wecanavenge | ✘ | 017

[All backdated to just after the flood!]

[Private to Pietro]

I know you're here, and I'm certain you're aware I am. [A beat. He's trying, but trying is hard especially when he has no idea how to broach this. It hasn't gone spectacularly with Anya or Wanda in the past.]

It's not a very big ship. And I'm obviously not the man you know. We could continue to avoid each other, if that's what you'd like. [He cracks a dry half-smile.] But I've found it's better not to assume anything, here.

[Private to Wanda]

[He took a while before turning the feed on for this, so he's perfectly composed. She doesn't need to see or deal with his issues; he wants to say this, and let it lie.]

I'm sorry. I haven't done a very good job of being easy to tolerate. You deserve better.

[Private to Alex]

I still don't expect your trust anytime soon.

[Private to Ivy]

[There is far too much kid drama here, so it's clearly time for something much less family oriented.]

'Generally regarded as sex on legs.' [Your warden, Ivy, he's very amusing to troll.]

[Private to Charles]

[Jesus Christ buddy we have got some stuff to talk about.] I spoke to Anya during the flood.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Did it.

[ Yes he is going to nit-pick everything you say right now. ]

You are— what, barely in your thirties?

[ WHICH IS WEIRD, yes, Pietro is trying really hard to ignore how much. He is nothing like you, sir. (Except in the widow's peak. And the eyes. And a few other features that are a lot more noticeable when they're so close in age.) ]

Thirty-three. [Get it out of your system Pietro. B( Erik's waiting - patiently, mostly because he's noticing those similarities. Same eyes as Wanda, same as Anya, same as his, and it's really quite disconcerting to see, because it makes him think of pictures he could half recall of his father.

But he can see Magda, too - or at least he thinks he can. It makes his jaw lock.]

Say what you need to.

There is nothing to say. [ And yet. ] When my father was thirty-three I had not even met him. He may have been a saint for all I know. What I do know is by forty he was the driving force behind mutant supremacist terrorism, and he had no compunction about making weapons out of two sixteen-year-old orphans who felt they owed him their lives.

[ ...So maybe he did need to get that out, yes. (Shut up.) ]

I do not doubt that you are not that man yet, but I fail to see why I should suddenly get my hopes up over the off chance you won't become him.

[He can't quite keep himself from arching an eyebrow at Pietro - obviously there's plenty to say - but he listens, and the expression fades.

The worst part, really, is that this is the most likely scenario he's heard yet. Alex and Raven and the others weren't teenagers, but they were young - and it had been his idea to turn them into an army against Shaw. He can't answer right away, can't say I would never like he could to Anya or Wanda.

Because this, maybe, he could see. It's a little alarming.]

I'm not asking for your hope. So long as you understand that he and I are not [for the moment] the same, I'm not asking for anything.

[ There's a flicker of something in his expression — hesitation, uncertainty, a twinge of something like disappointment. Erik isn't asking anything, no; it's telling perhaps that Pietro just assumed he would, but more telling still that, for half a second, Pietro doesn't seem to know what to do with the fact that he isn't. His father never stopped pushing for their affection, and Pietro hated that, but—

But nothing. Whatever emotions had been momentarily evident, they're quickly replaced by anger again. (At himself, this time.) He clenches his jaw and unclenches again. ]

Then why bother contacting me at all?

Should I have waited, and let the Admiral give you the opportunity to say all this? [Because he knows it would be worse then, and both eyebrows arch this time.]

Now we've spoken, and you've said your piece. I only wanted the chance to meet you. [Because he's very different from the Pietro who has, occasionally, spoken with him through network fuckups.

Not to mention, Erik doesn't have children; the more he knows about these (seemingly infinite) other universes, the better.]

If there's anything you want from me, say it.

[ There are about a million things he wants, even from a younger, potentially very different version of his father, but the only thing he's willing to voice is: ]

I want you to stay out of my way.

And be very careful how you treat my sisters.

[ ...'Or else,' needless to say.

(Yes, both of them. No, he doesn't care if neither are technically his any more than they are Erik's.) ]

[He hears the rest of the sentence, and doesn't question the protectiveness; if Pietro wants to play pretend family, Erik will be the last one to get in the way.

For a moment, he doesn't reply, staring steadily at Pietro in silence; he's disappointed, Erik realizes, and he has no right to be. This was the point, this is what he expected, wasn't it? That every single one of them has reason enough to hate him. And it shouldn't matter, because they aren't his children anyway.

Still, it's disappointment, and he boxes it away silently.]

Very well.

[ It's difficult for someone like Pietro not to notice a pause, a silence, and at least guess at the reason behind it, even if emotional sensitivity is far from his forte. And it just makes him angry — as if he hadn't been angry for this entire conversation, but this is pure, irrational anger that this man, that any Erik Lensherr has the right to be disappointed after everything he and Wanda did to try to make them a family again.

(Or maybe it's just that knife-twist in his gut, the hope that this time could be different clashing against the certainty that it won't be, and he's only angry that he can't turn that feeling off whenever he chooses.)

Instead of a reply, he shakes his head and moves a hand to the communicator to turn it off. He stops just short, though.]

It does not work. [ That might almost sound like an apology, if it weren't so cold. ] You, us. Accept that or don't, I could not care less.

Now, if there's nothing else...

[His mouth quirks dryly when Pietro doesn't just kill his feed; he was reaching for his own device when he saw Pietro do the same.]

Trust me when I say that what I've learned here has made me certain I'll never be a father. [And if there is a hint of bitterness in that, he ignores it completely. The days of normal dreams, of a family, of Magda, are long gone. He has no right to drag others into his life, when he knows he has one purpose.]

Not in any way that matters, I do not doubt.

[ Considering three of the four of them were unplanned, it's just about no comfort that he won't choose to have children, but Pietro is not getting into it about Lorna right now. ]

[His eyes narrow just a bit, frustration getting away from him.]

Why would you? [He smiles tightly.] It's clear you've made up your mind on the subject. Let's not waste any more time wondering about what might be, hm?

Indeed.

[ Bitching apparently accomplished, he kills the feed. ]

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