Archive of Our Own

Erik didn’t have many possessions.

After being stripped of all that he owned as a child, relentlessly hunting Shaw across the world for the decades that followed, spending ten long years languishing in a barren cell, and then losing the only thing he had truly ever wanted -his family- Erik had learnt never to hold onto something for long. It would only end up being lost or broken or taken away eventually, so why bother?

It was far easier to keep his belongings minimal, and his desires even more so.

A fact that his house in Genosha reflected entirely; from its sparse pieces of furniture to the empty shelves that lined the metal walls. Candles were scattered around for light and a few books lay in neat piles beside his bed, but beside the necessities, the room was a void of unused space. The house had a purpose, and it served it well. Providing shelter from the tropical sun and a place to rest in the cool nights. But it was nothing more than that.

Once, he’d had a home. A home filled with wooden carvings and framed pictures and two bedrooms and the sound of his daughter’s laughter. And just like everything else in his life, Erik lost them.

Now all he had was an empty house.

Maybe that was all he deserved…

And for months, that was how it remained. The upturned bow of a boat that Erik would retreat to for meals and slumber before trekking back out into the forest to create his new paradise. Others joined him along the way -mutant brothers and sisters desperate for a fresh start, for safety- and together they built the haven now known as Genosha. It was far from perfect, but it was theirs, and for the first time since losing Magda and Nina, Erik thought there might be a future worth sticking around for.

As part of the agreement with the U.S. Government however, their island refuge was subject to monthly inspections and reports. Erik knew they were keeping a strict eye on him specifically, which given his history was somewhat fair, but that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

The first liaison officers were exactly how Erik had pictured they would be: tight lipped, narrow eyed, stuck-up Suits with a clipboard in one hand and a gun devoid of metal in the other. They would arrive in the early morning, take a ridiculous amount of notes as they inspected the humble village, and then leave before the sun had even reached midday.

Some of the officers were fearful, others were distrusting. But regardless of their attitude, their visits always left a bitter taste in Erik’s mouth. The sickening sense of false freedom and transparent privacy would linger over him for days after, and just when they all started to settle back into their routine, another Suit would show up and ruin their peace once again.

When Charles visited on the sixth month, he unfortunately arrived amidst an argument Erik was having with the latest government asshole that had been sent to inspect their supposed sanctuary. It only took a second for Charles to assess the situation, and like a true negotiator, he ever so gently ‘convinced’ the officer of his mistakes and sent him on his way. Erik didn’t need to say a single word for the telepath to understand his frustrations, but he still poured it all out over a game over chess later that evening, sharing each demeaning encounter with the liaisons in excruciating detail.

To his credit, Charles never wavered. All night he listened to Erik fume about the humans with patience and sympathy, offering encouragement every now and then and staying quiet when needed. By the time Erik finished his rant, the burning anger that had been simmering away in his chest for all those months finally died down, and he deflated into his seat with a tired sigh.

“Feel better now, my friend?” Charles said behind a light smirk as he moved a rook forward on the board.

“Perhaps,” Erik muttered back, moving his bishop with a single thought. “It doesn’t change anything though, does it?”

“On the contrary, I might just have a solution for you.”

Arching a brow curiously, Erik asked “Oh? And what might that be?”

The telepath just offered him a cryptic smile and moved another piece, before subsequently knocking over Erik’s king and declaring, “Checkmate.”

“Unfair advantage, I was distracted,” Erik replied lightly.

“Best of three then?”

Smirking, Erik shifted all the pieces back to their starting positions and leant forward with a scary amount of determination. “I won’t go easy on you this time, professor.”

“We shall see,” Charles said with a mischievous glint in his eye.

The rest of the night was spent in light-hearted banter and casual discussions of politics, leaving any thought of government liaisons to fall to the back of their minds.

It wouldn’t be until a month later that Erik realised what Charles had meant. Because instead of helicopter blades roaring in the distance to announce the arrival of their latest asshole inspector, Erik was startled from his work on a new drainage system by a sudden gust of wind and the panicked cries of his fellow mutants from the centre of town. Instinct nearly made him reach for a weapon, but the moment Erik laid eyes on the figure dressed in a distinct metallic jacket with striking silver hair, he was hit with a wave of recognition.

“Peter?”

The boy -because he would always be that extraordinary, mischievous, quick-witted boy from the Pentagon to him- turned to face Erik with a bright smile.

“Magnets!” Peter greeted as he lifted the goggles from his face. “Long time no see, huh?”

“Indeed,” Erik said as he finally stopped before the boy, taking in his familiar yet aged features with a new appreciation. They hadn’t had a chance to speak after the whole situation with En Sabah Nur, but it was nice to see that the talented young teen from all those years ago had found a place that appreciated his gifts in the X-Men.

After giving a nod of reassurance to the wary mutants still standing around them, Erik waited until they all dispersed before asking the boy curtly “So, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

Peter’s eyes widened just a fraction in alarm. “The Professor didn’t tell you?”

“No. Feel free to enlighten me.”

Letting out a sigh, Peter shook off the panic with a sheepish smile and announced, “I’m your new liaison, congratulations!”

Erik blinked, completely and utterly stunned. “Excuse me?”

“I’m your- or I guess more precisely, Genosha’s- newest liaison,” Peter explained. “The Profess told me about all the pricks you’ve had to deal with in the past, and he called in a favour with Moira to send one of our team instead. Save you the headache and all that jazz.”

Shaking his head in mild disbelief, Erik sent Charles a silent message of gratitude and smiled at their newest guest in earnest. “Well Peter, it will be an honour to have a member of the X-Men on the grounds today,” he said as he gestured for the boy to follow him towards his house. “Your company will be a breath of fresh air compared to the humans that have come before.”

“Oh trust me- Scott would disagree, but I appreciate the sentiment,” Peter chuckled. “I’ll try not to tread on your toes though man- I know you’re busy and all.”

“Nonsense. There’s always time for one of our own,” Erik said with a slight smile.

Peter perked up -as if surprised by the warm reception- before the shock melted into a beaming smile of his own. And just like that, the storm of dread that had been brewing in Erik’s mind since the day first began finally calmed, replaced instead with a breeze of relief.

Peter’s visit was unlike anything Erik had come to expect from their monthly inspections.

