{Author's Note: Thank you again for those who left reviews and for your input. I will work on getting them back to their own world ASAP. It still might take a chapter or two just because there are a few things I want to fit in, but don't worry it will be coming. Bad Ass Female Fighter: to answer your question, though it's an interesting idea, they won't meet a young Al in this story. If Doctor Who has taught me anything, it's that time travel is tricky, so I don't really want them crossing their own timeline. Lol and also, young Al wouldn't fit in with where the story is going. Anyway, here's the next chapter. Please enjoy, and feel free to share any thoughts you have!}

WANDA POV

It had been two weeks since Wanda had hurled her family out of their own universe. Two weeks since she'd gotten her brother back, or what was left of him, for the boy she, Erik, and the others had "saved" from the hell that was that government facility, wasn't the same boy she had left at their home in D.C. over a year ago.

The first couple of days after their rescue mention, Pietro hadn't done much more than sleep. He was only conscious when Erik felt it necessary to wake him up in order to get some sustenance in him and help him to the bathroom. It was fortunate then that in his short-lived moments of consciousness, Pietro was eating whatever they put in front of him, at least with their help. He seemed only to be consuming what they served him more out of habit than actual cognizance of what he was doing.

Neither of Erik nor Wanda had expected Pietro to be completely fine, especially with Wanda's insight from her latest use of Cerebo, but she expected…something. Nothing could have prepared her for the emptiness in Pietro's eyes, and despite hers and Erik's and even on occasion Al's—though he respected their privacy—persistent attempts to coax some sort of dialogue out of Pietro, he had remained silent.

She felt like she had tried everything to get Pietro to talk. She'd reassured him he was safe. She talked to him about all of the music he liked, and tried to get him to reprimand her for her lack of knowledge. She shared stupid jokes their old math teacher used to tell that in school would make them both cringe. Heck, she'd even droned on about the weather, which in Iowa even though it was toward the end of the summer was apparently still freaking hot.

But nothing had worked. In the rare moments when Pietro would even make eye contact, he would just stare at her, or more accurately, stare through her, as Wanda wasn't sure he was even seeing her.

His silence was….disconcerting to say the least. The visible bruises, brand, broken bones, and scars were awful, and sometimes she felt—and she was positive that it wasn't just her imagination—the physical pain along with Pietro, but she didn't mind. She'd take all of his pain if she could.

But despite all of those corporeal injuries, Wanda had accepted them and she could handle them, even though, despite her protests that she could help, Erik never let her see the full extent of Pietro's injuries when he changed his bandages, she knew Pietro could too.

She knew Pietro could handle pain. Their step-uncle had made sure of that when he, what felt like a lifetime ago, had made it his mission to make Pietro's life a living hell, that is until they'd finally escaped his reach and Wanda had ultimately destroyed him. All of that she could handle. What she couldn't handle was the silence.

Even in the midst of his worst times in childhood and before he'd developed his powers, Pietro had always been a chatterbox, while Wanda had been the more reserved and reclusive twin. Though the topics changed throughout the years, Pietro could go on and on about at about a million miles per minute about anything and everything: "Wanda! Why do they call tulips two-lips? They don't even have one lip? I don't get it. Wanda! Did you know that hummingbirds' wings beat up to 80 times per second? That's actually pretty fast for a little guy. I respect that. Wanda! Why is the sky blue? Do you think it's sad? Wanda! Did you know that Mark Twain's real name is Samuel Langhorne Clemens? Wanda! Do you think if I ran fast enough I could make it across the ocean? Then I'd practically be Jesus! On second thought, maybe that wouldn't be a good idea. I mean Jesus could calm the waves, but I'd probably just crash right into them. Wanda! Did you know the song 'American Pie' is about Buddy Holly? Depressing, am I right? Wanda! How mad do you think mom would react if I stole an arcade machine? I mean if I could get away with stealing it in the first place, she actually might be pretty impressed. Don't ya think? I guess maybe not. Wanda! Do you think our dad was an alien? Wanda!..."

At times it used to drive her insane, but now she regrets every time she told him to shut up because she was one of the only people that could actually understand him when he spoke so fast, or maybe she only understood him because when he talked to her, he actually cared enough to make an effort to speak slow enough to be understood.

