Archive of Our Own ^beta

If it made them hurt a little less, then that was all that mattered. 

"Here, drink this," said Wanda, sending a steaming hot bowl of soup floating his way. The smell alone cleared his nose as Peter sat up to grasp it. "Slowly!" Wanda shouted, suddenly, just as Peter was about to take a sip. 

He glared at her, half-heartedly. "I know," he grumbled. Peter did use his brain on occasion, though admittedly not as often as some people might have liked. It wasn't his fault he was sick (it was, he was the one that had been running up the mountains with bad weather rolling in). He hardly ever got sick, his immune system worked too fast. It swept in and neutralized the threat before Peter even got a hint of the sniffles. But sometimes, sometimes there was something that got through. He wanted to blame it on being in an alternate universe, blame the air, or the germs, but he didn't. 

He knew it would make Wanda feel guilty. 

Peter took a sip of soup, the liquid soothing his raw throat. He let out a hum of content, it tasted as good as it felt too. Wanda pressed the back of her hand to his head, a frown pulling at her lips, "You still have a fever." 

She worried for him, he knew. Peter had been running a fever for days, lying miserable on the couch or on his bed or wherever he decided to collapse, rolling himself in blankets (or throwing them off when he felt too hot). He tried to tell her that it would pass, that it was just the flu. This wasn't the first time he had been sick after all, but Wanda couldn't help but worry. Worry that it was some kind of symptom of being in the wrong universe, worry that it would get worse and she wouldn't be able to do anything. She fussed over him more then his mother ever had, but Peter wasn't surprised. His Wanda would have done the same thing, had done so in the past. They were memories he had pushed far to the back of his mind, the loss too difficult to bear some days. It wasn't so bad now that he had this Wanda, reminding him of all the good his sister had done and been for him. 

She knew what it meant to lose a twin, to lose someone that was essentially half of who you were. Peter had shoved it as far back in his mind that it would go because it had just been easier but it didn't hurt as much to talk about now. He could think of Wanda, his Wanda, waiting for him in his room as if she knew he was up to trouble and wanted to make sure he was okay, his Wanda fussing over him as he whined about how sore his throat was, his Wanda in general. 

Peter liked to think he had made it a little easier for this Wanda to think about her Pietro too. 

He thought he had, it felt like he had. She spoke of him more often now, there wasn't always pain in her eyes when she did so. She could joke of him, mention him in passing without looking like the world had ended.  

"I'm fine," said Peter, his voice hoarse. "Really, I've had worse." 

"You've been complaining non-stop the entire time," reminded Wanda, shaking her head. She took the half empty bowl of soup from his hands, summoned a glass of water without looking. Her magic came to her easier than ever now, as if it were second nature. She didn't have to look, she didn't have to think about it, Peter was proud of her. It hadn't been that long since Westview, but she had gotten so much stronger, or perhaps it was just confidence. She didn't have to live in fear out here, there was no one that would look at her with suspicion, that would judge and demean her. It was just her and Peter, and Peter thought what she did was amazing. 

He always had. 

"Drink," said Wanda, softly. Peter didn't argue with her, didn't bother. If it made her feel better to mother him, then he wasn't about to stop her (wasn't about to mention it either, knowing how much it hurt her to have lost her children). "Better?" 

"A little," said Peter. "My throat still feels like it's on fire though-" His voice broke, and he winced. "Why don't you practice some kind of witchy potion on me? Surely your creepy book has something that might help?" 

Wanda shook her head, "I don't want to risk it." 

Peter rolled his eyes, "Risk what? I trust you." 

Wanda looked at him, eyes wide, shining with tears she refused to let fall. He didn't think it was that much of a surprise at this point, he had told her enough that he had faith in her. Of course he did, she was his sister. 

"I thought you said you've had worse," teased Wanda, even if her voice was a little thicker than usual. 

"Yeah, but if you have a magic cure-all potion, I'm not going to say no, am I?" 

Wanda chuckled, "Drink," she said, "You need to keep up your fluids."

Peter winced as the water did nothing to soothe his irritated throat. He reached for the soup and Wanda let him take it, that at least was easy to get down. It was hot, too hot. Everything felt hot, but that was what a fever did, he supposed. Wanda pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and returned to the kitchen. Peter watched through bleary eyes as she waved a hand and pots started to clean themselves, the kitchen a whirlpool of red magic before everything was away and clean. He hardly even noticed when Wanda came back and took the bowl from his hands, urged him to lie down and rest. She was right, he was exhausted. He hated being sick, he really did. Every time he closed his eyes he dreamed of home, he didn't know why.

He saw his Wanda, and his mother and Bianka. He wondered if they had ever thought of him, if they missed him? Surely his sister might have, he had only ever been good to her. Or maybe she feared him, he didn't think his mutation was that scary but it didn't take much to turn humans against them. Peter tried not to think about that too much, he had seen what fighting against humans had done to his father, the kinds of things he had done. He didn't know if peace was possible, the kind that the Professor had always dreamed of, but he liked the idea of it. He liked the idea of it much better than mutants ruling over humans, acting the superior race. 

His father must have come to see that too, after everything. Why else would he have retreated to Genosha? Why else would he have come to the Professor, offering up a safe haven, a home? Well, there were lots of reasons for that last one but most said it had something to do with their long-standing friendship. 

Right. 

Peter wondered if his friends missed him, if Scott or Ororo or Kurt had noticed he was gone. The school was still learning to function without the Professor, there was just so much to do. No one asked him to come back though, no one dared. Bad things had been said after- after everything. It hadn't seemed right, the Professor leaving. It was his school, his home, but it had happened and he seemed happier for it. He visited on occasion, Hank always asked him to stay, the Professor always refused. Peter wondered if he was there now, all of them looking for him, searching for him. 

Peter knew that he missed them. 

It was home, after all but... well, this was home too, wasn't it? It felt more like home then any other place had since his sister had died. It felt warm and safe and happy. That was a home, wasn't it? Was it bad that he felt more at home in this strange alternate universe then he did in his own? Was it bad that a part of him didn't want to go home? He had thought about it. He had thought about it a lot. Going home meant losing his sister again, going home meant Wanda losing her brother again, that wasn't fair, none of this was fair- 

"Shhh," said Wanda, soothingly. He heard her voice through the fog of his mind, the warmth of her magic calming his thoughts. "Sleep, Peter." 

He let out a breath, let himself drift off to the feel of Wanda's magic, to the heaviness of sleep overtaking him. Whatever else he had been thinking, it didn't matter. 

When he woke, sunlight was streaming through the windows. He was warm, but no longer burning hot. His nose was clear, his muscles didn't ache, the pain in his head was gone.

He grinned, running to the kitchen faster then he had in days, leaving a trail of blankets in his wake. He took a soda from the fridge and drank the can in one go, the liquid sailing down his throat smoothly. Finally, finally, his immune system had kicked in. It took a while sometimes, once the sickness took hold but oh, when it did, it worked fast. 

He loved his mutation, he really did. 

Peter glanced over at Wanda, slumped down in a seat, clutching a pillow to her chest. She hadn't even bothered to astral project what with all the fussing over him she had been doing. Idiot, he had told her not to worry, that he would be fine. He moved across the room in a blink of an eye and covered her with a blanket. She noticed of course, staring up at him, sleepily. 

