As he ran through the mansion for the hundredth time, Peter saw Erik and Charles in the middle of walking down a hallway. Grinning, he raced up to them and stopped. "Hey, Baldy. Hey, Magnet."
"I see you have your powers back," Erik said, clutching his chest.
"Yup," Peter said, racing away and returning with a sandwich from the kitchen. "It's a rush."
"For everyone in the vicinity," Erik muttered.
"Just got back from Antarctica," Peter said, flicking an ice crystal off his jacket.
"Did you manage to find Santa Clause?" Charles asked.
"Baldy, that's the North Pole," Peter said, rolling his eyes a bit. "Anyway, I saw you two playing chess yesterday. You both like playing chess?"
"We wouldn't play if we didn't like it, Peter," Charles said.
Erik nodded, then glanced at Peter. "Do you play?"
"No, but I can learn."
Erik smiled and glanced upward. "Sure."
"I can," Peter reiterated. "While traveling the world, I picked up several different languages. Chinese, Korean, Japanese, French, Polish, and German to name a few. Chess would be a breeze."
Charles looked a bit impressed. "That's more languages that I know. And I read people's minds."
Erik blinked. "You speak Polish and German?"
"Yes, I do," Peter answered in Polish.
"But how many words do you actually know?" Erik asked in Polish.
"Pretty much all of them," Peter said, switching to German in an instant.
Erik thought for a second. "Maybe you could learn chess," he said in Polish. "If you managed to actually pick up all those languages and aren't just pulling my leg."
"I'm pretty good at picking things up," Peter said in Polish. "Maybe you could teach me."
"Maybe I could."
At this, Peter's heart leaped within him, but he forced his excitement down.
"I didn't know anyone here was multilingual besides Raven and Charles," Erik said, now returning to English.
"Erik, singing karaoke eleven years ago in China doesn't count as multilingual. It doesn't even count as bilingual," Charles said.
"But I am multilingual. I'm not just a speedster," Peter said in Polish. "I'm unique; I'm the only one of my kind."
"That's a blessing," Erik said. "I think the world would collapse if there were more than one of you, Peter."
Peter grinned without showing his teeth and switched back to English, glad beyond words that he and Erik now seemed to be on a first name basis. "I'm pretty sure Raven and me are the only ones who are multilingual. Baldy there ruled himself out, and I can't think of anyone else." Now finished with his sandwich, Peter looked at Erik. "Are you hungry?"
"Watching you eat makes me lose my appetite," Erik said. "I won't need food for quite a while."
Peter nodded, then sped off to the kitchen to make himself several sandwiches before returning to Erik's side. "So, what's your favorite kind of sandwich? What is it? What is it?"
"Turkey."
"Really? That's my favorite, too!" Peter shoved another sandwich into his mouth and grinned. "What a coincidence."
"Turkey?" Charles asked. "That stuff's nasty, Erik!"
As Charles and Erik continued talking, Peter considered asking Erik if he would teach him chess, but decided against it. He didn't want to force anything onto his father and possibly drive him away. He'd rather drop hints here and there and have Erik volunteer his knowledge. Peter only hoped he'd have enough time to make a strong enough connection between himself and Erik to tell him the truth before Erik decided to leave the mansion again.
Peter stretched as he and the rest of the team waited in the danger room that evening for their training to start. Peter, uncharacteristically nervous, rubbed his hands on his legs as he waited. He still couldn't believe that Erik was going to join them in their training. He had to make sure that he played it cool and impressed Erik at the same time. Maybe if he showed Erik how good he was, Erik would decide to teach him how to play chess. Wouldn't that be great?
As Peter watched his friends enter the room, he waited for Erik to enter as well. But as the minutes went by and everyone else arrived, Peter was consciously aware that Erik himself was still absent. Would he actually show up? Of course, he had to! If he decided to not participate, everyone might think him cowardly or weak. Though Peter didn't know his father that well, he knew for a fact that Erik was neither of those things. Peter himself was neither of those things, and he assumed that he'd gotten them both from Erik—
"Could I have your Walkman, Peter?" Charles asked.
Peter blinked and paused. He turned, seeing Charles next to him holding out his hand. How had he not noticed Charles in the room? "You like 80s music, Baldy?"
"It's not that," Charles laughed. "I don't want Erik to have any access to metal."
