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Pietro watched as embers danced through the air before cooling against the cave floor. The journey only took a few seconds, but for the speedster, those few seconds were the only thing keeping him grounded to time itself. Because without something to focus on, it would be so easy for his mutation to take hold. Drag out a second into hours without even thinking about it. And more time was the last thing Pietro needed right now.
It had been nearly five hours since Pietro and his team returned to their base in the mountains. Magneto and the others should have only taken an extra two hours to join them, following a convoluted route back to make sure the sentinels couldn’t track them. The delay was worrying. More so than Pietro was willing to admit.
Normally he would have gone out and searched for them by now. But as he glanced around the campfire, Pietro observed the dozen small, innocent faces illuminated by the gentle flames. Mutant children they had rescued only the night before. The whole reason they had gone on that blasted mission to begin with.
They were sleeping now. It had taken a while for them to settle after the breakout, but with a little coaxing and a warm meal, they eventually curled up in sleeping bags around the campfire. Safe under Pietro’s ever watchful eye.
And despite the urge to run -to speed off into the wilderness and find his absent team- Pietro forced himself to stay. These children had already lost so much. Their homes, their families, their childhood. He couldn’t abandon them now.
So against every atom in his body screaming against it, Pietro waited.
The embers continued to drift lazily for another hour before footsteps echoed from the entrance corridor. Pietro dashed over to meet them, causing Avalanche -who was first to appear around the corner- to jolt in alarm.
“Jesus,” he muttered, letting out a breathless sigh. “Little warning next time?”
Ignoring his complaint, Pietro gestured to the sleeping forms in the cave behind him and warned, “Kids are asleep. If any of you wake them, I’ll kill you myself.”
“Point taken,” Avalanche said as the rest of the Brotherhood filed in behind him. “Listen, Pietro-”
Sabertooth passed by with a bloodied snarl.
“-there’s something I gotta tell you…”
Pyro shuffled in next, holding a broken arm against his chest.
“The sentinels- they got the best of us-”
Leaning against Blob for support, Mimic hobbled in with a battered wing.
“-there was no other option but to run…”
Lorelei walked by clutching a bleeding nose.
“...I’m sorry…”
Only one left.
Avalanche blew out a tremulous breath.
Nobody else walked through.
“Magneto stayed behind to save us.”
Pietro’s eyes snapped to Avalanche with deadly precision.
“You left him?”
Raising his hand as if to calm a wild animal, Avalanche defended, “He didn’t give us any other option.”
Bile rose in Pietro’s throat, and he raked his hands through his hair in a futile attempt to steady himself. Because as much as he wanted to be furious -to grab Avalanche by the collar and berate him for being so spineless- he knew that Erik really wouldn’t have given them a choice. It was painfully in character for him. And it made Pietro seethe with rage.
“Where was he last?” he demanded, using the last of his restraint to keep his voice low so as not to wake the children.
“At the East border of the facility, but-”
“Fine, I’ll get him- you keep an eye on the kids while I’m gone,” Pietro ordered as he moved towards the exit.
A hand caught his arm, setting his skin on fire even through the jacket, and in a flurry of instinct Pietro shoved Avalanche against the wall and pinned him there by his throat. Pietro met Avalanche’s wide eyes. A strike of terror cut through his expression, before quickly cooling back into the stern, composed frown he was familiar with. That was something Pietro had always admired about Lance- he was steady. Unwavering. Even back in high school, he never caved under pressure. It was the reason Pietro had invited him to the Brotherhood in the first place, knowing Erik needed somebody he could rely on. Something he could never be.
That shred of respect forced Pietro to sigh and slowly release his neck, stepping back so Lance could regain his footing again. Neither of them brought it up. Just exchanged a glance that agreed there was no time to argue.
“I got a message from a telepath while we were heading back,” Lance said evenly. “One of the X-Men. Told me they had picked Magneto up and taken him to Westchester for medical treatment.”
That made Pietro’s chest constrict. “How badly was he hurt?”
“They didn’t say,” Lance admitted with a shake of his head. “But the guy didn’t sound overly concerned, so it’s probably not fatal.”
“Only one way to find out,” Pietro said coldly, heading towards the exit again. He refused to feel anything close to reassurance until he saw Erik with his own eyes, alive and breathing. Pietro didn’t go to all the effort of breaking him out of that shithole in the Pentagon just for him to die now.
“Do you know where you’re going?” Lance asked.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Pietro muttered, remembering the first time he broke into the Professor’s office in search of answers. “I’m all too familiar.”
