Disclaimer- "Okay, my microphone either just went out or I just had a small
stroke."
Author's Note- Chapters for this story may come out faster now because when I was on vacation I wrote a little something that's going to happen for each chapter. It's helping me already.
Chapter Nine- Just Keep Breathing
Pietro ran on the treadmill, easily keeping up with its top speed. The nine- year old boy's shirt was off, wearing only a pair of gray running shorts. On his chest were two white circles; what you would call cupping. Cupping hurts, and if you were ill, they wouldn't do anything to help your sickness. But these ones helped Erik with his results on his enhancement on his son's powers. On Pietro's left upper arm was an IV tube, where clear liquid made his way into his body.
Pietro's breathing was hitched, not from tiredness, but from the pain in his chest and arm. He hoped that they were almost done. He risked a glance at his father, whom was currently not looking at him. His face was impassive as he scribbled on the clipboard he was holding. His lab coat was crisp and stark white that Pietro found it a little abnormal to have that clean a piece of apparel. Pietro quickly averted his gaze to his sister on the other side of the room. She was brooding, idly zapping at a row of potted plants that their father had put there for her to practice on while he observed Pietro.
Pietro glanced back at his father, only to see him staring at him with a neutral expression. Pietro felt himself stop breathing, and he quickly tried to get air back in his lungs before he started to suffocate. It had happened before. He was not yet able to fully control his speed and sometimes it would just slip in and out of his control, sometimes his body would forget to draw in air.
'Just keep breathing, Pietro,' he told himself.
Slowly and agonizingly for him and his body, air rushed back into his lungs and he could breath easily again. Suddenly, he found that the rubber surface he was running on was slowing down. He looked up and found his father lowering the speed at the front of the machine, staring at him as he did so. Finally, it was just at a slow and steady jogging pace.
"Just jog it out, Pietro," Erik said. Pietro struggled to gain control of his powers. He hadn't understood what Erik had just said; it had been uttered so slow for him. He stared at Erik blankly.
"Just jog it out, Pietro," Erik repeated, and Pietro nodded, understanding now. He slowed his pace to the appropriate speed of the treadmill.
Erik removed the white circles from Pietro's chest, much to his relief. And carefully as he could, he gently pulled out the IV from Pietro's arm.
"I just want you to jog and keep setting it slower until I'm done with Wanda," Erik said, "Then the both of you may eat."
Pietro nodded again and set himself to looking around the white, sterile room to keep him busy.
Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the room, Wanda was still zapping her plants. Each potted plant wilted and shriveled up as she sent a bolt of blue energy at each one of them one at a time.
"Wanda," Erik said softly from her side and she jumped, startled.
"I'm ready," she said softly.
"I think you might be ready to try your hex bolts on alive and moving objects," Erik told her. Wanda looked up at him with round eyes. Fearfully, they darted towards the direction of her brother, who was now slowing down his pace ever so slightly.
"I'm not going to make you test them on your brother," Erik told her gently as he turned around and walked the few steps separating him from the metal cabinets hanging on the wall. He opened one of them, pulled out a small box, and set them on the metal countertop just underneath the cabinets.
He slid the lid open on the small box, stuck his hand in, and pulled something out, turning around he walked over to where Wanda was sitting on the couch and set it on the small metal table in front of her.
"It's a simple albino mouse," Erik told her as her eyes opened even wider when she saw the furry white rodent scamper around the table, occasionally sliding on the smooth surface. It stopped and stood on its hind legs, its blood red eyes staring at her, its little whiskered nose wiggling as it sniffed the air.
"I don't want to kill it," she told her father immediately. Erik sighed.
"Wanda, I doubt you will kill it. Besides, these mice are used all the time as lab mice. Scientists experiment all the time with them." Erik told her.
Wanda shook her head again, pointing to the dead and wilted plants behind her father. "But I killed the plants! Look at them, Father! I don't want to kill the mouse!"
"Shh, Wanda you're not going to kill it. This mouse has a purpose, and that's helping you learn to control your powers. Just hex it." Erik tried to encourage her.
But Wanda was still shaking her head violently. "No! I don't want to kill it! I don't even want to hurt it! Please don't make me do it!"