Despite his speedy nature the boy appeared in no rush to leave, and he wandered around the small village beside Erik and greeted every resident with a confident but casual swagger, which eased their concerns almost instantly. Soon most of their fellow mutants were coming over to speak to the newcomer, impressed by his powers or curious to know of his story. And much to Erik’s delight, he watched as Peter easily entertained their conversations, even getting a few of them to crack with laughter now and then.

Midday rolled around and it seemed almost natural to invite their guest to the dining table, giving some of the farmers a chance to gloat about the quality of their harvest that made up the communal lunch. Peter was quick to praise their work and even quicker to devour the meal. If he was taking notes and checking boxes like their previous liaisons, then he was certainly good at hiding it.

Erik barely noticed the hours that flew by in the speedster’s company, captivated by the easy-going presence that so swiftly calmed his mind. It was only when the boy announced that he should head home before it got dark that Erik realised the time, and after quickly sharing his goodbyes with their fellow mutants, Peter returned to the village border with Erik by his side.

“Well, thanks for having me man,” Peter said, lowering his goggles back over his eyes before he added with a grin, “Even if I just talked your ear off for most of it.”

“Are you kidding? The pleasure was all ours,” Erik assured, not hesitating in the slightest. “You have no idea how much we appreciated your company Peter, truly.”

And though the boy brushed it away with a scoff, Erik hoped Peter realised just how much he meant to people. How easily he wove himself into others’ lives. How happy they would be to have him there if he just stuck around long enough to find out…

“So, can we look forward to seeing you again next month Peter?” Erik asked lightly. He tried not to sound too hopeful, but Erik would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to another visit from the speedster.

“Honestly? I’ve got no idea,” Peter said with a shrug. “But I’ll speak to the Professor and see what he’s got in mind, yeah? Who knows- maybe if my report is good enough they’ll give me the job full time.”

It was said as a joke, but Erik couldn’t help but smile in earnest at the thought. “We’ll be counting on it then,” he said as he shook the boy’s hand in farewell.

And with that, Peter shot a lazy two fingered salute over his shoulder and vanished a heartbeat later, leaving only the shift of the breeze in his wake.

Erik walked back to his house feeling lighter than he had in weeks. A feat the mutant would have thought impossible on an inspection day, though he supposed Quicksilver had always been a master of the impossible. He would have to thank Charles for allowing Peter to visit and silently pray he would be able to return soon.

For some reason, the thought of not seeing the speedster again left a hollow feeling in Erik’s chest…

But stepping back into his house, it only took a single glance to feel the echo of Peter’s presence all around. From the spare seat that had rarely been used now sitting askew at the table, to the half-played chess board that had been abandoned in the wake of lunch. Muddied shoeprints near the front door, and sets of candles that had been extinguished in the speedster’s trail. Most noticeable of all however was the silence- once a staple of the solitary house, but suddenly hollow without Peter’s lively chatter to fill it.

Erik didn’t hope for many things these days, but he hoped the boy would return.

Because as short as his visit may have been, it was obvious that Peter had left his mark on their humble village: in fond memories and thoughts alike. So even though he knew better, and even though the world had proven time and time again never to do so, Erik hoped.

And when the speedster appeared a month later in all his metallic, goggled glory as Genosha’s official permanent liaison, Erik knew it had been worth the risk.

Soon, echoes weren’t the only thing Peter was leaving behind.

It started small at first; random notes he had buried in his pockets or receipts he kept forgetting to give to the Professor. A pencil he used to rewind his cassette tapes with. The odd paper plane that he folded when feeling restless.

None of it was of any particular value, and Peter left them scattered about with such disregard that Erik probably could have thrown them out, but he never did. Instead, he found an empty shelf on the wall and moved the lost scraps there- just in case Peter ever needed them again. And though it did little to contain the speedster’s chaos, something about seeing that messy shelf of papers made the sharp metal walls of the house seem just a touch softer.

The months went by and Peter’s visits dragged longer into the day with every inspection, as if he were as reluctant to leave as the residents who clamoured for him to stay. After all, Peter had quickly been considered one of their own. Nobody wanted to see him leave. But the children were his biggest fans of all, coaxing him into games and begging to be run around in superspeed until they were sick to their stomachs with whiplash. Their sad little eyes whenever Peter tried to leave was definitely a key factor to his longer visits.

So when it became clear that Peter would no longer be escaping their humble village before nightfall, Erik was quick to offer a guest house for him to sleep in, which the boy accepted sheepishly once Erik had made it clear he was banned from running back to Westchester in the dark. Charles would kill him if anything happened to one of his prized X-Men.

And honestly? Erik couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the boy injured under his watch. Better he stay the night, safe and well cared for under their protection.

But though Peter had a space to call his own, his belongings found their way into Erik’s house all the same.

A well-worn jacket thrown over a chair. Cassette tapes scattered about on a spare shelf. Dirty dishes he so kindly left for Erik to clean. Eventually a record player joined the fray too, which Peter explained was to fix Erik’s apparent lack of taste in music- that being it was non-existent. And though the older mutant pretended to be irritated by the many records Peter subjected him to, Erik could never quite get those pleasing harmonies to leave his mind, especially when the speedster left a void of silence with every departure.

Overnight stays extended to weekend visits, and eventually dissolved into anywhere from three to five days depending on Peter’s schedule. Their glorified inspections were nothing more than afternoons spent working on Genosha’s growing infrastructure and late nights wasted over casual games of poker and fine liquor. Where Peter obtained such a luxury, he never confirmed, but Erik knew Charles’ liquor cabinet well enough to take a good guess.

After watching Peter stumble half-asleep back to his guest house one too many times though, Erik decided to spare the boy of anymore midnight walks and strung up a hammock in the corner of his house that he could use instead. The boy had been oddly touched the first time he saw it, and after some initial hesitation, he collapsed into his new bed with a content grin on his face, looking as if he were always meant to be there.

From then, the collection only grew quicker.

Spare clothes found a home on the shelf next to Erik’s. Worn, faded sneakers appeared in a hazardous pile by the front door. A half-eaten box of Twinkies was hidden underneath the mess of scrap paper and receipts.

“What could you possibly need that for?” Erik asked once, gesturing to the neon red bike Peter had parked against the balcony railing.

“Oh that? It’s for the kids. Half of them don’t even know how to ride a bike- which should be a crime, really. Gotta be fixed A-S-A-P.”

“You intend to teach them?”

“Well yeah, somebody’s got to, right?”

Softening at the boy’s thoughtfulness, Erik offered him a fond smile, and allowed the bike to join the growing chaos.

