SPOILERS for X-men Apocalypse! You've been warned!

'It's you,' Erik said upon spotting Peter. The boy's sudden, breezy appearance before him did not have quite the same effect on him as before. 'How is your leg?'

Peter bit his lip. His leg, even healed, hurt every day. He knew he should be more merciful to it for at least a few more months, but damn did he miss running. He hated those few couple of days confined to a hospital bed, and the following weeks, and the therapy… He hated the lasting effects it might have on him.

'Oh it's just fine and dandy, thanks for bringing it up,' he mumbled, leaning on the rails Erik was standing by. The man had on a long, gray coat and a stylish hat to go with it and he stood with his hands in his pockets, gazing at the river before him. Breaths turned to vapor in the cold morning, well before Peter's normal wake-up time, but he didn't mind that day.

'That bad?'

His question surprised Peter, he wasn't sure why. He could only huff, shoving his own hands in his pockets and fixing his gaze where Erik's was before. He regretted going for his stylish jacket instead of his warmer, albeit entirely boring coat.

'For what it's worth, I'm sorry you had to go through that,' the older mutant said. Peter sighed heavily.

'Yeah, well, me too,' he said. If Erik had any reaction to that, it wasn't audible, and Peter didn't feel up to looking him in the eyes yet. He knew how to turn this conversation naturally into what he came to talk about, but he could hardly bring himself to open his mouth, and when he did, he just closed it again. After the second time, Erik took matters in his own hands.

'What's eating you, kid?' He asked. 'Don't think I haven't noticed you've been acting weird… lately.'

'It's...' Peter sighed again, digging both hands in his silver hair in frustration. 'I just don't know how to say it.'

'Come,' Erik said, nodding towards the pathway to his right. 'Walk with me. But don't fall behind.'

Peter might have laughed at a joke like that if it weren't coming from Magneto himself. Still, he couldn't stop the corners of his lips from twitching. The two walked alongside the river for a short while.

'This is important, OK?' Peter said, finally, breaking the comfortable silence between the two.

'OK,' Erik replied.

'Like, I wouldn't ask if it weren't,' Peter went on to say.

'I get it, kid,' Erik said, as if urging him to go on.

'What was… your family like?' Peter finally asked. The question took Erik by surprise, but he handled it with unexpected ease. Peter frowned, worrying for a moment that he might not answer, that he would ask him to leave, and he'd hate him and…

'I had a wife,' he answered, finally, voice barely above a whisper. 'And a daughter… Nyina…'

'How old was she?' Peter pressed on, stalling the inevitable like a coward.

'Seven… She was so young...'

Peter looked at Erik's face properly for the first time, afraid there was a rage in his expression that he couldn't hear in his voice, but he just looked… sad. He suddenly felt bad about choosing this way to tell him.

'Were they your first… uh… family?' he asked.

Erik's sadness was replaced by confusion, and as he looked up at Peter, the boy turned his gaze away.

'They were everything,' Erik said, dead serious.

'No they weren't!' Peter blurted out, locking eyes with him. He tried to look a lot less scared than he actually was, but couldn't tell if it was working. Again, he was afraid that he'd pissed Erik off, and he'd leave and they'd never talk again. But he was getting ahead of himself.

'What?' was Erik's simplistic question.

'I mean that you have others, OK?' Peter replied, opting to finish what he started. He made his bed, now he had to lay in it.

'Who? Raven? Charles? The sch...'

'No,' Peter said, feeling panic swell within him, but he ignored it by some miracle. 'I mean real family. Actual blood. Your blood.'

They had stopped walking, and Erik was frozen, looking at Peter with a mixture of shock and confusion. The boy tore his eyes away again, biting at his cheek.

'But you left them,' he said, looking up once again, and this time, holding Erik's wide-eyed gaze.

'Peter...'

This was the first time he heard him say his name, and it felt like falling. He caught himself battling tears, and he was losing badly. He had to look away, so he dropped his gaze, silver locks falling to hide his face. He didn't hear a sound from Erik for what felt like hours, and each second was like a nail in his throat, urging him to cry and yell. He felt like he should be angry at the man for all the things he's done, hate him for leaving, but all he could think of was how much he wanted him to stay.

Suddenly, he felt hands at each side of his face, and he slowly lifted his gaze, tearful brown eyes meeting tearful greens.

'Son.'

Peter couldn't hold it in anymore. He wept like a child and he felt like one, too, especially when he felt his fathers arms wrap around him and pull him closer.

'Oh son,' Erik breathed, voice hitching. 'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry...'

'Dad...' Peter muttered. 'I never said that before. "Dad..."'

'I know,' Erik whispered. 'I… Can you forgive me?'

Peter pulled away, looking at his father with a teary smile.

'I forgive you, dad.'