Charles glanced at Peter, then grinned at Erik. "I think I'll leave you two to your game. I should probably check on the rest of the students, anyway. Make sure they're not destroying the mansion."
"You play a lot of chess with Wheelchair?" Peter asked, moving his first piece after Charles left.
Erik frowned. "Wheelchair?"
"Baldy. The only way I could get him to play chess with me was by changing his nickname."
Erik nodded, moving as well. "Used to."
"Now you don't?"
"Charles and I aren't exactly friends anymore," Erik said.
"Why not? Come on, you can tell me. Why not? Come on, why not? Why?"
"Our world viewpoints clash."
"Right," Peter said. "You said that already. Wheelchair wants to befriend humans and you want them to know that mutants are superior."
Erik paused and looked at him. "How do you know that?"
Peter blinked. Uh-oh. Right. He wasn't supposed to hear that conversation. "Wheelchair told me all about it a few days ago."
Erik's eyes narrowed. "And yet you spend all your free time annoying him."
Peter shrugged. "I also saw your speech on the news." He glanced at Erik then, hoping he'd successfully covered his tracks.
Erik relaxed and moved his piece forward.
"I can still remember when I was fourteen, I ran past a bunch of police officers who were testing out the accuracy of their speed radar guns. After I ran past, all the guns exploded. Everybody was freaking out; it was hilarious." Peter glanced over at Erik after moving his own piece, glad to see that he was trying not to smile. "And there was this other time when I was running down the highway and I accidentally crashed into a semi-truck."
This time, Erik laughed. "So a kid like you who can run a million miles an hour was hit by something going seventy. Pretty impressive."
Why did everyone keep saying that? He could run way faster than a million miles an hour. "Actually, I can run eighty-six million miles an hour. But it's not like I'm keeping track or anything . . . " Erik chuckled again, and Peter grinned. They played chess in silence for a few moments, but Peter wanted to continue his questioning. He wanted to ask Erik about his mother. He couldn't outright ask about her, however. That would be quite strange. He'd have to circumnavigate his way there. "So, how was college? I mean as a mutant and everything."
"Didn't go," Erik said, focusing on his next move. "I got involved with a girl instead."
Score! Peter was so excited that he raced away, got a sandwich from the kitchen, and performed a few dance moves before returning to Charles' study and devouring his sandwich. Erik glanced over at him, but said nothing. "Really?" Peter asked, worried that he sounded a bit too excited. "What was she like?"
"Good. Great, actually."
"Yeah?" Peter said, trying to stay casual as he moved another chess piece with a shaky hand. "Did you . . . marry her?"
Erik shook his head. "No. I was twenty-two, and she was already talking about starting a family and settling down. I wasn't ready for that, so I left."
"Makes sense," Peter said, nodding. "Did you . . . have any kids with her?"
Erik's eyes widened, and he let out a long exhalation. "No, thank goodness."
Peter's mouth thinned into a line as he took another turn. So she hadn't told him. He really didn't know.
"Why are you so interested?" Erik asked, moving another piece.
Peter licked his lips as he took another turn. "There . . . hasn't been another mutant here in over half a year. That, and you're kind of a celebrity. You've killed the President, accidentally, of course," he added, "been in prison, and got in league with Apocalypse. You've done it all."
Erik nodded, taking his next turn. "I heard from Charles that you're quite a thief."
Peter grinned. "Yeah, I stole a bunch of televisions and some food. There was even this one time that I managed to steal an arcade console. How I got that thing onto my back and managed to get it home, I have no idea, but man, when I dragged that thing through the front door, Magda was so mad—"
Erik looked sharply at Peter. "Your mother's name is Magda?"
Oh, no. He'd slipped up. Great job, Peter. "N-no," Peter said quickly, already forming a lie in his head. "My best friend's name was Magda. My mom's name is Maggie."
Erik continued to look at Peter sideways for a few more seconds before moving another piece. "And what powers did her mutant boyfriend have?"
Had he figured it out already?! Peter hoped not with all his might. "Magic," he said instantly. "Red, weird magic that could do a bunch of different stuff."
Erik nodded.
"So," Peter said, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction, "did you ever steal things when you were a kid?"
