Work Text:
In the aftermath of everything, Erik sat on the boat, with a towel wrapped around his shoulders. He was shivering, and he wasn't the only one. There was a man opposite, who kept trying to talk to him. And at his side, curled into his body to get what little warmth he could, was Peter.
Erik slung an arm around the boy. Not out of any affection, necessarily. But because Peter was shivering. Erik wanted to help with that, pulled the towel around him closer, whispering under his breath. "You're safe now."
The boy didn't answer, gazing out at the world with wide eyes under that vivid shock of white hair.
Erik had expected his life to change that night. He'd climbed up on that ship, ready to die or kill, and knowing either way it ended. But Shaw had escaped with his life. And Erik had escaped with something more important.
His arms had ached as he pulled himself up onto the boat. He'd hoped he could get a chance to sneak up on him - and he hadn't. Shaw had been waiting for him, that sickening smile on his face, the one that loomed large in all his nightmares.
"Kleiner Erik Lehnsherr..." The man smirked. Erik would never forget the tableau that had faced him, and he knew Shaw had planned for that. Knew he'd wanted to make an impression - his telepath had been keeping him informed of Erik's movements.
He had been resting, at ease and perfectly relaxed, one pretty companion on each arm, and a boy sat at his feet, playing with a little metal toy train. One Erik had made, when he'd been only a few years older than the boy. When his hands had been blistered, when he'd been in agony.... the memories swept through him unbidden as the boy played.
Shaw had stepped forwards, confident and smug. "My boy, you came home at last... and it's about time. You know, there's someone here who I wanted you to meet... Peter, get up for me. Come here." He clicked his fingers, expecting to be obeyed. The boy stumbled upwards, brushing strands of white hair from his eyes. One hand lifted up, as though he wanted to suck his thumb for comfort, but he cringed away from it.
Shaw smiled, one hand resting on the boy's shoulder, and Erik knew just how easy it would be for him to tighten his grip. His hands had always seemed unnaturally strong, when Erik had been a child. He knew how easily limbs bruised and broke beneath his touch. Shaw gazed straight at Erik. "I've been waiting for a chance to introduce you. You've been hunting me for a long time, Erik. And you haven't always been as careful as you should have been..." Shaw paused. "I would have expected your son to have a gift over metal, but apparently I was wrong..." He leaned down, whispering into the boy's ear.
Erik didn't know if Shaw was messing with his mind - the boy could have been someone else's child. But he could see times it would have been possible - and either way, he couldn't leave this child here. He knew what Shaw had done, when he'd been barely older than the boy. This boy didn't deserve to suffer the same fate for another moment.
The boy ran at him. Erik could see he was holding a glass blade, but that wasn't his focus at that moment. What mattered was he had to get this boy away.
The boy's gift was apparently unnatural speed. His knife pierced Erik's arm, but Erik used that, used the boy's momentum. He grabbed him, pulling him over the side of the boat - away from the danger.
The water was cold, and the boy was struggling. Erik fought to keep him above the water, even as he reached out for the anchor, heard commotion around them. He had thought he could get Shaw. He had left the boy scrabbling on the surface, some metal holding him up. needing to ensure that he would never be in danger again.
And he had dived, ready to end it. He was going to destroy Shaw.
And then the man had spoken in his thoughts. You can't. You'll drown. You have to let go. I know what this means to you, but you're going to die. Please, Erik, calm your mind. Erik had pushed that away. And then the man's hand had grabbed at him, and he'd thought one more thing. That boy needs you.
Just like that, the fight had left him. He'd let the man - the telepath - guide him back up to the surface, where he'd swept Peter into his arms. The boy was crying, and Erik shushed him, lifting him up onto the ladder of the rescue boat. They'd been wrapped in towels, and placed in a spare room to dry off, and the boy had sat beside him wordlessly, leaning his head on Erik's shoulder.
The boy coughed, and looked up at him. "Is it true?"
Erik had no plans for a child. His life was brutal, and he expected it to be short. And this boy wasn't necessarily his. He could have been some other experiment of Shaw, another plaything for him to torture.
But Peter was lost, and he needed something that Erik could provide.
Erik cleared his throat. "Yeah. It is."
"Oh." The boy nodded, falling silent. Erik floated over a metal cup, reshaping it with a thought into a little toy boat, which he handed over. The boy smiled, clutching it against him, his shivering finally receding a little. "Thank you."
"It's okay. You're safe now." Erik gazed across at the telepath, knowing they were surrounded by the CIA, and he had no idea what would happen next. He was sure at least some of the people here wanted nothing more than to put him back in a laboratory. But he wasn't going to let that happen. He was going to give Peter a better life.
Peter was his son. It didn't matter if he'd fathered him or not. They'd both been victims of Shaw, and Erik wasn't going to let this child grow up with the same anger and hatred that had always driven him. The child deserved better.
He listened to the telepath talk about his thoughts for mutant unity, and wondered if he had deserved better too.
As if sensing his thoughts, Peter shuffled up closer, and offered him a chance to hold the toy boat. Erik took it, examining his own craftmanship and then handing it back. Maybe they could make this work.