Chapter Text
My room has been untouched ever since Peter left; the bedsheets are disturbed with one pillow somehow lying on the floor, and the open window lets in the soft sunset glow. Whilst making my bed look presentable, I catch a faint scent of him- sweat and a most likely shoplifted cologne, its there one moment and gone the next, much like the speedster himself.
There's a harsh knock against my door, making me flinch. I can sense it's Charles. Why would he scare me like that? Carefully, I open my bedroom door. I was honestly so used to him being eye level that I had to correct myself and tilt my head down slightly to meet his face.
"(Y/N)," He says, in that stern tone that he only uses if he's preparing to lecture me. I rack my brain for all the things I may have done to deserve a scolding, but I draw blanks.
"Yes?" I wince nervously, gritting my teeth. I stand aside as he presses the console of his chair and enters my room. He glances around with narrowed eyes as if he were analysing every inch; he barely enters my room anymore in his months of self-loathing and isolation. Maybe he's finally noticing how I've changed and grown, being reflected in the way I decorate my space.
A gentle smile grows on his face as he nears my desk and picks up a small picture frame, "Where did the time go?" he wonders aloud.
The photograph was taken when I was about twelve years old, Charles and I standing in front of our favourite tree, as I wear a wide gapped tooth grin on my face as if the person behind the camera had told me some ridiculous joke. Charles has his arm across my shoulders and a proud expression. I remember that day as if it were just last week, the day I first telekinetically lifted an object heavier than a Kilogram- a task that comes easy to me now, but at the time it made me feel like the most powerful girl in the world.
I watch as he gently returns the frame to its rightful position with a soft tap against the wooden surface; if I wasn't so frustrated with him id probably take the time to reminisce with him.
I fold my arms over my chest as he stares at me, reading the perturbed expression on my face. He rubs the bridge of his nose and sighs. "(Y/n)," he hesitates, "I want your help tomorrow at the White House"
I widen my eyes at him. Of all the things he could say to me in that moment, that was the one I expected the least, "Really, Charles? I can't, I know you don't think I'm ready, you wouldn't even let me on that plane," I say in utter disbelief, my tone giving away my genuine shock. What could have happened in Paris to make him change his opinion of me?
An offended look ghosts his face for a moment, and he opens his mouth as if he were about to snap back at me, but abruptly stops himself, pressing his mouth into a straight line and clenching his fist.
I get a nagging feeling of regret. Maybe I was cruel in how I spoke, and trying to shut him down when he extended the metaphorical olive branch. My mattress creeks under my weight as I sit next to him.
"Sorry..." I let the word hang there, letting him know that I'm being honest, but also letting him know that he can interrupt me if he needs, "It's just... I'm so used to you treating me like a child" My head dips as I confess.
He looks at me with a proud smile that I haven't seen in years "(Y/N) You're the only real family I have left. After what happened to all the students, I thought I had to protect you. Really, what I did was fence you in." Charles says, sighing deeply, "I didn't want you to lose people as I have."
The first class, Eric, Mystique, they all left him.
He's right. I've never experienced anything like that. I've lived in the comfort of knowing only Charles and Hank. If I have no one else, then I can never lose anything.
"You don't need to be wrapped in cotton wool anymore. You've turned into a powerful young woman when I wasn't looking." His words hit me like a truck, and I realise how much I've missed this version of him. I throw my arms around his shoulder and squeeze tightly, and he returns it by gently rubbing my back. He's really the closest thing I've had to a father, ever.
I can hear him let out a small laugh right by my ear, "You also seemed perfectly capable when you were driving off into the distance with Peter", he says in an irritatingly teasing tone, and I could tell he was itching to say more, "Even more so, bringing him into our house"
As I pull back from the hug, my face is one of pure embarrassment; there's definitely no denying anything now that he can read my mind again. He doesn't press for more information or lecture me, just laughs and moves to leave. The door softly shuts with an almost inaudible click, but a voice fills my head.
"We really need you out there. I'll see you in the morning."
Now it's my turn to be proud. Charles is finally embracing his mutation, as he taught me to do all those years ago
——
Just as I step out of my bathroom, drying my damp hair with a towel, I recollect my thoughts from the day and try to prepare myself for tomorrow. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot it.
A neon yellow sticky note was stuck to my television set.
'Write me- P', with an address written in clumsy handwriting next to it.