I refused to look at Gambit as I climbed into the plane.

"Oh, come on. Don't be like that, Kid. Is obvious ta' anyone with half a brain cell."

The familiar buzz from my phone was both welcome and not. Why couldn't he have asked for me earlier? Then this wouldn't have happened!

A quick power walk took me up to the second floor of the plane. Turns out, some planes have those. I paused for a few seconds, steadying my heart rate. Then, carried on.

A left turn took me into the plane's private office area.

Oh great. Now I need to tell Father. Well, better to just say it. Lying will make things worse.

I located a chair and delivered the news "Gambit figured out that I'm your son."

Don't look down. He hates when I do that.

Daring to make eye contact I saw- nothing. He was just there, carefully examining a chess board. "Hmm… That's to be expected."

"That's it? That's your reaction?"

"Electron, I don't let just anyone on the teams that work with you. Your last mission was dangerous. When picking who'd be on your team, I had to choose between intelligence and low likelihood of discovering the truth."

And you chose intelligence. Wait, so if everyone I've worked with was smart enough to discover that you're my father? How did you handle that?

"Normally, measures are taken to ensure no one leaks this information, but as he will be working with us in the future, I believe the more extreme ones are…unnecessary."

He didn't elaborate, and I knew better than to ask. Still, my chest got heavy, and it was harder to breathe.

The plane rolled onto the runway, accelerating faster and faster until we were airborne. I said nothing the whole time, opting to play with a loose string on my chair.

"They're alive Electron." he said, sighing with exasperation "Intelligent, competent soldiers are hard to come by, killing them would've been wasteful."

"Oh. Good." Moments like this, when the air in my chest refuses to budge, and I speak in clipped short sentences were and are when I'm reminded of how (despite my attempts) different we are.

My father pressed a button, and had the staff bring breakfast to us. Then he turned to me,

"How is Cortex feeling about last night's mission?"

"Well, he's still freaked out and looks terrible. Not that I can blame him, it's —"

He interrupted me so I'd focus on something more important, "Did he use his telepathy?"

"Yes."

"Did he personally kill anyone?"

"...Yes. That's why he's so upset."

The other mutant nodded, "Good. What happened?"

Something about how he said 'good' made my right hand curl up into a fist. If he'd seen it, life would've gotten a lot worse for me. Good thing he didn't.

I explained what happened after we split up in greater detail.

My father nodded, drinking in the new information and contemplating how to best use it. "Very good. Cortex isn't suicidally pacifistic. He's willing to protect those he cares about, yourself included. Still, getting him to do so for the sake of all mutants might require a bit more… persuasion."

"Is something wrong?"

"Unfortunately, Cortex only agreed to fight and train with us for the sake of a now fulfilled mission. His soft-hearted idealism makes it unlikely he'll want to do another. Additionally, Charles' meddling makes the prospect of coercion impossible."

I felt so relieved when I heard that but buried these treasonous feelings deep down.

My leader then followed up with "Has he shown any signs that he won't do any more missions?"

"Umm. Not really. He hasn't said anything."

"Electron." How he was able to pack a lecture about not saying things like 'umm' into one word is beyond me.

Father didn't want Electron, his teenaged son, he wanted Electron, his loyal solider and heir. It was my fault for not noticing and switching gears. My answer was more forceful, assertive. "Sorry. There haven't been any signs of him wanting to quit."

My father nodded, pleased "I'll make arrangements for another mission. Despite his peaceful nature, I'm sure he'll be unable to refuse helping others, especially if you request it. Continue with your current work. You may leave."

I would've felt better if he'd just punished me for Gambit finding out.

I went downstairs, my breakfast floating behind me on a metal tray. What did I see? Jacob staring at the chair ahead of him, meal untouched. Suddenly, a sense of awareness hit him, and he waved a hand and hastily added a smile, and I sat across from him in a booth. A small wave brought my meal over.

"Sooo…What happened? You look like a kicked puppy."

Damnit.

I was getting riled up again over nothing. I shouldn't inconvenience my friend like that. It was too early for that.

All jobs have terrible things about them. I'm overreacting.

"Talked with Father..."

"Oh. Probably about me. Sorry about that." There was a lull of silence.

Jacob didn't like that. "What did he say?"

