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Chapter Text

Charles had always known that his seven children (seven! He had seven!) were extraordinary. Had known it even before the moment Cerebro was almost short-circuited with the ubiquitous signals of their births (along with thirty-six others’) across the globe. Had known it before he rigorously scanned the minds of their biological mothers for any sliver of genuine intention to raise them with care and love before he planted the prospect of adoption in them. It would forever remain an ulcer in his mind that he had only been able to reach seven of them and failed the unfortunate rest: while some had been kept by their own mothers, the majority had been unwanted and thus rid of in inhumane manners, their miraculous births deemed unnatural and satanic. He and Erik had made damn sure they paid for such heinous crime. One of few matters they had both agreed on.

“Are they mutants?” Raven, her natural form exchanged for her usually favored guise of tousled blonde locks and peachy skin, had asked first thing when she arrived at the front yard to welcome them back. She had demanded to be on the trip with them but then grudgingly relented and stayed behind to watch over the school.

Charles cast a brief glance at the baby boy in his laps. Like his siblings, he had yet to open his eyes, his face was still adorably wrinkled and pink, and his toothless mouth was open in a tiny O. “No, they aren’t,” Charles replied, smiling and stroking his baby’s cheek. “Cerebro had denoted such before we went to get them.”

So used was Charles to the gentle white of humans and the glaring red of mutants that he had been taken aback when a third color popped up in Cerebro. A solid neon blue which had drawn his eyes in with it ethereal properties, stunning him into complete motionlessness until Hank’s paw shook his shoulder.

His memory might not be the most trustworthy source but Charles was strangely certain the seven brightest spots were now snuggly wrapped in soft wool blankets, either snoozing or looking at their caregivers with curious eyes.

Raven just shrugged and the matter was dropped. “I’ll take the girls. Are these two girls?” she said, pointing at the pastel-pink bundles in Hank’s care. Delicate and oh-so squishable, they probably weighted a feather in his furry arms but a ton on his mind because Charles didn’t need his telepathy to know the blue giant was genuinely freaking out; his awkward pose and the utter relief plastered on his sweat-matted face when the babies were transferred to Raven’s far steadier hold had all been tell-tale signs.

Charles watched his sister, a baby perfectly balanced in each arm, skipping all the way back inside with Hank faithfully trailing after her, and couldn’t help a chuckle that brought crow’s feet to the corners of his eyes. “And she’s already playing favorites.”

Erik’s laughter did not shake the four cradles floating around him one bit, and Charles silently admired his old friend’s impeccable control over his powers, as he had countless times before. “Here I thought she was pushing relentlessly for gender equality.”

“She did say many a time that she wanted a baby girl, and now she’s got two. I’m mildly afraid she’s going to spoil them rotten.”

“Only after you,” Erik quipped, placing a hand on Charles’s shoulder and squeezing lightly. Charles didn’t expect a wave of nostalgia to wash over him at such a simple touch.

He had waited with baited breath for Erik’s response when he contacted him over Cerebro about the miracle births, half-expecting his old friend’s refusal — last time he’d heard, Erik had been having his hands full with building a mutant sanctuary on the Genosha island. The few seconds before Erik agreed to come had felt like an eternity.

“Can you blame me?” he said, turning to Erik with a small smile. “They’re such marvelous children.”

Erik returned his smile with a grin, all teeth and endearing and making Charles’s heart beat just a tad faster like the very first time he’d seen it. “They may not be mutants like us but these children, our children, are going to be nothing short of extraordinary.”

And just like that, something soft and warm and amazing unfurled in Charles’s chest.

To be continued

Chapter Text

Charles did not name his children; he let them pick their own name via a small game on their very first birthday.

Various options courtesy of himself, Erik, Raven, Hank and those who had contributed to the care of the seven siblings, calligraphed in pieces of colorful paper, which were neatly folded into heart and bird shapes — Raven’s ingenious idea, not his — and laid around the largest room of the mansion. The children were then brought in to roam free and pick whichever piece that caught their attention. Masculine names had been mixed with feminine ones and a few that didn’t denote genders per Raven’s insistence because it was totally fine if one of the girls would want to be called Joel or one of the boys Jolene. Erik had been amused while Charles had arched an eyebrow at his sister’s suggestion but eventually caved in; the children could always change it when they got older and decided to re-decide what to sign on the dotted line.

