Chapter Text
He knocks on the door.
It does seem rather silly, but when the last thing that he remembers is the bullets shattering his body and smiling at the archer; and then he’s standing in front of a rather nice door, well... Maybe this is what heaven is, and G-D is waiting for him to knock. Something something, choosing to pass through. He never really paid too much attention to the rabbi about that. After all, he hadn’t planned on dying for many years.
No one has come to the door yet. He raps his knuckles a second time against the wood, harder this time. And then he takes a step back, looks around, wondering just want kind of house heaven(?) looked like.
Less a house than a mansion really. There’s a bright green lawn behind him, with large trees and a brick driveway curving around. The stone walls of the mansion are covered with ivy, and it reminds him very much of all the movies Wanda used to love, of rich english barons who married poor girls from poor families, wearing silly dresses with big skirts. He will stand out very much in his blood stained clothing if the people inside here are dressed in those big skirts.
Wait, blood stained?
He looks down at his shirt, and finds that there are no bullet holes, no blood stains, not even a torn thread of fabric. Even the dirt and dust from the battle was gone. He drags his fingers across his chest, frowning to himself. What had happened? Where was he? There was so kind of wall in his memories, something that sent his thoughts skittering when he thought about where he had been before coming here.
“Peter?”
He turns around, and blinks at the man occupying the space in the now opened door. Bald, and sitting in a wheelchair, and he smiles so gently. He’s like the rabbi back home, with the gentle lines to his face of an old man, one who has smiled often. The dark blue suit he wears is pressed and crisp, not at all ill fitting. The wealth that matches the outside of the mansion, every bit the sort of person that could have been imagined to be living in this place.
“Peter? Are you alright?”
The man presses one hand to his forehead, fingers flexing as he closes his eyes. There is suddenly an odd sensation, and Peter-Pietro-he-
The ground shifts underneath his feet.
He’s Pietro, and he’s dying. The bullets have shattered his bones and broken his body, and he has enough breath for one last quip at the archer before the darkness takes him.
He’s Peter, and he’s at home playing video games with his little sister. She laughs, and he laughs with her, and when his feet slide out on the floor, he doesn’t even feel his head hit the wall before he blacks out.
Calm down. It will be alright. A voice, inside of his head, the bald man’s voice. My name is Charles Xavier. If you will just give me a moment, I believe I can sort this out.
The feeling isn’t really painful, but it is unusual and unwelcome and carries on for far longer than it’s really possible to stay calm at all for. And then it’s over, and he is still standing in the same place. There is still, however, the strange lingering sensation that there is somehow someone else in his head.
“Apologies. I am used to Peter, and I find myself still wanting to treat you as such, even seeing that you are not.”
“I do not understand.” He very much did not understand, and was still confused. This place was strange, and where was Wanda, and what had happened with the battle? Questions swirl around in Pietro’s brain. “Where am I?”
“This is my school, in New York. I am not sure how you have arrived here.” The man frowns slightly, and it does not fill Pietro with any sort of confidence or hope. “Forgive me, where are my manners? My name is Charles Xavier.”
“Pietro Maximoff. My sister-”
“Yes, I saw. Again, forgive me. I am a telepath, and your mind was so open. I saw what was going on.”
Like Wanda, he thinks. Inside his head. Except his thoughts seemed clear and settled after this, unlike when Strucker would have Wanda poke around inside of his head and everything would seem rattled and wrong for hours afterward. Right now he feels calm. Too calm if he’s entirely honest.
“However, to be perfectly honest... I have never heard of a country called Sokovia. And I am currently reading the mind of several US military commanders, and there is no reporting of any such battle.” Xavier’s fingers are still pressed against his temple, and he’s rubbing them against the skin as if he has a headache. “It is strange. I removed the anomaly from your mind, and yet your memories of the world are so very different from reality.”
Pietro twists, looking around at the mansion, at this very strange setting. He needs to get back to Wanda, to find out if she’s okay, to know that she’s safe-
But where is Wanda?
Where is his sister?