"Peter?" she murmured. 

"Sleep it off, sis. I'm feeling much better, hardly feel sick at all," said Peter. "I feel like I can run a marathon."

"Hardly a fair race," his sister muttered. 

Peter chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. "Must of been the soup, I guess you did some magic potion stuff after all." Wanda turned over in the chair, already drifting off again. Peter watched her, a smile on his face. He needed to stretch his legs, he had been out of action for too long. He wanted to run, feel the wind in his hair, watch the world speeding by. Wanda wouldn't notice, he would be back before she woke up with breakfast on the table and the best coffee he could find.

After everything she had done for him, she deserved that much. 

"Sleep well, Wands." 

And then he was gone. 

It hurt, she couldn't do this again, she couldn't. Wanda didn't want to watch everyone leave her again. It didn't matter how much power she called on, she still felt it the moment Pietro's heart stopped beating, she still saw the light leave Vision's eyes. Wanda screamed, her magic swirling around her. 

It wasn't enough, it was never enough. 

'Mom? Mom! Help us!' Billy cried. 

'Mom, please!' yelled Tommy, 'Mom!' 

'I'm coming,' Wanda tried to shout, tried to tell them, but the words wouldn't come out. She choked, falling to her knees. Sometimes it was the rubble of her hometown, sometimes it was the dirt of Wakanda. It flickered from place to place, but the result was always the same. She was always left alone, her brother gone, her husband gone, her children gone. 

"Wanda!" 

"Wanda, wake up!" 

She shook her head, everything was too loud, too bright, she just wanted it to stop. Someone was calling her name, but it didn't matter, nothing mattered-

Something cold shocked her awake, and Wanda gasped, shooting upright. Her hair was dripping, her blankets and pillows were wet. She looked up at Peter, her mouth open wide. "Did you- did you just throw water on me?" she said, incredulously. Peter's hair was a mess, sticking up at all different angles. Wanda glanced around the room, noted the toppled furniture, the broken windows. Had she done that? 

Peter left and reappeared with a towel in hand, throwing it over her head. "You were screaming, you wouldn't wake up," he said, leaning back against the wall. His tone was light, casual, but his eyes were worried. "They're getting worse, Wanda." 

She winced, pressed the towel to her face (brushed away the tears that had threatened to fall). "I'm fine," Wanda said, "It was just a nightmare." 

"You're exhausted," snapped Peter, and she looked at him in surprise. "You practically collapse into bed and when the nightmares come, you lose control of your powers." There was no lightness in his voice now, it was stone hard. It didn't suit him, there was something wrong about him looking at her with his face cold, his eyes angry. The idea of her losing control would have hit a little too close to home for him, that was why he was reacting, that was why he was angry. Worried too, but she knew how much easier it was to feel angry first. "I know you want to find the boys, I know you want to get me home, but you need to rest too," he continued. "I don't want to see what happens if you don't." 

She blinked, and he had disappeared. Wanda heard the television start up, the cupboards opening and closing in the kitchen. She sighed, deeply. Wanda glanced around at the damage, much longer and she might have torn the entire house apart. Peter was right, but if anyone knew what it meant to run away from their problems, it was him. Working on her magic kept her distracted, gave her a purpose. If she didn't do that, what else was she meant to do? 

First thing was probably speak to Peter. 

Wanda swung herself out of bed and shuffled into the lounge room. She didn't bother with the damage, she could deal with that in the morning. If Peter heard her, he didn't say anything. Not as she sat down, not as she waited for him to look at her. Stubbornness must have been a trait of their family. He stared pointedly ahead, munching on a bag of chips. If it wasn't for the glazed look in his eyes, the tension in his shoulders, she might have even thought everything was normal.

"Wanda always thought she was fine too," said Peter, his voice hard. 

She flinched, glancing down at her hands. Her fingers sparked with red magic, dancing in waves before she smothered it away. "Peter..." 

"I know that in this universe and every universe, you are the stronger of the two of us. I get that, but that doesn't mean you're always right, Wanda." He looked at her, "I don't care if I don't get home, I won't watch you die again." 

"You're right," said Wanda, softly. She swallowed past the tightness in her throat, "I- it's just easier to throw myself into my magic, to not have to think too much about anything else. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to remind you of... of the past." 

Peter shook his head, relaxing ever so slightly. "Don't be sorry, you don't need to be sorry. You're allowed to have nightmares, you're allowed to feel crap, just know your limits, that's all. Know that when you tire yourself out day after day, you make it a hell of a lot easier to lose control of all the chaos you're throwing around." Peter sighed, and his face softened. "Just... be careful, Wanda." He held the bag of chips out to her, "Want some?" 

Wanda knew the conversation was done, that Peter didn't want to talk about it anymore. She couldn't blame him, she wouldn't have wanted to talk either. She took a few chips and sat back in her chair. He didn't look at her again, and Wanda didn't try and break the silence that had fallen over them. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't peaceful either. There was just that hint of tension and Wanda wasn't surprised to wake the next morning to Peter gone. 

She fixed the house, she read books on magic and sorcery, anything that Peter had stolen (or "found" as he told her often, even if she knew that "found" most likely meant in some kind of Sanctum and it was a miracle he hadn't been stopped yet). He had stayed away for days before, but that didn't make her any less anxious. 

What if something happened? What if he just didn't come back this time? 

It was usually right at that point, that Peter came back. 

He stood in the kitchen suddenly, rambling on about mutants, and the possibility of them existing in her world. The front door had barely even closed as he explained that he'd gone looking for anyone that might have had a familiar face, broke into some government facilities- it was hard to keep up with what he was saying, but Wanda managed. She sipped her coffee, nodded along despite the fact he had been gone three days, that he hadn't even said "good morning". 

It didn't matter, not really. 

"I'm starving," said Peter, his hands moving so fast she had to look away. When she looked again, he had a sandwich, already half-eaten. "Anyway, like I was saying-" 

Wanda smiled. 

She was glad he was back. 

'Think of home,' said Wanda. 'Think about the school, and your friends, and the students.'

Her voice sounded far away, and Peter tried to follow it. He felt a shove, the magic pushing him in the opposite direction. If he squinted he almost thought he could see it shaking it's head at him. Right, he was meant to be focusing. 

He took a breath, willed his knee to stop bouncing. That was the problem with trying to help Wanda find the right door, find the right path home, Peter wasn't very good at concentrating. He never had been, not when he was younger and not now. There was a reason he didn't teach at the school, he didn't have the patience. He would be as bad a teacher as he was a student. Scott called him their "unofficial PE teacher", because officially being called a teacher freaked Peter out, and they knew it (he did like running circles around the kids though). 

He smiled, fondly. 

He did miss home. He pictured it in his head, the mansion that Jean and his Dad (not that he knew that) had rebuilt brick by brick after it had been destroyed, the Professor watching off to the side. He saw the view out his window, the Professor hadn't hesitated to offer him a room, a home. He even turned a blind eye to all the things Peter brought into the mansion, though he must have known half of them were stolen. Peter could look out his window, see the water features in the pond, the rolling green grass, the trees that Scott didn't destroy during target practice. 