“Ooh, the anticipation is killing Auntie Raven,” Raven cooed at a boy with dark curls and green eyes, who was the first to have made his choice and was now giggling as he was being bounced on her scaly knees; she had tried acquainting the children with her natural looks, and the absence of shrieks and screams had delighted her more than Charles’s words ever could. “Can’t wait to see what your siblings will pick, can we?”

“Give them time,” Erik said, smiling as he took a seat on the floor next to her while Charles moved his wheelchair to their side. “It’s a matter of great importance. Oh, here you are. Another one.”

Dropping a tawny heart-shaped piece into the cardboard box for the big revelation later, Erik picked up a girl with dark hair cut in a short bob and let her sit on the crook of his arm. She looked at him with curious round eyes, sucking her thumb. Warmth spread in Charles as he watched his old friend pry the girl’s thumb from her mouth and wipe the smear of drool off her cheek, his movements gentle and sure and well-practiced. She must have reminded him of his late daughter, with chestnut hair and porcelain skin. A pang of sadness hit him when he caught tendrils of mellow affection radiating from Erik’s hard frame.

The outcome surprised everybody but Charles. One could even say he’d anticipated it.

Luther.

Diego.

Allison.

Klaus.

Five.

Ben.

Vanya.

That didn’t mean he was any less awed.

Fate worked in mystical way, it seemed.

“It’s astonishing that most of them have managed to pick out names that match their gender,” Hank said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. The two boys — Ben and Diego now — perching on either of his broad shoulders immediately sought to render his effort in vain with their tiny grabby hands. Ben slid off his shoulder with a yelp but was deftly caught by gentle paws. His brother laughed at him, clutching a turf of blue hair at Hank’s thick neck with both hands. Hank whipped his head around and growled at him, but only playfully, and the boy’s laughter only grew.

While he was Beast to the outside world and most of the students here, Hank was just a plus-sized teddy bear to these dauntless tiny tots, a fact that still had him baffled from time to time.

“Vanya suits her,” Erik commented, handing a rose-shaped turquoise piece to Vanya who was monopolizing his laps as she extended her arm. “I don’t know why but I just have a vague feeling that these names all suit them.”

“Even ‘Five’?” Raven raised her voice in incredulity, prompting both Klaus and ‘Five’ to stop their mini tug-of-war and turn their heads at her. “What the heck is the name ‘Five’? Who even put it here? You, Peter?”

Peter, with Allison sitting on his shoulders and Luther dangling on his leg like a baby monkey, denied her accusation with a shrug.

“Language, Raven,” Charles chided her, not harshly. “We’re not going to call him by a number.”

If Charles was honest with himself (but not with the rest of them), it was curiosity that had driven him to put ‘Five’ in the mix, along with the rest of those names he’d been keeping in his memory for decades. A small, harmless secret he hadn’t shared with anyone, together with a promise which had resulted in these darlings under his roof. “You know, Professor,” the Five then had said, his tone as casual as he could manage despite the weight of years in the depth of his eyes, “I would very much like us to have a decent childhood, happy even, so that we wouldn’t grow up to be these fucked up versions that we are.”

Charles had made a promise under Five’s skeptical eyes, and he had kept it.

A happy childhood started with being named, not numbered.

“We could go with Quentin,” Erik suggested, “or Quintus, for a bit of extra flair. Both mean number five.”

Quintus it is, Charles decided, until he was old enough to decide whether he’d want a different name.

To be continued

Chapter Text

Charles had known that his seven children all possessed extraordinary abilities even before they started manifesting them; he was just not aware of when and under what circumstance. Would there be a trigger like in a mutant’s case, an emotional distress acting as a spark plug or a hormonal surge kickstarting puberty? Working with troubled young mutants for almost three decades, Charles had accumulated more than enough experience to know things were never easy when abilities started surfacing, and he would like to be best prepared to help his children along the transition. While he would never set them up in harnesses and machines, he had asked Hank to give them regular checkups and keep an eye open for any abnormal signs. It had raised Hank’s bushy eyebrows, prompting Charles to divulge his concerns to him. Though not without a sliver of doubt, the doctor had agreed.