"Wanda listen to me," Erik snapped, "Do you ever want to gain control of your powers? Or will you let them have control of you? This will help you."
Wanda swallowed, and shakily pointed her finger at the mouse and zapped it. It squeaked loudly and jumped in the air, parts of its white fur were singed and a little smoke was rising from it.
"I hurt it! I hurt it!" Wanda wailed, tears pouring out of her eyes. The lights flickered. "Why'd you make me do it! I killed it! Look at it!"
"Wanda! Calm down!" Erik demanded, placing his large hands on her small shoulders. But she was still shaking her head, looking at the mouse as it stopped moving around on the table, and collapsed on its side, just twitching. On the other side of the room, they heard a yelp.
Both heads swiveled simultaneously to the other direction, and they saw Pietro lying on the floor behind the treadmill, his chin bleeding, but almost the entire left side of his face looked like it had been scraped badly and was just beginning to bleed. The treadmill was going faster than its highest speed. Then suddenly the smell of burnt rubbing filled the room as smoke started coming from the treadmill. Erik quickly ran to it and shut if off completely, then walked around it and knelt beside Pietro, who was rubbing his wrist tearfully.
"It just went faster all of a sudden!" He exclaimed hurriedly. "I was walking and all of a sudden zoom! And I flew off. I hit my chin on the rubber and landed on my wrist funny."
Erik carefully grabbed the boy's wrist and examined it. Pietro winced as he prodded at it to check if it was broken in any places.
"It'll be fine in a few days," he said finally. He placed his hands under Pietro's armpits and heaved him up to stand on his feet. The lights were still flickering and he heard glass shatter. Turning to face Wanda again, he saw that she had wrapped her arms around her knees and was still crying.
Dragging Pietro behind him by the arm, he went to the counter and pulled out some supplies to clean Pietro's scrapes. He ignored Wanda the entire time he was doing this but finally when he was done he picked her up and carried her out of the room. All of the levitating objects dropped to the floor with a clatter.
He stopped out side of the nearest bathroom, set her down on the floor and opened the door.
"The both of you wash your hands," he told them, "Wanda, wash your face too. Then come down for dinner." He walked off to the direction of his bedroom.
The twins silently washed their hands, first scrubbing them with soap, and then rinsing them with warm water. Wanda was trying to control her breathing. She reached over and grabbed some of the toilet paper, and blew her nose loudly.
"You better wash your hands again," Pietro told her as he looked at her from the corner of his eye drop the used paper in the toilet. Wanda obeyed.
"He made me use my hex bolts on the mouse, Pietro!" She said as he handed her the towel to dry her hands. "Did you see it twitching on the table like that? He told me I wouldn't kill it!" Tears ran down her cheeks again.
"No, I fell off the treadmill. My face is burning," he idly reached up to rub the sore on his cheek but winced violently and snatched it away.
"I-I'm sorry!" wailed Wanda, "That was m-m-me! I lost control again!"
"S'okay," Pietro muttered, "Just breath calmly, Wanda." He wrapped his arm around her as they exited the bathroom together.
When they entered the dining room their father was not there yet, but each of their places had been set and food was set at the center of the table where they were sitting. The food looked like fish and chicken and a large salad bowl also.
"Should we wait?" Wanda asked in a whisper. But Pietro needn't had answered because a second later their father walked in, dressed in normal casual clothes now instead of his lab ones.
"Help yourselves," he grunted as he sat down and pulled his chair closer to the table. Silently they all fixed their plates and salads, nothing making any noise except the clatter of plates and the chinking of silverware and glasses.
After they had finished, they just sat back in their seats idly and waited until their filled stomachs settled for a moment. Then, Erik stood without saying a word and strolled out. Simultaneously, the twins rose from their seats also and headed towards their favorite talking place: the second floor linen closet just down the hall from their bedroom.
They talked for what must have been a half an hour in the closet. Blankets and towels under the bottom shelf surrounded Wanda and Pietro, and they were starting to breath shallower as the air became more and more stale.
"I want to learn more about our mother," Wanda said suddenly.
"What?" Pietro asked, confused. "Marya? But we know all about her!"
"No, our real mother." Wanda told him. "Do you think, do you think we should ask Father?"
Pietro shrugged, but Wanda couldn't see him do so in the darkness.