Just before he slipped into superspeed, Lance added softly, “I… I hope he’s okay.”
Pietro paused to glance over his shoulder, meeting the guilt in Lance’s eyes that so clearly reflected his own, and nodded sharply.
“He will be.”
And with that, Pietro allowed his mutation to take full control, speeding through the mountains under the cover of moonlight. There was no need to worry about the children now that Lance was there to take his post. Having grown up an orphan himself, Lance would probably understand their struggle better than most. There was no one else in the Brotherhood more capable for the job than him.
But Erik was still out there and at the very least injured. It didn’t matter that the X-Men had him. As far as Pietro was concerned, the X-Men were no allies of his. Too cowardly to join the fight. Too noble to do what was needed. Erik and the Professor clearly had a history, but those old ties were meaningless to him. And the fact they couldn’t even be bothered to contact Pietro himself only deepened his distrust.
There was no relief in the speed that coursed through his body now. Each footfall felt like thunder, and the snow that normally made him simmer with frustration was barely even a footnote in his journey. The terrain shifted at least a dozen times but Pietro paid it no mind, cutting across the country in record speed and taking a few detours along the way to throw off any sentinels that might dare to track his movements. With such little time to spare, each added turn away from his destination felt like dragging chains through the mud, though he knew it was necessary even through his impatience.
By the time Pietro reached the iron gates of the school, the sun had just started to crest over the horizon, spilling dull sunlight through the surrounding forest. Pietro scaled the fence with ease and considered breaking down the front door when he found it locked, but instead directed his attention to an open window on the ground floor. One of the teachers must have left it open by accident as it led to a classroom, but judging by the empty hallways as he stepped out, it was far too early for lessons.
Which was good, because he’d really hate to slaughter the Professor in front of his students if he didn’t have to. Though it certainly wouldn’t stop him at this rate.
Pietro tried the Professor’s office first but found no one. When the common rooms and the library came up empty as well, his impatience grew tenfold. Before Pietro could throw out his civility all together and start barging through doors, he spotted a familiar blue figure appear down the hallway, his nose too buried in a clipboard to notice the intruder.
Pietro didn’t give McCoy the courtesy of a greeting, appearing in front of the man so fast that the wind whipped his glasses off and sent them tumbling to the floor.
“What in-”
“Tell me where Erik is before I start tearing this school apart brick by brick.”
The blue furball just blinked at him in a painfully sluggish movement, and the shock continued to ripple through his features. It was then that Pietro realised he was still in superspeed. A split second reaction drawn out into excruciating detail. Pietro could have kicked himself. He hadn’t lost control of his speed in a long time, and he refused to let anyone know he had now.
So clawing his mutation back into line, Pietro watched as McCoy’s blinking sped up and his voice continued to stammer out, “-the world?!”
Waiting until a flash of recognition crossed the man’s features, Pietro pressed in a far more restrained manner, “Magneto. Now.”
McCoy’s face was still painted with confusion, but he attempted to say, “He- he’s resting-”
“Do I look like I give a fuck?” Pietro snapped coldly. “Tell me where he is.”
The man stared at him, clearly at a loss for what to do. The two had only met each other in passing the first time Erik and the Professor crossed paths again after escaping the Pentagon. Clearly this was the last thing he’d been expecting to deal with today, but in all fairness, neither had Pietro.
Just as his anger was about to boil over from the dragging silence, McCoy cleared his throat awkwardly and said, “Downstairs with the Professor-”
That was all Pietro needed before he was dashing off again in search of a staircase. Clearly it wasn’t the grand one in the foyer as that only led to the upper floors, so following the path Beast had come from, he discovered a strange curved panel in the wall and pressed the button hidden in the ornate molding. The panel slid away slowly -though at this point, Pietro was struggling to tell what was ‘normal’ speed anymore- to reveal an elevator.
Great.
Pietro hated elevators- an unholy combination of slow and mind-numbingly boring.
But he stepped in regardless and waited the whole twelve seconds -God, it felt like hours- for it to descend, the doors barely cracking open before he shoved it aside and rushed down the pristine chrome hallways.
The Professor rolled out of one of the adjacent rooms as if he’d been expecting him, his eyes infuriatingly sympathetic as Pietro stood before him, the wind still curling behind him in fury. There was no surprise in the Professor’s face. McCoy must have tipped the telepath off to his approach.
“Where is he, Xavier?”
Pietro’s hands were shaking from sheer adrenaline.
