Chapter Text
WESTVIEW, NEW JERSEY - 1950s
It was morning in quaint Westview, the sun shining with clear skies as residents started their day. At 1963 Kirby Avenue, however, the chaos of a teenager and a five year old rushing to get up and ready for school was enough to overshadow the morning tranquility entirely.
“Where’s your brother?” Erik asked Lorna as they ate breakfast with Nina.
Lorna chuckled as she poured a glass of milk for her and her sister, “Do you really expect Peter to be up more than a minute before his first class?”
Erik huffed as the audience laughed, setting aside a plate for Peter. Walking to the kitchen’s entryway, he shouted, “Peter Maximoff, come downstairs for breakfast now or you’ll be going to school hungry.”
As he turned back towards the table, he felt a gust of wind- one which sent Nina’s latest drawings flying off the fridge- before he saw Peter, dressed in his school uniform like the girls, and seated in front of an empty plate. “I’m already done,” his son said with a grin, earning another round of laughter from the audience.
“How many times do I have to tell you, no running in the house,” Erik scolded even as he ruffled Peter’s hair, ignoring his son's annoyed grumbling.
“That’s not what you said when we moved in, Daddy,” Nina stated, giggling at the wink Peter sent her way. Even Lorna had trouble suppressing her laughter. (The audience had no such qualms.)
“I will not tolerate this sass under my roof,” Erik said, picking Nina up and tickling her.
“Daddy, no!” Nina laughed as she squirmed.
Finally Erik set her down. “If you’re finished with your breakfast, run along and get your things.”
As Nina left, Erik collected her and Peter’s dishes, while Peter stared at Lorna with a frown. “What did you do to your hair?” he asked.
“Well, I know the curls are a bit much,” Lorna admitted, touching her hair absentmindedly, “but I am doing my best to blend in.”
“I think they look lovely,” Erik assured, earning a bright smile.
“Thanks Dad!”
The phone rang across the kitchen, and Peter next to it in the blink of an eye, answering the call. “Maximoff residence,” he greeted. After a moment, he looked over his shoulder back towards Lorna and Erik. “Dad, it’s for you.”
Taking the phone from Peter, Erik spoke into the receiver. “Hello,” he greeted, receiving only static in return. Frowning, he tried again, “Hello?”
The static persisted, growing louder and louder. Flinching, Erik pulled the phone away from his ear, hanging up when the static wouldn’t go away.
“Peter, who was it on the phone?” Erik asked, turning around-
And saw the three of his kids seated at the table, no longer in their school uniforms, but in their pajamas, eating breakfast. “What are you three doing?” he demanded.
Peter stopped with a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, Lorna paused buttering her toast, and Nina continued poking at her eggs.
“Eating... breakfast?” Lorna replied slowly.
The audience laughed as Erik stared at them in confusion. “Why aren’t any of you dressed?” he asked. “You’re going to be late for school.”
Peter blinked. “Dad… it’s July…”
Erik quickly looked over at the calendar, marked July 15th. He stared at the date for a moment before chuckling along with the audience. “Right, sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Daddy, can we go to the pool today?” Nina asked. “Lorna said she’d teach me to swim!”
Erik glanced at Lorna who simply nodded in confirmation. “I’m not entirely comfortable letting you go off without an adult,” he replied.
“I’m fifteen,” Lorna protested. “Peter’s seventeen. We don’t need a babysitter.”
“We’ve only just moved here,” Erik countered. “I’d rather get to know some of our neighbors before allowing you to walk about unsupervised.”
“But Daddy,” Nina whined.
“Come on, Dad,” Peter tried. “I can just run us back home if there’s any trouble. It’s not like anyone would be able to catch us or anything.”
Erik crossed his arms, studying his children closely. “If I agree to this, you’ll go directly to the pool and directly back. No detours, no pitstops, no going to anyone else’s home. Am I clear?”
The kids nodded rapidly.
“Peter, you’ll get your sisters home at the first sign of trouble?”
“Yes sir,” Peter agreed.
Erik contemplated it a moment longer before nodding his consent. “Alright.”
Nina cheered, even as Erik added, “Listen to your brother.”
“Yes Dad,” the girls intoned before Lorna led Nina out of the kitchen to get ready.
Erik turned to Peter. “Look after your sisters,” he said.
“I will,” Peter promised, nodding resolutely before smiling. “You don’t have anything to worry about,” he assured, walking away as well, leaving Erik alone in the kitchen.
The father of three glanced at the calendar again, the July 15th date prickling something at the back of his mind he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Checking the time again, he sighed before moving on with his day.
“Mr. Lensherr.”
Looking up from his desk, Erik saw his boss at the door. Standing up, he offered his hand. “Mr. Hart,” he greeted.