Peter almost laughed himself. Charles wanted to take away his music because his Walkman had metal in it. No metal was allowed in this room. That way, it would be harder for Erik to fight. Genius!
Peter handed over his Walkman and ear buds to Charles. "Hope you like—" Peter stopped when he saw Erik enter the room. Finally! His father was actually here! Swallowing once, Peter rubbed his hands together as another twinge of nervousness waved inside him. He put his goggles over his eyes. He had to do this right and not look like a fool. Had to.
"Peter, are you nervous?" Charles asked.
Well, give it to a mind reader to point out the obvious. "No, but the last time we faced the Sentinels, it was really hard," he lied.
Charles frowned, then glanced back at Erik before looking at Peter again. Then Charles shook his head and left the room. In a flash, Peter was next to Erik as they stood and waited for the Sentinels to appear. Soon enough, heavy footsteps alerted the entire team to the Sentinels' approach, and Peter turned to Erik. "So, Magnet," Peter said as the robots readied their attack, "how you gonna fight? How you gonna fight without any metal? How you gonna win? How you gonna do it?"
"There's still metal in this room," Erik said. "I just have to work a little bit harder"— he glanced over at the door to the danger room —"to find it."
"Hope you're good at dodging, then," Peter said, grinning. "See you later. But you won't see me." Then he was off with a yawn, dodging the several attacks that raced toward him. It was so easy. He was much too fast for them. The only time he'd actually been in trouble had been against Apocalypse, but that guy was, like, immortal. Or something like that. Peter glanced over at Erik, seeing that he was standing some distance away with a hand on the wall of the room. "Yo!" Peter yelled. "You gonna help, bro?"
Erik said nothing, and Peter returned his mind to the task at hand. He increased his speed and stared up at the robots, considering. He had to do something amazing! But what? Needing some time to think, Peter turned back to the Sentinel he faced and dodged every single one of its attacks. "Too slow! Not gonna hit me! Try again! Nada!"
Glancing over, Peter saw an attack soaring toward Jean and Scott, and in a Quicksilver second, he'd grabbed both of them and hauled them out of the way.
"Looks like I had to save both you and your girl, Shades," Peter muttered to Scott as he and Jean recovered from being "Quicksilvered."
Scott swallowed and inhaled deeply. "At least I've got a girl," he whispered back. "You don't have one."
Peter's eyes narrowed. "I could just take yours," he retorted. "I am really fast, you know. You won't even know she's gone."
"Sure, Pete. But at least I don't have a father who's a murderer," Scott whispered.
In a moment, Peter had shoved Scott against a wall. "Say that again, Shades," Peter growled with a Quicksilver glance in his father's direction. Scott opened his mouth to respond, but whatever he was going to say, Peter never found out.
"Scott! Peter!" Jean yelled. "Look out!"
Peter turned, already speeding up, but when he inspected the situation, he saw that Erik was already in front of the two of them, deflecting the Sentinel's laser attack with a fist-sized lump of metal that had been enlarged to form a shield. No! This wasn't what he'd had in mind! Erik wasn't supposed to — and where had that metal come from?
"It seems that both of you aren't fast enough," Erik said over his shoulder,
Peter zipped to the other side of the room and watched as Erik turned his shield into a field of bullets and took down two Sentinels at once. Great, now he wouldn't have any opportunity to show off his skills.
Erik, bringing the metal back to his hand to float there as an orb, glanced over at Peter then to the only remaining Sentinel in the room. "Is evasion the only thing you do?"
Peter's eyes narrowed. Oh, now it was on. Readjusting his goggles for good measure, Peter raced toward the last Sentinel in the room, coming up with an amazing, impressive idea as he zoned in on the final robot in front of him. Aiming for the Sentinel's leg and ramping up his speed to maximum, Peter grabbed the Sentinel's leg as he passed by, using his momentum to literally tear the robot's leg off. He paused, allowing the robot to stumble and fall to the ground, then raced for its head, doing the same and decapitating the robot, successfully defeating their last opponent. He rose, not at all tired, and looked over at the rest of the team to see that Raven's mouth was open in shock. He glanced over at Erik and thought he saw Erik's eyes widen in surprise, but maybe it was just his imagination. "Done," Peter said, taking his goggles off his face.