“Pietro, please, remain calm-”
“Don’t patronise me.”
To his credit, the Professor didn’t so much as flinch at Pietro’s icy tone.
“I understand you’re upset-”
“Upset barely scratches the surface.”
“-but we want to help you.”
Pietro nearly barked out a humourless laugh, but instead found his mouth filling with venom as he snapped, “Help? I just spent the whole night thinking half the Brotherhood was fucking dead. A heads up might’ve been nice instead of waiting for Avalanche’s sad carcass to tell me that Magneto was still alive.”
“You’re right- I should have reached out to you sooner,” Xavier placated. “But I can assure you that we’ve given Erik the best care possible.”
Clenching his jaw, Pietro attempted to reign his anger back in, aware that it was bringing him no closer to his goal. “I want to see him,” he commanded more than asked.
“I understand, but Erik needs to rest if he is to recover from his injuries.”
The frustration flared back up, stating boldly, “But he’s my father.”
There was something gentle in Xavier’s eyes when he said that, and Pietro hated it. Hated the pity. Hated his sympathy. He didn’t come here for condolences. He came here to make sure the last piece of his family was still alive, and not lost to the same sentinels that had stolen his sister away from him.
Just as Pietro opened his mouth to interrogate Xavier further though, he heard a voice. Frail and coarse, but familiar all the same.
“Pietro…?”
Following the voice without a second thought, Pietro slipped past Charles in superspeed and checked behind every curtain before finding his father laying on a bed, covered in bandages and hooked up to an IV. Within a heartbeat he was standing by his side, waiting for those disoriented blue eyes to finally meet his own.
“Erik,” Pietro breathed when his face lit up with recognition.
A weak smile warmed over Erik’s features. “My son,” he cooed.
Ignoring the affection shimmering in his eyes, Pietro quickly glanced over his father, searching for any and all injuries he might have. Erik’s left ankle was in a cast, and bandages were wrapped over his arms, chest and forehead. He looked like he’d been hit by a bus, to say it kindly. But at least he was awake and talking. That was a good sign, right?
“Careful…”
Pietro perked up at his father’s raspy voice, only to find Erik staring back at him with a smirk.
“One might think you were worried about me.”
Softening, Pietro teased back, “You know I never worry- least of all about you, Magnets.”
That seemed to please the man, and Pietro felt his worries ease for just a moment.
The sound of the curtain shifting made Pietro straighten however, turning to face Xavier and McCoy as they sheepishly approached the bed. They were right to be concerned. If his father didn’t hold some strange kind of respect for the X-Men, Pietro might have torn the school apart searching for him instead of taking the time to ask. That didn’t mean he had to trust them however, fixing them with an unwavering stare.
Xavier was the first to move, turning to Erik and saying, “Hello again, my friend. How are you feeling?”
His father didn’t answer, but the shift in his expression as the silence continued said it all.
Pietro had never experienced a telepath in his mind before- something about the speed of his thoughts being too much to process. Wanda had tried and failed many times when they were younger. He’d been told that Xavier was stronger than his sister, but he too struggled with catching up to his mind, and Pietro quite liked it that way.
Whatever conversation Erik and Xavier had been having though seemed to be cut off abruptly as the Professor turned to McCoy with a furrow in his brow. Yet another silent discussion ensued, and with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, the doctor moved to adjust Erik’s IV. “I’m going to increase your pain relief, just for a short while,” he explained to Erik.
“Is something wrong?” Pietro asked sharply.
“No, but it will ease any discomfort while he’s awake,” McCoy explained.
Pietro nodded slowly, but glanced at his father for confirmation.
“It’s alright,” Erik said with an encouraging smile. “I’m fine.”
Bullshit, no doubt. But Pietro let his father hold onto a shred of pride and watched silently as McCoy adjusted the medication. The relief on Erik’s face was palpable, and Pietro couldn’t deny that he was pleased to see the pain fading from his eyes.
Satisfied that Erik would be alright, Pietro turned to the two men across from the bed and demanded, “Tell me everything.”
Clearly having learnt their lesson about trying to keep things from him, Xavier and McCoy went on to explain the whole situation. How the X-Men came to help, the state they found Erik in at the battlefield, and his laundry list of injuries and how they would be treating them. The whole time Pietro listened with piercing focus, aware that these injuries wouldn’t disappear in a week, like they did for himself. They would need to be cared for. Kept an eye on. Knowing his father, he would try to get back to the action as soon as possible, and Pietro wanted to know exactly what his limits were going to be as he recovered.