He certainly had not anticipated the manifestation would occur during one of those checkups.

“Are you sure it was Vanya?” Charles asked. “All seven of them were present in the checkup hall.”

Hank adjusted his glasses and said, “I’m pretty sure it was Vanya. She was the first to start crying.”

Diego and Luther had gotten in yet another squabble — it happened a lot, Charles noted — and before long, they had started vigorously chasing each other around the hall. Diego had tripped Luther up, causing him to bump into Vanya, sitting on the bench with Quintus and behaving like the good little girl she was.

Luther was a little giant for a five-year-old while Vanya was a shrunken hobbit. Charles winced thinking about the impact.

“I honestly have no idea what exactly it was,” Hank said. “But it looked like a burst of energy and it fried a monitor and the next thing I knew, I got myself a mini orchestra of seven wailing Banshees. It was terrifying when you think about it, this level of sibling unity. I had to call Raven and Ororo for help.”

Charles filed away this tidbit of information for future reference.

After that, Vanya showed no signs of her alleged ‘powers’ that Hank had suspected to be the cause of the technical anomaly in his lab. Maybe it had been just that, a glitch in the machine that had been so coincidentally simultaneous with Vanya’s cry that it looked like she had been its cause. Maybe her powers, as well as her siblings’, would not surface until her adolescence, allowing all seven kids to enjoy a relatively peaceful, power-free childhood. That would probably be better for them, Charles mused while watching them engaging in a noisy game of tag, as on one hand, he was firmly supportive of the embrace and celebration of special abilities, but on the other, he was aware how volatile and chaotic, and in some extreme cases, detrimental they were to a healthy childhood.

Charles’s internal conflicts did not have long to live, squashed by an incident which happened some indefinite time later.

Kurt sat in a chair opposite from him in his study which doubled as his office, chewing his lower lips and lightly beating his pointy tail against the carpeted floor in an anxious rhythm. “It was... it felt like a burst of energy hitting me in the face,” he explained, gesturing vaguely. “I was startled but thankfully my instinct kicked in and I blinked to the hallway. On hindsight, I’m glad it was me because someone else might have been blown away by that burst and the result could have been awful.”

“And it came from Vanya?” Charles asked, lacing his fingers on the mahogany table. He was already certain of the answer. This was much similar to the incident in the examination room, both of which had involved Vanya.

Charles remembered clearly the sheer powers which had radiated from the young woman that day in the suburban barn. Now the same powers had started to manifest in his daughter.

“Yeah, one-hundred percent,” Kurt confirmed. “I was trying to get her to eat her oatmeal and she kept pushing the bowl away, pouting, and she was also upset because the others had long finished their breakfast and gone out to the yard. Diego had even teased her. I thought maybe a song could cheer her up and she’d eat. It worked when Klaus and Ben refused to eat their carrots.”

Oh dear.

Kurt was many things, a dastardly handsome man, a playful trickster, a master of teleportation, but a terrific singer was never one of them; Klaus and Ben must have wolfed down their carrots just so they could flee. Apparently the same strategy had failed to apply to Vanya.

“I suppose oatmeal won’t be on her breakfast menu for a while,” Charles said, despite having an inkling that oatmeal wasn’t the real issue.

Of course it wasn’t. Vanya disliked oatmeal, sure, and she had been known to throw a supersonic tantrum over a bowl of gooey breakfast. Oatmeal, unsurprisingly, wasn’t the only item in a list of foods that happened to offend her taste buds, as she had just released another burst of energy due to the bell peppers and broccoli in her salad. Unfortunately for them, it was during their meal time and Charles had no choice but to broadcast a signal of calm over her siblings so that a dinner crisis could be averted. Fortunately for them, Jean and Scott had just returned from their long holiday in the Bahamas and who could be better expert in dealing with outbursts than The Phoenix herself?

“I could turn into Boogeyman,” Raven suggested, leaning back in her chair. “Every kid is scared of Boogeyman.”