An old set of goggles hung lazily off the coat stand- a backup pair in case their resident speedster somehow managed to lose his own again. It was a common occurrence, unfortunately. One that Erik was determined to change the fourth time Peter arrived for a visit with red, watering eyes thanks to his lack of eye protection. So with a careful turn of his hands, Erik had crafted the boy a new pair of metal goggles and gently guided them onto his face, pleased when they fit perfectly to Peter’s features.

Peter never lost his goggles again.

Erik joked that it was thanks to his incredible craftsmanship, which the speedster rewarded with a light punch to his shoulder.

Over a year into their visits, Peter started his formal education in the hopes of getting a teaching position at the school, an idea Charles was most pleased about indeed. Takeaway receipts and scribbled post-it notes were replaced with stacks of textbooks, and late nights playing cards turned into midnight study sessions. Erik would stay up and read a book of his own as Peter worked, blanketed in a comfortable silence other than Erik occasionally reminding the boy to drink water.

“You sound like the Professor,” Peter scoffed, though he accepted the offered glass every time.

Erik simply smirked and turned back to his book, trying not to think about how Peter stuck his tongue out when he focused just like Nina used to.

There was a scorch mark hidden beneath a rug from when Peter had paced so fast he set the floorboards aflame by accident. Erik remembered the way the boy had burst into his house one afternoon in a fluster, urging the man to sit down and saying he had something important to tell him, only for his rambled speech to get cut off by the fire that rapidly began to crawl up his pant leg. Thankfully Peter was unharmed by the time they stamped out the flames, but the panic soon divulged into laughter when they noticed the dark scores on the floor in the shape of Peter’s shoe.

Erik never did find out what Peter was going to tell him that day.

Regular inspections became accompanied by the occasional off duty visit throughout the months, so much so that Charles began to joke about sharing custody of the boy. Peter would usually spend the time helping out around the village or entertaining the younger children so the adults could have a moments peace from their chaos, which was rewarded with extra meals at dinner and plenty of hand-crafted treasures from the excited youth. Most of it was taken to Westchester upon Peter’s departure, but a few brightly coloured scribbles had the privilege of being hung up on the wall beside Peter’s hammock.

“I never would have expected you to be so good with children,” Erik mentioned once as Peter ushered Rahne and Illyana back to their guardians after a whole afternoon of running around like wild animals.

“Yeah, guess I got pretty good at it after my little sister was born,” Peter said, stretching out his muscles before collapsing in a seat beside the man. “She never had powers though, so she was a lot less trouble than these little rascals,” the speedster added with a chuckle.

Erik perked up in surprise. “You never mentioned you had siblings before.”

Glancing out at the setting sun, Peter’s eyes went eerily vacant for a heartbeat, before he turned back to Erik with a bittersweet smile on his lips. “I had two sisters,” he said, his voice subdued in a way Erik had never heard before. “My younger sister Lorna is in college now, studying to become an engineer. She’s as quick as a whip, that one. Never takes any shit. God- she could be such a pain in the ass sometimes, but I love her, you know?”

Erik couldn’t help but smile at the fond chuckle Peter let out, before a heaviness weighed over his shoulders and sent those deep dark eyes flickering out towards the horizon again.

A part of Erik wanted to ask the obvious question, but he recognised that distant stare- knew it well enough from the times he had caught his own reflection in the mirror.

Regret. Guilt. Sorrow.

Grief so deep that it could only have come from the wound of a lost love.

“I’m sorry,” Erik spoke gently, sparing the boy of having to say it aloud. “I know this may be of little consolation, but… I understand. Truly, I do.”

For someone who usually talked with such ease, it felt strange to see Peter go silent.

Then, blinking back the sheen over his eyes, Peter shot the man a faltering smile and murmured “Thanks man…”

Erik simply nodded, thinking that would be the end of the conversation, before the boy added hesitantly, “I’d like to- uh… tell you about her, but just… another day, maybe…”

Warmth bloomed inside Erik’s chest to know that Peter would even consider trusting him with something so dear.

“It would be an honour.”

A novelty mug rested on the windowsill next to a wood-carved turtle. Both were birthday gifts; one for Erik and the other for Peter.

The mug had a cartoon magnet printed across the front saying, “What’s the difference between a pessimist and a magnet?” with another one replying “A magnet has a positive side!” on the back. Peter nearly died of laughter when he first gifted it to Erik, and as absurd as it looked in the hands of the stern mutant leader, the residents of Genosha would see the man cradling the mug almost every morning as he had a coffee.

The wooden turtle Erik gave Peter for his birthday lacked the bright colours or sense of humour that the mug had, but Peter adored it all the same. The idea had spawned from one of Peter’s many laments over the ‘No pets’ rule in the mansion, and how he had always wished for a dog or a cat or even a turtle when he was child. The irony of a speedster wanting a pet turtle had not gone over Erik’s head, and brushing off his old wood carving skills, he got to work on the simple but meticulously sculpted gift.

Just like Peter, Nina used to love animals. Erik would spend hours, sometimes days carving deer and birds and bugs out of wood just to put a smile on her face.

And when Peter first held that little turtle in his hands, his face lit up with the same blinding glee and excitement and innocence that his daughter had worn years ago.

Erik never thought he’d see that smile again…

For once, he was glad to be wrong.

Most days, Peter’s unexpected visits felt like a blessing.

On the third anniversary of his beloved wife and daughter’s death, however, it felt like a curse.

“Go away,” Erik growled, voice slurred with alcohol when he noticed the speedster standing in the doorway. It was the middle of the night- far too late for the boy to be here without warning.

“I came to check on you,” the boy answered, his voice oddly quiet. He was probably disappointed, and to be honest, Erik couldn’t blame him.

All day he’d locked himself away in the confines of his house, so desperate to escape the stares of his worried peers that he had driven himself right into the jaws of his deepest agonies instead. Memories of Magda and Nina plagued his every thought, reopening wounds he had valiantly tried to ignore until he was reaching for the whiskey bottle to drown out the echo of their screams. It numbed the pain for a little while, and when their cries began to return, he simply reached the bottom of another bottle until they went away.

What a sorry excuse for a leader he was…

“Erik,” Peter said, suddenly kneeling in front of him. When did he get there? And how long had Erik been sitting on the floor? “Are you with me?”

Forcing his eyes to focus on the silver blur in front of him, Erik snarled out “L-Leave, me… alone.”