It was home. 

'Peter? Peter is that you?' 

He looked around, eye wide, he knew that voice. Of course he did, he had heard it enough. 'Professor?' Peter's voice shook, and perhaps it was only then he realised quite how much he had missed home. Wanda needed him, but no one else knew what he was, no one else thought his kind existed. He had been dragged into another universe, he had been controlled, he had been forced to face the loss of his sister which he had been doing a very good job of not thinking about. It had been a lot, and to finally hear the voice of someone he knew, of someone that knew him. 

Wanda's magic started to move, and it let him follow this time. He couldn't see home, he couldn't see the Professor, but it felt closer, it almost felt like he could reach out-

'Are you alright? Are you hurt?' asked the Professor. 'It's been months, where are you? I can't- who else is there-'

Wanda twitched, he felt it rather then saw it. He felt her hands tense, felt her force herself to relax, even as her magic threatened to lash out. He wondered if she felt the Professor trying to learn more, his telepathy nudging at their minds. It was new to Wanda, a threat even. The Professor was a threat, Peter wouldn't deny it, he was immeasurably powerful but only when he wanted to be.

'You overestimate me, Peter,' said the Professor, softly. He must have been able to read his mind a little then, at least surface thoughts. 'Tell us where you are-'

'It's complicated, I'm not hurt, but- we can't- I don't think I can get back home, we've been trying but Wanda hasn't been able to find a doorway, or make one. It's the weirdest thing Professor, I never told you about my sister, did I? Well-' 

'Later, Peter,' called Wanda. 

'Peter where are you?' said the Professor, urgently. 'Tell us where you are.'

'I told you, it's hard to explain, it's like another universe, Professor- wait, are you back at the school?'

'Yes, I needed Cerebro to search for you but I haven't heard even a whisper since I first heard mention of you in Wanda's mind. Are you sure you're safe?' 

He knew he should have focused, he knew he shouldn't have let his mind wander but Peter couldn't help but think of who else the Professor might have been with, who surely would have gone with him back to the school if he'd asked. Hell, he probably would have flown them there himself. 

'Yes,' said the Professor, 'Erik is here too.' And there was something in his voice, something that made all kinds of questions run through Peter's head. He hardly noticed the magic around him grow unstable, or feel Wanda's hands tighten their grip on his. He knew, didn't he? He definitely knew who Peter was, who his father was. Peter didn't want to panic, but he did. 

'Peter,' said Wanda, warningly. She was losing the connection, she didn't need to say it for him to know. 

Peter tried to focus, he did, but all he could think about was his Dad, and him being disappointed. He was one of the strongest mutants in the world, Peter could just run fast. Really fast, so fast that time hardly seemed to matter, but that was about as good as it got.  

'You saved an entire school of children from certain death, Peter,' said the Professor, firmly. 'He won't be disappointed in you, I promise. He'd be proud of you, so immensely proud as we all are.' 

Peter felt like he couldn't breathe, he thought he was ready, but he wasn't. What was the point of telling his Dad now? Peter was an adult, Wanda was gone. He'd already lost daughters hadn't he? It seemed cruel to take another away from him. Peter would be fine, he had lasted this long without a Dad hadn't he? Maybe if he just stayed-

'Peter!' yelled the Professor, and he winced. 'Forget about all that, I can feel you getting further away, focus, focus on me, and the school. We're going to bring you home, okay?'

'But...'

'Erik doesn't know, and I won't tell him, not until you're home and not until you're ready. I just need you focus, Peter. We miss you, we're worried, we want you home but I need you to help me-' 

He closed his eyes, tried to take a deep breath, but it was getting too difficult. Peter thought about how he got there, what had happened in Westview, understanding who Wanda was. He thought it as loud as he could, hoped the Professor would get a good idea of what was going on at least. Maybe Hank could close the gap between their worlds, create a doorway that Wanda could latch onto with her magic. 

Peter knew they were losing the connection. The first time had been luck, the second had taken months to find again, who knew how long the third would take.  Maybe they wouldn't be able to find it again at all.

'Tell everyone I miss them,' said Peter, quickly. 

'Pete, focus,' said Wanda, through gritted teeth. 'I can't-'

Her magic exploded, the connection between universes snapping and throwing them all apart. Peter ended up in the kitchen cupboards, as Wanda hit the opposite wall hard. Both of them slid to the ground, breathing heavily. Peter hoped it was only violent on their end, and the Professor hadn't been thrown back too. The guy was in a wheelchair, that was hard enough as it was. 

Peter groaned, crawled out of the mess of wood and glass and china that had exploded on impact. "Wanda?" he called. 

She pushed herself up, brushed the hair from her face. He didn't know what he had expected from her, but he didn't think she would look quite as pleased as she did. He raised an eyebrow, and she grinned. "We are getting closer." Wanda waved her hand, and the cupboards fixed themselves, the mess they had left behind disappearing as if it had never happened. "I think I'll be able to find them again." 

"Finding them is one thing but getting home is a whole different ballgame," said Peter. He should have been excited, but he didn't feel excited. He felt- relieved. Relieved that they hadn't managed to finish the job, that he was still in their little cabin in a country that didn't exist in his world. A shot glass hovered in front of him, a bottle of vodka pouring itself into his and then another, that Wanda snatched out of the air. 

"To celebrate our success," she said, simply. Wanda threw back the shot in one go, and Peter followed suit. The liquid made him wince, it was strong, but he'd gotten a little more used to it now that he lived with Wanda. She preferred the stronger stuff. He felt her eyes on him, and he glanced up. "You're not happy?" It wasn't a question, not really. She knew he wasn't, could see it clearly on his face. 

"I just- going home means facing things I've been avoiding for a while," said Peter, tiredly.

"Your Dad." 

"Yeah, him mostly." 

Wanda sighed, placed her glass down to touch his arm. "I think your Professor is right, I think your Dad will be proud."

"Wanda-"

"No, listen to me," she said, a frown on her lips. "You think I am the strong one? But I believed Pietro, you, to be stronger, I always have."

"He might have been-"

"No, both of you. My magic is powerful, but he was always so fast. You are even faster, you've had this power for so long. But your strength comes from who you are- you don't think you just do. You ran into an exploding building and saved an entire school? I once tried to save people, and I blew a building up instead. I killed people, Peter. My power- it is unstable, dangerous. Yours is grounded, I could never have done what you did. Not now, not before. I don't have the ability to slow time, to save lives that would otherwise be lost. But you do, and you do it without question." Wanda smiled, sadly. "Pietro grabbed me and threw me under the bed when the bomb hit out apartment, he never even had to think about. Pietro died protecting someone he hardly even knew, didn't even like actually. Clint and a child he had no relation too. You and he are the same, strong and brave and amazing." The tears slipped down her cheeks and she brushed them away, impatiently. "Maybe if he'd had more time to grow into his powers as I have, he would be as fast as you are now." 

"Maybe in another universe?" said Peter, reaching out to take her hand. 

Wanda smiled, shakily. "Maybe."

He sighed, "Thank you, Wanda." It had been a long time since someone had called him strong, brave. His Wanda might have, given the chance. She had said she needed him, that he made things easier for her, that he was the best twin she could have ever asked for. But brave? No, she hadn't gotten the chance to see him do things that were brave, to save children and fight battles. She would have said it though, he knew she would have. 