They were gathering in the kitchen once the children had been tucked neatly into bed.

“No one knows how the Boogeyman is supposed to look like,” Charles countered.

“I could use my imagination.”

“Honestly I don’t think the kids are afraid of anything,” Peter chimed in, sitting astride on his chair and hugging its back. “When the zombies in Thriller appeared, they all laughed.”

Charles directed a half-disbelieving, half-disappointed look at the silver-haired speedster. “You let seven six-year-olds watch Thriller?”

Peter held up both palms in defense. “Klaus insisted,” he said. “He caught it on TV and nagged at me to watch the whole thing. Like, all afternoon until I caved. You know how persuasive he can be with the whole puppy dog eyes thing, which must be his super power. The kids all seemed to enjoy it though, so much so that they’d been practicing the dance.”

“Scaring her is a measure I’d rather never use,” Charles said with a small sigh, currently experiencing a sort of helplessness he’d not felt in a couple decades of his teaching career. “That aside, I don’t think it will solve the problem. I’ve been helping her to get her powers under control — through words mostly, and she’s been making progress, but she’s also prone to throwing tantrums.”

“I can relate. When I was about her age, whenever I found broccoli in my plate, things started flying,” Jean offered her own experience with a chuckle. “I didn’t make it easy for you, did I?”

Charles smiled at her. “You were never trouble, Jean. Neither is Vanya now.”

“Can I have a few private sessions with Vanya? I think I have a couple tips to help her tone down a little or at least throw a tantrum without something extra.”

Never had Charles been more grateful for Jean’s presence like at the moment.

...

Jean had been one of the greatest gifts Charles had ever received, as both a student and a teacher. In terms of being a teacher, she was easily the best; the nature of her powers allowed her to, in her word, “relate” to the struggles of the students, thus equipping her to deal with some of the more challenging ones. Under her guidance, Vanya’s temper had become milder and she’d been less prone to outbursts. When she did, not so frequently now, Jean was always there, either to help her process her emotions or lessen their subsequent outcome. It wasn’t the perfect solution, but it was a much improved circumstance than when Charles with words alone.

And then, things started to take a turn for the better, if sudden and unexpected, on a rainy afternoon.

Vanya’s anxiety had bled through his consciousness the moment the sky darkened. It was a well-known fact in the school that Vanya hated the rain while her siblings, the boys especially, liked to play in the rain, much to the collective adults’ disapproval because one, they might get a cold and two, they got water and mud and grass everywhere on the carpets. It was not so much a simple matter as when she disliked blue cheese or oatmeal as a more serious issue which again gave Charles a taste of helplessness.

“The pitter-patter of the rain is so loud,” Vanya mumbled into the crook of his neck the first time she entered his office, wide-eyed and snotty-faced. “It makes me nervous.”

The sound of rainwater hitting the windowsill shouldn’t be sending anyone into a minor panic attack but Charles also knew not everyone had enhanced hearing sense like Vanya, whose powers he had now figured out to be sonic. It was both a blessing and a curse, one that sent him a heartache as a father as he held her close, massaging the space between her shoulder blades and sending a wave of calmness and reassurance to cocoon her mind.

It worked, of course — when had it not? — though Charles was well aware this was only temporary solution. Digging deep into Vanya’s mind and uprooting the anxiety that came with the rain was within his powers, but like Raven’s Boogeyman tactic, this was something he’d rather not use; tampering with the mind usually brought grave consequences, which Charles had a sense of déjà vu that he’d done (and regretted it dearly) in another lifetime (strange, right?).

Peter, being the helpful young man that he was, had offered to lend Vanya his prized headphones and Walkman player, but after an hour, she had returned them, saying that his music was noisy and that it gave her a headache. Vanya, being Vanya, of course had tried her best with her six-year-old vocabulary to soften the wording but big bro Peter’s feelings had taken a blow nonetheless.

