{Author's note: I switched to past tense in terms of writing because I found that flowed better. Sorry if my abrupt switch bothers anyone, but I'll try to be consistent from now on. Please comment with your thoughts, constructive criticism, or whatever!}
It had been a long week. In the past ten years, many of Erik's weeks and days had stretched on endlessly as he spent his time in isolation with nary a break in the day besides the infrequent delivery of his meals a couple of times a day. Yet, now that Erik was free, the week dragged on for a very different reason. It passed so slowly because he was looking forward to its end. When it was over, he would be able to see his son again and start making up for lost time.
Unfortunately, Erik had to remain under the radar, so he hadn't been able to commandeer too much money, but he did manage to spare enough cash to call the Maximoff household once in the past week, after finding the number in the D.C. telephone book. Nonetheless, instead of making time move faster, the phone call only succeeded in dragging the week out even more, and upsetting the delicate relationship he was forming with his newly discovered son.
FLASHBACK
Just after dinner at the Maximoff household on Sunday night, the telephone started to ring.
Marya answered it, "Hello."
"Marya." said Erik on the other end of the line
"Erik?" Marya replied. "What's wrong? What's happened?"
"Nothing. Nothing is wrong…I…I just thought…"
"You want to talk to Piero?" Marya asked. Erik could tell a hint of a smile had crept into her voice.
"Er…yes…if…is that alright?" Erik asked
"As long as he's willing to talk to you, I don't have a problem with it. Just give me a moment to go get him. He's just outside trying to teach Mila the proper way to throw a baseball."
Erik heard Marya set the phone down and head off, but not a minute later he heard a new voice on the line, "Hellooooo."
"Pietro, erm, how are you?" Erik asked awkwardly
"I told you it's Peter, Errrrik, and I'm fine. Why'd you call? Are you canceling our quest? Because you can't cancel a quest. Did Frodo cancel his quest to destroy the One Ring?
"I'm guessing the answer is no?" responded Erik
"Of course the answer is no! Well I mean I guess he didn't truly complete his quest since he got all mind raped by the ring's power and then only got rid of the ring when crazy Gollum bit off his finger…but still, technically the quest was completed. So why are you bailing? Not that I care. I don't care." said Pietro, sounding very much like he did care.
Piet—" Erik tried to interject.
"I'll go look for Wanda myself. Just don't tell Marya you're not going with me because then she might flip out and lock me in my room or something. Just kidding, she wouldn't do that, but she probably wouldn't give me permission to go out to who knows where on my own, but it looks like I'll have to now. I'll—"
"PIETRO!" Erik finally yelled into the payphone he was using at a metro station, garnering some odd looks from people passing by. Erik cleared his throat and lowered his voice back down to a normal volume, "Piet—Peter, that's not why I'm calling. I'm not cancelling our search for Wanda. I will still be coming to get you Wednesday morning."
"Oh." said Pietro. "ThenWhyAreYouCalling?" Pietro asked rapidly.
"Well I…you're my son. I just wanted to talk to you. See how you're doing."
"Oh." Pietro said again, seeming genuinely surprised, which instantly caused a wave of regret to hit Erik straight in the heart. Regret, that he ever left Magda. Regret, over the other decisions he's made in his life. Regret, that he's never met his youngest daughter. Regret, that he barely knows his son.
(It didn't even cross his mind that I would just want to talk. To interact with him. To start a real father/son relationship.)
"Um…well what do you want to talk about then?" Pietro asked. Suddenly going from his exuberant self to sounding as uncomfortable as Erik felt.
"Just…anything. How's the last couple days of school going?" Erik asked.
"Err, um…well… not to bad…could be worse" Pietro replied launching back into his usual speedy pace. "Finals aren't too bad. I mean I can look up the answer before anyone can see me anyway…not that I would. That'd be wrong, but if I had a photographic memory, that wouldn't be cheating, so technically I'd just be living up to my full potential. Hmm…yea I think that's a valid argument. Let's go with that. Oooo I also had my last track meet of the year. Those are pretty fun. Of course, I can't win every race because I'd draw too much attention to myself, and I think my coach already suspects I'm a mutant now that the world knows we exist. Thanks for that by the way. But I don't think he really cares because he's suuuuuper competive and hates losing. He seems to know I hold back, but I still win the most races, so he can't really complain. And Marya says I can go all out—or as all out as is humanly, not mutantly, possible—my senior year, so I can go to the state competition. That's still ages away though, but it'll be totally rad when it finally gets here. Did you listen to those 8-tracks I gave you? They're pretty sweet, right? What have you been doing all week? What do prison escapees slash mutant terrorists do in their free time? Did you go to a baseball game? 'cause that'd be pretty freaking hilarious, since you destroyed a baseball stadium. Bahahaha" Pietro finished chuckling slightly.
