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Broken from a Young Age

Summary:

A dying Erik Lehnsherr imparts some final words to his son Peter, remembering what could have been.

One-shot inspired by the song "Believer" by Imagine Dragons

Work Text:

  “Peter…” rasped a husky voice in the dark. Faster than the blink of an eye, lights were flipped on and a silver-haired young man was hovering anxiously over the speaker.

  “What’s wrong? Do you need something? I can get somebody or-”

Erik Lensherr, the great Magneto, put a weak hand on his son’s arm. “Don’t…leave. Stay here.” A wracking cough shook his frame in the makeshift hospital bed. Peter scraped a chair up to the bedside, right leg bouncing with nervous energy. He watched his father carefully; yesterday, a rogue telekinetic had nearly crushed and killed Erik until Peter had been able to intervene. With no medical know-how to help him, Peter worried that ‘nearly’ was going to turn into ‘succeeded.’

   “Just let me call the Profess-”

  “No! I will not have Charles see-” Erik gestured around him. “-this.” His harsh tone softened. “I need to say all the words inside my head before, before it’s over.”

  “Okay…”

  Taking a hoarse breath, Erik continued. “I was broken from a young age; broken down and built up with hate. My life, my love, my drive, everything came from pain. Sometimes, I wonder what I would have done, following Charles’s way. But I didn’t.” He paused to take another breath. “And that has gotten me here, dying because I couldn’t believe there was another way.”

   “C’mon, Dad, you’ll be fine.” Summoning some of his usual confident bravado, the young man managed a smile.

Erik chuckled, a deep, rattling sound. “Junge, I’ve seen too much death not to recognize when it’s my turn. You are the face of our future; my blood in your veins.”

   “Whoa, I don’t do that kind of responsibility.” Peter swiped away a tear that was suddenly dripping down his cheek. He tried to force a laugh, but it came out as a strangled cry. “I don’t want you to die; I-I-I-”

    “Peter, wishing and wanting is pointless. Think of this: you weren’t too late to find me, and you are not too late to make your speed count. Do what I could not: be remembered well. Be a believer.” Erik reached out his clenched right hand. “Keep this, as the best part of your family I can give you.” He dropped a small silvery thing into his son’s hand.

Peter looked down at a blood-crusted locket but jerked his head up as Erik cried out.

   “Nina!” A truly happy smile shone through the sorrow on the mutant’s face. “Nina, Nina, my baby. Liebe, you came back.” Erik’s breathing was coming in shallow gasps, until it just stopped. His body didn’t move, his face eternally frozen in a blissful smile.

 Several seconds passed as Peter stared blankly, rooted to the spot. The door behind him creaked open, but the sound didn’t register.

   “My dear boy.” Professor Charles Xavier said, placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “My dear boy.”