"Pete, if you could do that all along, why'd you let that Sentinel almost kill me last week?" Scott asked.
Peter shrugged, "I just thought you could handle it, Shades." He glanced again at Erik. "Is that better than evasion?" he called out.
Erik looked at the robot on the floor and raised his eyebrows slightly. "Impressive."
A brief flash of joy erupted inside Peter and exploded within him like a firework. He grinned, then smirked, then laughed.
Now that the simulation was over, the door to the danger room opened and in came Charles. "Good work, everyone," Charles said, wheeling over to Erik and Peter. "And, Peter, how come you've never fought like that before?"
Peter shrugged. "Haven't needed to, I guess."
"Well, may I say it was a stunning performance," Charles said.
Erik nodded. "Quite impressive."
Peter's casual smile widened with glee at Erik's second compliment. "Well, I am Quicksilver."
"It was a good battle," Charles said. "What did you think, Erik?"
"Put a few more of those robots in here and I might actually break a sweat," Erik said.
"That can be arranged," Charles said.
The rest of the team, surprised by Peter's sudden prowess in attack instead of his usual evasion, raced over to him and treated him as though he'd just won the World Cup. Peter swelled a bit, but basically blew them all off; he'd already achieved his goal. Racing out of the danger room, Peter played "Thunderstruck" on his Walkman as he left the mansion and made it to a hill somewhere in Pennsylvania. Standing atop the hill, Peter let out a loud shout of celebration. He'd done it! Success! Exhilaration similar to when Peter had successfully raced across the Atlantic Ocean for the first time filled him up.
Peter pumped his fist into the air and gave several more shouts that caused a few nearby painters to nearly fall off their ladders. Grinning to not only himself but to the whole world in that instant, Peter raced back to the Institute in a blink, returning to the danger room again to receive more praise from his teammates and, hopefully, Erik.
Victory.
Peter sat in the library by himself, staring at the chessboard in front of him. For the last week and a half, Peter had been subtly, or not so subtly, trying to get Erik's attention and pull him into a chess game. So far, his efforts had failed, but that didn't mean he wouldn't keep trying. Every single time Peter caught Erik walking down a hallway, Peter would race ahead of him with a chessboard, parking himself and the game in an empty room with the door slightly ajar so Erik would see him as he walked past. Peter still remembered Erik's passing comment about how he'd teach him to play chess, and Peter intended to make Erik keep that promise. And even better than the game itself would be the conversation they'd be able to have. Peter would finally have his questions about his father answered by none other than Erik himself.
Footsteps. Peter recognized them as Erik's, so he stared at the chessboard in complete concentration, trying not to waver as the footsteps paused for a millisecond. Peter held his breath. Please, stop . . .
But after a moment, the footsteps continued on. Peter almost pounded his fist on the table in frustration. Dang! Another fail! Peter, grumbling a bit, was about to leave the room when the door to the library suddenly opened.
"Teaching yourself how to play?" Charles asked.
For a second, Peter had hoped that it was Erik. Then his face fell and he turned away when he realized it was only Charles. "Oh, yeah. Trying to," Peter said, sighing and standing up before racing off and returning with a chicken drumstick.
"I can teach you," Charles said. "I'm quite adept at chess—"
"No, thanks, Baldy," Peter said, shaking his head.
"Are you sure?" Charles asked.
Peter picked off a hangnail. Why wouldn't Charles just get off his back and leave him alone? "Someone else is gonna teach me."
Charles' eyes sparked in interest. "Really? Who?"
Peter blinked. Oops. Shouldn't have said that. Besides, who besides Charles was even qualified? "Raven," he said instantly.
Charles paused for a moment, and Peter was distinctly aware of the two fingers that went up to Charles temple for a moment before they withdrew. Charles' eyes widened a bit. "All right, Peter. If you're sure—"
"Positive."
"Then I'll leave you to your game," Charles said, exiting the room.
Peter, after punching the couch in a bit of disappointment, finished his chicken, dismantled the chessboard, and readied himself to go to the next room Erik would be passing to try again. Well, that was a fail. Not only had his attempt at getting Erik to play chess failed, but he'd almost gotten a game from Charles instead! That was not what he wanted. But even if it took him another month, he would convince Erik to play a game of chess with him. However, if his strategy of getting Erik to volunteer his knowledge didn't work soon, he might just tie Erik up in his sleep and demand that he teach him how to play.