“Welcome to the company,” Mr. Hart said, shaking his hand. “I meant to stop by earlier this week, but my secretary messed up my schedule,” he went on, checking his watch. “Fortunately, we’ll have plenty of time to speak more at dinner tonight.”
Erik felt immense gratitude that his boss’ gaze was directed elsewhere, lest the man see the brief look of panic and confusion on Erik’s face. He realized then why the date July 15th had thrown him off that morning.
“Dinner, of course,” he replied, doing his best to mask his hesitance. “With you and your wife.”
Mr. Hart nodded. “Employee dinners are a rite of passage here,” the man explained. “You can tell a lot about a man by how he runs his household, and how his family comports themselves. I understand you have four children?”
“Yes,” Erik replied, a fond smile coming to his face at the thought of his children. “Well, I imagine my youngest will be in bed by then, but you’ll meet Peter and Lorna,” he added on. “Wanda is… Well, she’s away, at the moment.”
Mr. Hart hummed in response. “And there’s no Mrs. Lensherr?” he wondered.
The question brought on a cold heaviness in Erik’s chest, his brows narrowing. Something painful was just at the far reaches of his mind, but he couldn’t understand why. Ignoring it, he simply said, “No. It’s just me and the children.”
The three kids entered the house via the backdoor, towels slung over their shoulders and their hair wet.
“Petey, can we go to the pool again tomorrow?” Nina asked.
Peter grinned at his youngest sister. “Again?” he asked, mimicking her.
“Please??” Nina begged, her voice taking a higher pitch as she threw her head back dramatically. Lorna smiled to herself as she poured herself a glass of water.
It was Nina's wide-eyed expression that made Peter chuckle as he ruffled the five-year-old’s hair. “We can ask Dad, but I don’t know if he’ll say yes two days in a row,” he replied. “Give it a day or two before asking him again, ‘kay squirt?”
Nina sighed loudly, stomping off and dragging her towel along on the floor.
“Hey Pete, have you seen this note?” Lorna asked, gesturing to the countertop.
Peter sped over to Lorna’s side, her damp curls barely moving with the gust of wind he created, and peered at the note over her shoulder.
For dinner. 🖤.
Glancing at the envelope next to the note, Peter quickly opened it and looked through it.
“Sweet,” he grinned, pulling out a small wad of cash. “We’re ordering pizza,” he declared, going to the telephone.
Lorna continued studying the note. “I never saw Dad as a heart-drawing type of guy,” she snorted.
“I’m pretty sure he leaves notes in Nina’s lunchbox for school,” Peter countered, dialing the pizza parlor. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he draws hearts for her… Hi, can I have five pies of cheese pizza and two pies of Hawaiian barbecue chicken?”
Lorna shook her head fondly before exiting the kitchen. Walking towards the stairs, she jumped at the sound of knocking at the front door. The audience laughed at her startled expression as she stood there, unsure of what to do.
Another round of knocks sparked her into action. She rushed over to the door, peeking through the peephole before she opened the door.
“Hello dear! I’m Agnes, your neighbor to the left. My left, not yours,” the woman, Agnes, greeted. She held out a potted plant as an offering. “I would’ve come by sooner, but my mother-in-law was in town so I wasn’t.”
Lorna and the audience laughed at the introduction. “I’m Lorna,” she said, taking the plant in one hand and offering her other hand to shake.
“Lovely to meet you!” Agnes replied.
Peter entered the room, “Lorna, pizza’s coming in an hour—” He cut himself off upon spotting Agnes. “Oh... um, hi?”
“Peter, this is our neighbor Agnes,” Lorna introduced. “Agnes, this is my older brother, Peter.”
Agnes stepped past Lorna into the house, extending a hand towards Peter. “Pleasure to meet your acquaintance,” she greeted.
“Likewise,” Peter replied, shaking her hand.
“Oh, and you’re already all settled in!” Agnes observed, looking around the house. “Did you use a moving company?”
Lorna sent wide eyes to Peter behind Agnes’ back.
“We certainly did,” Peter quickly replied, with a nervous smile. “How else could it have gotten done so fast?”
Agnes laughed along with the audience. “Well, I came over to invite your family over to dinner, to help welcome you to the neighborhood, but I heard you’ve already ordered in for the night.”
“Oh, that’s so kind of you,” Lorna said.
“If you change your minds, you know where to find me,” Agnes stated, heading out the door. "Bye!"
The two teenagers stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door.
Peter glanced at Lorna. “That was weird, right?”
Lorna shrugged, setting the plant on the fireplace mantle. “She seems nice,” she mused.
“She seems nosy,” Peter countered, making the audience laugh once more.
An infomercial personality smiles at the camera, a plain background behind him.