She wouldn't have let him believe anything else. 

She had been there the time he had broken their Dad out of prison though, or at least, she had been there after when he had finally gotten home. She hadn't called him brave then, she had called him an idiot. Peter chuckled at the memory, a warmth rushing through him. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, anyway. 

Wanda eyed him, "We try again tomorrow," she said.

He nodded, "Yes, ma'am." 

It still left him breathless, it still terrified him to his bones, the idea of going home, of facing Magneto and the truth he'd always kept hidden. 

But Peter had to be brave. 

He could be brave (he had done it before, after all). 

Tony had left them all enough money to be comfortable (some more then others, Peter Parker had near fainted when he'd opened the envelope, but Tony had always treated him like the son he never had). As it turned out, Stark had planned ahead. 

The paperwork said it was their pay for being a part of the Avengers.

They all knew that was a lie. 

She hadn't thought about money after Thanos was defeated, it hadn't even occurred to her. Wanda had gone from the Compound, to travelling the world on the run, but even then it was Tony that had funded it. She had resented him for it too, she wouldn't allow him to pay off his sins. It was his weapons that had destroyed her life, both when she was younger and older, it was his beliefs that had seen her locked up in the middle of the ocean. But even when she refused it, he found a way to send it to her (paying off hotel rooms before she could leave, having Vision buy her clothes and food). Wanda didn't have it in her to stay resentful, not anymore. Besides, he had paid the way for all of them after the team had split. It had never been just about her.

Wanda often wondered what might have happened if he hadn't died (sacrificed himself). SWORD surely would never have been brave enough to tear Vision apart, to try and use him as a weapon. Stark probably thought the body was safest with them.

Before Haywood, he might have been right. 

She shook her head, moving her hands so that the shopping began to put itself away. Wanda hadn't spoken to Pepper Potts since the funeral, perhaps she should have. She of all people would have known that Tony wouldn't have wanted his tech to be used as a weapon, not like that, never like that. Ultron might have been the one to build Vision, but it had all come from the mind of Tony Stark in the end. She would have done something, she would have helped. 

Her, Clint, anyone. But Wanda had decided to go it alone, the Avengers had gone their separate ways after Thanos, mourning, learning to live again. She thought she was supposed to do the same, return to life without the Avengers, getting by on her own. It probably wasn't true, but it had felt like it. 

"Have you been into the city yet?" Peter asked, startling her from her thoughts. He stared at her, chewing on some kind of jerky. Wanda didn't answer. He knew she hadn't. That was the deal, he went to get the shopping, she put it away when he got back. Wanda hadn't been anywhere near the city she had been born in, the city she had grown up in. "It's thriving!" he continued. "Everyone was so nice, of course I had no idea what they were saying but they still seemed nice. Maybe if I had someone to show me around I'd enjoy it even more! You know how hard it is to buy groceries when you don't speak the language?" He pulled money out of his pocket. "I don't even know what any of this is called!"

Wanda sighed, "Do you want me to go with you to town tomorrow?" 

Peter grinned, wide and bright. It was almost enough to distract her from the dread that settled in her stomach. "Can we? It'll be much more fun with someone else there with me!" She knew what he was doing, but Wanda still found herself nodding. 

The morning came too fast, even if Wanda had spent all night glancing at the clock and it had hardly moved. Peter took one look at her face and offered to go another time, but Wanda had committed, she didn't want to pull out now. It wasn't just that Peter thought she should go, that she should see how much it had changed, it was that he wanted her to show him the place she had grown up, her home. His home was across the universe somewhere, the least she could do was that much. 

It had changed, it had changed a lot.

The city was bustling with people, people that were fed and happy. There were no skirmishes on corners, no protests or outbreaks of violence. There were new shops on every corner, the streets were clean. Mothers walked their children down the street, the small parks were bright and filled with laughter. It was an entirely new city, but some things were still the same. The scents, the sounds, they were familiar, they sparked memories of when she was a child. Wanda could smell the food from the street vendors, she could hear Sokovian music drifting out of the cafes, folk artists performing. Peter walked along beside her, their arms linked, asking questions at a million miles an hour. 

It was nice. 

It still felt like home. 

She hadn't planned on tracing her way back to the older parts of the city, the poorer areas. There was no danger, no more then any other city. The building she and Pietro had once lived in was long gone (she had been in it when it was destroyed), but she still recognised the streets, the signs. There was the fence Pietro had once tried to jump, only to land flat on his face. There was the bridge that they used to sit on, watching the sun go down. 

"My father used to work there," said Wanda, quietly. Peter followed her gaze to the old steel works at the end of the road. That had survived the destruction over the years, albeit with some work done along the way.  

"Your father's name really wasn't Erik?" asked Peter, only half-joking. Wanda knew the things his father could do, his control over metal. It seemed a strange coincidence that her father worked with steel of all things. Then again, most men in the area did.  

"No," said Wanda, softly. Something tugged at her, a memory an old one. She frowned, it was distant, somewhere tucked away where she had never even thought about it before. An old memory, one from when she was very young. She let her mind drift, let her magic grasp onto it. "But- my father had mentioned an old friend named Erik. He'd sounded strange when he had said it, now that I think of it."

Peter glanced at her, something unreadable in his gaze. "My mother said something similar, when I was younger." And Erik had turned out to be his father. That was what he didn't say, that was what he kept to himself. 

But that wasn't possible, not here, not in this universe.

Her father's name was Oleg, her mother's name was Iryna. They had been her parents, they had loved and cared for her and Pietro until the day they died. She had never had any reason to believe otherwise (until now). 

Wanda shook her head, "Come, let us find a food stand. Sokovian food is the best in the world, I promise you." 

Peter grinned, allowing her to pull him away. He didn't push her, not on this. It was a conversation for another day, a thought to be dealt with later. "I'll hold you to that promise, Wanda. I'm starving!" 

"You're always starving." 

He laughed, patting his stomach. "Blame it on the mutation."

Neither of them looked back as they turned a corner, as they left the old district behind them. They didn't speak about the strange memory, the man her father had mentioned, the one her mother had hated. It didn't matter. Not today, at least. 

"I blame it on your bottomless stomach," quipped Wanda.

"Would you believe me if I said you weren't the only person to tell me that?"

"Yes." 

"Hey!" 

"What is this?" asked Wanda, incredulously. 

Peter ran from one side of the ping pong table to the next, playing a game with himself. He was fast, she knew that, but that didn't explain how he had managed to run with something of that size, how he had even managed to get it in the house without her noticing. 

He didn't look at her, too focused on his game to pay her any attention. "Ping pong? Surely you have that in Sokovia?" Peter shook his head, "Took it from some rich guy's house in Germany." 

"Peter-"

"No one saw me, even if the guy had cameras they wouldn't have been able to see me." 

"And the table? They wouldn't see that?" They had spoken about this, about being careful. She didn't want an army on her doorstep, she could deal with it, but that didn't mean she wanted too. It had been half a year, and Peter had been growing more restless by the day. He hadn't been able to find anymore information on mutants, or at least people he knew to be mutants. Wanda hadn't been able to find the link to his home again, and he hadn't been able to concentrate enough to help. 