She just hated it. She hated what those psychos had done to Pietro. She hated that she didn't know what to do to help him. She hated that despite the fact that her brother was right in front of her, she still messed him, and for that, she hated herself. She was careful to never let her brother see that hate though. In his current state, Wanda feared that he would wrongly assume that hatred was directed at him. That is, if he noticed it at all.

At least she wasn't alone in her hatred of the whole situation. She could tell that it was eating her father up inside too. Her father…out loud, she still called him Erik, but in her own head, sometimes she found she didn't mind thinking of him that way. But Erik had had no more luck than her in getting Pietro to open up.

This shared struggle didn't mean she was able to completely keep all of that anger and hate inside of her though. After one particular, depressing failure of trying to get Pietro to say anything at all, she'd not had been able to contain her emotions. She had recounted to Pietro the memory of shortly after they'd developed their powers, when as a coping mechanism they had dubbed themselves Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch because at 11 years old, those names seemed pretty dope. She was positive it would make him start ranting in defense of their chosen names, or at least crack a smile. But he remained as impassive as ever.

That's when she had walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs as calmly as possible to not disturb Pietro, before finally letting out a brief scream in frustration in what she thought was the empty kitchen. In her anger, of course her powers had flared up and red energy had shattered a couple of coffee mugs on the kitchen counter and had probably showed in her eyes as well. She felt a little better after her outburst but when she looked up, she noticed Al had been standing in the opposite entry way of the kitchen the entire time.

He looked like he was in shock for a moment, but then he just seemed to accept it before telling her not to worry about the mugs. They were old anyway, and she had just saved him from having to clean them.

Al was great that way, taking everything in stride and not questioning the how, not even when it was clear that even though psychologically Pietro wasn't getting much better, physically his leg and other wounds were healing far more rapidly than should be possible for a normal human being. Al even managed to get Pietro some crutches, though her brother had barely used them except when she or Erik gently forced him to get out of bed and walk around a bit for exercise, at a normal pace that is, or come downstairs to eat with him. Whether because he didn't want to or couldn't manage it, Pietro had yet to burst into super speed, though he did seem to shiver at an alarming rate or turn his head abruptly at loud noises on occasion.

Overall, for the very brief duration of their stay thus far, Al had been as welcoming as anyone who liked to give the appearance of being a grumpy old man could be. Since, it wasn't clear to anyone how long they would be in this alternate dimension, he had told his hired farm hands that Erik was his nephew, and he and his kids—who were home schooled, as the local school year had already begun—were staying with him for awhile, while his son recovered from a life threatening illness.

Erik and Wanda hadn't really discussed the fact that they were in an alternate dimension, not too mention in 2015, beyond their brief conversation when Wanda had first pulled them all there. Despite the atrocities that had happened to her brother back in their own universe, Wanda really did want to return to their world. The one they were currently in just didn't feel right. Maybe it was the feeling of aloneness, knowing that there were no other mutants out there besides Erik and Pietro, but whatever the case may be, she knew Erik likely felt the same way, though he had not brought it up, nor hinted in anyway for her to take them back.

Honestly, Wanda didn't even know if she could get them back, and that scared her a little, but she had brought them here, so she reasoned she had the power to take them back somewhere inside of her. She would get them all home soon. Once Pietro had recovered a little more… physically at least. She just hoped that was what her brother wanted, to go home. Even after all he had been through, Wanda felt in her heart that if Pietro were in his right mind, he'd still want to go home…back to Mila…back to where their mother,…and more recently their aunt had died.

But for now they would get by in this strange world. Surprisingly, disregarding Pietro's current predicament, Erik was handling their stay with the famer, who was essentially a stranger to them, fairly well. He had even taken to helping out with chores around the farm because Erik was the type of person who would never accept charity from anyone, no matter how dire the circumstances. But like Wanda, Erik's top priority was Pietro, and neither of them left him alone for more than a minute.

In fact, even though there were enough bedrooms in the house for all of them, Erik and Wanda traded off sleeping on an air mattress on the floor in Pietro's bedroom and sleeping in the bedroom just across the hall. Wanda hadn't even wanted to be that far from Pietro every other night. She didn't care if she had to sleep on the bare floor boards, but Erik had insisted that she needed to rest too. Wanda had used the same argument against him, and the result was the aforementioned compromise.