"Jacob, and I both know I'm not allowed to talk about it." Thankfully, He left it alone.

A certain trench coat wearing man chose this moment to sit next to me, blocking all escape paths. "Done bein' mad at me Electroboy?"

"I wasn't."

"Hmmm."

The remainder of the flight was spent playing Cero with Jacob, and watching Gambit perform card tricks that impressed even me (though I tried to hide it) and playing a co-op video game.

The drive home from the airport was plagued by a bad feeling, which turned out to be right when I saw the disrespectful card user walk to a nearby house, key in hand.

Great, we're neighbors.

Jacob, seeing my frown, decided to focus on other things. "What happens now? What do you guys do after a mission?"

"I don't work the day after a mission. Not usually anyway. The others? It depends. Father works pretty much every day though."

"Really? Ok. How about we go out then?"

One of the few good things that came from my mission of recruiting Jacob was that my father didn't bother me when we went out. So, I was able to regain a lot of the old freedom I'd lost after being kidnapped. He wouldn't ask about if I'd studied enough for a test or complain that I didn't check in perfectly on schedule. I only needed to text him that we were leaving and keep my GPS on.

On this adventure, we brought Watts. It just didn't seem right not to. I'd been away for a whole day plus his pawing at the windows was impossible to ignore.

After our excursion, Jacob stayed for dinner and then the night. Despite having plenty of guest rooms, as always, I floated the bed from the guest room into mine.

Rather than being jolted by an alarm, I was awoken by the howls of a ticked off beagle yelling right in my ear. Watts took no pity on the innocent and trotted to the other bed and woke Jacob up too.

"Ah! Watts, are you ok?" He did a quick inspection of the canine pacing from one bed to another." But you're fine."

The yelling persisted. Getting louder now that he saw we were both up.

A glance at my phone explained it. The time was 8:35. We'd overslept by three hours meaning Mr. Watt's breakfast had been delayed 5 minutes. A crime against all beagle-kind.

The yells evolved into typical beagle baying, and we moved as if we shared one mind- Jacob distracted the World's Cutest Alarm Clock with treats and I went to the fridge and took out the dog food I'd prepared for the week. Within minutes, our torment was at an end.

From there, I scurried to my room and threw on some workout clothes. Once I was prepared, the sight of my still unready friend was enough to give me a heart attack. He was still wearing pajamas!

"Think we still have training?"

"Yes! Now get dressed."

Jacob looked around "It's way after we should've started, think he might've just… forgot?"

I tossed his training clothes at him, "No. No way. Get your ass in gear. I put your bag in the corner."

Yes, it was harsh. But in my defense, since Jacob was new, he wasn't expected to know anything and was thus responsible for nothing. And since I had the experience he lacked, I was responsible for him. Anything he did or didn't do was my fault.

As we rushed to my father's study, excuses and explanations came to mind. But all of them failed to explain away an error of this magnitude.

From behind me I heard the telepath say "Don't look like that. We probably just have the day off."

I took a breath, pushed my hair back a bit so it was presentable and knocked on the door.

"Enter."

My mouth opened as and no doubt I would've said something like an apology. But Jacob beat me to it.

"Morning Magneto. Hey, do you want any of the scrambled eggs I'm making? I'm making some pancakes too."

Breakfast? We're an hour and a half late for training and he thinks we still get breakfast?

"No, but thank you for the offer. Be ready to start in an hour."

Jacob nods and we turn to go.

"Electron, I still need to speak with you."

Fear claws at my insides and Jacob asks me "two slices of cheese, right?"

"Yea. two." I say. He nods and goes out the room.

Just as been trained to, I pushed my fear aside and looked him in the eye "I apologize for our tardiness."

"Don't be. Today training will be shorter, so we aren't too far off schedule. I was considering giving you laps for your lateness, but the dog's wailing was punishment enough."

After 'training', which was only half an hour (so little more than a warmup), my friend left.

I was summoned to the study again. I noticed that my father seemed different. His lip corners were angled upward a few degrees too many, something most would never pick up on. but I did. This was his happy face. However, one had to be careful, a few more degrees on top of that and you'd also get a happy face but with a more… homicidal intent.

"Electron, there's a package on the table. Open it."

I turned the brown envelope over. Strange. It lacked an address.