Charles was mildly surprised to find a familiar mind beside Vanya’s when he scanned the mansion and found hers in the kitchen. Moving his wheelchair to said destination, he had half a mind to send his old friend a mental note in lieu of greeting. Erik had paid the school more frequent visits recently since things at Genosha had fallen into place and the island was now running full-speed as a sanctuary for mutants. Unlike a couple adults who still had some reservations about his status as Magneto, the seven siblings were delighted in his presence, calling him “Papa” as often as they could.

While Charles’s heart did a little flutter when the children called him “Dad” or “Daddy”, “Papa” had a different ring to it. He swore he didn’t envy his old friend of that.

In the end, Charles didn’t send his mental greeting because the closer he got to the kitchen, the clearer the singing became.

Erik’s singing.

The language was unfamiliar to him but if he had to put his two cents in, he’d say it was Yiddish. His knowledge of Yiddish might be inadequate; however, it didn’t hinder him from visualizing the images carried in the words.

A little cottage on the cliff that overlooked the calm, sparkling ocean. A small garden in front, dotted with shrubs of hibiscuses. A man in a plaid shirt darkened on the back, chopping logs of wood.

A little girl’s voice joined Erik’s. Vanya was singing.

The images before Charles’s mind eyes shifted. Same landscape, same hard-working man, the only difference was a little dark-haired girl in a billowing summer dress, who ran to the man. The man abandoned his task, dropped his tool and bent down to scoop his daughter up. Beaming, the girl clung to his neck, mindless of his sweats.

The smile lingered on Charles’s lips long after the pair of father and daughter finished the song.

“I’m not interrupting anything, aren’t I?” Charles asked, looking fondly at Erik and Vanya. They were doing something in the kitchen which involved... flour.

Baking, perhaps? He didn’t know his old friend could bake.

Erik continued to surprise him, even after nearly three decades of acquaintance.

“Dad!” Vanya said. “Papa and I are making plum pie.” She proudly held up a baking tray for Charles to see. “We’re almost done. Papa said we only need to put it in the oven.”

“Which we’ll do right now,” Erik said, taking the tray from her. “I’ve brought some freshly picked plums from Genosha. We have a good harvest this year. Thought we could make some plum pie for the kids.”

“Dad, can I go find Jean and Raven? I want to sing her the song Papa taught me.”

Charles nodded, smiling as he watched Vanya skip out of the kitchen.

“You usually come to my office first when you pay a visit,” Charles said.

“Yes,” Erik replied, rinsing his hands under the faucet. “I intended to put the plums in the kitchen before finding you. I found Vanya on a chair, hugging her knees to her chest. I didn’t need telepathy to tell she was not happy.”

“The rain bothers her and she’s unhappy that she can’t join her siblings.”

Erik chuckled. “I wouldn’t exactly encourage her to go play in the rain.”

“Well, I always tell the others to not do that but they always find a way to sneak out. It’s a small miracle they’ve never gotten the cold.”

Or any minor diseases normal children often got.

“I taught Vanya a song and told her once she began to sing, the rain wouldn’t bother her anymore. The act of singing distracts the mind from unpleasant thoughts.”

“Yes, her distressed signal had vanished. It’s a shame singing isn’t a talent widely shared here, and neither is it anybody’s passion, well, except for Kurt.”

“Apparently that young man’s passionate singing isn’t very effective in distracting a disturbed mind.”

“What was the song that you taught Vanya?”

“A song passed down to me by my parents, and their parents before them,” Erik said, gazing distantly at the window. The rain had reduced to a light drizzle. “I used to sing it to Nina before bed. It helped her into sleep.”

Before a melancholic wave washed over both of them, Erik changed the topic. “Vanya has a beautiful voice,” he commented. “I think she has a knack for music.”

“It’s not surprising given her powers are sound-based. I wonder what sorts of instrument she would like to play.”

“We could start with the basics, like the harmonica. I think I know what I should bring her next time. I have never made a musical instrument before; now is as good a time as any.”

“I think Vanya will love it.”

Even if she had no interest in the harmonica, she would certainly treasure it since it was a gift from Papa.

Charles smiled at his old friend, reaching for his hand. Erik’s callous fingers intertwined with his like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Thank you, Erik.”

Erik returned his smiles, his eyes crinkling. “What do you thank me for? They are our children.”

“Yes, they are.”