“Life can be difficult at times. Work, family, friends; sometimes you need an escape from it all.”
He gestures to a box of cigars.
“There’s no better way to relax than smoking a cigar. Imported directly from Cuba, you’ll feel the weight of the world lifted off of your shoulders with a single puff.”
He lights one cigar, placing it in his mouth with a wry grin. The image transitions from the man’s face to a display of the box of cigars.
“Cigars of Cuba; for those days when life is a ‘beach.’”
“The heart was an abbreviation!”
“An abbreviation?” Peter asked, unimpressed. Nina was fast asleep in bed, but Lorna and Peter were still up, eating dinner and chatting. They were both taken by surprise by their father’s confused and subsequently concerned attitude when he returned, only to learn that they were supposed to have made dinner, not order in, and for Erik’s boss too.
“Peter can move at the speed of light and I can make a truck float through the air,” Lorna said. “Who needs to abbreviate?!”
Erik sighed in exasperation. He understood his children’s frustration- he was feeling rather put off by the whole day as well- but now was not the time.
“Clearly, we need to work on communicating with each other,” he began.
“I’ll say,” Peter grumbled lowly, earning some laughter from the audience.
Erik glared at him for the interruption before pressing on, “But after we get through this dinner.”
“Dinner. In five minutes. And your boss is expecting a home-cooked meal,” Lorna finished.
Peter glanced over at the breakfast table. “Any chance they’ll settle for two leftover slices of Hawaiian barbecue chicken pizza?” he asked wryly.
“We don’t have time to cook anything,” Lorna fretted. She perked up, looking at Peter. “But somebody else did.”
Peter slowly grinned, catching on. “I‘m on it,” he exclaimed, running out in a blur.
Next door, Agnes set the table for two, although the spread of food could easily feed eight. She turned her back to grab the silverware, her hair flying in all directions as a burst of wind swept through her dining room.
Turning back around, she saw all of the food gone from the table.
With a huff, she put her hands on her hips. “Now how am I going to explain this to Ralph?” she asked, to which the audience laughed.
Back at 1963 Kirby Avenue, Peter rushed into the kitchen holding several trays of food. He grinned triumphantly, the audience cheering and applauding.
“Normally, I’d lecture you on the kleptomania, but I think I can ignore it just this once,” Erik said, making the audience laugh. He helped Peter set the trays down on the counter. “Alright, I’ll get everything served up, you two go get changed,” he ordered.
Peter braced Lorna’s neck and zipped them upstairs, leaving Erik in the kitchen. The silverware was easy to setup, using his powers to float the items to the table while he carried the plates of food by hand. Tidying up Nina's toys, he finished everything downstairs just as there was a knock at the door. Not a moment later, Peter and Lorna reappeared downstairs, dressed for dinner.
Erik fixed them both with a stern expression. "I need you both on your best behavior," he stated.
"No powers. We know, Dad," Lorna assured. "It'll be fine."
Peter simply gave a nod in response.
Somewhat satisfied, Erik went to the door, opening it with a welcoming smile. "Mr. and Mrs. Hart, welcome," he greeted. "Please come in."
"Oh, your home is lovely!" Mrs. Hart complimented. Spotting the teenagers, she smiled. "And you must be Peter and Lorna."
The teens greeted the adults with perfect manners, Erik gratefully noted, and introduced themselves.
"You two must be famished," Lorna then said. "Dinner is already ready and served."
"Excellent," Mr. Hart stated. "Run a tight ship, I see," he said to Erik.
Erik couldn't help the smirk that came onto his face at the implication. "You have no idea," he replied, making the audience laugh.
“So, where did you move from? What brought you to Westview, and why aren’t these kids enrolled at the school yet?” Mrs. Hart asked eagerly as they all took their seats.
"Oh, well we moved from-" Peter cut himself off. "We moved from..."
Confused at Peter's hesitance, Erik jumped in. “What my son means to say, is that we moved from…” He found his own voice trailing off, his brow furrowing as he attempted to recall the answer, nothing coming to mind. He looked to Lorna, seeing a similar look of concentration on her face.
"It was," she began slowly. "It was..."
“Moved from where?” Mr. Hart repeated his wife's question. “Why did you come here?”
“Arthur, stop. Give them a chance to get their story straight,” Mrs. Hart laughed.
Looks of deep concentration covered the father, daughter, and son’s faces, the room completely silent as the answer eluded them.
Mr. Hart slammed a fist on the table, making them all jump.
“WHY?!” he demanded.
Lorna flinched at the man’s angry tone, brows furrowing.
“Why??” he shouted again with another bang on the table.
“Oh Arthur, stop it!” Mrs. Hart laughed. “Stop it.”