Erik shook his head.
"Did you ever get into fights? I got into a few fights. But that stopped after I got my powers."
"Can't say I did."
Erik's answers were so short that Peter feared that his mind was still on Peter's own mistake. "What were your parents like?" Peter asked, vying for his full attention. "Were they mutants, too?"
At this, Erik's face hardened. "No, they were human."
"R-right," Peter said, laughing a bit as he noticed that the metal bust of Einstein in the corner of the room was now melting. At least he'd gotten Erik's attention, but man, Peter had to be more careful. "My mom was human, too. My dad was a mutant. Did I tell you this already? Anyway, I think they were both twenty-two when I was born, but my dad left before I was born. So my mom raised me, and we've been doing okay. Who raised you?"
Now the metal book holder on the other side of the room was starting to curl. "My . . . parents," he muttered through gritted teeth.
Right, Poland. The Holocaust. Stupid! "My father wasn't in my life. You're kinda lucky. Anyway, I didn't go to college either. Was expelled from school at twelve for putting a couple of teenagers in the hospital. Then I spent the rest of my time stealing food and stuff and rescuing people from burning buildings and car crashes. Did you ever rescue anyone?"
"The woman I dated," Erik said. "Magda."
Another point for Peter, but since he'd almost been caught talking about his mother who, coincidentally, had the exact same name as Erik's previous girlfriend, Peter figured he'd switch subjects. "So what was it like in prison? Dirty? Dusty? Boring? What'd you do with all the free time you had? Did they ever let you out or let you see sunlight, or were you trapped in there for ten whole years?"
"It was quite boring," Erik said. "There was no one to play chess with."
Peter grinned, then moved his castle forward. "Check." Then Peter mentally slapped himself. He'd been close to checkmate, but he'd gotten so immersed in the conversation that he'd accidentally forced his father into a stalemate. "Dang it," he muttered.
Erik inspected the board, then raised his eyebrows. "Impressive," he said. "I didn't expect you to be able to match my chess playing abilities."
Peter looked up at Erik, blinked in surprise, then swelled. "Yup, I practiced," he said, grinning.
Erik nodded, then made a move to get up.
"Do you want to play again?" Peter asked, resetting the board in an instant. "I might beat you this time. Let's play again. One more game. Come on, Magnet. One more game."
Erik shook his head. "I'd rather eat lunch."
Peter's stomach growled at the thought of food, and in an instant he was in the kitchen, preparing sandwiches. Hardly had Erik blinked before Peter returned with two dozen sandwiches, handing two to Erik himself. "It's turkey," Peter said.
Erik looked at the sandwich then at Peter, then hesitantly took the food.
"Come on, one more game. Come on, Magnet," Peter pressed, eating a dozen sandwiches in two seconds. "Come on. Hey, come on. You scared I might beat you?"
Sighing, Erik sat back down. "You're very persistent, aren't you?"
"Yup."
Erik took a bite of his sandwich, blinking in surprise. He looked at Peter, then nodded. "All right. One more game."
"So, who won?" Charles asked, wheeling in just as the second game was starting.
"It was a tie," Peter said. "We're going to play again and see who wins."
"I've haven't beaten you in quite some time, Charles," Erik said, making the first move. "Maybe I'll be able to beat your successor again."
"You'll find it more difficult than you think," Charles said. He pointed over to Erik's last sandwich. "What kind is that?"
"Turkey," Erik and Peter said together.
Charles shuddered. "Nasty. Can't stand the stuff."
"Just another one of the things that separates us both, Charles," Erik said.
"If all that separated us was the food we enjoyed, maybe it wouldn't be so bad," Charles said, laughing slightly.
Peter stayed silent, hoping that Charles could goad something out of Erik that his father hadn't told him yet. He took his turn quietly and waited.
"How can you trust humans, Charles?" Erik asked, making his next move with a bit too much force and causing the chessboard to slide a bit.
"There is good in all, Erik. You just don't know how to see it, either in yourself of in others," Charles said.
"Humans took my mother away from me," Erik snarled under his breath, and Peter was surprised to find him now speaking Polish. "They put my family in Auschwitz! They found me in Pruszków and murdered my wife and daughter! How can you trust them?!"