It was easier for Wanda, she had goals, she had a purpose. She wanted to find a way for Peter to get home, she wanted to find her boys, bring them back. Peter wanted those things too, but he couldn't help her achieve them. He could do little else but run around the world, a blur to anyone else that would see him. 

He had even gone looking for his father. Germany was his most often port of call, in his frustration that was probably how he'd ended up with the table. There had been dead end after dead end, it wasn't an easy task to trace people through the Holocaust, to find someone that may or may not have existed. It was even harder tracing those that might have played a part in it all, that might have covered up an anomaly. An anomaly like a boy tearing fences apart with his mind, a boy being different and strange. 

If that had even happened in this universe. 

"Want to play?" asked Peter. If he was annoyed, if he was frustrated, he didn't say anything. He didn't ask her for help, Wanda suspected he didn't want too, that he thought he was relying on her enough. 

But she might have been able to do something, she might have been able to find someone that could, if he had just asked. Steve might have gone back to the past, but there was still one other that had lived through the war and if anyone knew about experiments, it would be him. That was assuming he spoke to her, or could even get in contact with him in the first place. Last Wanda had heard, Bucky Barnes had gone off the grid after Steve had stayed in the past. 

Still, she could have tried.

Wanda held a hand up, her magic sparking to life, levitating the paddle in front of the table. Peter rolled his eyes, "Show off." 

"You were just playing a game with yourself, you can't talk," said Wanda. 

If she was going to play games, the least she could do was practice her magic at the same time. It would be good for her fine control, anyway. Besides, she would need all the help she could get if she wanted to beat Peter. How was she supposed to get anything past him without magic? 

"Ready?" said Peter.

Wanda nodded, "Serve." 

If he didn't want her help with this, with tracking down his own kind (if they existed) that was okay. Wanda knew that there were some things they just had to do on their own, but if he needed the distraction instead, if Peter was looking for something occupy his mind in the meantime, well, Wanda could give him that. 

She created an illusion of the ball, sent ten of them his way. Peter hit every single one, including the real one. Wanda swore under her breath as the ball shot past her, bouncing off the wall. 

"1-nil," said Peter. 

Wanda rolled his eyes, "Just serve the ball." 

"If you say so, sis." 

Wanda didn't even see the ball go past her this time, and she tried not to look at her space-brother's smug face across the table from her. This was for him, she told herself. Over and over again, as every ball sailed past her. Her eyes flashed red.

"Hey now," said Peter, holding his hands up. "Don't get angry, it's not my fault I'm so much better at ping-pong." 

She glared at him, creating another two paddles from nothing. "It's my serve." 

The table didn't survive very long. 

She had been scared of a storms, as a child. Wanda remembered clinging to Pietro, flinching at every thundering boom. Not anymore, she had long outgrown it but Wanda was still on edge. She could feel something, feel it getting closer. She couldn't tell if it was a threat or not, most things were a threat to her these days though. 

Wanda hadn't thought to bring a phone with her when they had left Westview. Who would call her, she had thought (there might have been some, but it was far too late for that). There were still people that had questions, the authorities most of all. Wanda had kidnapped an entire town for a week, controlled their every move, many would want her to answer for that. Was grief really a suitable excuse? Would they care even if it was? Wanda wasn't an American citizen, she was a foreigner, a girl that had joined HYDRA and Ultron, before deciding to fight for what was right. She was an enemy first, and no one had forgotten that. 

There was a knock at the door, and Wanda stood up. Her clothes transformed, the track pants changing into leathers and boots and gloves. She looked at the door, and it opened. 

She couldn't say she was surprised to see Stephen Strange at her doorstep, oddly dry despite the pouring rain. He didn't seem all that surprised to see her using her magic so easily, either. Wanda still didn't know whether it was a friend or an enemy at her door. She'd had little to do with Strange in the past, but given what Agatha had said, given the book that hovered in her bedroom, she knew that wasn't going to last for long. 

The Mystic Arts, the multiverse itself, it all laid in his domain. He was the Sorcerer Supreme, after all. 

"Doctor," said Wanda, careful, distant. 

"Wanda," said Strange, stepping inside, the door swinging shut behind him. He looked around, eyed the game controls on the coffee table, the dishes in the sink. His eyes slid over her bedroom, she knew he must have sensed what was in there. "Nice place." 

"It is comfortable, it is close to home." Wanda moved her fingers, flicked her hand, and a pot of tea began to brew in the kitchen. "Would you like a drink?" 

"Tea would be nice, thank you," said Strange. He sat down in the living room, and Wanda suddenly wished she had kept in contact with someone, anyone. Perhaps they could have passed on the message that she wanted to be left alone, that she should have been left alone. 

"How is New York?" asked Wanda, politely. She refused to break the facade before he did. Strange was the one that had come to her, he should be the one to explain why. The teapot floated over, cups and sauces following in it's wake. Strange didn't even glance at it as he held his hand out, allowed a cup and sauce to settle there as the pot poured him some tea. Wanda was vaguely aware that Peter had stopped snoring.

"As pleasant as New York can ever be," said Strange, his voice dry. 

Wanda smiled, coolly. "Have you come to enjoy the mountain air with me, Doctor? Get away from the city? I cannot blame you, it is peaceful out here." 

"You already have a guest, I wouldn't want to intrude." 

She felt her fingers twitch, forced herself to keep her face unreadable. "I can always make more room," said Wanda. 

"That won't be necessary," said Strange. His eyes flickered over her shoulder, at the closed door of the second bedroom. "Will your brother be joining us this evening?" 

"Why would he? It's the middle of the night, he's likely asleep." Wanda tilted her head to the side, smiling. She wondered if he could see the warning in her eyes, the danger he was wading into. If he was here to take Peter she wouldn't let him, she would fight. Wanda would get him home herself, she didn't trust anyone else to do it. "My brother is a heavy sleeper." 

Strange sighed, and set his cup down. He leaned forward, his eyes serious. He didn't look like he wanted to threaten her, like she was the enemy. But he certainly wasn't acting like a friend either. They hadn't been friends before, they weren't now. "Wanda, you know he cannot stay. Peter Maximoff is out of his universe, him just being here threatens the stability between worlds and your prying has done nothing to calm it." 

"I know he can't stay, that is why I'm looking for a way to send him home," said Wanda, stiffly. "I'm not trying to keep him, Doctor. Pietro is dead, I am not delusional, not anymore." She laced her fingers together. "You came all the way here to scold me like a child, but where were you when Westview was taken? Where were you when Vision was being experimented on, his body cut up on the operating table?" 

"I regret what happened to Vision, what happened in Westview," said Strange. "But my job is not to look at threats within, but those that threaten the very fabric of the universe." 

"And when Agatha summoned Peter?" 

Strange shook his head, "Agatha Harkness was the catalyst, but it was your power she used. You bought Peter here because a part of you wanted too, wanted your brother in whatever form you could get him. The universe chose Peter." He eyed her, seriously. "If you really wanted him home, he would be by now." 

Her anger flared, but Strange didn't flinch. He watched the magic form in her hands with a clinical interest. She hated it. "You don't know anything," Wanda snapped. "Leave, you have no business being here-"

"And what of your children? What do you intend to do once you find them? You're a threat, Wanda. If things don't change, you'll tear the multiverse apart." 