"He seems like he doesn't exactly mind talking about her," she whispered. "I mean, he gets all sad and stuff but he doesn't look angry."
"Yeah," Pietro agreed, "Yeah, I think we should."
He reached up to open the door. When it opened they both crawled out, but Pietro's legs were still tangled in one of the heavier blankets. He gave a few good kicks until he was finally free.
Side by side they walked towards his study. They had only been in there a few times, but each time they felt the same amount of awe. The walls were a deep burgundy color. When you walk in on the right side of the room in the center of the wall was a medium size brick fireplace, which usually made itself home to orange, dancing flames. Deep, blood red velvet couches surrounded the fireplace. A few bookshelves were in the back of the room, and the carpet matched the walls, only a shade darker.
Hesitantly Wanda knocked on the door. They waited with baited breath for an answer.
After a pause they heard a terse, "Come in," and they opened the door, entered, and then slowly closed it behind him.
As usual, the fire lit up the room with an orange-ish glow. Erik sat in one of the armchairs in front of the fire. He was tracing something silver with his fingertips as it rested in his lap, and in the other hand he was holding a glass of wine.
"Father?" Pietro said, taking a hesitant step forward. Erik inclined his head slightly towards him but he was still gazing into the flames. Silently the two of them walked in front of him and sat down on the rug.
He ignored them for a minute before saying, "What?"
"We want you to tell us about Mother," Wanda whispered.
Erik breathed in sharply. After holding it for a few seconds, however, he slowly exhaled. Setting his wine on the circular end table next to his chair, he stood up and walked to the back of the room. Both of them saw that the silver thing was a picture frame. He bent down to the very bottom shelf on one of the cases, and pulled out three sorts of large books. When he sat back down they saw they were photo albums.
"I managed to save the photographs that had been stored in boxes that were in the cellar underground of our house," Erik told them opening one of the albums as he set the other two and the picture frame to the side.
He reached over to the table and sipped the wine again. "Come to the couch," he told them and then he went to turn on the light switch by the door so they could see well. Then he sat between them and opened it to the first page.
"This is our wedding album," he told them. "Magda's family didn't have a lot of money, but I did. I hired a photographer and he took the best damn pictures I could have asked for. He was a cousin of mine that had been in America during the Holocaust, so he would have taken them for free, but I refused. He's dead now."
"Is that her?" Wanda asked, pointing to a very pretty woman in the black and white photograph. Erik nodded.
They poured over all three albums, until they came to the very last photograph. Magda was lying on a sprawled out blanket under a large oak tree. To her right was a small wall made of rocks. She smiled up at the camera, the dimple in her right cheek showing. With his finger, Erik traced her face in the picture lovingly. He closed it gently, obscuring Magda's smiling face from view.
"Go to bed," he told them. They looked sadly at each other and then slid off of the couch, saying goodnight to him at the door.
"'Night," he whispered as the door closed.
He settled back into his armchair, albums resting in his lap. He finished the rest of his wine and then set it gently back at the table. That last photograph had stirred a memory inside of him. That exact place was where Magda and him had first made love.
He remembered when he first met her. They were at a market, and he had seen her trying to haggle the price for a gift she wanted to give to her nephew for his seventh birthday. Erik had stepped in and bought the gift for her. It had been inexpensive, but Magda's family had been poor. He had fallen in love instantly when their eyes had first met.
She had only been nineteen, and he was almost eleven years her senior, but age doesn't matter when you were so madly in love. They wedded two years later, even though her family hadn't approved of him totally because he was Jewish and not a Gypsy. Nine years later, Magda had finally given birth to their first child, Anya.
His vision became blurry, and he shut his eyes. He missed them. He had never missed anyone as much as he missed Magda and Anya.
"Anya, you caught your first fish!" Magda exclaimed excitedly as her five- year old daughter held up the line that had a small bluegill at the end of it.
"Look at it, Momma!" Anya giggled. "It just stopped wiggling. But it was flopping all over the place when I caught it! And Poppa didn't even help!"
Magda laughed as she examined her daughter's first fish again. They were picnicking, the blanket was set up a little bit away from the stream where father and daughter set up their fishing lines.
"Well, are we going to eat it or set it back to its home?" Magda asked as her husband came walking up with a larger fish.