Then how did it get- Not important.

It was firm, filled with paper. By touch I knew the largest document in the back dwarfed the others.

I fished out a sheet "State of Illinois… N-Name Change Recognition Letter?'" My hands started shaking.

"Indeed." He said with that rare tone he only had when smiling, "Keep reading."

I nodded quickly "'This document certifies that the state of Illinois recognizes the minor called Chris Alster is hereby Chris Lensheer.' What?"

"The paperwork finally went through. It was going to take longer, but I had it expedited."

I couldn't say anything. Sure, I'd asked him to change my name but, seeing it in person was another thing altogether. This was all I'd ever wanted. Proof that he actually cared about me, that his kindness wasn't a passing whim. And now, all the proof I needed was right there.

"There's more." he said

All I could do was nod and take out the other largest paper. It was blue with several anti-forgery seals. I knew what this was.

I stared at him, and he said, "I had your birth certificate updated as well. Go on, read it."

"Certificate of live birth. Child's name: Chris Lensheer. Sex: Male, County: Cook, Father's name: Erik Lensheer… Father you didn't have to." Why was there heat behind my eyes? No way was I tearing up.

"You're right. I didn't have to. I wanted to." His grin turned into a proper smile. "You deserve the security of knowing that I'm serious about my role as your parent."

I blinked rapidly, my eyes struggling against clear tides "But wouldn't that-"

"Expose my identity? Hardly, Charles had those records destroyed ages ago."

It took all I had to not crush the certificate given how much my hands trembled. "I didn't know you could change the name of a parent on a birth certificate."

"It's standard practice when you adopt a child."

I said nothing, but my smile told him all he needed to know. This was so like him. I'd ask for very little fearing rejection, and he did something much grander. Always knowing what I wanted but wouldn't outright say.

"I never half do things, Electron. Certainly not when it involves you."

"T- thank you."

"No, thank you. You've been a wonderful son to me. It's a difficult task to ensure I match you with my own fatherly abilities."

I did a quick nod and a bit of blinking. There was no need to look ridiculous. I was getting too old for that. "So, I'm your kid now?"

"You were already my child before, but now, the human's laws recognize it as well. I won't need Mystique shapeshifting into your mother for important matters anymore."

"Good." A chuckle forced out tears. A deft dodging maneuver kept those precious papers dry.

A moment passed with me just staring at the certificate. My gaze going from my new last name Lensheer to how the name 'Erik Lensheer' casually lived under the section: Father's name. As if it had always been there. It belonged there. It felt like something wrong had been made right. The two of us were the same, connected though our shared mutant power.

An explosion of energy from within sent me flying (literally) across the room and into his arms. Three hugs within the same month? That was unusually high.

"I'm your son. I can't- I can't believe you've decided to to-"

"Yes. You're my son. And I'm your father." He ruffled my hair. "Tomorrow, you will go to your college campus and get a new id card and dispose of your old one. This has already been done with your driver's license."

Despite my face cramping, I couldn't stop smiling as I looked up at him.

Eventually, we let go. When I opened my wallet up, I saw that the name on my driver's license was indeed different. When did he switch them out?

"Besides your other identifying documents, there's some paperwork that certifies your adoption, and others that eliminates your mom's parental rights."

"Oh." Of course something had to kill my happiness.

"It wasn't hard to have her rights removed. As she's an unfit mother."

My nails dug trenches into my palms, and everything began to shake. Staplers, pencils, and paperclips rose into the air and spun around in a mini tornado.

"Electron!"

The shaking stopped, and the objects hit the ground with a thud. He only sighed "You have to stop your idealization of your mother. Nothing that I said about her was a lie or an insult, only an acknowledgment of reality."

I didn't want to talk back, but it ended up happening anyway, "Right of course. It's just. She always tried —"

"Trying doesn't mean she succeeded. Regardless of how much she loves you, she's still incapable of being a responsible parent." He shook his head "No matter, let's not focus on that. Today's a day for celebration. After I'm done with work, we'll leave home and spend the day together."

Silence followed his words. I shut my eyes and forced my feelings down.

"I'd like that. I'm sorry for acting childishly."

"Take us to 8660 East Rockaway St."

"Yes sir." The driver disappeared behind a movable wall.