He shouldn’t be seeing this… Erik didn’t want Peter to see him like this. Drunk and teary eyed and too weak to get up off the damn floor. A broken, pathetic man that -for all his power- had never been able to save the ones he loved.

Vaguely, Erik noticed a shift of the breeze and the empty bottles by his side disappearing, but his attention only settled on the boy who sat at his side, leaning against the table leg with a saddened look in his eye. Again, Erik wondered why he just wouldn’t leave? Everybody else did, eventually. At least if he left now, there was still a chance he might live to see another day.

But Peter didn’t leave.

Instead, he sat patiently by Erik’s side and told him stories of his twin sister, Wendy. Tales of their childhood, and their mischief, and their laughter and their hardships. Peter told Erik about her smile, and the way she’d press her lips into a line and tilt her head when she was frustrated. He told Erik about her scarlet powers, and how as incredible as they were, they were too much for someone so young to handle. And through tears of his own, Peter retold the moment he lost his sister to that dreadful power, and how the void that his twin left behind had never truly healed.

Even through the haze of alcohol, Erik understood just how much strength it must have taken for Peter to admit such a thing. So in turn, he allowed all those painful, bittersweet memories that had been haunting him throughout the day to come pouring out as well. Stories of Magda, and his beloved Nina. Memories he had locked away in fear that they would crush him under the sorrow, and the guilt, and the pain.

But even though sobs caught in his throat, a weight was lifted with every precious moment he recounted to the boy beside him. Like shackles falling away, one by one. The pain was still there. Erik knew it would never truly go away, but sharing the weight with Peter -and in turn carrying part of his loss as well- made it seem just a fraction easier for them both.

Peter didn’t leave his side.

Erik hoped he never would.

Beneath the piles of band shirts and metallic jeans, a silver, armoured suit was folded carefully out of sight. The uniform was a stark change from the yellow jumpsuits Erik and his fellow mutants had worn on their first -and only- mission together, a bitter memory that was softened knowing Peter had found a strong team of his own. Erik had only seen the speedster wear it on a few impromptu visits, but it suited him well and reflected some of that sharp, vibrant personality that Peter was so well known for.

As the official liaison for Genosha, Peter was supposed to be left uninterrupted while on duty, especially from X-Men affairs. But Peter kept the spare suit tucked away just in case -much like the helmet Erik kept buried in a chest under the floorboards- though Charles assured the boy he would be left in peace on his inspections.

And for a while, Erik almost believed him.

Then, one night while the two were dead asleep, they were startled awake by the shrill of a ringing phone.

Erik was the first out of bed, all senses on high alert as he searched for approaching danger while Peter let out a displeased groan and tossed and turned within his hammock like an earthworm. The sight would have been comical if not for the fact that Erik’s heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest, his mental grip on every metal object in the room fierce and unyielding, ready to attack if needed.

The ringing continued, and as Erik’s panic finally died down upon realising there was no imminent threat, Peter finally emerged from the folds of the hammock -bleary eyed and hair sticking up like a bird’s nest- to take hold of the offending phone. “Yea…?” he spoke sleepily into the device.

Erik couldn’t hear the words, but there was an urgency to the speaker’s voice that sent his nerves alight with dread.

Whatever they were saying must have been important as Peter’s half-lidded eyes were suddenly blinking wide open, scrubbing a hand over his face to rid the weariness as he rushed to answer, “Okay- okay Scott, just- uh, just hold on, alright? I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

Peter didn’t even waste time saying goodbye, tossing the phone aside and moving to jump out of the hammock. Unfortunately, his tired body had yet to catch up to his brain, leading his leg to get caught in the fabric and send him crashing to the floor instead. Erik was by his side in a heartbeat and pulling him back up to his feet, exchanging no words as he searched the boy for any injuries in the dim moonlight before settling his hands on the speedster’s shoulders.

“What happened?” Erik almost demanded.

“Mission went wrong,” Peter replied without his usual preamble, confirming just how serious it was. “Bombs are about to go off- there’s not enough of them to stop it.”

Nodding sharply, Erik released his arms -not even realising he’d been holding on so tight- and said, “Then you must go.”

Peter turned to find his suit amongst the mess of clothes while Erik felt for the metal of Peter’s goggles and drew them into his hand. Within a second Peter was already changed -eyes sharp and alert and jaw set in worry- though he restrained himself from bolting out right then and there to allow Erik to slip the goggles on for him.

“Be safe,” Erik found himself saying, as if on instinct.

It felt like Peter was staring straight through his soul when he flashed the man a reassuring smile and said, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

And then just like that, he was gone.

Erik stood still, feeling utterly lost. He glanced around the shadowed house, waiting- hoping for the speedster to reappear with that bright, familiar grin. But the seconds bled into minutes, and still the house remained empty.

That should have been the moment Erik took a breath, shook out the adrenaline, and went back to sleep.

But he didn’t.

And he couldn’t.

For an hour Erik sat at the table, nursing a glass of water between his hands. Trying not to let he worry build with every passing minute. Then he started to pace, back and forth, from his bed to Peter’s and back again, until the metal walls began to creak with unease and he was forced to still his shaking hands. He’d considered going for a walk outside at one point, but the rustle of the trees reminded him too much of the forest from his nightmares, and he resolved to read a book instead, even if he could barely focus on the words.

One hour turned to two, and two turned to three. Peter should have been back by then…

Maybe he got distracted? That was always a possibility with the boy’s short attention span.

Maybe he went back to the mansion? Charles was always protective over the team, especially after a rough mission.

Or maybe he was injured?

Maybe he was dying?

Maybe he was dead-

“Stop worrying so much,” Selene’s irritated voice cut through his spiralling thoughts. “You’re giving me a headache.”

Blood rushed to Erik’s cheeks almost instantly, and with a silent apology, the telepath’s frustration was quick to ease.

“He’s going to be fine, Erik,” were her next words, as soothing as they were confident.

“How can you be certain?” Erik asked aloud this time, the question too painful to keep within.

If Erik didn’t know any better, he would have thought he heard Selene chuckle.

“He’s just like you. That’s how I know.”

And with that, Selene’s presence slipped from Erik’s mind, leaving him alone with the silence of his empty house. Except this time, instead of paralysing fear plaguing his every thought, he was left with a quiet assurance. If Peter said he would be back, then Erik believed him. The speedster was more than capable of taking care of himself.

It didn’t help Erik sleep. It didn’t even stop him from worrying, really. But it did make the time pass slightly faster as he sat at the table and waited for the boy to return.