Anya's brow furrowed as she thought about it. "Can't I keep it as a pet?"
Magda laughed, glancing up at her husband as he gave her a lopsided smile. "No, no, no, sweetheart. The fish would be unhappy if you keep him confined."
Anya looked disappointed. "Well, I guess we could free him."
Magda smiled. "Okay, come on we'll set him back now." She grabbed her daughter's free hand, and with her other arm, she latched it around her husband's and dragged him along with them.
The three of them stood by the shore as Erik bit the line near the fish's mouth. He explained, "It swallowed the hook, so if we pull it out it would kill the fish. That's okay, we got plenty more. Hooks, I mean."
They all settled down on the soft blanket and started eating the meat sandwiches that Magda had made the day before. Magda reached over and played with the hair at Erik's temples.
"You're graying, dear," she said with a teasing smile. Her fingers grazed over to the hair on his hairline, which was turning gray also.
"Hush you," Erik said through a mouthful of food. Magda ran her fingers through his hair again, and rested her hand at the back of his head. He swallowed and took a drink of his water. Dusting off his hands, he leaned around Anya and gave Magda a quick kiss on the lips.
"Stasha has seven brothers and sisters, Momma," Anya said randomly. She was currently licking her fingers clean and then wiping them dry on her yellow dress. "I want a brother or a sister. Can't I get one?"
Erik looked away and Magda gave her a bittersweet smile. "We'll see," she said softly. Magda could not easily carry a child. There had been minor complications when she delivered Anya. Before they conceived her however, she had had several miscarriages. It would be hard having another child.
"Well, I really want one," Anya told them. "Then I could be a big sister."
Magda smiled and pushed a lock of Anya's light brown hair behind her ear. "I'm sure you'd make a wonderful big sister."
Erik felt cold and lost. He awoke, slowly opening his eyes and blinking them a few times. He was in his study, the fire had died down to nothing and the room was semi-dark, the moonlight creeping in from the crack in the curtains. He moaned and rubbed his hand over his face to rub the sleep away. He felt an odd weight on his lap and looking down he saw it was the photo albums. He stood up, walked over to the shelf he got them from, and put them away neatly. He walked back, picking up the picture frame from the table and walked silently out of the room and to his sleeping quarters.
He sat down on his bed, the springs creaking slightly under his weight. He stared down at the picture in the frame. It had been his favorite one of Magda. She stood at the counter, whom had not exactly been looking at the camera, but there was a smile on her face and you could see her eye looking towards it. She had an apron on, and she was rolling bread dough, some flour had ended up on her cheeks and nose. It had been Magda doing an everyday thing.
Erik sighed, set the frame down gently on the bedside table, laid down and closed his eyes, drifting to sleep once again.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Yay! Another chapter! And much longer than my other ones, I'll tell you that! Okay, that whole place where they first made love under that oak tree near that rock wall came from "The Shawshank Redemption". Good movie. Haven't seen it, go out and rent it. Tim Robbins and Morgan Freeman did a good job.
Okay, I made Magda that much younger than Erik because then when she died she could be the proper age to have given birth to twins. So she was born in 1945 and died in 1981. I made Evolution set around 1998-99. That way it all fits, because then Erik would be 64, and that would be old enough to have survived the Holocaust. He was around 11 when he escaped with Captain America and Logan. And I made Magda be someone who couldn't have babies easily just because I felt like it.
Stasha is the Polish form of Stanley. I just don't know how it's spelled, so I just guessed.
Insanebunneh- I think you reviewed them all...I'm not sure.
Kyuushi- Really? Magneto seems too evil in here? Oh. Oh well. I think he's a little bit nicer in this chapter. At least I'm not writing him beating and raping his kids. And I get so sick and tired of that crap too. And I read fics where he just marries Magda so they could have children that are mutants for his Mutant Army. But see, if you've ever read 'I Tried...' by The Phantom, I'm kind of working Erik like that one. If you haven't read it, go read it; it's just a chapter. Yeah, grammar isn't my best but I seem to be doing better. Spelling I'm surprised, because I'm pretty good at that.
Thanks also to childrenwithblades, SperryDee, Anon(girl), and sPoOkZ13412.