The absurdly expensive and luxurious car rumbled forward, going past extravagant houses, equally fancy cars and rolling over yellow leaves.

The street name caught my interest, "East Rockaway? We haven't been there before."

"We haven't. I've been meaning to take you for a while though."

Another smile randomly bubbled to the surface. "It's so weird. Like, It's just a piece of paper. And yet."

A flash of orange wafted into my sight. A quick snatch and crunching noise later, I had in my possession a (slightly damaged) leaf.

"You're right. The documents are just sheets of paper. It's what they represent that matters so much to you… and me."

"I can't believe I thought you'd want to disown me. Pretty weird to talk about now." I'd seen plenty of other leaves of the same hue and size and yet it seemed to shine brighter and be far more precious than any other. With a smile, I let the wind carry it away.

"It's fine. Given your experiences. it makes sense you'd feel that way." He gave my arm a reassuring squeeze. My reply didn't need words. Just a smile.

The restaurant was situated in a building that shined: spotless floors, marble fountains and fancy flower bouquets. It had to have been the fanciest place we'd ever visited — and my father isn't known for frequenting fast food eateries.

My footsteps ceased. Even dressed in my best clothes, I couldn't help but feel out of place. Being there felt wrong, unnatural. And surely other people could see how much I didn't belong. Places like these weren't for people like me. The exit wasn't too far, if I'd just slipped out the back...

"Chris?"

"Coming," I caught up to my parent. A hand clasped onto my left shoulder and melted the unease away.

The manager of the restaurant rushed over to us.

"Mr. Lensheer, it's good to see you again. And you've brought a young guest."

"He's my son."

"Really? Well, we'll be sure to give him a good time. Please, follow me."

Like he so often did, he arranged for us to eat in a private room.

Rather than order meals, they bring all sorts of dishes to your table, and if you didn't like what was on offer, they'd just make whatever you want on the spot! Yes, I'd been to places like this before, but the whole concept still blew my mind.

The morning was comfortable, filled with sarcastic joking, easy conversations and smiles I just couldn't stop. And when my father helped me pronounce the names of several French dishes with a small smile tugging at his lips, I knew I was wanted.

My father shared my feelings, his smaller, less frequent and short-lived smiles told me all I needed to know. And when he thought I wasn't looking, I got to see other emotions too- astonishment that gave way to wariness and determination.

Having a new last name overnight had its complications. Often, when someone said Mr. Lensheer, I didn't respond. Adding junior to the end didn't help either. Surely, they couldn't be talking to me. Mr. Lensheer was what the humans called my father when we went out. Mr. Lensheer was the name of my grandfather. It wasn't something that had anything to do with me.

After this had happened at least five times I asked, "Think I should ask them to call me Chris instead?"

"No." My father said firmly " Electron, it's your name too now. It'll simply take time to get used to it. Just as with your mutant name."

He continued "Remember how after you chose the name Electron, you'd not realize that others were calling for you?"

"Right. Once Toad got some ice cream. But I thought he was on the phone with someone else, it had already melted before I realized it was for me."

Both of us started laughing.

"A shame. What happened to your ice cream. But I'm sure it was a valuable lesson."

"Definitely." my smile faded "And again, thank you for letting me have your last name."

"No, thank you. It's been… decades since I've last shared a surname with anyone." For the sake of his pride, I pretended I didn't hear the gloom at then. Pretended not to see how his face slumped and drooped. But only for a second. It was a reminder that I could do only so much. No matter how much I wanted to annihilate the hurt he felt inside, like any other enemy. But none of my blows could ever land.

The waiters fixed the name issue by calling me 'Young Mr. Lensheer,' and my father 'Mr. Lensheer'.

Our next stop was a technology museum and since he'd booked the whole museum, we were the only visitors there! It was a gigantic shrine to modernity, tracing the origin of machines from the first Industrial Revolution to cars and the internet today. Many times when a tour guide's back was turned, Father would move the gears of a machine himself; a more 'hands-on demonstration' if you will.

I was a bit torn, on one hand, would turning on a locomotive from the 1880's break it? On the other hand, the joy of feeling every nut and bolt and lever go up and down and swing left and right scratched a magnetokinetic itch that modern technology with its many electric circuits couldn't.