As if on cue, their children rushed into the kitchen in a flurry of noises and laughter. They formed a small circle with their Dad and Papa at the center.

Charles smiled, shaking his head as he saw the wet footprints on the floor.

“I smell pie,” exclaimed Diego, looking excited despite being soaked from head to toe like a wet puppy.

“Is that apple pie?” Klaus asked, looking very comfortable with his seat on Luther’s shoulders. His bare feet were softly kicking and sending droplets of water towards his siblings.

“No, silly, it’s plum pie,” Quintus corrected him, wiping water from his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Look at the plums Papa brought,” Allison continued right after him.

“Yes, plum pie,” Erik agreed. “And you kids won’t get any bite if you don’t go take a hot shower and change out of your wet clothes right now.”

A collective “No” and the children all hurried out of the kitchen, Klaus for some reason still sitting on Luther’s shoulders, which forced Ben to crane his neck to look at him as they chatted all the way down the corridor.

“Why have I never thought of that?” Charles wondered out loud.

“You’re always too soft, old friend,” Erik said, winking. “You’ve spoilt them rotten.”

They shared a laugh at that.

...

The next time there was a shower, Charles was relieved to only sense a sliver of anxiety coming from Vanya, which soon vanished once her singing filled the den.

Erik was right. She had a beautiful voice and the way she hit some of the high notes indicated a latent talent.

What came as a surprise, however, was the small audience consisted of her siblings gathering around her, all exuding an air of awe and wonder.

With a smile, Charles decided not to ruin the moment and drove his chair back to his office.

The next time Erik visited, he found not one but all seven kids singing the song.

To be continued

Chapter Text

Erik and Charles were in the middle of a discussion on building either a basketball or a football court for the students when they were both stunned by a supersonic scream, followed by an audible crack on the window pane.

Charles was the first to recover, having been somewhat more used to Vanya’s outbursts than his old friend. “It’s Vanya,” he informed Erik. But this was not a random, ordinary tantrum, which seldom came these days thanks to the collective effort of Jean, Erik and himself, and accompanying the scream was a spike of panic that rammed straight into Charles’s mind. He inhaled sharply and grimaced. “Something’s wrong at the lake behind the school.”

That was all it took for Erik to lift Charles’s wheelchair up and fly them both through the open window.

It took fifteen seconds top to reach their destination but it felt too long for Charles as he had been continuously sending Vanya and Diego soothing signals despite having his heart in his mouth. Not only had the kids not learned to project properly but their thoughts were also too jumbled and muffled by their cries that it was impossible to grasp what was the cause of their distress, strong enough to produce a physical clench around his left chest.

It was Diego who spotted them while Charles and Erik were several feet above the ground, and in non-emergency circumstances Charles would find his son’s early ‘vigilantism’ quite amusing.

“Dad, Papa!” the boy shouted at the top of his lungs. “Klaus fell into the lake!”

His chair was placed on the grass at the same time Charles saw Erik dive into the lake, not bothering to take off his jacket and his shoes. It was so difficult trying to keep some semblance of calm for his children, each clutching one side of his chair and sobbing so loud he had to pull all his powers into following Erik’s racing thoughts, and for the first time in years Charles felt that he was on the verge of failing.

One second.

Two seconds.

Thirty seconds.

It felt like being stranded at the bottom of an hourglass, and each passing second trickled a drop of dread to rapidly fill up his impending doom. Charles found himself unable to draw a line where the children’s mounting anxiety ended and his own began, blended together in one bubbling cauldron of fear for the worst.

What if...

Charles hadn’t realized he had been gripping the arms of his chair with the intention to break until Erik‘s soaked hand was placed on his own and his old friend’s warm, reassuring aura enveloped Charles’s frayed nerves. He lifted his head to find Erik cradling Klaus to his chest.

“He’s all right,” Erik announced, to both Charles and the children. “He’s unconscious, but otherwise he’s fine.”

Charles could hardly hear Diego and Vanya’s squeals over the thundering of his heart.

“Klaus’s going to be fine,” Erik repeated, giving his white-knuckled hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m bringing him into the house to warm him up.”