Erik was up now, facing Charles in a rage. Keeping his eye on the situation, Peter carefully made his next move before returning to his stationary position, not wanting to draw any extra attention to himself. However deep this thing between them ran, Peter wanted to stay out of it.
"We've all suffered loss, Erik," Charles said, and now his eyes were sad. "All of us."
Peter could've sworn that Charles did something to Erik just then, because Erik shrugged it off and sat back down.
"Then you should agree with me," Erik growled.
"Your vendetta against a few humans who caused you pain doesn't give you the right to exterminate or hate the entire race of mankind," Charles said. "Remember: the man who murdered your mother was not a human, Erik. He was a mutant."
Erik stiffened, then made his next move. He glanced up, saw Peter for what seemed to be the first time, blinked and snarled a bit, then turned back to Charles. "They should know the pain I feel."
"They don't deserve that, Erik," Charles said. "From the good in your heart, you know that."
Erik sighed and said no more.
"If your wife and daughter are . . . well . . . then why don't you go back to Magda?" Peter asked, trying to swerve the conversation into a lighter topic.
Erik looked up at Peter for a moment, then laughed coldly. "She wouldn't have me back, Peter. She hates me; I practically tried to kill her."
Peter frowned, thinking back to how Magda had glowed when talking about Erik's personality while they had dated. "You don't know that."
"I know her a lot better than . . . you act like you know her," Erik said, taking another turn. "Don't talk about things you don't understand."
"I might know a lot better than you think I do," Peter countered.
Erik looked at Peter fully this time, his eyes narrowing a bit. "What are you talking about, Peter?"
Peter blinked. Had he gone too far? Better backtrack. "I never had a father," he said, rapidly switching subjects. "You lost your mother. Isn't that kind of the same thing?"
Erik's eyes blazed, and the poor half-melted bust of Einstein in the corner of the room melted completely. "Don't ever mention that again, Peter," he whispered. "Understand?"
"I got it," Peter said instantly. "I got it. Chill, bro."
"It seems like I'll have to replace that," Charles said mildly. "You are going to fix the south hall, aren't you, Erik?"
"Yes, Charles," Erik said, taking another turn.
Peter made no sound for the next five minutes, but after assessing that Erik no longer looked murderous, Peter tried another question. "What was the coolest thing you ever did with your powers?"
"I figured out how to levitate using some marbles beneath my feet," Erik said, taking another turn.
"I managed to get into an amusement park for free when I was sixteen, and it was quite a laugh tricking everyone into thinking that I was James Dean."
"Charles," Erik chuckled, "I didn't know you had that sort of trickery in you."
"I had quite a few run-ins with the law during my teenage years," Charles said, grinning.
"I just ran past the law; they never caught me," Peter said. He paused a moment, thinking of an answer to his question. "I remember the time when I was fifteen and planning to run around the world. To prepare for it, I had to figure out if it was possible for me to actually run on water. I was so sure I was going to drown that I put on a lifejacket just to be safe." Peter laughed then. "Then I took off. I nearly passed out when I realized I was on the shores of Normandy." Peter took another turn, trying to think of another question to ask. "How did you two become friends, anyway?"
"Erik here was trying to stop a submarine," Charles said. "I saved him from drowning."
Peter glanced at his father. "Whoa, you can stop a submarine?"
"I can't just stop one," Erik said, taking his turn and smirking a bit, "I can pull it out of the water completely."
"And I thought running on top of water was cool," Peter said, slightly awestruck. "But I can dodge bullets. Can you dodge bullets, Magnet?"
"I can deflect them," Erik said.
"Right into my spine," Charles said.
"That's how you got into that wheelchair?" Peter asked, moving his rook into a position to attack. "I thought it was just a fashion statement."
Charles smiled grimly. "No, Peter. This 'fashion statement' is quite permanent."
"I'd go crazy if I couldn't use my legs," Peter said, shuddering a bit.
"Then be glad you're not me."
"Trust me," Peter said with an emphatic nod, "I am."
"Well then, we're in agreement. I, likewise, am quite glad I'm not you."
Peter blinked. "Why?"
