Chapter Text
"You don't believe me." Andros clasped one hand over the other.
"You know what," Nick Fury sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're right. I don't believe it. I don't believe that you're a time traveler from another dimension. I don't believe that someone told you that the world is ending, and you're the one destined to save it—"
"I never said anything about destiny," said Andros with a amused grin. "I just said something dangerous came to this world and I'm here to help."
"And what sort of danger would we need help with?
As soon as Fury asked, a voice came to Andros. A faint hand brushed against the nape of his neck, as did the cold breath.
Careful, dear. Some things are meant to be kept secret.
Andros shrugged. "I'm in the dark as much as you."
Captain Rogers smiled, but his eyes were wary. "Don't worry, son. We'll keep you safe." He placed a hand on the newcomer's shoulder.
Be warned, child. Not everyone is looking out for your well-being.
Andros smiled and nodded, all for her.
Mother rarely talked to him anymore. It was nice to know she was doing well.
Wanda frowned, red wafting off her fingertips. Andros felt something tickled his ear, but it was batted away before it could become anything more than a faint itch. Wanda seemed a bit perturbed, but stayed silent.
Wanda continued to glare at him sulkily. She hadn't taken her eyes off him since she failed to read his mind.
Careful, little one. A light draft kissed his ear and a warm pressure rested on his shoulder. That one is strong. Unskilled, perhaps. A bit mad. But very strong.
The book seemed to scream for attention, reaching out and clawing at whatever was nearby.
Andros reached out, fingers twitching.
That is not meant for you, his hand stilled as a warmth rested on his fingers. Be patient, child. He frowned.
He crossed his arms. "You want to tell me what that was about?"
I should asking that of you, there was a heaviness in the air, a heat that he was familiar with in his youth. What entitled you to that madness?
"I'm old enough to make my own choices," his voice carried an edge to it. "You can't just jump in everything I do something you don't like."
A brittle giggle was all he got. I'm just an observer from a distant seat. You continue to encounter a great many of magics, four spindly fingers combed through his hair before coming to a rest on the crown of his head. You know the effect they can have on you. You know what they say about temptation...
He huffed, dropping his arms to his side. "I never took you for a bible-thumper," a light laugh reverberated through his skull. His hair was ruffled, before being combed again.
Just remember this, the pressure let up, then returned and let up in a vapid pattern before fading. For I will not always be there to guide you.
He was in a place without any walls or ceilings, the air filled with the creaks and scurries along the nonexistent corners. He looked down, only to find that he rested not on a floor, but a thick and gravelly mist. In the distance was a great mountain with a glowing hole at its base. As he advanced, he heard laughter coming from the cave. It wasn't the malicious or gloating, but warm and childish. There was a second voice that followed the stream of giggles, gravelly chuckles that sounded like bending wood.
He peaked in. The mouth of the cave was guarded by stalagmites and stalactites, smiling welcoming was they lured him to the mossy grotto within. There were two figures sitting at the edge of a small pond, a cloaked figure and a little boy. The boy was small, pug-nosed, and swaddled in the figure's starry-night scarves. The figure extended a white bony hand towards the pond, curling its fingers and pulling the small minnows to the surface. The boy clapped, making grabby hands at the creatures. The figure chided him, giving him a light slap on the wrist before showing him how wave at the fish.
"Charles Xavier," a throaty voice bid him welcome.
The Professor smiled. “A pleasure to meet you.”
"You're not wrong," she shrugged, bits of what looked like a dressing gown flaking from her shoulders. "I do have my reasons to keep him alive," her fingers fell upon the boy's head, a bit firmer this time.
"For if he dies, I go too."