As soon as Charles nodded, his old friend took into the air.

...

It was easy to use the engine equipped with the wheelchair but at the moment, Diego was pushing Charles on the cobblestone path leading into the mansion. At the age of seven, Diego had already shown his eagerness to help, which no doubt delighted Scott, who received the most assistance in his cooking duties; giving the boy a chance to be helpful would keep him away from the negative thoughts filling his head at the moment. Vanya trotted beside them, her head unconsciously dipping, letting her bangs to curtain her eyes.

“Anyone cares to tell Daddy what happened?” Charles asked, breaking the silence.

Diego and Vanya perked almost instantly. “It was my fault,” they spoke in perfect unison, prompting a small smile to sneak its way to Charles’s lips, pressed in a tight, straight line since the moment Vanya released her sonic cry.

“How so? Why don’t you tell me? Slowly and one at a time.”

He could enter their minds, of course, that was simple enough, but aside from his promise to never go into their heads without consent, Charles would like to hear their account of the incident.

“It was my fault,” Diego began by restating his claim, his dark brown eyes glistening. “It was my idea and I pulled Klaus along. I thought it would be fun to prank Vanya when she was feeding the ducks in the lake. We went and found the means — Scott’s old basketball in the gym — and I dunked it into the lake to splash the water at Vanya.”

Charles could figure out the rest before Vanya started speaking, which she did after a sniffle.

“I was startled so I let out a, a-what Jean called an energy burst and it shot the ball back and it hit Klaus and he fell into the lake. I-I’m so sorry, Dad.”

“I’m sorry, too. I should have jumped into the lake.”

“You shouldn’t have, Diego,” Charles corrected him firmly. “Neither of you should as you can’t swim. You could have drown.”

“But...”

“You both did the right thing,” he assured them, patting them on the head. “You stayed where you were and you called for help, well, more like screamed for help.”

Vanya blushed at that.

“... and I’m proud of you both, although it’s unadvisable to pull a prank on your sibling like you did, Diego.”

“I’m sorry, Dad... Vanya.”

Vanya beamed at Diego and took his hand in hers. Apology accepted.

“Most people don’t react too well when being startled, your Papa, for example. You really don’t want to surprise him, trust me.”

“What happens when Papa gets startled?” Vanya asked.

“That one time Kitty sneaked up on him —you remember Kitty?”

“The girl who goes through walls?” Diego wondered.

“She’s cool,” Vanya commented, pink dusting her smooth cheeks. His daughter colored pretty easily.

“Kitty sneaked up on Papa and ambushed him with a hug and the pot and pan on the stove were chucked across the kitchen.”

“Cool!” Diego and Vanya squealed. They were always in awe, all seven of them, of every demonstration of Erik’s powers.

“No, not cool,” Charles said with less firmness than he would like, given that his tight-lipped smile had blossomed into a wide one, closer to a grin, as he recalled how the pot and pan had missed his forehead only by a few inches. “It was quite dangerous. You’ve seen Papa’s abilities at work. The point is, under no circumstance do we give people a fright like that, got it, children?”

“Yes, Dad.”

They moved in comfortable silence for a few moments before Diego spoke up, “Is Klaus alright?”

“You heard Papa, Klaus is fine. He just lost consciousness for a while, nothing serious. In fact...” Charles closed his eyes momentarily, then smiled at his kids, who were both gazing at him with eyes full of nervous anticipation. “...he had come around as we speak. I can feel his thoughts stirring.”

And just like that, the sun peaked out from behind the dull, gray clouds as the children grinned from ear to ear, which caused a burst of fuzzy warmth to lap Charles’s mind shore. He ruffled their hair, feeing Diego’s spiky strands tickling his palm and Vanya’s soft locks sliding against his skin like water silk. “Let’s hurry inside, shall we?”

...

It turned out Klaus remembered very little about his perilous experience, only being able to recall what had happened before he was hit by the ball. Charles supposed that was nothing out of the ordinary.

...

After dinner and the children had gathered in front of the TV set to watch The Addams Family (Klaus’s pick, they had unanimously agreed, due to what he had been through today), Charles found Erik on the balcony, a cigarette tugged between his lips. His gaze was far away, as was his mind when Charles gently knocked on his mental gate.