The sun was just rising over the horizon when a gust of wind pushed past the front door and announced the arrival of the silver speedster, his familiar, easy smile chasing away the dread like a flame to the shadows.

“Hey man! Sorry I’m so late, got held up with the clean up- turns out explosions are like, super messy, especially when there’s about ten of them all across a city-“

Erik had listened to dozens of records and albums and cassettes over the years, but no sound was as beautiful as hearing Peter’s voice fill the haunting silence.

Rising from the table, Peter didn’t even notice the man walking towards him as he continued to recount his mission, too lost in the excitement and heroics of it all. In a way Erik was almost grateful, because if the boy had asked about the dark rings under his eyes or the concerned strain in his jaw, Erik didn’t think he’d have the strength to answer.

But while he might have been oblivious to Erik’s approach, Peter didn’t miss the way all the metal in his uniform -the belt, the pins, the zippers- had begun to tug ever so slightly. Not enough to move him, but enough to have his words trailing off into a confused silence.

“Hey man,” he said as he inspected a zipper in curiosity. “Is everything oka-ay!?”

Peter’s words were strangled by surprise as Erik suddenly engulfed the boy in his arms, nearly lifting him off his toes with the strength of his embrace. Once, he used to hug Nina the same way, swinging her into the air and holding on tight enough so she never feared the fall. It was different with Peter- he was an adult, nearly as tall as Erik himself and nothing but lean muscles and bones, but every fibre of Erik’s being just knew that it was right.

Slowly, Peter’s hands came to rest on Erik’s shoulder blades. Careful, uncertain.

“You, uh… miss me or something?” he tried to tease, though anxiety rung clear in his voice.

Feeling his cheeks heat up for the second time that day, Erik went to pull away, mortified that he had put the boy in such an uncomfortable position.

But the second his grip loosened, Peter’s hold increased, fingers twisting almost desperately into the fabric of Erik’s nightshirt as he stammered “Wait-! I, I didn’t mean… it’s okay if you, uh…”

It took a moment for Erik to decipher the scrambled words, but when he did, his chest bloomed with affection and he quickly eased back into the embrace, leaning his head against Peter’s own. It didn’t take long for the tension to untangle from his muscles when he could feel the boy’s heart racing beneath his touch, a constant, familiar beat that chased away the last wisps of fear.

And in its place?

Peace.

True, unfiltered peace.

Holding Peter securely in his arms, Erik thought he finally understood what Charles was trying to tell him all those years ago.

Peter had a nasty habit of losing things. It was an unfortunate consequence of his mutation; always on the move, always thinking so fast and far ahead. Whether it was his wallet, his keys, his headphones, or his train of thought, it was almost a guarantee that Peter would lose something during his visit. Combine that with his already dysfunctional state of organisation and you found yourself looking for lost belongings and discovering misplaced ones on the daily.

But as infuriating as that might have seemed, Erik wasn’t bothered. With anyone else, he may have, but Peter had a way of sewing in his charming chaos until it seemed routine.

It was just another little quirk about Peter that Erik had grown ever fond of.

One day, Erik nearly tripped over the boy’s favourite silver jacket, though he was experienced enough with Peter’s growing obstacle course to catch his balance in time. The boy must have forgotten it when he left for Westchester the day before, throwing the garment lazily across the back of a chair only for it to slip off and entrap Erik’s ankle instead. Regardless, Erik knew Peter would be missing the beloved article soon enough, and hung it over the chair for the speedster’s return.

A flash of white fluttered out of the corner of Erik’s eye, and he turned to see a piece of paper that had fallen from the jacket’s pocket, landing gracefully on the floor. Erik didn’t think anything of it. Peter was notorious for his scraps of paper and scribbled sticky notes. He had a whole shelf dedicated to it, after all.

That’s why Erik didn’t hesitate to pick it up, intending to return it without a second thought, when he suddenly noticed the finely written cursive penned across the back. It was so unlike Peter’s usual pencil scratchings that it caught the man off guard, staring at the words in stunned curiosity before he even realised what he was doing.

My precious Pietro and Wanda.

I love you, forever and always.

Understanding sinking in, Erik felt the paper start to burn beneath his touch in warning. Telling him it wasn’t his to hold- that it wasn’t his to know. Memories were a precious thing, and photos were even more so. So he knew he shouldn’t look. He knew he should slide the photo back into the pocket it had fallen from and never think of it again.

And then -like he so often did when it involved Peter- Erik began to think about Nina, and how he would have given anything to still have a photo of her. Just a single one…

Erik turned the paper almost mechanically, knowing it was wrong, but feeling such an overwhelming sense of fondness as he set his sights upon the photo that it didn’t seem to matter. There, behind the monochrome and the grain, was a little boy -surely no older than two- leaning against a little girl’s shoulder as they sat encircled in their mother’s arms. Even the lack of colour couldn’t hide the snowy white hair that curled on the top of the boy’s head, and the children’s big, toothy grins appeared almost identical side by side.

Twins.

And though their names were slightly different, Erik knew them well, especially the one that had grown into one of the dearest people in his life.

Peter and Wendy Maximoff.

They looked beautiful.

They looked happy.

Awe and guilt and affection and regret all swarmed around Erik’s mind at once, clamouring for control while all he could do was stand and stare at the image cradled between his hands as if it were made of glass.

He didn’t know why he was acting like this.

He didn’t know why he was feeling like this.

Then, for a brief moment, Erik’s eyes drifted away from the boy he had grown so familiar with and moved towards the figure who sat holding him. A woman who could only have been the mother of the twins themselves.

And there- in her gentle smile, and the crinkle of her eyes, and the curl of her dark hair, and the coy tilt of her head- he saw it.

There, Erik saw the woman he once loved.

It felt like a lifetime ago now. Years and decades lost to empty revenge, a cycle of destruction he had failed to escape from, even until recent years. When they first crossed paths, she was like a burning star lighting up his empty universe, and he had fallen into her gravity ever so willingly. It was the first time he had truly considered abandoning his hunt for vengeance…

But young and foolish, he didn’t know any better.

She had fled in the face of his fury, and he had let her go, knowing he could never keep -or even deserve- the future she promised.

Now when he stared into the grainy eyes of his lost starlight though, he saw something new. Not just memories, or even the sting of what could have been, but pieces of a story he had yet to discover. She looked so young in that image- so perfect to his memory that it was almost painful. It couldn’t have been taken long after they parted ways. The photograph itself was a different story however, worn and faded from age, though clearly treasured from a time long past.