So one night she would sleep across the hall from her brother, or more accurately lie awake for hours wondering why people were so cruel before finally falling asleep, and the next night she would lie awake on the floor next to her brother's bed listening or unsuccessfully trying to quell her brother's night terrors, wondering with all the more ferocity why people were so cruel.

ERIK POV

Erik was tired of feeling helpless. Tired of watching his son suffer and not being able to do anything to help him. Erik was just…tired.

Yes, Pietro's physical wounds were healing, and Erik was becoming more confident that with time his son would be able to run just as fast as ever, maybe even within another week or so at the rate his recovery was going. But Erik knew Pietro carried wounds that he couldn't see, and Erik wished he could carry them for him, even though God knows he already carried a fair amount of his own.

Erik had let—No—he made himself forget long ago, what it was like to be a father. He had had to, after Anya's death, or he wouldn't have made it. But over the past few months, while getting to know Wanda and painstakingly searching for Pietro, he had begun to remember what it was like to be a father: to want to give your kids the whole world, yet shield them from all of its horrors.

But just as with Anya, he had failed again. Failed to protect his child. But this time, he wasn't going to walk away. Even though he didn't know how to help Pietro, he would never stop trying, which is why he was currently lying on his back on the air mattress next to Pietro's bed staring at crack in the old ceiling above him, listening for the inevitable noise of his son's muffled screams from whatever demons plagued him that night.

And so that had been his routine for the past couple of weeks, except for the nights when Wanda's stubbornness had forced him across the hall. Though they both always shut the bedroom door of Pietro's room in attempt to prevent the sounds of Pietro's screams from carrying downstairs and awakening the old farmer, Erik would keep his door open, so he would hear Wanda or Pietro in the unlikely event that they explicitly called for him. But he also left his door open on the nights he was supposed to be resting, so that he would hear each one of Pietro's cries, and they would be a constant reminder to him that he had to do everything in his power to prevent those horrors from happening again.

Erik was suddenly jolted from his thoughts as Pietro let out a piercing scream. Erik bolted upright and started to stand, intending to attempt to wake up Pietro while avoiding his flailing limbs.

Just as Erik got to his feet, a blur that was Pietro zipped by him and crashed into the room's back wall. Once Erik recovered from the momentary shock of Pietro's use of super speed—which had yet to happen amid Pietro's night terrors or while he was awake—Erik turned to look at Pietro who was sitting on the wooden floor with his back and hands spread against the wall visibly still very afraid of whatever he saw in his nightmares, but Pietro's eyes were now open, so at least in some sense the boy was now awake.

Erik slowly started to approach Pietro with his arms out, palms facing Pietro, trying to appear nonthreatening, because during the minutes when Pietro woke from his night terrors he was always very jumpy.

"Pietro…" said Erik. His voice a little more than a whisper. Getting no response, adverse or otherwise, Erik cautiously continued to approach his son before kneeling down before him. Erik glanced first at Pietro's leg, making sure it was still securely wrapped in its brace despite traveling at super speed. Satisfied, Erik looked back at his son's face, which was even paler than normal and much gaunter than Erik would have liked. Although the last two weeks had helped him gain back some of the weight he had lost, Pietro was still extremely thin, which was saying something since he had already been a slim kid before the facility.

"Pietro." Erik repeated watching in despair as rapid shivers coursed through his son's body and his eyes darted around, tracking unseen threats. Taking a risk, as he knew physical contact could likely cause Pietro to panic more, Erik gently placed one of his hands on the back of Pietro's neck.

"Pietro, bitte mein Sohn. Was auch immer Sie sehen, ist es nicht wirklich. Mir zuhören1

It. Is. Not. Real." Erik pleaded with Pietro, desperately trying to break through the hold that that place had left on him, and to his utter surprise, after a moment, Pietro's shivers stopped, and he looked directly at his father.