Once all that was sorted, McCoy checked the monitors one last time and nodded in satisfaction at the results. “You still need plenty of rest,” the doctor warned Erik. “If you push your body too fast, it will delay your recovery.”
“That is not ideal,” Erik conceded.
“I recommend you take this time to sleep then while the pain is under control.”
Erik frowned, but before he could protest, Xavier said knowingly, “But we’ll give you both some time to talk first. If you need any assistance, we’ll be upstairs.”
With a spark of respect, Pietro dipped his head gratefully to the Professor, watching as the two left the medical wing shortly after.
It was only then that Pietro felt the adrenaline fade from his system, his muscles weighing with exhaustion as he came to sit on the edge of the bed. He could feel his father’s eyes following him, but he didn’t speak.
Never one for waiting though, Pietro started dryly, “Avalanche told me what you did. I don’t remember a noble sacrifice being part of the plan.”
“I did what was necessary to protect our people,” his father sighed, as if he’d been expecting this conversation.
“And who protects you ?” Pietro challenged.
“I don’t need protection.”
Typical, stubborn bastard.
“Yeah- sure you don’t,” Pietro scoffed as he gestured towards his bed-ridden body.
Once again, the silence rushed into the air between them. Erik looked exhausted all of a sudden, and not just from the injuries. The sight should have made him angry, but instead, all he felt was guilt coiling painfully around his ribs.
Running a hand down his face to hide the shame, Pietro muttered, “I should have been there. I knew you’d need me in the fight.”
“You were exactly where you needed to be, my son,” Erik said with confidence, before asking gently, “How did the extraction go?”
Pietro glanced up at his father from the corner of his eye, knowing exactly where this was going, but playing along anyway. “Fine. We got all the kids out before the guards even realised what was happening. Gave those monsters a deadly dose of whiplash on the way out too, in case they tried to follow,” he answered with a shrug. “A lot of the kids are still shaken up. I mean shit- who wouldn’t be? But they’re safe now, at least.”
An approving hum. “Then the plan succeeded.”
Their current location begged to differ, but Pietro muttered instead, “I suppose.”
“Those children are alive because of you, Pietro,” his father said boldly. “You should be proud.”
Pride was something Pietro hadn’t felt in a long time. But he had to admit, it did feel good to have saved those kids. Spare them of the fate he and Wanda had suffered. He liked to think that she would be proud of him, and that was more than he could ask for.
“Suppose I can’t take all the credit,” Pietro said lightly as he met his father’s eyes with a shimmer of respect. “I wasn’t alone.”
Erik watched him for a long time, his eyes gentle with adoration. A gaze Pietro had seen a hundred times before, but one he never knew how to accept. Given the circumstances though, he thought he’d let it slide, just this once.
Eventually though, Pietro noticed his father’s eyelids begin to flutter, fighting back the medications that were clearly trying to lull him to sleep. Knowing how stubborn he could be, Pietro decided to put the man out of his misery and said, “You should sleep.”
“I’m alright,” Erik had the nerve to answer.
“No, you look like shit,” Pietro reminded him sharply. “We can talk again when you wake up.”
Erik blinked up at him with what he could only describe as awe. “You’re staying?”
Feeling as if it were obvious, Pietro answered, “Well I didn’t run halfway across the country for a fly by.”
That seemed to appease the man as he leant back against the bed. “Perhaps a rest is in order then.”
“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day,” Pietro teased, before asking with an undercurrent of concern, “Do you need anything? Blankets, pillows- a shit ton more drugs?”
A weak chuckle escaped his father’s lips.
“No my son, I-”
Without warning, Erik raised a hand towards Pietro’s face. A gesture he had tried only once before, back when they first met. One that Pietro had rejected in a heartbeat. One that even now made him flinch without meaning to.
Swiftly coming to his senses, Erik froze, his hand still hovering in the space between them.
But Pietro didn’t snap. He didn’t shove his hand away. He didn’t even move. No, all he could do was stare at the hand in surprise, a rush of different emotions short circuiting his thoughts entirely.
He could see the panic flooding into his father’s eyes. It was so vivid that Pietro couldn’t bring himself to look away.
And then, after what felt like an eternity, Erik dropped his hand back to his side and offered a weak smile. “I’m fine… thank you, Pietro.”
He was giving them both an escape. A chance to brush it all away and pretend it never happened, like they so often did.
But for the first time, Pietro didn’t want to run.
