite stories. Magneto comes to realize too late that he ruined his son. So go check it out!
*tosses out comics to crowd* Here, free comics for all! Sorry, ran out of cookies.
Like it? Hate it? Either way, review!