As it so happened, Pietro was fully awake and eating chili when his father and sister came to check up on him, and soon the Lensherr family drama was in full swing once again.
Not that it had taken much of a break…
"Perhaps if you called me or came to see me before this, the news wouldn't have come as such a shock." Erik told his children cheerfully. I did say 'perhaps', so technically I am not lying to them. "I didn't think you had any interest in my day-to-day life, so I never mentioned her." Leaving aside that I would never mention a one-night-stand to them…
"She doesn't want to marry you anyway!" exploded Pietro. "She said so!"
"You're misinterpreting and misrepresenting what she did say. For your benefit, Wanda, once Pietro had been as insulting as he could be without using four-letter-words, Grace made him, and you, a solemn promise. She made it to me as well, come to think of it. She and I will only live together, forgoing actual marriage, until such time as the two of you go to her and ask her to be my wife."
"What?" Wanda exclaimed. "That's supposed to be better somehow?"
"In some ways it is better. It would mean that she is with me, and stays with me, not out of any legal, religious, or social tie, but simply because she wants to be with me." Erik folded his arms, crossed his ankles and leaned against the infirmary wall. I missed my cue on relating to Pietro and Wanda long ago. Contrition got me nowhere. Outraging them gets much better results, and it's so much more enjoyable.
"But the only reason she's with you is because the 'voices in her head' are telling her to. Did either of them tell you about her 'voices'?" Pietro asked his sister.
"Yes, he did, on the way here. I think you're wrong to sneer at that, by the way. We met more than one seer among the Rom when Mama and Papa Maximoff were alive, remember?" Wanda looked at her brother.
"Yes, and at least half of them were frauds." Pietro, like his father, folded his arms, but he lacked his father's inherent dignity, and merely looked mulish rather than urbane. Being confined to bed did not help.
"But some of them weren't. I never heard of one who got so many messages so clearly and so regularly, but then they weren't mutants."
"At any rate," Magneto interrupted, "you're once again misinterpreting and misrepresenting what Grace said. Her voices are not the only reason she's with me, and it's not for my money or to have a father for her baby."
"Then I think I must have missed something." Pietro said, sourly.
"Very likely," his father returned. "Or it's a case of Freudian forgetfulness—you aren't remembering because you don't want to."
"All right. So what's the reason?" Wanda broke in.
"Sex," Erik said, with assurance.
What a beautifully stunned silence, he thought, as he looked at the horrified faces of his children.
"I really wish you hadn't said that." Wanda closed her eyes and shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose as she did so.
"Blame your brother. He brought it up."
"I did not. She didn't say any such thing!" Pietro blurted out.
"Yes, she did. She was being tactful. She said you wouldn't want to hear some of her reasons, because you'd be embarrassed and revolted to hear her talk about me like that."
"She was right." Wanda said. "I am embarrassed and revolted, and she's not even here. Please don't push this any further, Pietro. I don't want to know any of the details, and in the mood he's in, he'll give them to us."
"Hardly. A gentleman never tells." Erik smiled.
"Since when are you—." Pietro began, but his sister raised a hand.
"No, don't bait him. Just…don't."
"All right, all right."
"So now the question is, what would you need to have happen before you'll propose on my behalf?" Erik spread his arms and looked from his daughter to his son.
"Hell would have to freeze over." riposted Pietro.
"Don't be flippant, son. Your sister doesn't like it. Answer seriously. Are you going to keep your old man from living in sin, or not? Not that I believe it's sin, but you're considerably more shocked at the prospect than I am."
"I—Oh, this is absurd!" Wanda said. "Why are you doing this, anyway? You were with Mystique for so long—Of course. The baby."
"She hasn't told him if it's his or not." Pietro told her. "What does that say about her?"
"It says," their father interrupted, "that it is none of your business. Let us divorce this issue from me for a moment, and put this as a hypothetical case.
"For example, let us suppose it were someone else who told you that he was thinking of marrying Grace Engstrom, as she is today. Charles Xavier, for instance. He has just told you he is thinking of marrying her. Who is she, you want to know.
"He replies that at forty-seven, she is younger than he is, but she is middle-aged. She's very attractive and intelligent, a good listener, and she makes him laugh. Moreover, she can demonstrably get along with his students and staff—she can understand and feel sympathy for the Toad. She makes a decent bowl of chili—I notice you don't seem to have choked on yours, Pietro—and she can even charm as hostile a person as Callisto into helping out in the kitchen."
"Who is Callisto?" Wanda asked.
"You'll meet her later," her father told her. "Where was I? Ah, yes. What else, you ask. You wonder if she is marrying him for his money. He replies that she is a successful knitwear designer who has written four books, that she made nearly three hundred thousand dollars last year after taxes, and that her net worth is somewhere around two million. Her only apparent debt is a home equity loan which she took out to buy her Lexus. Money is not a significant factor, and in fact, she would prefer to keep their finances separate because she is independent. She has her pride, as much as he has his.
"However, he adds, she is pregnant. After eight years of yearning and failure, after countless visits to fertility clinics, treatment after treatment, at the age of forty-seven, she is pregnant for the first time. For a woman of her age and with her history, a second time is unlikely." A slight reassembling of the facts, but not inaccurate.
"Oh." Wanda said. She suddenly looked saddened. "I didn't know."
"But—." Pietro began, but Erik went on.
"Who is the father? If the man who wants to marry her is satisfied with the situation, does it matter? She is the woman he wants in his life. He is willing to take her as she is, for who she is, child and all, and help her raise it. Many families are formed by adoption and by second marriages. Many men love and raise children who are not theirs genetically, but are theirs by choice. Your own foster father, for example."
"Now you're making me feel bad." Wanda complained.
"Am I? That was not my intention. I was only trying to make you think. The Professor has now asked your opinion of the match. What would you say to him? You know no ill of Grace Engstrom. You know no good of her, either. You know nothing of her at all. That's not a rhetorical question. What would you say?"
"I guess I'd say I'd have to meet her." Wanda admitted. "You can't tell a thing about someone unless you know them yourself."
"You're twisting this all around," Pietro accused. "You're trying to trick us, like always."
"There's no trick involved, Pietro. I don't need your consent or permission to be with her. Or your approval. I merely wanted you to realize what you were doing. I'm not sure if there is any way in which you could apologize for your behavior, which was abominable—yours was not much better, Wanda—or make amends. The only factor which saved the situation is Grace's sense of humor. Most women, if they were received by a man's family as you received her, would have retreated to the nearest bathroom to sob her eyes red."
"I—all right. I'll apologize to her tomorrow. And I'll try to be nicer." Pietro scowled. "Don't expect me to propose to you for her."
"I'm not about to go that far, either." Wanda stated. "But I'll be friendier and more open-minded."
"That will be enough to make me happy. Do try to be sincere—and try to remember she is the injured party—not the other way around."