After that, we went to a local amusement park, where we were, once again, the only visitors. Yup, there was a pattern. He doesn't like crowds. And no, he did not get on any rides. I tried though.

I got on so many roller coaster rides so often that my father mandated at least 10 minutes of ground time for every three rides. No exceptions. It could've been the biggest ride in the park or a tiny carousel. Yes, I tried to convince him that this was unnecessary. And no, he didn't listen.

For lunch, he had some what he called 'real food' brought in. This lunch was also not optional, and due to it, I had to wait even longer before I could go on rides again.

It wasn't a bad thing since we could talk some more. I asked him questions about his childhood. What were his parents like? What was his favorite toy, and he even answered my questions. The answer to the first one: loving but his dad was strict, and Mom balanced him out. As for the second one, his favorite toy was a teddy bear he named Wilhelm.

I had to take a second to process that second factoid. Of course, I knew in the logical parts of my brain that my father was at one point a child and given that it made sense he had a stuffed bear. But killing hundreds of anti-mutant goons, turning their bases into bonfires and intentionally recording it to be broadcast around the country to both make me feel better and intimidate whoever was holding me, didn't fit with the image of a boy who took his stuff bear everywhere. His mother had even made the toy a backpack for school out of rags.

Knee deep in memory he recalled while we sat on a bench "When my friends had all gotten sick with measles, for a while, it was just Wilhelm and I. We'd ride my bike for hours, running errands for my mother, racing other boys, and stealing treats from the baker."

"Without paying? I'm sure the baker loved you."

"I'm sure he did. I had thought I'd been stealthy, but there was no doubt he'd heard me each time. And yet he only tanned my hide around the end of the month, when bills were due."

The image of my father being a neighborhood boy that was indulged by the adults around him despite the trouble he got up to was mind boggling. And familiar…

It turned into a longer conversation about his younger years, and he began telling stories about the kinds of 'extracurricular activities' he got into after he left the camps.

"Electron, I would have killed that man. I would have. For what he'd done, for being an accomplice to their crimes by sheltering that gold."

"Why didn't you?"

"I- I'd seen a picture. On his desk of a little girl. No doubt his. While his crimes warranted death. It didn't to me at time warrant my making a child a half orphan." He shook his head. "I was young then, young and foolish. Even then I didn't understand what was truly necessary…"

Interrogating a banker in Switzerland, going to Argentina and interrogating local Nazi's in hiding? It sounded like something out of a movie.

But all that lead to one big question. Why? Why do this?

He'd been freed from the camps, then studied hard and completed high school 2 years early. This was despite losing years of education to the camps and being behind when he returned. This was also despite being bullied by other kids for being Jewish with the added bonus of being bullied for living with 'dirty gypsies'.

He'd been offered admission to the best school in the country and hadn't even applied. He then went to school and majored in electrical engineering, passed with flying colors. Went and got his master's in electrical engineering, passed with flying colors. Then he went to college again and studied French, Russian, and English- at the same time and graduated with an unorthodox franken-degree that he'd bugged the university into allowing him to pursue. Ironically, this degree became the foundation of the University's Language Studies degree, a must for aspiring translators and interpreters. Especially those who want to work for the UN. It's also known to be, and I quote from a German internet comment 'a degree for masochists'.

Local recruiters from various engineering firms wanted him to work for them. And he'd gotten mysterious letters in the mail asking him to go to meetings for a chat. Why? To join the local intelligence service who needed all the help they could get with the actual carrying out of denazification. And this wasn't including the offers he'd gotten of research positions at universities in Germany, America and more.

Then, out of nowhere, when the whole world was opening up to him, at around the age of 25, he ups and leaves. At the time, he hadn't even been married to my grandmother meaning my sister hadn't yet died. So why? Why uproot your entire life?

I got an answer Shaw. Sebastien Shaw. Just two words.

After a tense silence he then said "I was… finally strong enough. Or at least I thought I was..."

A full minute of silence passed. He then said "Electron, you can go back to riding the coaster rides."

I took the hint.

Fun fact: Wilhelm is the name of the last German emperor and king. So it makes sense Magneto would name his buddy after him. Now I want to write a story about their crazy adventures riding around, causing trouble, and stealing treats. Also, the image of kid Magneto being tucked in by his Mom and cuddling a teddy that I have in my head is so so cute!