Charles glanced over at Erik, who was too busy making his next chess move to notice. "Different reasons," Charles said airily.
Peter frowned then shrugged. "Being me's not that bad."
"If you say so."
"Trust me, it's better than being bald and lame."
"I take offense to that, Peter," Charles said. "Would you rather I tell Erik—"
"No!" Peter yelled, standing up in an instant.
Erik, taking his hand off a castle, paused. "Tell me what?" he asked.
Peter opened his mouth to cut him off, but Charles, placing two fingers to his temple, was already talking.
"Tell you that Peter here managed to win ninety-eight professional chess matches within the last eight hours," Charles said, taking his hand away from his temple. "I doubt you have a very good chance of winning, old friend."
"Ninety-eight?" Erik asked, looking at Peter. "Is that true?"
Peter blinked and outwardly sighed. He glared at Charles for a moment, who looked quite smug. "Oh, that? Yeah. It was no big deal. I read all of Wheelchair's chess strategy books before playing a few amateur games then going professional. I managed to checkmate quite a lot of opponents."
Erik nodded, moving another piece. "Let's see if you can do better."
Peter looked back to the chessboard, seeing the attack that Erik was beginning to set up. He grinned without showing his teeth, already forming a plan of his own. Knowing that in open position, bishops were of more value than knights, Peter concentrated on taking those next, sacrificing two pawns, a rook, and a knight to obtain the bishops he wanted. Moving both his own bishops into play, Peter kept his own knight out of harm's way as he narrowed in on the king, keeping track of Erik's remaining rooks. He had, however, underestimated the power of Erik's two knights. Before he knew it, Erik had taken Peter's other rook, blocking his strategy. Peter took one of Erik's rooks with his bishop, but his strategy was still stalled.
Suddenly, similar to what others probably saw when he ran by them, Peter had a flash of brilliance. He saw it. The winning move. Blinking once, Peter moved his queen into the danger zone, allowing Erik to inch closer to her as he moved his other bishop and remaining knight into play. This was it! He was so close to winning! Hardly daring to breathe, Peter moved his queen into position. He knew that the only way to win was to unbalance Erik, so Peter purposely moved his queen into a spot where he knew she could get taken. Erik looked at Peter with a frown, then shook his head briefly before capturing her.
Peter glanced over at Charles to see that he had his eyebrows raised in interest. Did Charles know what he was planning? Peter barely dared to breathe as he moved his bishop into play, taking Erik's knight. "Check," he said.
Erik looked at the board, then analyzed the positions of all the pieces before leaning back and tilting his head up, still looking downward. Erik moved his rook to block Peter, but Peter took it with his only knight. "Check," he said again.
Erik moved his king, then Peter moved his other bishop into play, now practically shaking with excitement. "Checkmate," Peter said. Then he grinned wide and looked over at Erik, wondering to see how his father would respond.
Erik glanced down at the board, then back at Peter. Nodding curtly, Erik knocked over his king then got up.
"Hey, I beat you, Magnet," Peter said, practically glowing. "Come on, admit it. I won. I did it. Come on, say it. Say it. Come on, Magnet. Say it." Peter waited for the compliment, but it never came.
Erik only glanced down at Peter once again before turning and stiffly walking out of the room.
Peter frowned, now feeling a bit depressed. Should he have lost? What had he done wrong? It was a fair game; it wasn't like he'd cheated. Why hadn't Erik congratulated him on his victory? Shrugging, Peter turned to Charles. "What's up with him?"
Charles was shaking his head, his eyes bright and his hand covering up a smile. "I can't believe . . . I'm chuffed to bits." Charles laughed a bit more before turning to Peter. "I never thought I'd see him like that again. He acted the exact same way the first time I beat him at chess. Erik hates to lose."
Peter nodded. Though he still partly wanted Erik to compliment his skills, it didn't matter that much. He'd won. He'd beat Erik. And he'd also found out a bit about his mother and Erik's past. All in all, it was a huge win for Peter. Zipping away and listening to "Eruption" as he grabbed all of the chess books from his room, Peter returned to Charles' study with them and put them away since they were now obsolete. He'd sealed his victory.