In a blink, Peter was running down the hall, but on the way to the next room, Peter saw that Erik and Charles were currently immersed in conversation. Curious to hear what they were saying, Peter paused and hid behind an adjacent hallway wall, listening.
" . . . little bird told me that Peter's interested in chess," Charles said. "Have you any mind to teach him?"
"That's your area, Charles," Erik said. "I'm better at causing destruction and despair."
"Oh, come off it," Charles said. "Like you haven't seen the way he sits in that library for hours on end, just waiting for someone to join him."
"You teach him," Erik said.
"I've offered, but he never shows any interest. He's shut everyone else down, Erik. Except for you. I'm certain you haven't offered to teach him yet."
"It's not my style."
"Really. I don't have to read your mind to know that you see the way he's taken a shine to you, Erik. And you don't seem to be deterring it."
"He's a pain in the—"
"So am I. You also said the same about Raven. And yet, here you are."
"I just had to befriend a mind reader," Erik said.
"Yes, old friend. You did," Charles said, his smile coming through his words.
Erik sighed, muttered something about babysitting, then walked off. Peter, excited by the conversation, zipped off with new joy within him, arriving again in the library a second later. He set the chessboard down, arranged the pieces at light speed, and waited. While he waited for what he hoped would be the first ever chess game between himself and his father, Peter began preparing himself. Getting the only book on chess from the library itself, Peter cracked it open and read the instructions. Well, this was boring. And really complicated. Throwing the book down, Peter turned back to the chessboard and stared at it again, trying to figure out how to play just by staring at the board. Then, becoming tired, Peter simply began playing checkers. It had to be similar, right?
Well, this wasn't too bad. Soon he'd be a chess pro and he'd be able to take on Magnet, no sweat. The only problem . . . how did you king someone in chess? Peter, gritting his teeth in concentration, didn't even hear the footsteps enter the room.
"Teaching yourself how to play?" Erik asked.
Peter, seeing Erik in the doorway, pushed down his excitement, nervousness, and competitive spirit. He shrugged. "I think I've got a pretty good handle on the game," he said in Polish.
Erik glanced at the board, noticed the lineup, then snorted once. "I think you need a crash course," he answered in Polish.
"Are you volunteering yourself?" Peter asked, switching to German.
"I think I'm the only one qualified," Erik said, sitting down opposite Peter and resetting the board to normal using his powers.
"What about Baldy?"
"Wouldn't you'd rather learn from someone who can't read your mind?" Erik asked.
Peter paused, then nodded, remembering Charles' conversation with Erik only minutes previously. He wasn't wrong, and Erik probably knew that.
"All right," Erik said. "Do you know anything about chess? About how the pieces move or the strategy?"
Peter kicked the book he'd been reading underneath the couch, too excited by the fact that the two of them were doing Erik's favorite past time to care that he was a complete beginner. If he got really good, he'd be able to find out so much about his father without even breaking a sweat! All he'd have to do would be play a few rounds of chess with him and ask him questions every now and then! He could become knowledgeable about so much more than chess! "No, but I'm ready to learn."
"All right," Erik said, cracking his knuckles by pushing his hands away from himself, "we'll start with the basics. Now pay attention. This is a bishop," he began, picking up the piece and showing it to Peter. "It moves diagonally backward and forward. A rook moves forward and backward, as well as left and right. A pawn moves only forward, while a knight moves in an 'L' shape in any direction, which is three squares forward and one square to either the left or to the right . . ."
Peter listened to Erik's words with rapt attention, glad that his mind could move so fast to take in such an enormous amount of information. It was ludicrous to think how detailed just a simple game with thirty-two pieces was. Wait, right. He was supposed to be paying attention.
" . . . capture diagonally. All the other pieces capture by lining up with piece they wish to capture."
"Which piece captures diagonally again?"
Erik paused. "The pawn and the bishop. Also the queen."
Peter nodded, his head already starting to fuzz from so much information. So, an 'L' shape for the knight, diagonally for the bishop, straight and sideways for the rook, single spaces for the pawn, except on the first move when it could move double, every direction except the rook's move for the queen, single spaces for the king . . . sheesh. At least he knew how to win the game. Capture the king. That was easy. So all he had to do was capture the king.