“Cigarette is much frowned upon since we are on campus,” Charles said in lieu of announcing his physical presence, “but I believe you know it better than anyone because it was you who imposed that rule.”

“Hence the balcony,” Erik replied, blowing a perfect ring into the cool night air, which captivated Charles until the smoke dispersed. “Cut me some slack, old friend, after what happened today.”

Charles moved the chair to Erik’s side. “Gave us quite a fright, didn’t he?”

Erik nodded, offering Charles the cig, which he unceremoniously accepted and took a long drag. Being a principal of a school and father of seven young children, Charles only allowed himself this sort of decadence once in a blue moon, but like Erik had said, he could cut them both some slack.

Charles released the smoke and returned it to Erik, who took another drag, looking pensively at the darkness panning out below.

“A penny for your thought?” Charles quipped.

“Why pay a penny when you can get it for free?” Erik replied, tapping a finger at his temple.

Charles scoffed. “Erik, please. I pride myself on being a gentleman.”

Erik grinned at him, all teeth. “I’m thinking about Klaus and what happened at the lake.”

“Oh?”

“He wasn’t too far from the shore,” Erik began, “but the lake was quite deep and I truly feared we might have been too late. When I got to him, there was something rather strange.”

“Strange how?”

“He wasn’t drowning — and I was relieved beyond words; in fact, his body wasn’t in the water. He was, how to describe it, floating just one or two inches above the surface. It was as if something or someone invisible was holding him aloft so that the water barely lapped at his back.”

Charles knew better than to question his old friend’s observation, for Erik’s eyes had always been as keen as his mind. Besides, as some of his siblings had manifested their abilities (cue the following endless shenanigans), it would not be too strange if Klaus’s turn had come. “So you speculate that was his power?”

“It’s a likely possibility, though I’m less certain about the type. It could be levitation or telekinesis or something else entirely. Anyway it’s extraordinary, is all I can say.”

Charles recalled his fateful 1963 encounter with a one-of-a-kind character whose alternate version was now calling him ‘Dad’ while blinking huge emerald eyes at him whenever he asked for more ice cream or another thirty minutes of cartoon. Despite the brevity of their acquaintance, Charles had been fortunate enough to learn of his unique set of powers, and he was quite certain neither levitation nor telekinesis had belonged to it. Still, what he had witnessed had only been the tip of the proverbial ice berg; much was left to be explored and the potential could be immense.

Extraordinary. Erik was right.

“It’s hard to tell at this point,” Charles said. “We just have to wait and see, though I doubt we’ll have to wait very long.”

Erik hummed in agreement, taking one last drag before snuffing the cigarette in an ashtray hovering around him like a satellite.

“About our earlier discussion,” he said, “on whether we should build a basketball or football court.”

“Yes?”

“I’m thinking something a bit different, like a swimming pool. The students would benefit greatly from it, especially in the summer. Many of them enjoy a splash to cool down, but the lake behind the school is hardly safe.”

“While we’re at it, a few swimming lessons are in order. I can’t believe we haven’t thought about it earlier.”

Erik’s gaze met his eyes and his lips curled into a smile. “Does that mean we have reached an agreement?”

Charles returned his smile. “The quickest we have ever reached.”

“That leaves the matter of an instructor. I think Hank would be fitted for the job, but he seems extremely busy at the lab as of late. Do you have a candidate in mind or do we have to employ an outsider?”

His word choice implied a human, which made Charles frown slightly. However, as he was in no mood to argue with his friend, Charles decided to let it slide.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” he said. “One who has been island-bound for some time. I’m willing to bet he doesn’t look half bad in swimming getup.”

Erik rarely laughed, yet when he did, once in a while, laughter wasn’t only present in his voice; it was in his mind also, and the core of Charles’s powers reverberated with it.

“Well, maybe I don’t mind getting into a pair of budgie smugglers and getting wet,” he said, leaning back against the rail, “only if the remuneration proves to be reasonable.”

“With added bonus. That, I can guarantee.”

They both laughed at that.

To be continued