Like it? Hate it? Either way, review!
Author's Note- Chapters for this story may come out faster now because when I was on vacation I wrote a little something that's going to happen for each chapter. It's helping me already.
Chapter Nine- Just Keep Breathing
Pietro ran on the treadmill, easily keeping up with its top speed. The nine- year old boy's shirt was off, wearing only a pair of gray running shorts. On his chest were two white circles; what you would call cupping. Cupping hurts, and if you were ill, they wouldn't do anything to help your sickness. But these ones helped Erik with his results on his enhancement on his son's powers. On Pietro's left upper arm was an IV tube, where clear liquid made his way into his body.
Pietro's breathing was hitched, not from tiredness, but from the pain in his chest and arm. He hoped that they were almost done. He risked a glance at his father, whom was currently not looking at him. His face was impassive as he scribbled on the clipboard he was holding. His lab coat was crisp and stark white that Pietro found it a little abnormal to have that clean a piece of apparel. Pietro quickly averted his gaze to his sister on the other side of the room. She was brooding, idly zapping at a row of potted plants that their father had put there for her to practice on while he observed Pietro.
Pietro glanced back at his father, only to see him staring at him with a neutral expression. Pietro felt himself stop breathing, and he quickly tried to get air back in his lungs before he started to suffocate. It had happened before. He was not yet able to fully control his speed and sometimes it would just slip in and out of his control, sometimes his body would forget to draw in air.
'Just keep breathing, Pietro,' he told himself.
Slowly and agonizingly for him and his body, air rushed back into his lungs and he could breath easily again. Suddenly, he found that the rubber surface he was running on was slowing down. He looked up and found his father lowering the speed at the front of the machine, staring at him as he did so. Finally, it was just at a slow and steady jogging pace.
"Just jog it out, Pietro," Erik said. Pietro struggled to gain control of his powers. He hadn't understood what Erik had just said; it had been uttered so slow for him. He stared at Erik blankly.
"Just jog it out, Pietro," Erik repeated, and Pietro nodded, understanding now. He slowed his pace to the appropriate speed of the treadmill.
Erik removed the white circles from Pietro's chest, much to his relief. And carefully as he could, he gently pulled out the IV from Pietro's arm.
"I just want you to jog and keep setting it slower until I'm done with Wanda," Erik said, "Then the both of you may eat."
Pietro nodded again and set himself to looking around the white, sterile room to keep him busy.
Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the room, Wanda was still zapping her plants. Each potted plant wilted and shriveled up as she sent a bolt of blue energy at each one of them one at a time.
"Wanda," Erik said softly from her side and she jumped, startled.
"I'm ready," she said softly.
"I think you might be ready to try your hex bolts on alive and moving objects," Erik told her. Wanda looked up at him with round eyes. Fearfully, they darted towards the direction of her brother, who was now slowing down his pace ever so slightly.
"I'm not going to make you test them on your brother," Erik told her gently as he turned around and walked the few steps separating him from the metal cabinets hanging on the wall. He opened one of them, pulled out a small box, and set them on the metal countertop just underneath the cabinets.
He slid the lid open on the small box, stuck his hand in, and pulled something out, turning around he walked over to where Wanda was sitting on the couch and set it on the small metal table in front of her.
"It's a simple albino mouse," Erik told her as her eyes opened even wider when she saw the furry white rodent scamper around the table, occasionally sliding on the smooth surface. It stopped and stood on its hind legs, its blood red eyes staring at her, its little whiskered nose wiggling as it sniffed the air.
"I don't want to kill it," she told her father immediately. Erik sighed.
"Wanda, I doubt you will kill it. Besides, these mice are used all the time as lab mice. Scientists experiment all the time with them." Erik told her.
Wanda shook her head again, pointing to the dead and wilted plants behind her father. "But I killed the plants! Look at them, Father! I don't want to kill the mouse!"
"Shh, Wanda you're not going to kill it. This mouse has a purpose, and that's helping you learn to control your powers. Just hex it." Erik tried to encourage her.
But Wanda was still shaking her head violently. "No! I don't want to kill it! I don't even want to hurt it! Please don't make me do it!"
"Wanda listen to me," Erik snapped, "Do you ever want to gain control of your powers? Or will you let them have control of you? This will help you."