Erik didn't respond right away, as his brain was still trying to comprehend everything Pietro had just spurted out at him at about hundred miles per hour, but eventually the words picked up by his ears made it through all of his neurons, and he replied, "I did listen to a few of the artists. They are 'pretty sweet', and no I have not been to a baseball game. My days aren't quite as exciting as yours. I've mostly just been going to the library, trying to catch up on what I missed over the past ten years, and keeping an eye on the newspaper to see if anything of concern pops up."
"I see. I see. Guess it is kinda hard to top your past week in terms of excitement level huh? I guess that's true for me too. I mean, despite popular belief, it's not everyday I break into—"
"Pietro! Don't! You shouldn't talk about that, especially not over the phone. You never know if someone is listening."
"Paranoid much? But alright, alright. I see your point." Pietro said
Erik looked down at his watch and realized he was almost out of minutes, and he didn't have anymore change on him. He really wished that weren't the case. He felt as though Pietro wasn't telling him everything, that there was something wrong, "I'm sorry Pietro, but I'm down to my last minute so we'll be cut off shortly…but is there something else you'd like to tell me? It seems like you're a little less…chipper than normal."
There was silence on the other end of the line.
"Pietro?" Erik prompted him gently.
"It's just…you don't know what it's like okay? High school is bad enough already without being a freak, and you can't understand. You're not…you look normal. No one knows that you're different just by looking. And sure, some people thought I was a little wacko before you went and pulled that stunt, but they just thought I was like a punk rocker or something…but now…now they all look at me different, and ask where I get the dye for my hair, and why do I dye my eyebrows too? And why am I so pale? Kids aren't that dumb you know? They can put two and two together, and realize I never have different colored roots when my hair grows out, and it probably wouldn't have mattered if you'd just nicely announced that there are people with strange abilities in the world, but nooooo. You had to go scare the shit out of everybody, and now hardly anyone will even look at me, and if they do, they either look terrified or like they wish they could shoot laser beams at me out of their eyes."
To Erik, Pietro's words felt like a punch to the gut. The whole reason he went about revealing the existence of mutants the way he did was so mutants wouldn't have to be ashamed of what they were, but his actions seemed to have had the opposite effect. "Pietro, I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to deal with the consequences of my actions. I—"
Erik heard the dial tone in his ear. The line had gone dead. He'd run out of minutes, and with no more money, or means to get any immediately, he was left feeling dreadful and hoping he would be able to set things right with his son the next time he saw him.
END FLASHBACK
Erik hadn't called the Maximoff household again. Sure he was on a tight budget, but in all honesty he was just a coward. He'd already done so much to disappoint and cause his son pain. He couldn't bear to deal with the hurt he had heard in his son's voice without being able to see him face to face. To look him in the eye and let him know that it didn't matter what he looked like on the outside, not that there was anything wrong with the way Pietro looked. Erik actually found Pietro's hair to be quite intriguing, and much more striking than his own plain reddish brown locks. But again, none of that matter because from the brief encounters Erik had had with Pietro thus far, he'd gathered that buried under all of the sass and bravado, his son had a heart of gold.
Despite his cowardice in holding off contacting Pietro again, Erik was extremely glad that Wednesday morning had finally come, and as he made his way to the little suburban neighborhood, he hoped his son had made it through his last couple of days of school without any major incidents. He hated that Pietro was being ostracized because of his actions.
Pressing gently on the breaks of the car he had had temporarily 'borrowed,' Erik maneuvered the vehicle close to the curb across the street from the Maximoff house, and shifted the vehicle into park. He didn't shut off the engine right away though, instead he leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and took a moment to finish listening to Jim Croce's Time in a Bottle via one of the 8-tracks Pietro had given him.
He had to admit, his son had good taste in music. It was actually a lovely song, depressing as it was. It forced him to think about all the time he had missed while in prison, but rather than making him grow angry, the song had a calming affect on Erik. And he swore that he would waste no more time on this Earth.