"No." said Pietro in a clear steady voice. "It. Was. Real. AllOfIt. It happened. Mom's death happened. My perverted sicko step-unclehappened. Aunt Marya's murder happened. That place happened. It all happened, and there's nothing you can do about it. And it's still happening, in my head. Every time I close my eyes, it will always be there, and—andI'llAlwaysBeDamaged." Pietro finished, his words rushing together at the end while his hands came away from their death grip on the wall to cover his face as he broke into a sob.

Erik was in shock from Pietro's sudden unexpected vocalness and tears. The last time he had heard Pietro's voice had been back at the facility when the boy had called out for his father in fear. Throughout the entire past two weeks Pietro had not uttered a single word nor had he shed a tear. He had just…existed in a state empty of emotion, except when he was caught up in his nightmares, so when Pietro finally spoke and showed any emotion at all, Erik was so surprised and happy that it took him a moment to actually comprehend what his son had said. When he did, that happiness faded quickly.

"Oh Pietro." Said Erik over Pietro's silent choking sobs. "You're right. It did all happen, and I'm sorry because I should've stopped it. I should have stopped all of it. But your wrong about that last bit. You're not damaged. Do you hear me? Pietro look at me." Erik gently grabbed both of Pietro's arms and lowered them away from the boy's face before putting his own hands on each side of his son's facing, gently forcing Pietro to look at him.

"You. Are. Not. Damaged. They are the damaged ones. Those people—if you can even call them that—who would take a child from his home and his family and torture him to no end, they are the ones that have something broken inside them. They are the lesser beings. You, my son,
Sie sind ein Wunder.2"

As Erik finished, Pietro's sobs reduced to small sniffles, and he lowered his hands then went and sat down beside Pietro against the wall, hesitating only a heartbeat before putting an arm around the boy.

Pietro leaned back, putting his head against Erik's shoulder before saying, "I don't feel very wonderful. I just feel…I don't know. I just wish I couldn't feel anything at all…"

"Pietro." Began Erik. "I can't make what happened to you go away. I wish more than anything that I could, but I can't. And I know it doesn't change what happened to you, but I met a monster among men in my young life too. Who made me…do things and become someone I didn't like. For awhile, your mother and Anya helped me escaped the memories of that person and calm my mind, but after your sister died, I didn't let myself feel the loss. I only let myself feel the anger, so that person I didn't like came back…You have to let yourself feel it Pietro. Feel the losses, the pain, everything. That's the only way you can move on, but you don't have to do it alone. God knows if I hadn't found out about you and your sister…well let's just say I wouldn't want you are Wanda around the type of person I used to be."

Pietro gave one more sniffle and then wiped his eyes with one hand. "It's just not fair." said Pietro leaning his head back against Erik again.

"I know, Pietro. I'm sorry." said Erik resting his chin on his son's head and pulling the boy closer. A few minutes passed and Erik thought Pietro had perhaps fallen back to sleep, and he was just considering carrying the boy back to the bed when Pietro said and a quiet sleepy whisper, "Erik?"

"Yes, mein Sohn?3" replied Erik.

"Thanks for coming to get me."

Erik smiled sadly to himself. "You don't need to thank me, Pietro. I only wish I had gotten there sooner, or better yet, stopped it from happening in the first place, but you have my word, Pietro. I will always come when you need me…Try to sleep now, Pietro. You need to rest."

Even as he was finishing speaking, Erik felt Pietro's head began to nod forward as he drifted into sleep, but not before he heard a small voice say, "Gute nacht, Vati.4"

Erik felt a rush of love for his son run through him. It had been a long time since anyone had called Erik Vati. Sure, Pietro had called him dad back at the facility, but that wasn't quite the same. To be called dad in his native tongue reminded Erik that despite how much worry and anxiety it caused him, just how much he missed being a father. And in that moment he wondered how he could have ever forgotten.

1: Pietro, please my son. Whatever you are seeing, it isn't real. Listening to me.

2: You are a wonder.

3: my son

4: Good night, dad.

{Author's Note: You might've noticed that some of the dialogue in this chapter is inspired by Supernatural, The Walking Dead, and 11/22/63, so can't take credit for those lines, and props to those shows for being awesome. If I wanted to be cruel, I feel like this chapter could almost act as an ending to this story because the last line ties in the title nicely, but don't worry it doesn't end here! Much more to come }