"I'll just have to put it back together again," she sneered. Wanda was on her feet now, her hands glowing red. "I said leave." 

"I don't want you to become an enemy, Wanda," said Strange, imploring. He held his hands up, every movement slow and careful. "I know you have suffered losses, but we all have. You cannot will the universe to change itself just because you're hurting. It will be the end of us all if you do-"

"I said, GET OUT!" The entire house shook, but Wanda paid it no mind. She didn't want to hear this anymore. She was trying fix things, she was trying to send Peter home and her boys- well, they were still out there. They called for her. If it really wasn't meant to be, then they would no longer exist. But they did, and she was their mother, she would do everything she could to save them. Wanda threw a blast of red magic at Strange, but he dodged with ease. 

His eyes were sad when they looked at her. 

"You don't know what you're dealing with," warned Strange. 

Wanda glared at him, "Then I will just have to learn." She summoned her powers and threw them at the sorcerer, he was gone before they could reach their target. 

Her breaths came hard and heavy as the anger drained out of her, as she sank down into the seat. She knew it was likely that Strange had come for the reason he did, but perhaps a small part of her had hoped it was out of friendship. It was a foolish hope, a naive hope. Wanda was a threat to the multiverse, of course he would see her as an enemy. Perhaps he even knew of the prophecy that Agatha had spoken of. That she would be stronger then the Sorcerer Supreme, that she would bring about the end of the world. 

A hand landed on her shoulder and she looked up to see Peter. He looked tired, then again it was two in the morning, of course he was tired. Wanda wished she could stop waking him up in the middle of the night. She wished he stopped waking himself up in the middle of the night. They could be as bad as each other sometimes. 

"Hi," said Wanda, her voice small. 

Peter smiled, "Hi." 

"That was-"

"An asshole, is what it seemed like to me." Peter shook his head, crouched down in front of her. "I know you're doing everything you can to get me home."

"Perhaps subconsciously-"

"If anyone's holding us back, it's probably me. I was the one that broke the connection last time, remember?" 

"Still..." she said, doubtfully. "I was so confident I would be able to find it again, but there has been nothing. I don't know, maybe I am holding back, maybe I am keeping you from going home." 

Peter chuckled, "Jeez, why would you do that? You house me, you pay for my food, put up with all the random stuff I bring home, you'll be glad to be rid of me!" 

Wanda shook her head, "No, I won't." 

"I know, I was kidding,"  said Peter, softly. He nudged her, his eyes warm and genuine. "I trust you, Wands. You'll get me home, I know you will." Wanda let out a breath, returned his smile with a small one of her own. She should have known better then to let someone like Strange get into her head. What did he know? He had no idea what she could do. 

"It's late," she said, "Go to bed, I'll see you in the morning." 

"Are you sure?" 

Wanda nodded, and Peter disappeared with a quick kiss to her cheek, the door slamming behind him. It must have only been a few minutes before she heard him snoring again. She chuckled, feeling a little lighter then she had before. 

It would be alright, she would figure it all out. 

Strange knew Wanda Maximoff, but he didn't know the Scarlet Witch. 

He had no idea what she could do. 

Peter yelped, the solid magic disappearing beneath his feet. He was falling, just like he had before. The sun blinded him, and he briefly caught sight of a familiar old manor, of rolling green grass, before something red and warm caught him. He let out a breath, glanced up at Wanda with a grin. 

"Nice catch," he said. 

She shook her head, lowered him to the ground. 

Peter had never though of Wanda's magic as warm before, not really. It had just been his sister, a part of her just like anything else. It wasn't that it was warm, it was that it was familiar and comforting, even when she used it to annoy him. But now, now it was different. Maybe because this Wanda wasn't afraid of her powers, of being found out, of being taken away. Maybe it was because this Wanda had nurtured it and learned, had grown stronger then his Wanda had ever had the chance too. It didn't matter either way, her magic was still warm. He felt it when it had surrounded them both as Wanda transported them across the universe, he felt it when she touched his mind, searching for the path home (he had travelled it before, when he had been brought through in the first place, she just had to harness it). Wanda said she used to be afraid of the power inside her, but not anymore. 

He was glad. 

"Peter," said Wanda, carefully. He followed her gaze, they'd fallen (well, he had) on the driveway. The front doors had swung wide open, and he barely had time to react, to see the Professor in his wheelchair, a tall, intimidating figure at his side, before there was a 'POOF!', and Kurt had appeared. 

"Peter!" he yelled, his accent thick. His vision was suddenly blue as he was smothered in a hug. It was enough to knock the breath out of him. "You're back!" Ororo was there then, and Scott, and Hank. Peter was gathered in a strange group hug, relieved and happy and confused all at the same time. 

"I'm back!" quipped Peter, lightly. "You miss me?" 

"Of course we did," said the Professor, kind and calm. He wasn't like the man he had first met all those years ago, or perhaps the man he had met hadn't been like him in the first place. The Professor's eyes sparkled in amusement, but Peter didn't mind that he was in his head. Most did, but he never had. He could never stay in there for long anyway, not unless he wanted a migraine. "I like to think I've grown up in my old age," he joked. The man next to him raised an eyebrow, and Peter reluctantly glanced at Erik, Magneto, Mr. Lensherr? Peter wasn't quite sure what to call him. If the Professor noticed (or heard) his discomfort, he didn't say anything. "Don't look at me like that Erik, I've grown up perfectly well." 

"You're not that old, Professor," Peter managed. His father was staring at him now, studying him (and Wanda). There weren't similarities between them all were there? Peter didn't remind him of some long lost brother or grandfather or something that would give him away, right? Peter felt his heart racing and he tried not show that it was getting hard to breathe. This shouldn't have been that scary, compared to everything else, this should have been nothing. Wanda squeezed her way through the group hug, ignored the wary looks the others sent her way. She didn't care, she slipped an arm through his, her eyes hard. 

The Professor smiled, "And you must be Wanda," he said. "It is lucky that you and Peter managed to find each other." 

"Lucky?" said Wanda, stiffly. "Peter was dragged to another universe to torment me, he was-" She frowned, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. Peter didn't need to be a telepath to know what must have been happening. "Stay out of my head." 

"You've both suffered great losses and everyone grieves in their own way." A wry smile appeared on his face, waving down at his legs. "Peter can tell you, I myself did not handle loss all that well. Still don't, if I'm being perfectly honest." 

"Charles..." started Erik. Hank shifted uncomfortably, the others all glanced away.

The calm look on the Professor's face never wavered, there was no anger or suspicion or resentment. "It was a long time ago," he said, waving his hand. "I know the situation was not ideal, but the universe works in strange ways, perhaps it wanted the two of you to meet? To help each other? It has, hasn't it?" 

Peter glanced at Wanda, and she met his gaze. "It has," she agreed, softly. 

"There, then that's all that matters. Peter is home and safe, we could not have hoped for a better outcome," said the Professor, matter-of-factly. "Now I think some lunch is in order? I imagine crossing universes takes a toll, and I know Peter is hungry, he has always been good at eating through my inheritance." Peter shuffled, ducking his head, but before he could say a word, the Professor spoke again. "Don't be silly, Peter. I don't mind, I have too much money for my own good you'll find." 