Wanda swallowed, and shakily pointed her finger at the mouse and zapped it. It squeaked loudly and jumped in the air, parts of its white fur were singed and a little smoke was rising from it.
"I hurt it! I hurt it!" Wanda wailed, tears pouring out of her eyes. The lights flickered. "Why'd you make me do it! I killed it! Look at it!"
"Wanda! Calm down!" Erik demanded, placing his large hands on her small shoulders. But she was still shaking her head, looking at the mouse as it stopped moving around on the table, and collapsed on its side, just twitching. On the other side of the room, they heard a yelp.
Both heads swiveled simultaneously to the other direction, and they saw Pietro lying on the floor behind the treadmill, his chin bleeding, but almost the entire left side of his face looked like it had been scraped badly and was just beginning to bleed. The treadmill was going faster than its highest speed. Then suddenly the smell of burnt rubbing filled the room as smoke started coming from the treadmill. Erik quickly ran to it and shut if off completely, then walked around it and knelt beside Pietro, who was rubbing his wrist tearfully.
"It just went faster all of a sudden!" He exclaimed hurriedly. "I was walking and all of a sudden zoom! And I flew off. I hit my chin on the rubber and landed on my wrist funny."
Erik carefully grabbed the boy's wrist and examined it. Pietro winced as he prodded at it to check if it was broken in any places.
"It'll be fine in a few days," he said finally. He placed his hands under Pietro's armpits and heaved him up to stand on his feet. The lights were still flickering and he heard glass shatter. Turning to face Wanda again, he saw that she had wrapped her arms around her knees and was still crying.
Dragging Pietro behind him by the arm, he went to the counter and pulled out some supplies to clean Pietro's scrapes. He ignored Wanda the entire time he was doing this but finally when he was done he picked her up and carried her out of the room. All of the levitating objects dropped to the floor with a clatter.
He stopped out side of the nearest bathroom, set her down on the floor and opened the door.
"The both of you wash your hands," he told them, "Wanda, wash your face too. Then come down for dinner." He walked off to the direction of his bedroom.
The twins silently washed their hands, first scrubbing them with soap, and then rinsing them with warm water. Wanda was trying to control her breathing. She reached over and grabbed some of the toilet paper, and blew her nose loudly.
"You better wash your hands again," Pietro told her as he looked at her from the corner of his eye drop the used paper in the toilet. Wanda obeyed.
"He made me use my hex bolts on the mouse, Pietro!" She said as he handed her the towel to dry her hands. "Did you see it twitching on the table like that? He told me I wouldn't kill it!" Tears ran down her cheeks again.
"No, I fell off the treadmill. My face is burning," he idly reached up to rub the sore on his cheek but winced violently and snatched it away.
"I-I'm sorry!" wailed Wanda, "That was m-m-me! I lost control again!"
"S'okay," Pietro muttered, "Just breath calmly, Wanda." He wrapped his arm around her as they exited the bathroom together.
When they entered the dining room their father was not there yet, but each of their places had been set and food was set at the center of the table where they were sitting. The food looked like fish and chicken and a large salad bowl also.
"Should we wait?" Wanda asked in a whisper. But Pietro needn't had answered because a second later their father walked in, dressed in normal casual clothes now instead of his lab ones.
"Help yourselves," he grunted as he sat down and pulled his chair closer to the table. Silently they all fixed their plates and salads, nothing making any noise except the clatter of plates and the chinking of silverware and glasses.
After they had finished, they just sat back in their seats idly and waited until their filled stomachs settled for a moment. Then, Erik stood without saying a word and strolled out. Simultaneously, the twins rose from their seats also and headed towards their favorite talking place: the second floor linen closet just down the hall from their bedroom.
They talked for what must have been a half an hour in the closet. Blankets and towels under the bottom shelf surrounded Wanda and Pietro, and they were starting to breath shallower as the air became more and more stale.
"I want to learn more about our mother," Wanda said suddenly.
"What?" Pietro asked, confused. "Marya? But we know all about her!"
"No, our real mother." Wanda told him. "Do you think, do you think we should ask Father?"
Pietro shrugged, but Wanda couldn't see him do so in the darkness.