But it was her eyes that gave it all away. Those shimmering pale blue eyes that stared back into his own, and stood out so clearly next to the dark, gentle gaze of her son just beside her. A beautiful gaze that Erik had only ever seen on one other person before.

His mother.

Every piece of metal in the house began to tremble as Erik staggered, clutching the back of the chair for support.

Impossible…

Erik shook his head, desperate to hold onto a thread of composure, before a memory that had once laid dormant and unassuming blazed back to life, demanding his attention.

“They told me you control metal…”

Air caught in Erik’s lungs, much like it had that day in the elevator.

“You know, my mom once knew a guy who could do that.”

It was nothing more than a passing comment. An empty observation…

Right?

But then Erik peered down through a haze of stinging tears and met those achingly familiar eyes once more. Eyes that, upon their second meeting, had been brimming with trepidation and concern and an intensity that could rival the sun. They had stood apart then, fighting on opposing sides of the war, but even the churning wall of metal fragments couldn’t hide the emotions displayed vividly across Peter’s features. Too many to name, and too distant to understand.

Erik hadn’t been focusing on Peter in the moment. He’d barely had the strength to focus on Raven as she attempted to coax him out of his latest destructive spiral, but he remembered the look on Peter’s face when he had turned to meet his stare. Remembered almost too clearly the way he’d been drawn to the boy’s presence like the metal he bent on a whim.

“And you?”

Surprise, maybe even hope had flickered past those wide doe eyes. And then-

“I’m your…”

-uncertainty, followed by an undercurrent of terror.

“…I’m here for my family too.”

The final puzzle piece fell into place.

Erik felt the world fall out from beneath him.

Panicked, he clawed out instinctively for purchase and sent every object composed of even a hint of metal flying across the room with a tremendous crash. Screws and bolts exploded from their hinges, cutlery was scattered across the floor- even the walls of the house itself were warped with ripples. In the second it took for Erik’s knees to hit the floor, it looked as if a tornado had ravaged the humble abode.

But the state of the house was nothing compared to the state of Erik’s mind.

Thoughts spun in a vicious cycle, recalling every moment- every second spent with the speedster over their long history together. He searched each one desperately for signs -for the answer he both feared and longed to be true- and was nearly crushed under the overwhelming evidence he was faced with. The beautiful smile that had belonged to Erik’s first love, the compassionate gaze that echoed from his mother, the set of his jaw and furrow of his brow that could only have come from Erik himself-

There was only one answer.

Peter -incredible, talented, selfless, funny, caring, too-good-for-this-world Peter Maximoff- was his son…

His son.

The tears that had steadily been building behind Erik’s eyes finally flooded down his cheeks, burying them away in his hands and letting the photograph fall amongst the carnage of his realisation.

It couldn’t be possible. Peter was too perfect to have come from someone as broken and as monstrous as Erik. Peter was summer sunshine while Erik was pelting hail. Booming rock music against sullen silence. The protector of lives versus the executor of them.

They were opposites in almost every way.

And yet, no amount of denial could change the fact that it was true. There was too much evidence, too many coincidences to be any other reason.

Erik didn’t deserve Peter. Deep down he knew he never would, either. He had missed almost thirty years of his son’s life, too lost in his own quest for blood to realise he had a precious piece of heaven right there on earth. Erik would never know the privilege of hearing Peter’s first word, or seeing his first step, or guiding him through the development of his mutation. He had never seen Peter grow from that beaming, bubbly child in the photograph to the extraordinary young man he was today. He had never been the father that Peter deserved.

But it didn’t change the fact that Peter was his.

Always had been, and always would be.

So though his heart swelled with grief and regret and the ache of all the things he never even knew he’d lost, there was a wave of gratitude that washed over his shoulders and brought the tears flooding forward for a new reason.

Because he loved Peter Maximoff. Loved him the way only a parent ever could.

That should have come as a shock. It should have terrified him. But the truth was, he had loved Peter as his own for far longer than he could remember. There was no one else Erik would rather pass the time with, and no one else who could put him at ease like Peter. Not even Charles could do such a thing, what with their history so littered with betrayals and regrets. And though their story was no less complicated, it appeared that Peter had never held that against him, even while knowing of their connection for all this time.

Doubt began to mingle with the adoration as it sunk in that Peter had most likely known as far back as the war with En Sabah Nur, perhaps even further.

Had he truly feared his father that much? Had he loathed Erik for his absence, or even just his existence?

Erik would not be surprised if that were the case. All Peter had ever seen of him was death and destruction; he had no reason to believe that Erik was capable of anything else.

And yet, Peter chose to find him. Chose to stand there at the edge of a breaking world for the family that didn’t even know it, and chose to come back even after the dust had settled. And while Charles might have suggested it, Peter had taken on the role as Genosha’s liaison willingly, and continued to be a staple part of their community all these years later. Most importantly though, he had decided that Erik -for some reason he would never understand- was actually worth his time. Worth the hours and the days and the weeks they spent together, burning precious time that the speedster valued so highly.

Peter didn’t need anything from Erik, but he stayed, nonetheless.

That knowledge was enough to cut short the doubt crawling up Erik’s spine, taking his first steady breath since he first laid eyes on that photograph and assuring himself that all was not lost. Peter didn’t despise him, as he so feared. But Peter was clearly not ready to share the secret he’d kept for so long either, which though it pained Erik, was nothing if not understandable.

Despite his short temper, Erik was a patient man.

He would wait for Peter to be ready, and when he was, Erik would be there to embrace his son with open arms.

Scrubbing the tears from his eyes and collecting his shaky breaths, Erik carefully picked up the photograph laying on the floor beside him and inspected the image with a bittersweet smile. There was much left to unpack, many muddled thoughts that would need to be sorted through in time.

But for now, Erik cradled the stolen memory close to his chest and let his eyes slide shut, whispering words of thanks for the second chance he’d been gifted.

Peter’s visits continued as normal.

He never saw the house in ruin, or the days following that Erik spent in quiet solidarity. No, by the time Peter arrived for his regular inspection the house looked exactly as he’d left it- not a single scrap of paper out of place. As far as he knew nothing was amiss, and if the boy heard rumours of anything different, he certainly never mentioned it.