Instead, he glanced between Erik’s fallen hand and his longing eyes, as if slotting the final puzzle piece into place.
Among the many subjects they never spoke of, touch was one of the biggest. Erik had always respected Pietro’s need to avoid it. He never asked why, but he knew all the same. In many ways Pietro was grateful for that. Didn’t think he’d have the words to answer even if he wanted to.
And in turn, Pietro knew how much his father desired the comfort. He’d never said it aloud, but Pietro saw many things that others did not due to his speed. The desperate flicker in Erik’s eyes that he tried to cover with a smile, or the hesitant twitch of his fingers whenever Pietro was near. Lorna used to do the same when she was young, which he would resolve with a tight bear hug and tussle of her hair.
Pietro wasn’t that man anymore though. Every touch was a brand to his skin. Had been since the facility, when his body didn’t belong to him. So much so that even his own mother’s hand felt like embers against his cheek when they said goodbye.
But Pietro was no stranger to pain, so he tried for Erik. Just small gestures, but ones he hoped meant something. A lingering hand on his shoulder after leaving superspeed. Brushing against the man’s arm when he was particularly stressed.
Tired and weak though, it was clear Erik was longing for much more than a brief moment of contact. A desire made clear in his attempt to reach out.
It was love for his son that made Erik pull away.
But it was love for his father that spurred Pietro to make his next decision.
Grimacing slightly, Pietro tried to smother the itch in his skin at the mere thought of touch and took a breath to collect himself. He tore apart sentinels with ease. He had broken into the Pentagon single handedly. He could run across the country within an hour. This wasn’t even close to a challenge.
He could do this.
He could do it for him.
Steeling his nerves, Pietro shifted along the bed and met his father’s eyes, hesitating only for a moment before leaning forward to wrap his arms around his father’s chest. The man was as still as a statue, and only when Pietro dropped his chin on Erik’s shoulder did his father finally draw in a trembling breath.
The silence persisted, and Pietro felt his heartbeat quicken with every passing second. His skin was burning like magma, and Erik still hadn’t returned the embrace. Had he done the wrong thing? Was this not what he wanted?
Mind racing, Pietro nearly thought to pull away until-
“Pietro… you don’t have to do this.”
The shaky whisper cut through his doubts in an instant, and Pietro resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Still trying to protect him- of course he was. But Erik should have known by now that he needed no such thing.
“I don’t do anything I don’t want to,” Pietro assured him fiercely.
“But you shouldn’t have to-”
“You’re overthinking this,” he interrupted, sparing them both of words they didn’t know how to say. “Now shut up already…”
To his utter relief, Erik didn’t speak again. Just drew in a breath and cautiously wrapped his arms around Pietro’s back. It stung at first- like a molten cage across his shoulders. Pietro’s muscles tensed on instinct, though he tried his best to hide it. It wasn’t Erik’s fault. It was a reaction that had been drilled into his body at the hands of human scientists. A fact Pietro had to remind himself repeatedly so not to run away right then and there.
Eventually Erik tightened his hold, and the pressure from his embrace felt less like a prison and more like the hugs his sisters and mother used to give him. It had been years since he felt one of those. He forgot how much he missed the warmth, even if it burnt.
With a trembling sigh, Erik leant his head against Pietro’s hair, finally accepting the affection his son had hoped to offer. Pietro let his own eyes slide shut in return. And though his body still ached to escape, his soul settled into the embrace, clinging to the steady beat of Erik’s heart against his own.
They remained like that for a while, letting their breaths fall into sync. A calming rhythm. A moment of peace.
Then with a burst of strength, Erik pulled him impossibly closer, as if afraid of letting him go. Pietro held him back just as fiercely. A silent promise that he wasn’t going anywhere. And with that final reassurance, Erik’s strength faltered, his body growing heavy under Pietro’s arms and his embrace growing slack. Like flames across his back, Erik’s touch remained seared under Pietro’s skin, joining the scars that his sisters and mother had left before him.
With a gentleness Pietro hadn’t used in many years, he slid a hand beneath Erik’s neck and carefully lowered his head back against the pillow. The lines that marred his father’s face had smoothed. Each breath calm. Peaceful, even. And when Pietro finally brought himself to let go, Erik’s hands fell away without protest, allowing Pietro to pull the blanket up to his chest as slumber claimed him at last.
Dragging over a nearby chair with his foot, Pietro curled his fingers over Erik's bandaged hand and took the place at his father's side.
Like he always had.
Like he always would.