"I should be getting back," said Wanda, uncertainly and Peter looked at her, sharply. She said she would stay, she said she would be there for him when he told his father the truth. Her eyes flickered to his father pointedly, but Peter wasn't ready yet, he didn't want to do it now, with an audience. 

"Stay for lunch," he said. "The Professor's right, you used a lot of magic." 

Wanda stared at him for a long moment, before finally nodding. He let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. Good, he had time. He needed it.

'Don't worry Peter, you'll be fine,' said the Professor, in his head. 

Peter wished he believed him. 

Lunch went by like a blur, he remembered telling everyone what had happened, who Wanda was (even if he didn't mention his own sister, the one that he had lost), where he had been, but it had all gone so fast. One moment they were eating, the next he and Wanda were trailing the Professor back to his office. Erik was at his side, hardly sparing them a look as he opened the door for the Professor with a wave of his hand. Wanda eyed him, interested. 

"Yes?" said Erik, his voice steely. "Can I help you?" 

"Not at all," said Wanda, just as cool. "You remind me of someone, is all." A lie, Peter was certain. She had no memories of the man that had only ever been mentioned in passing by her parents. She had dug out a few more in the last few months, all of them from when she was young, all of them brief and vague. Peter was almost certain she and Pietro had been adopted, but he hadn't said it to Wanda out loud. She no doubt suspected, he was going to wait until she was ready to talk about it. But now, now they were faced with his father and he could practically see the questions she had in her head. 

He could also see the resemblance between them. If not in looks, then in demeanour. 

"Most people know who I am," said Erik, with a roll of his eyes. "I've made a name for myself, I'm afraid."

"Yes, making bold statements on national television tend to do that," said Peter. He winced, internally, cursing his lack of a filter. This wasn't how he was going to do this. 

The Professor laughed, ignoring the annoyed look Erik sent his way. "Except he didn't do any of those things in your universe did he, Wanda?" 

She shook her head, "No, we had other enemies to deal with." Her eyes glazed, and Peter looked away. He had been with her long enough to know the story now, to know what had happened. Half of the universe wiped out in a single moment, she among them. Coming back to death and destruction, five years of her life missing. "You see it, don't you?" Wanda asked, her eyes fixed on the Professor. 

He blinked, pained for a moment. "I see it," he said, his voice rough. 

Erik frowned, drifting closer to him, a hand on his shoulder. "Charles?" His voice was soft now, far from the steely tones he had used earlier. Peter supposed that they had finally stopped dancing around each other. What was the point after everything they had been through? What was the point now that they lived together? 

The Professor shook his head, offering Erik a small smile. "Later," he said. "For now, I think Peter has something to say." 

And just like that Peter felt himself freeze, felt the breath leave him as if he had been punched. He would have preferred that, actually. Wanda squeezed his hand, encouragingly. "I-" he started. His throat felt tight, he felt a little like he might faint. The Professor gave him a small smile, a mental nudge, Erik stared at him expectantly. He almost looked bored. 

Be brave, be brave, be brave.

Peter took a breath, "Do you remember when I broke you out of prison?" he said, facing his father. Erik seemed surprised that it was him that he was talking too, but he nodded regardless. 

"Vividly," said Erik, "Charles punched me in the face."

"You deserved it," The Professor muttered. 

"And you remember that I said my mum knew someone that could control metal?" continued Peter, breathlessly. "I mean, I only said it in passing and I didn't really think about it at the time. I mean, why would I? The doors opened and we had all those soldiers pointing guns at us, and you two were busy arguing and that other guy had those crazy claws out. You should see them in slow motion, it's disgusting-" Wanda cleared her throat. "Right, the point." He took another breath, tried to calm his racing heart (it didn't help). "The point is, my mum's name is Magda Maximoff." His father sucked in a sharp breath of air, his eyes widening ever so slightly. "Wanda isn't from this universe, but there was another one, from here, my sister, my twin. She had the same powers, magic, hex magic, chaos magic, whatever you want to call it. We- well the both of us are- were-"

"My children," finished Erik, quietly. Peter couldn't read his face, couldn't read if he was happy or sad or disappointed or all of it at once. 

"But not me," Wanda added, unhelpfully. "The me from this universe." 

Peter didn't look at her, couldn't, not with his father staring at him like he was someone else entirely. "My Wanda died," said Peter, his voice thick. "Lost control of her powers, saved me and couldn't save herself. Mum left not long after, she had another daughter with some guy. Human, both of them are. Wanda made a bit of a mess, she didn't want to deal with the fallout so she left." 

"And you?" asked his father, hoarsely. "Where did you go?" Peter just shrugged. There wasn't much he could say, he had gotten by for a little while before he'd decided to come to the school. But he wasn't going to lie and say he was fine. He wasn't, he was far from it. Of course, that would have been the same no matter where he was, with his sister gone. A pained look passed over his face, and his father shifted. Peter watched him struggle, before the Professor nudged him forward and he seemed to make up his mind. Peter's eyes widened as he was pulled into a hug, as his father wrapped his arms around him and held him tightly. 

Peter didn't know what to do, he was frozen. He- he didn't know what he had been expecting, but he had never imagined this. How could he? It was beyond belief, wasn't it? 

Slowly, carefully, Peter hugged him back. He wrapped his arms around his waist, let himself be enveloped in warmth and safety. He was like Wanda, in that way. Family, comfort, warmth, protection. Peter closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry," said his father, pulling away, touching a hand to his cheek. He looked down at him, a frown pulling at his lips. "I didn't- your mother never said anything, never tried to find me. I didn't know that you, you and your sister." Pain that Peter knew well flashed across his eyes. Peter hadn't been angry with him before, he wasn't going to start now. 

"It's okay," said Peter, softly, "Not your fault you didn't know. I- I didn't know until after the breakout and by then, well-" 

"He'd made a right name for himself," said the Professor, wryly. 

His father turned on him, eyes narrowed. "Did you know?" 

The Professor was the picture of innocence, even if Peter could feel the first waves of rage start to emanate from his father. He knew- the look on the Professor's face said it all. He knew, of course he did. 

'I think you ought to call me Charles now, Peter,' An amused voice said in his head. 'We're practically married these days after all.' Of course, he didn't seem all that worried about the tension in the room. Peter gaped at him, and he glanced at him, winking. 'Don't tell him I said that.'

"I knew," The Prof- Charles- said out loud. "Not as long as you might think, but I knew. I didn't know about Wanda, not until I spoke to Peter but the rest- I felt it when I connected with them the first time in a rush of memories, I confirmed it the second time." 

"My son was missing and you didn't-"

"It was not for me to tell you, old friend," said Charles, his voice firm. 

"Charles he could have been killed!" Charles' wheelchair shook, there was a faint hum coming from the metal in the room. Wanda touched a floating pen, fascinated. "He was in another universe and I might never have known-"

"I had faith in Peter and Wanda, I knew they would be fine." 

Wanda looked at him in surprise, "Me?" 

"Yes, you," said Charles. "Why not you?" 