The weeks passed over meals and training routines and rounds of darts and blackjack, just like they always had. Erik never tried to press the truth from Peter. As tempting as it seemed at times, it was important that Peter chose to tell him, and that he actually wanted Erik to know. Considering he had stuck around for so long, Erik had a suspicion that he might, but that just meant Erik would have to work harder to earn his trust. Be the figure of safety that he always should have been for the boy.

So when Peter arrived for his inspections in a flurry of dust, Erik would greet him with a firm pat on the shoulder, which grew into a side embrace when Peter kept leaning into the touch so keenly.

When Peter retold tales of his latest X-Men missions, Erik would praise him boldly, and then feel his chest flutter as Peter ducked his head with a bashful chuckle.

When Peter hobbled into the house after tripping on a tree root during a run, Erik was quick to push him into a chair and attend to all his wounds, cleaning the grit out of the scratches on his face with a delicate touch. He would have done the same before, but this time when his hand settled against the curve of Peter’s jaw, neither of them rushed to pull away.

And when Peter asked in the quiet hours of the night about Nina -her favourite music, her sense of humour, her hopes and dreams- Erik didn’t hesitate to share them all with the brother she’d never had the fortune of meeting. Both their eyes were misty as he spoke, but for just a moment, it felt like both of his children were alive, if only in spirit.

Having Peter by his side was a blessing he had never dared to hope for.

Watching Peter leave at the end of every visit was the torture he struggled to bear.

But Erik waited, and hoped, and prayed for his son to return to him soon, making sure to treasure the precious moments they shared until that time came.

“You’re up early.”

It was an odd sight seeing Peter out of bed before the sun had fully risen, much preferring to sleep in when he could or just not attempt to sleep at all if he had excess energy to burn. Now he stood hovering in the doorway, hair ruffled by slumber but eyes wide and alert as he looked to Erik for permission to join him. The balcony was nothing spectacular -just a small table and two rusting chairs with a nice view of the village- but Erik was quick to wave him over to the empty seat.

Surprisingly, Peter took his time in walking over instead of jumping into superspeed like he so often did, sliding down into the chair and staring out at the warm purples and reds that were beginning to paint the sky.

“Is everything alright?” Erik felt the need to ask when the boy remained silent.

Offering him a gentle smile, Peter replied “Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine.”

“Trouble sleeping?”

Peter hummed lightly, but before Erik could question any further, he asked, “How about you? Can’t catch any shut eye or just keen for fresh air?”

Lifting the mug of coffee that had been resting between his hands, Erik took a careful sip before answering, “I enjoy watching the sunrise. It changes every morning, but it’s beautiful all the same. And after years spent without access to the sun, you learn to appreciate a good view.”

“Ah right, the whole Pentagon thing,” Peter chuckled. “I see how that could turn anyone into an outdoor enthusiast.”

Erik hid an amused smirk behind the edge of his coffee mug, before the reminder of their first meeting began to sink its roots into his thoughts and cause his smile to fall. “I never did thank you for that,” he said, causing the tone to suddenly shift as Peter glanced at the man with a curious tilt of his head.

“Thank me for what?” he quizzed.

“The whole ‘Pentagon thing’, as you put it,” Erik said in an attempt to lighten the mood, which seemed to be a success when Peter shot back a pleased grin.

“You don’t have to thank me for that man, it was nothing, really,” the boy was quick to brush off.

“But it wasn’t just nothing,” Erik pressed, placing his mug aside as he turned his full attention to Peter and stated firmly, “You successfully infiltrated one of the most secure prisons in the entire country. You were able to bypass the guards undetected, break the bulletproof glass of my cell with your bare hands, and then singlehandedly save all of us from being pelted with bullets. And you did all of that without even having something to gain from the whole ordeal.”

Peter blinked in surprise, clearly unaware of just how incredible his feats truly were, or at least how much Erik had noticed them.

“You are a remarkable person Peter,” Erik said, his voice as steady and certain as his heart. “Without you, I would still be rotting away in that cell. So please, allow me this chance to say: Thank you. For everything.”

Eyes that Erik adored so deeply stared back at him in awe, shimmering like stars in the dull morning light. Erik couldn’t bring himself to look away. All he wanted was for Peter to know how amazing he truly was, and how much Erik admired all he had done.

“Erik…”

Peter’s voice was quiet and restrained, and Erik felt his own resolve falter in the face of the boy’s sudden urgency.

“There- There’s something I need to tell you.”

Heart skipping a beat, Erik tried to mask the alarm and the hope that began coursing through his veins, giving Peter his full, undivided attention as he asked “Yes?”

Peter’s leg began to bounce nervously, which he stilled with an equally as shaking hand beneath the table. “I… I’ve been trying to- uh… wanting to tell you for a while now, actually- but I just never found the right time,” he began, though his quickened breathing seemed to be choking the words short. “You know, what with the mansion exploding, and uh- all that shit in Cairo, and then I got busy with the X-Men and you got busy building Genosha so I didn’t have a chance to-“

“Peter,” Erik cut in, pained to see him flounder when he normally spoke with such ease. “It’s alright, just take your time.”

The boy nodded and blew out a quivering breath to steady himself, slipping on a mask of confidence that Erik almost would have believed to be true if not for the foot still tapping anxiously against the floor. “You know, all of… this-“ Peter gestured out towards the village, and then back towards the house, and finally the space between the two of them with a wave of his hand- “has been amazing. Really, it has. I never would have dreamed of ending up somewhere as cool as this surrounded by so many awesome people, and I guess what I’m trying to say is I just feel so lucky that I get to be here as your- uh, Genosha’s liaison.”

Nodding his head, Erik pushed gently “But…?”

Maybe he had been hoping for an out, but at the man’s questioning, Peter wrung his hands together nervously and adverted his gaze to the tabletop. “But, that’s why I’m… worried,” Peter continued, his voice thick with hesitation. “…Because I don’t want to ruin it all…”

The last words were soft as a whisper but they rang like sirens through Erik’s head, immediately rushing to assure, “That’s impossible. Nothing you say could ruin anythi-“

“You don’t know that,” Peter snapped back as he raised his head, panic and regret flashing vividly across his features. “You don’t…”

Erik clenched his teeth, wanting nothing more than to say that he knew- that it was alright- that he loved him- but he forced the words back, saying instead “Then tell me, and you will know.”

Caught under the man’s fierce gaze, Peter could do nothing but stare back with all the same hope, doubt and terror that had consumed him that day in Cairo. The sight alone made Erik’s chest twist in regret, and he silently begged that today would not be a repeat of history.