When the song ended, Erik shut off the engine, and walked across the street in the darkness of the early morning toward the little ranch house. When he reached the front door, he raised his hand to knock, but then he noticed the door was already slightly ajar.
Instantly, his blood ran cold, and fear—not for himself, but for his family—filled his body. He slowly pushed the door open tuning himself into the metal in his primary vicinity as he stepped through the doorway on high alert.
The sight inside did nothing to calm his nerves. The family room hardly resembled the room he had visited last week. It looked as if a tornado had swept through it. The coffee table was tipped over, picture frames had fallen off the wall and were lying broken on the floor, and the large wooden bookcase that once stood upright was tipped over, covering the toy chest.
Losing any hope of calm he had latched onto and throwing caution to the wind he called out, "PIETRO!"
Erik raced down the basement stairs, hoping he would find his son there waiting with an explanation for the state of the house upstairs, but his son's previously organized chaos of a teenager's wonderland was in utter disrepair and looked much like the family room upstairs. The former stack of numerous TVs was tipped over and many were broken. The glass cupboard filled with twinkies, pop, and other junk food was also knocked down onto the floor and had scattered glass everywhere.
It was obvious to Erik that Pietro wasn't in the basement, so he ran back upstairs to check the other rooms while calling out, "Pietro! Marya!"
He looked in the first room off the hallway that led away from the family room, and found it must belong to Mila and formerly Wanda too, do to it's touch of feminine décor, and although it wasn't in nearly as bad of a state as the rest of the house, it too was empty.
He checked the house's only bathroom, as well as what must be Marya's bedroom, but both turned up empty and in shambles as well.
Growing more and more worried, Erik rushed back out to the family room and headed into the kitchen, where he slipped on something wet and found himself almost face-planting onto the tile floor, but he recovered his balance and remained on his feet. As he looked down to see what he had slipped on, he felt his terror rise.
He was standing in a pile of blood. His eyes followed the crimson trail in horror and found it led to Marya. She was leaning against the fridge, the telephone broken on the floor beside her, her eyes staring vacantly and unseeing ahead, and a bullet hole straight through her skull. Erik knew without having to approach her that she was dead.
Rage filled Erik, threatening to consume him, when he heard a small whimper coming from the family room.
His first thought as he dashed back into the family room was of Pietro, but as the cry rang out again, he realized it was much too high to be Pietro's voice.
"Mila?" Erik asked the seemingly deserted room.
The only response was another quiet sniffle that was emanating from the toy chest trapped beneath the toppled bookcase. Erik walked over to the chest and with a little effort he was able to lift the wooden bookcase off of it and then open the lid.
When he did so, he was greeted by the small form of Mila. She looked horrified. There were tears streaming down her face and she was shaking from head to toe. She was also clutching a piece of silver material, which somewhere in the back of his mind Erik registered that it was Pietro's leather jacket.
"Mila." said Erik. Reaching down, he lifted her out of the chest and set her back down on the floor, and then he lowered himself onto to his knees so that he was at her eye level. "It's alright Mila. You remember me? I'm Pietro's father, remember? Listen, Mila. I know you're scared, but whoever was here is gone now. And it's very important that you tell me what happened."
The little girl remained silent. Her fingers turning white as she clasped the leather jacket even tighter.
"I know it's difficult, but I need to know. Did whoever did this take Pietro? Please Mila, I
can't help if I don't know what happened. I promise you I will find your cousin but you have to tell me what happened."
"brother…" Mila whispered. "Pie is more to me than a cousin. He's my big brother."
"That's right Mila, and you want to help your brother right? So please tell me. Time is of the essence."
Mila sniffled again, but finally took a deep breath and began, "I…I had a bad dream during the night. I…I've had them since Wanda left, and sometimes Pietro has bad dreams too, so he lets me sleep with him. But I didn't want to bother him last night because he hasn't been getting much sleep lately…then I remembered that I had hid his jacket in the toy chest out here because he was teasing me yesterday. I came out to get it because it makes me feel safe, and Pie says it'll help me be strong like a superhero, but it was buried at the bottom of the chest, so I couldn't quite reach it. I crawled inside to get it, and the lid fell closed on top of me…I was about to push it back open when the scuba men burst through the front door."
"Scuba men?" Erik questioned confused.