"He seems like he doesn't exactly mind talking about her," she whispered. "I mean, he gets all sad and stuff but he doesn't look angry."
"Yeah," Pietro agreed, "Yeah, I think we should."
He reached up to open the door. When it opened they both crawled out, but Pietro's legs were still tangled in one of the heavier blankets. He gave a few good kicks until he was finally free.
Side by side they walked towards his study. They had only been in there a few times, but each time they felt the same amount of awe. The walls were a deep burgundy color. When you walk in on the right side of the room in the center of the wall was a medium size brick fireplace, which usually made itself home to orange, dancing flames. Deep, blood red velvet couches surrounded the fireplace. A few bookshelves were in the back of the room, and the carpet matched the walls, only a shade darker.
Hesitantly Wanda knocked on the door. They waited with baited breath for an answer.
After a pause they heard a terse, "Come in," and they opened the door, entered, and then slowly closed it behind him.
As usual, the fire lit up the room with an orange-ish glow. Erik sat in one of the armchairs in front of the fire. He was tracing something silver with his fingertips as it rested in his lap, and in the other hand he was holding a glass of wine.
"Father?" Pietro said, taking a hesitant step forward. Erik inclined his head slightly towards him but he was still gazing into the flames. Silently the two of them walked in front of him and sat down on the rug.
He ignored them for a minute before saying, "What?"
"We want you to tell us about Mother," Wanda whispered.
Erik breathed in sharply. After holding it for a few seconds, however, he slowly exhaled. Setting his wine on the circular end table next to his chair, he stood up and walked to the back of the room. Both of them saw that the silver thing was a picture frame. He bent down to the very bottom shelf on one of the cases, and pulled out three sorts of large books. When he sat back down they saw they were photo albums.
"I managed to save the photographs that had been stored in boxes that were in the cellar underground of our house," Erik told them opening one of the albums as he set the other two and the picture frame to the side.
He reached over to the table and sipped the wine again. "Come to the couch," he told them and then he went to turn on the light switch by the door so they could see well. Then he sat between them and opened it to the first page.
"This is our wedding album," he told them. "Magda's family didn't have a lot of money, but I did. I hired a photographer and he took the best damn pictures I could have asked for. He was a cousin of mine that had been in America during the Holocaust, so he would have taken them for free, but I refused. He's dead now."
"Is that her?" Wanda asked, pointing to a very pretty woman in the black and white photograph. Erik nodded.
They poured over all three albums, until they came to the very last photograph. Magda was lying on a sprawled out blanket under a large oak tree. To her right was a small wall made of rocks. She smiled up at the camera, the dimple in her right cheek showing. With his finger, Erik traced her face in the picture lovingly. He closed it gently, obscuring Magda's smiling face from view.
"Go to bed," he told them. They looked sadly at each other and then slid off of the couch, saying goodnight to him at the door.
"'Night," he whispered as the door closed.
He settled back into his armchair, albums resting in his lap. He finished the rest of his wine and then set it gently back at the table. That last photograph had stirred a memory inside of him. That exact place was where Magda and him had first made love.
He remembered when he first met her. They were at a market, and he had seen her trying to haggle the price for a gift she wanted to give to her nephew for his seventh birthday. Erik had stepped in and bought the gift for her. It had been inexpensive, but Magda's family had been poor. He had fallen in love instantly when their eyes had first met.
She had only been nineteen, and he was almost eleven years her senior, but age doesn't matter when you were so madly in love. They wedded two years later, even though her family hadn't approved of him totally because he was Jewish and not a Gypsy. Nine years later, Magda had finally given birth to their first child, Anya.
His vision became blurry, and he shut his eyes. He missed them. He had never missed anyone as much as he missed Magda and Anya.
"Anya, you caught your first fish!" Magda exclaimed excitedly as her five- year old daughter held up the line that had a small bluegill at the end of it.
"Look at it, Momma!" Anya giggled. "It just stopped wiggling. But it was flopping all over the place when I caught it! And Poppa didn't even help!"
Magda laughed as she examined her daughter's first fish again. They were picnicking, the blanket was set up a little bit away from the stream where father and daughter set up their fishing lines.
"Well, are we going to eat it or set it back to its home?" Magda asked as her husband came walking up with a larger fish.
