If Erik ever met a mutant who could teleport, he'd probably kiss her…or him. It was really just tempting fate, cramming Erik and the others together inside an automobile that was basically a metal cage on wheels, especially when Erik could control said metal and the 'others' included his ex-friends, a precocious child, and not too mention, his estranged daughter.

Once again Mila came to the rescue in the uncomfortable situation, acting as a buffer—both metaphorically and physically as she was situated in the rear middle seat between father and daughter—to the four others in the car. Erik hadn't been sure that they'd even be able to convince Wanda to come with them, but it appeared that Mila's affirmation of their story had been enough to get Wanda to trust them, or at least collaborate with them.

Charles had quickly explained to Wanda that he was a telepath and Hank, ingenious as he was, had created a machine that helped him expand his powers and find others like themselves, which is how they had located Wanda. He went on from there, sharing how they had tried to use Erik to locate Pietro to no avail, but they hoped with her connection as a twin to Pietro they would be able to find him, so that's how they came to be traveling once more toward Charles' estate.

Wanda had spent the beginning of the ride glaring ahead and ignoring Erik completely, and whenever their eyes did meet, she looked quickly away. The only time her face softened was when she was conversing with Mila, but even then she seemed very tense.

Erik didn't blame her. He was tense for Christ's sake. Who wouldn't be in their situation? He knew he should try to do something to comfort her or make this whole ordeal a little more bearable, but he just didn't know how. He should probably stop staring at her for one thing, but he found even that hard to do.

She's so like Pietro, yet so vastly different.

Like her brother, she obviously cared deeply for Mila, and felt protective of her. And also just like Pietro, she hid her insecurities behind a mask, but where Pietro's mask was a combination of sarcasm, humor, and exuberant and exasperating behavior, her mask was one of carefully controlled anger and indifference. In that manner, Erik felt that maybe he and Wanda had more in common than himself and Pietro.

She was also very different from her brother in that she did not pester Erik with questions, and demand an explanation as to why he had not been there for her and her brother. In fact, she wouldn't talk to Erik at all, and in his rather feeble attempts to try to tell her that he hadn't known she and Pietro even existed until recently, she swiftly spoke loudly and pointedly over him to Mila, cutting him off before he could really get out what he wanted to say, until he had decided to quit trying, for the duration of the car ride anyway.

Although it had certainly been difficult to share his story with Pietro, afterward he had felt, not better exactly, but at least that he had given his son something. Something that Pietro could hold onto…a vision of what their life could have been if fate had been kinder…and Erik had been wiser.

Despite the atmosphere of 'I don't need you; I can take care of myself' that practically seemed to radiate off of Wanda, Erik couldn't help but stare—not so discreetly—in her direction. It had been challenging enough to watch Pietro break into a grin throughout the short time he'd enjoyed his son's company and be so painfully reminded of Magda's smile, but now, looking at Wanda, that pain was magnified tenfold. From the color and wave of her hair, to her slight nose and slender fingers, she was the spitting image of her mother in all but her eyes, which she shared with Pietro, and of course himself.

As their time on the road passed, Mila drifted off sleep. It was apparent to Erik that Wanda too was exhausted, likely haven risen very early in the day to catch the train into D.C. and then spent the entire ride in constant worry for her family, much as Erik had been doing throughout the day. He had hoped that she would allow herself to rest, but as she once again accidently locked eyes with Erik, only to glare at him then turn to look out her window, it was obvious she didn't want to sleep while in the presence of three strange men, even if—especially if—one was her father.

That pained Erik, and he sighed, but decided that maybe the only way to help his daughter get the rest she needed was to succumb to sleep himself. He hoped that just maybe if he was unconscious, she would view the biggest threat to Mila and herself as incapacitated and

get some much needed rest, so Erik laid his head back against the window, closed his eyes, and drifted almost instantly into oblivion…

A short while later...

The back seat had fallen silent, so Charles glanced over his shoulder to check on the trio. He saw that Mila was asleep, her head resting against Wanda's shoulder. Erik too was dead to the world, looking more like he was in a coma than sleeping.

Finally. I was afraid he was going to pass out while we were out in about, and he'd have to be wheeled around in a wheelchair too.

Shifting his gaze over to Wanda he watched as her head bobbed as she attempted to fight against the lure of sleep for a few moments, until she could hold out no longer. Her eyes shut, and her head came to rest on top of Mila's.

Feeling almost as though he was intruding on something, Charles turned back around.

"Are they all asleep?" asked Hank quietly.

"Yes, and by the looks of it, I would guess they'll be out for the rest of the drive, but that's good. The last thing we want is two sleep deprived children…and Mila." Charles replied.

Hank chuckled. "Yea, Erik on full eight hours of sleep is not what I'd call a ray of sunshine…This is all pretty unbelievable though, huh? First we find out Erik has a son, who is the whirlwind that is Peter, then we learn he has a daughter, and he seemed to hint that he was married. Like, what the absolutely hell? Next thing we know; we'll find out he writes romance novels in his spare time. Man, you think you know someone and then…"

"Yes it is all rather…unexpected." Replied Charles.

"Right?! I mean, I know Erik's childhood was nowhere near spectacular, but once he escaped those horrors, did he go off and find some Leave it to Beaver life, and then suddenly decide one day, 'hey today I think I'm going to go hunt Nazis and then liberate mutant-kind, I'm sure the wife and kids will be fine.' "

"That's not quite what happened Hank. It's not my story to tell, but you know Erik didn't even have a clue he was still—he was a father until we dragged Peter into this mess. If you feel like your world has been turned upside down, Hank, just try to imagine how Erik feels."