“I-… I…”

The rusted metal of the chairs began to creak.

Erik felt the blood pounding in his ears.

Peter drew in a strained breath, about to say the words they both needed so desperately, and then-

Slamming his eyes shut and shaking his head in dismay, Peter pushed himself onto his feet and sent Erik’s heart plummeting in an instant. “This was a mistake- just ignore I ever said anything,” Peter muttered as he turned to walk away.

He could have sped off. He could have disappeared before Erik even got his feet on the floor. But when Erik shot up and caught his wrist, Peter didn’t escape under the safety of his superspeed, and instead let the man keep him in place as he looked over his shoulder in fear. Not of Erik though. Of rejection. Of the idea that Erik may not want to be his father, which was something he refused to let Peter believe for any longer.

Erik had vowed to wait, but he already had a lifetime of regrets. He would not let this moment become another wasted opportunity.

“Please- don’t leave,” Erik said, allowing his mask of composure to slip and reveal the terror in his own eyes. “You mean much to me, Peter. And though I will not force you to talk if you don’t wish to, you must know that there is nothing you could say that could ever make me think less of you. No truth you could ever reveal that would make you any less important to me.”

Peter’s eyes glistened with building tears, but now that he had started, Erik couldn’t stop the words from pouring out, pressing on boldly “There is nothing you have to hide from me. Please, whatever you have to tell me, I want to hear it.”

Loosening his hold on Peter’s wrist, Erik gently ran his thumb over the back of his hand, hoping to convey the comfort and safety that the boy so clearly needed. And judging by the way Peter’s fingers unfurled from the fist they had been locked in, it seemed to have the desired effect.

Glancing up with those teary, petrified, hopeful eyes, Peter stared right through his father’s soul and trembled beneath his touch.

“I… I’m your son.”

There were those words. Those beautiful, precious words that Erik had been waiting an eternity for, and now finally had the privilege of hearing in his own son’s voice.

His son.

“Say it again,” Erik’s voice quivered as the tears blazed through his vision. “Please…”

Peter blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting that response. “I’m your son,” he repeated stronger this time, though the uncertainty still echoed through his voice.

Erik had known the truth for weeks by now, but hearing it from the boy’s mouth was better than he ever could have imagined, and the tears flooded down his cheeks in waves of quiet relief.

“I’m sorry,” Peter was suddenly rushing to say upon seeing his father’s tears. “I- I wasn’t trying to- I’m so sorry I-“

“Why would you ever be sorry?” Erik asked, voice choked with adoration as he squeezed the boy’s wrist gently. “This is the greatest gift you could have given me.”

Body eerily still for the speedster, Peter asked in a near whisper, “You… you really mean that?”

“Of course I do,” Erik replied without a hint of hesitation. “How could I be anything but overjoyed?”

“Well… plenty of reasons, really,” Peter had the nerve to shrug, demeaning himself in front of the one person who would never allow for such slander against his child. “I talk too much, can’t seem to focus, used to steal a shit load of stuff as a kid, continuously blast your house with music, leave my mess everywhere, pretty much invaded your home and-“

“All the reasons I love you.”

That cut Peter’s tangent off faster than a lightning bolt, wide eyes flickering over to meet Erik’s own in pure, visceral shock.

“W-What?” he stammered, as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

So seeing that he needed to be more direct, Erik stepped closer and gently pressed his free hand against the curve of Peter’s jaw, forcing those familiar, glistening eyes to hold his stare as Erik stated as irrefutable fact, “You, Peter Maximoff, are one of the most wonderful mutants I have ever met. I admire your courage and your strength, and it brings me nothing but joy when you talk about topics that interest you. I’m so honoured that you became our liaison, and I love that you spend time with the children, and I love that you fill my house with music I don’t understand and processed foods so filled with sugar it should be criminal.”

Peter barked out a wet laugh and leant longingly into Erik’s hand, leading the man to release his wrist and cradle his face instead like he was the most precious thing Erik had ever seen. And he was. He always would be.

“I love that you tried to learn chess even though it bored you to death,” Erik chuckled through his own blissful tears. “I love that you rush to your friends’ aid without hesitation. I love that you stood by my side after all these years. I love that you filled my home with all your records and cassettes, and snore in your sleep, and forget to wash your dishes, and make me laugh, and I love… you, Peter.”

Erik thought it would be difficult to declare such a thing, but it seemed only second nature to say aloud now, especially in regard to his son. Peter on the other hand took a bit longer to process, his face flashing through all stages of shock, disbelief and finally acceptance as the tears cascaded down his cheeks in rivers of relief.

“Are you- uh… are you sure you want… me?” Peter asked, voice trembling like a leaf.

Swiping away a loose tear on the boy’s cheek, Erik answered with every ounce of determination he could muster and more, “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. I love you, Peter Maximoff… I love you son.”

Whatever shred of composure either of them had been trying to hold onto crumbled away with those simple words, and Erik felt his instincts roar back to life as Peter’s chest lurched with wordless sobs, grasping desperately onto the man’s wrists as if he feared he might leave. But Erik would never leave- he couldn’t bring himself to even if he tried. They had lost so much time, wasted so many precious chances, and Erik would not let another one he loved slip through his fingers. This time was going to be different. This time he wouldn’t let go.

“Come here,” Erik murmured as he slid a hand behind the boy’s neck and pulled him into a fierce embrace, shielding him in the safety and love and peace that Peter had given him just by existing. “I’ve got you, it’s alright…”

While Peter’s entire frame may have been shaking, his grip was close to brutal as he returned the desperate embrace and buried his face into the crook of his father’s neck. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to, though. Erik could hear his message loud and clear through the way his hands were bunched tightly into Erik’s shirt like a lifeline, and how his breathing hitched with disbelieving laughter, and the curve of a smile pressed against his shoulder.

I love you too.

And with that comforting knowledge, Erik felt his own tears renew with a vengeance, hiding his face in his son’s sweeping silver hair and thanking the heavens once more for such a blessing. After Nina, he never would have hoped to hold a child of his own again, and yet here Peter was, wrapped safely in his embrace and not going anywhere anytime soon.

The time would come where Peter would have to leave again. That was just the way things were between children and their parents. But for now they held on tightly, anchored by the love of the family they had waited so long to call their own, and stayed locked together as the sun rose over the horizon.

A new morning.

A new beginning.

~~~