Anya's brow furrowed as she thought about it. "Can't I keep it as a pet?"
Magda laughed, glancing up at her husband as he gave her a lopsided smile. "No, no, no, sweetheart. The fish would be unhappy if you keep him confined."
Anya looked disappointed. "Well, I guess we could free him."
Magda smiled. "Okay, come on we'll set him back now." She grabbed her daughter's free hand, and with her other arm, she latched it around her husband's and dragged him along with them.
The three of them stood by the shore as Erik bit the line near the fish's mouth. He explained, "It swallowed the hook, so if we pull it out it would kill the fish. That's okay, we got plenty more. Hooks, I mean."
They all settled down on the soft blanket and started eating the meat sandwiches that Magda had made the day before. Magda reached over and played with the hair at Erik's temples.
"You're graying, dear," she said with a teasing smile. Her fingers grazed over to the hair on his hairline, which was turning gray also.
"Hush you," Erik said through a mouthful of food. Magda ran her fingers through his hair again, and rested her hand at the back of his head. He swallowed and took a drink of his water. Dusting off his hands, he leaned around Anya and gave Magda a quick kiss on the lips.
"Stasha has seven brothers and sisters, Momma," Anya said randomly. She was currently licking her fingers clean and then wiping them dry on her yellow dress. "I want a brother or a sister. Can't I get one?"
Erik looked away and Magda gave her a bittersweet smile. "We'll see," she said softly. Magda could not easily carry a child. There had been minor complications when she delivered Anya. Before they conceived her however, she had had several miscarriages. It would be hard having another child.
"Well, I really want one," Anya told them. "Then I could be a big sister."
Magda smiled and pushed a lock of Anya's light brown hair behind her ear. "I'm sure you'd make a wonderful big sister."
Erik felt cold and lost. He awoke, slowly opening his eyes and blinking them a few times. He was in his study, the fire had died down to nothing and the room was semi-dark, the moonlight creeping in from the crack in the curtains. He moaned and rubbed his hand over his face to rub the sleep away. He felt an odd weight on his lap and looking down he saw it was the photo albums. He stood up, walked over to the shelf he got them from, and put them away neatly. He walked back, picking up the picture frame from the table and walked silently out of the room and to his sleeping quarters.
He sat down on his bed, the springs creaking slightly under his weight. He stared down at the picture in the frame. It had been his favorite one of Magda. She stood at the counter, whom had not exactly been looking at the camera, but there was a smile on her face and you could see her eye looking towards it. She had an apron on, and she was rolling bread dough, some flour had ended up on her cheeks and nose. It had been Magda doing an everyday thing.
Erik sighed, set the frame down gently on the bedside table, laid down and closed his eyes, drifting to sleep once again.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Yay! Another chapter! And much longer than my other ones, I'll tell you that! Okay, that whole place where they first made love under that oak tree near that rock wall came from "The Shawshank Redemption". Good movie. Haven't seen it, go out and rent it. Tim Robbins and Morgan Freeman did a good job.
Okay, I made Magda that much younger than Erik because then when she died she could be the proper age to have given birth to twins. So she was born in 1945 and died in 1981. I made Evolution set around 1998-99. That way it all fits, because then Erik would be 64, and that would be old enough to have survived the Holocaust. He was around 11 when he escaped with Captain America and Logan. And I made Magda be someone who couldn't have babies easily just because I felt like it.
Stasha is the Polish form of Stanley. I just don't know how it's spelled, so I just guessed.
Insanebunneh- I think you reviewed them all...I'm not sure.
Kyuushi- Really? Magneto seems too evil in here? Oh. Oh well. I think he's a little bit nicer in this chapter. At least I'm not writing him beating and raping his kids. And I get so sick and tired of that crap too. And I read fics where he just marries Magda so they could have children that are mutants for his Mutant Army. But see, if you've ever read 'I Tried...' by The Phantom, I'm kind of working Erik like that one. If you haven't read it, go read it; it's just a chapter. Yeah, grammar isn't my best but I seem to be doing better. Spelling I'm surprised, because I'm pretty good at that.
Thanks also to childrenwithblades, SperryDee, Anon(girl), and sPoOkZ13412.
Like it? Hate it? Either way, review!