"mmmhmm." Mila nods "They had these mask thingies on like what the people that swim in the ocean with the dolphins and fishies wear to help them breathe."
"Gas masks?" Erik asked
"I don't know." Mila replied. "Maybe. Anyway, I got scared…I was going to cry out, but I couldn't make myself say anything. It was hard to see, but I was able to look through the gap between the lid and the top of the chest, since our toy chest has never been able to close completely. I saw a few of them head down stairs, some went down the hall, and a couple others started walking right toward me. I thought they were going to find me, but they just started messing up the room, and I thought mommy was going to be sooo mad at them. Then one of them tipped the bookcase over on top of my hiding place and getting out of the chest wasn't possible anymore. Then…then I…I saw…"
"Go on Mila. What did you see."
"Well…I…I heard before I saw. They were being really quiet, but I heard the ones who went downstairs coming back up after a bit…and…and" she let out a little sob then continued, "and one of them was carrying Pietro. He had something sticking out of his neck. I don't know what it was, but I heard one of them say, '…gassed and tranqued. They estimated well at the lab. He did manage to run across the room, and knock some junk over. But he was groggy even then, and when the full force hit him, he was out like a light.' "
Mila buried her face in Pietro's jacket for a moment. Erik was glad she did because he suspected his fear and white-hot anger was all too visible on his face, and he was afraid Mila would be scared of him and unable to continue her story. Somehow though, he managed to remain stoic on the surface long enough to prompt Mila to continue, "Go on Mila. Keep going. It'll be easier if you don't stop."
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes again and went on "Then most of the scuba men left with Pie, but one stayed in the family room as two others brought Mama out of her bedroom. She was sleeping still or…or they did something to her too, I don't know but I heard them say,
'…put her in the kitchen by the phone….gotta make it look like a robbery…'
After that they disappeared into the kitchen, and then I…I heard a bang, and they came back out without mommy this time and left."
When she finished, to Erik's great surprise she launched herself forward and into his chest where she sobbed once more. Erik patted her awkwardly on the back, as he felt a strange sense of deja vu, as he recalled comforting Anya when she was small.
Slowly and gently, Erik pushed her back away from him and said, "Mila, I promise you. You are going to see your brother again. I am going to find Pietro."
Mila looked up at him and replied, "I know you will….but…but where's my Mommy? She's…she's… dead isn't she?"
Gazing down at the fragile looking little girl before him, who reminded him so much of Anya, he wanted to lie to her, but he knew he could not. "She is. I'm sorry An—Mila. But I am positive that Pietro is not, and I will not rest until I find him. We have to go now though, and I can't leave you here. Those men might come back if they find out you saw what happened."
Erik reached down and picked Mila up then turned to leave but she cried out, "Wait! Pie's jacket. I need his jacket! He loves his jacket, and he'll want it when you find him."
With that assertion, Erik bent back down and retrieved Pietro's jacket from where it had fallen when Mila had sought comfort in Erik's arms.
Erik felt himself losing his calm once again now that Mila had buried her face in the crook of his neck and couldn't see his expression, but as he went to leave the house he noticed again that the photographs which had hung above the couch were now lying on the floor, their frames broken and shattered. With only a second of hesitation, he bent down and gathered up all five photos from their ruined frames and tucked them into his jacket pocket, making a vow as he did so.
I will find you Pietro. I promise. I won't fail a child of mine again.
Still just as angry and afraid for his son, but with his resolved strengthened, Erik left the small house. He didn't go back to look at Marya again. He knew there was nothing he could do for her, and he didn't want to subject Mila to having that awful memory of her lying in a pool of blood etched in her mind for the rest of her life.
Erik crossed the quite suburban road with Mila in his arms, the mounting light of dawn shining down on them. He opened the back door of 'his' car and placed Mila inside, tucking Pietro's jacket around her then he walked around to the front of the car and got in the driver seat.
"Put your seatbelt on Mila. We've got a bit of a drive ahead of us."
"We're are we going Mr. Erik? Are we going to get Pietro?" Mila questioned.
"We are Mila, but in order to do that, first, we have to go see an old friend of mine."
Or an enemy depending on the day.
Erik certainly hadn't imagined he'd see the man he planned on avoiding for the rest of his life so soon after their last encounter not even two weeks ago. But as uncomfortable as their reunion might be, Erik knew that it was the only way to find Pietro. And he would do anything to get his son back.