"Because you don't know me, you don't know the things I have done, I-"

"We've all done terrible things, Wanda," said Charles, "Yes, even me. There was a reason I left this place, I know that Peter has already told you. The things you did were out of your control, accidents, nothing to be blamed for."

"I kidnapped an entire town-"

"You lost control because you had lost everything. That is nothing to be ashamed of and I am sure that some, like me, would support you should you need it."

Wanda scoffed, "Fear me, wish to control me, kill me-"

"You and I both know, that they are not all like that. You have thought these things yourself, and yes I know you told me to stay out of your head but it's hard to ignore you when you think so loudly, my dear. Don't be surprised that others might have faith in you outside of your family, Wanda. If anyone can find a way to save her children, it is you. You have already brought Peter home, haven't you?" Charles smiled at her, sadly. "I only wish I might have helped your alternate self too."

Peter could practically see the anger drain from his father, the metal in the room falling silent. "That wasn't your responsibility, Charles," he said, quietly. 

"Perhaps not, but if I had only checked-"

"It's not your fault, either, Professor," said Peter. His father still stood close, a source of comfort (after years of anxiety and fear and panic). What did Peter have to be afraid of with his father on his side? The government was so terrified of him they had given him his own island. Peter wasn't afraid, not anymore. "It just- it just happened. Nobody could stop it, not even me." 

Wanda placed a hand on his arm, her face soft. "I won't lose control," she promised. 

"I know you won't," said Peter. "I trust you." 

"And I trust you," said Wanda. Her eyes flickered and Peter's gut clenched. He knew what was coming next, had conveniently pushed their imminent farewell to the back of his mind. "I should go." 

"You don't have to, not yet-" 

"The path is clear to me now, it won't disappear easily," assured Wanda, "I'll come back, I'll visit." She managed a small, uncertain smile. "I'll bring Billy and Tommy too." 

"Wanda..." 

"There's no point me staying any longer, I have things I need to do, you know that, Pete." He grabbed her hand, even as she leaned forward, pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I'll visit." Wanda glanced at his father, "I don't know if you're my father in my world, you were mentioned to us as a child but that was all. Still, I'm glad I met you, I'm glad I can put a face to the name, even if it might be a different face." 

"I'm glad my daughter exists in some universe, if not this one," said his father. 

Wanda didn't correct him, and perhaps that in itself showed what she thought to be true. She smiled at Charles, genuine if a little hesitant. "Thank you," she said. "Look after my brother." 

"Always," said Charles.

Wanda pulled her hand from his grip, didn't look back as she swept from the room. Peter supposed it was easier for her, but it still hurt. They had been at each other's sides for months and just like that it was over? No. Peter didn't want to be over. How was he supposed to live here, with his friends, with family, knowing that Wanda was in her universe, alone, desperately searching for the children she had lost. That wasn't fair. Of course, none of this was fair. 

"Go," said Charles, knowingly. Peter looked at him with wide eyes. "You know you want to go back with her. Go, help her." 

"Absolutely not," said his father, shaking his head. "No." He glared at Charles, and then Peter. "I just- you just got back, it could be dangerous-"

"No more dangerous then here," The Professor pointed out. 

"Charles!" 

Peter held his breath, glancing between Charles and his father as if he were watching a tennis match. The metal was humming again, his father's fists clenched at his side. But the Professor was just telling him what Peter wanted, what Peter really wanted to do. Of course he wanted to stay, to get to know his father, to maybe, possibly, be a family but- but Wanda was family too. 

"Go," said Charles again, softly. "We'll be here waiting."

"We'll all go," said Erik, turning on his heel. He sounded as if he had already made up his mind and Charles chuckled. 

"No, we won't," he said. 

"Charles," his father growled. 

"Peter wants to do this, Peter needs to do this, but he'll be back. He's going to try and visit every week, shall we say a Monday?" said Charles. He didn't wait for an answer, "Good." His face went serious, and he held Peter's gaze. "You should go, but you must know you can't stay. It's not your universe, Peter. Help Wanda as she has helped you, but don't forget this is your home." 

"Okay," said Peter, breathless. He was going to do this, he was really going to do this. "Okay, Monday, I'll come visit on Monday." He rushed forward, hugging the Professor, and then his father. "I'll be back, I promise." 

"If you don't show up on a Monday, I'm coming to find you," said his father, his voice low. Peter had no doubts that he would too, that he would do anything in his power. Peter swallowed, thickly, and nodded. 

"Monday," he promised. 

"Go, Peter," said Charles, again. "She's about to leave." 

"Okay, okay bye! I'll be back! I'll visit!" Peter ran out the door, determined to catch Wanda. He paused, doubled back. Charles raised an eyebrow, his father's face was expressionless. "I missed you guys too, just you know." And then Peter was gone, running out the door, running for the whirl of magic that still lingered. 

Wanda yelled, stumbling into her home. Something had pushed her out of the way, and she already had magic at her fingertips ready for a fight. She knew there were enemies out there, enemies that hid in the shadows between worlds, that merely waited for their opportunities. She needn't have worried, she wasn't being attacked. Wanda let her hands fall, her mouth twisting in confusion. 

"Peter?" 

Her brother grinned, leaning against the counter top, an apple in hand. "You didn't see this coming?" Wanda's breath caught. Peter rolled his eyes, threw the apple in the air. "Come on, as if that was just going to be it?"

Wanda shook her head, speechless. She opened her mouth and closed it again. "But-"

"What? You were the one that said the path was clear to you now? It is, right?" said Peter, raising an eyebrow. 

"Yes, it is but- but you were home. You had your father, you-"

"He'll still be there when I get back. Actually, I have to visit every Monday or my dad will tear the universe apart thinking something's happened to me, so there's that." Peter winked, "Better not let me forget then, huh? You'll come with me, of course." 

"Peter, I don't-" She didn't know what to say, didn't know how to explain how much it meant to her without it sounding selfish. He wasn't a telepath, but he seemed to know anyway. 

Wanda blinked and her brother stood in front of her. He placed both hands on her shoulders, his face soft. "Until you have your family, I can't go back to mine," he said, honestly. "It- it wouldn't feel right. I'll help you find the boys, I'm going to track down your- the Erik Lensherr of this universe, with him will no doubt come Charles Xavier. You'll have a family, but until then you'll have me." Peter chuckled, dabbing the sleeve of his jumper to her cheeks. Wanda hadn't even realised she had been crying. "Don't worry, you'll make it up to me by coming to the most awkward family dinner night in the multiverse every Monday night."

Wanda gave a wet laugh. 

"I suppose I can do that." 

Peter smiled widely at her, his eyes sparkling. "Looks like you're stuck with me for a little while longer." 

"I'm glad," she said, softly.

He winked, "Don't forget you said that when I steal a pinball machine from a Nazi."

"I'll keep it in mind." Wanda leaned forward, wrapped her arms around her brother's waist, pressed her face into his jumper. "Will you come visit Pietro with me?" 

"Of course."

"Thank you," whispered Wanda. She didn't say what for, she didn't need too. It was for everything, it was for supporting her, being with her, looking after her.

It was for coming back. 

Peter rested his head on top of hers, kissed her hair lightly. "Any time, Wanda." 

He meant it too. 

She wasn't surprised, how could she be? They were space twins after all. 

END