Hank was silent for a minute after that. "I see your point. I really do, and despite all Erik has done, I do feel sorry for him and his kids, especially his kids. And I am really worried about Peter too. I know Erik is partly to blame that he's in the mess he is, but we our too. We're the ones who got a teenager involved in something he should have never been a part of..."

"Yes. I feel the same, Hank. It was my intention not so long ago to provide a safe haven for mutant children, and now I've basically done the opposite of that…" said Charles

Again Hank took some time to respond. "Well…we'll just have to get him back then and get the school back open. He can be one of the first students. Won't that be fun?" said Hank breaking into a small smile.

Charles couldn't help but grin a bit in return, "Yes that does sound like it would be ambitious of us, doesn't it?"

Hank smiled wider and replied, "I know it's probably not prudent to bring this up now, but can we just take a moment to appreciate the fact that Peter is Erik's son. Erik, who is so focused, intense, and always has to be in control has Peter as a son! Peter, who is practically the embodiment of ADHD and hyperactivity. I mean, part of me can't help but think…justice." Hank finished struggling to contain and quiet his laughter.

Charles didn't have to be a mind reader to know that Hank wasn't being unkind. He was just truly reveling in the irony of the situation. It was quite funny, and Charles found himself chuckling too. It seemed even when he was nowhere near them, Peter had to power to bring joy to others.

Charles laughter slowly died out, as did Hank's. They had to find Peter. There was no other outcome that would be acceptable.

Pietro's POV

Pietro was exhausted. He lay face down on the old threadbare mat that was in his cell trying desperately to get some rest, but sleep wouldn't come.

After Stryker had gotten tired of electrocuting Pietro for no apparent reason, they'd forced him to strip down to his boxers, and sent him through a giant X-ray machine. That part wasn't so bad, it was the physical that was really embarrassing, as there were numerous doctors pocking and prodding him and ways that he was definitely not comfortable with.

After that he wasn't exactly sure what happened, but he reckoned they drugged him again and moved him to a different facility because he vaguely remembered waking up in the back of a vehicle with blacked out windows before someone had noticed he had opened his eyes and they jammed a needle into his neck forcing him back into unconsciousness.

Maybe he'd imagined it all, and they hadn't actually moved him, but he was pretty sure they had. He was probably in some remote location far from D.C…from his home…his family…

Whether they'd moved him to an entirely different location or just a building over, he might never know for certain, but when he woke again he was inside what resembled a giant indoor track. Then, before he'd even fully regained consciousness, they were forcing him to run. Round and round he went. Normally, Pietro loved running. To him, it was as easy as breathing, but they'd managed to take the joy out of it.

Although it was by far the largest track Pietro had ever seen, the fact was that he was still running in circles, which would've been bad enough, but that was the least of his frustrations. They took away his goggles, so he kept getting dust in his eyes, and whenever he stopped, they gave him a nice little shock followed by a verbal reminder that his family would pay for his disobedience, so each time Pietro fell, despite his scraps and bruises, he managed to pick himself up and keep going.

He didn't know how long he ran, he'd never had a good grasp of time, but he was running with very little sustenance in his body, zero proper sleep, and he couldn't keep it up for ever. It was only a matter of time before the inevitable happened. He fell for what felt like the hundredth time, and he just couldn't manage to get back up again, even when he was given a shock.

At some point his captors must've figured out that he was out of commission for the day because someone picked him up and threw him over his shoulder and carried him out of the indoor track down some hallways before dropping him none too gently onto an exam table and strapped him down.

Shortly after that, another individual in a white lab coat came in and before he knew what was happening it felt like he was being stabbed in his left arm repeatedly with a needle, which he realized after a moment was exactly what was happening. It wasn't extremely painful and definitely not the worst pain he'd ever experienced in his life, but it wasn't exactly enjoyable and certainly not how he imagined getting his first tattoo.

When the white coat finished, he saw that in fine meticulous print the word mutant had been etched into his forearm and directly below that was the number 713.

Guess that's one more thing I've got in common with my dad now.

Just as that thought formed in his head, he felt a burning and searing pain shoot threw his left arm and he let out a cry of pain as tears arose in his eyes. Biting his lip to keep from letting out any lingering screams, he turned his head and looked down at his other arm. In about the same location as the tattoo on his other arm, there was now an X that was about an inch and a half across and in height, branded into his arm.

Pietro felt a tear escape from his eye. Did they really have to brand him with a mark indicating the X gene? With his hair, skin, and now tattoo, was it really not obvious enough already what he was? But no. They had to add one more scar to his body. As if he didn't already have enough from the time in his childhood when he was force to bear the brunt of Bryan's rage.

Pietro closed his eyes and felt more tears leak from them, and then he felt someone lifting him again, but he was still too weary to do anything but let himself be tossed around like a ragdoll. He wished he had the energy to take in his surroundings as he was carried along, but his arm still felt like it was on fire, and all he could take in was white walls and more people in white coats. He thought he saw what looked like other cells at one point but he just couldn't get his mind to focus, so when he was dumped unceremoniously on the floor of a small bare room, it was all he could do to crawl over to the mat in the corner in lie there unmoving, as he poorly attempted to hold in sobs.

Erik will find me. My…my father will find me. He won't leave me here, wherever here is. He won't.

But as Pietro finally drifted into unconsciousness, he felt his hope faltering.

Ijustwanttogohome… I want to go home… I want to go home… I want to go home…I…want…to…go…home….

{Author's Note: I had a hard time deciding what number to use for Pietro's tattoo, but I didn't think it would be realistic to use a 6 digit number, so I just did another shout out to Harry Potter again. (Vault 713 anyone?). Questions, comments, concerns? Let me know. :) }