Peter looked from Lorna, who continued to stare at Mr. Hart, over to Erik, whose face seemed equally as confused and lost as the teenagers.
“WHY?”
“Stop it,” Mrs. Hart insisted, still smiling, but Peter could've sworn there was fear in the woman's eyes. “Stop it! Stop—”
“So, where did you move from? What brought you to Westview, and why aren’t these kids enrolled at the school yet?” Mrs. Hart asked eagerly as they all took their seats.
“We’ve actually moved from New York,” Erik answered.
Peter nodded. “Wanted to get away from the city,” he tacked on, “and something about Westview just... called to us."
And from there, dinner was completely normal.
A little over an hour later, Mr. and Mrs. Hart were readying to leave. Mr. Hart turned to Erik. "I must say, you impressed me tonight, Erik," he declared. "Those are some excellent children you've raised."
The words washed over Erik, leaving an empty feeling in him that he couldn't understand. He should've felt pride at the comment; yet, when he glanced back at Peter and Lorna, all he could feel was... regret. Shaking his head, he turned back to his boss. "Thank you, Mr. Hart."
The men shook hands and then the couple was out the door. Lorna shut the door behind them, leaning against it in relief.
"Thank God," she breathed. "If I had to hear one more explanation about those input-output forms, I would've skewered that man with my silverware."
Peter laughed, as did the audience, sitting on the couch. "Yeah, because that wouldn't have caused any problems."
Lorna sat down as well, kicking her heels off, and tugging at her curls. "I hate these things," she complained as Erik sat down in between them.
Erik squeezed Peter's shoulder before pressing a kiss on Lorna's head. "Thank you both, I know that was uncomfortable," he said.
"Dad," Peter said after a moment, "do you... do you remember where we moved from? Why we're here, in Westview?"
Erik looked at the teenagers on either side of him. "We're here... because this is our home now," he replied. "This is the best place for our family to be."
The doorbell suddenly rang, making the trio frown as they all glanced back at the door.
“Maybe Mr. or Mrs. Hart forgot something?” Lorna wondered, looking around to see if any items were left behind.
Peter stood up. "I've got it," he assured, super speeding over to the door. He looked through the peephole, and whatever he saw sprung him into action. He practically ripped the door open, a wide smile gracing his face.
“Wanda!” he exclaimed, quickly scooping her up in a hug. The audience cheered and applauded in response to her arrival.
The other Maximoff twin laughed joyously, squeezing her brother in return. “I lost the address, and I didn’t know the new phone number,” Wanda explained once she and her brother separated, “so it took me a little while to get in from the airport.”
She levitated her luggage inside with a wave of her hand, before turning to Erik and Lorna. “Dad! Lo!” she greeted, rushing over to hug them. “I’m so happy to see you!” Looking around, she frowned. "Where's Nina?"
"Asleep," Erik replied. "I didn't know you were coming home today, I would've gotten you from the airport."
Wanda looked sheepish. "I know, I wanted to surprise you all," she said. "I kind of regret; after today, I'm so tired that I could just collapse and sleep forever."
"I can take you to your room," Lorna offered.
"I'd actually like to get something to eat before going to bed," Wanda countered.
Peter gestured to the dinner table. "Well, there's plenty of leftovers."
Erik hugged Wanda again. "You eat up. Lorna and I will get your room set up," he assured.
"Thanks Dad," Wanda replied. She gave Lorna a last squeeze before letting Peter lead her to the table.
She watched her brother use his speed to put a plate together for her, returning to normal speed just before putting the food in front of her. She sent an appreciative smile before digging in. She and Peter sat in silence for several minutes, and she could feel his gaze on her, unwavering.
She met his eyes. "What?" she asked gently.
Peter frowned, hesitating before finally leaning forward. “Where have you been?” he wondered, his voice low.
Wanda gave him a small smile. “There were a few things that needed to be taken care of,” she replied. “But it's all fine now."
"Are you sure?" Peter couldn't help but ask, looking her over with concern.
"I’m positive," Wanda assured. "Everything's going to be just fine, Peter. Trust me."
She resumed eating her food, but Peter couldn't help but look unconvinced. Then, as if a switch had been flicked, his features took on their usual easy expression. "Welcome home, Wanda," he said, smiling at her.
Wanda smiled back, the two of them sitting there as the credits began to roll, the exit music playing softly as the audience applauded off-screen.
WESTCHESTER, NEW YORK - PRESENT
Charles Xavier removed Cerebro from his head, setting it aside in frustration.
"Anything?" Hank asked from his left.
Charles shook his head. "Nothing."
He stared at Cerebro, almost willing it to give him answers. With a huff, he put it on once more. "Let's try again," he declared.
Hank fired up the system, and Charles closed his eyes.
'Where are you?'
