Fic: Restoration
Dec. 28th, 2011 06:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabinetzinTitle: Restoration
Summary: Suddenly, he understands.
Fandom: X-Men: First Class, X-Men: The Last Stand, general Marvel 616ery
Word Count: 1209
Rating/Contents: PG, the most shameless of the shameless fix-its
Pairing: Magneto/Mystique
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: So we all understand that The Last Stand isn't canon as of XMFC, right? Because the timelines don't sync at all, and also because The Last Stand sucked and was sad and made everybody's heart hurt. So not only is this a fix-it, it is a fix-it for something that is not even canon. That is how much I hate that movie. Also this story requires some comics-canon knowledges, but, like, nothing wikipedia couldn't fix.
In front of him a chess piece moves.
Something in his brain clicks, a box that's been locked tightly creaking open. He can see, suddenly, the events of the past few weeks, but he's looking at them distantly, as through smoke glass. He's moving, he's acting; he remembers Jean Grey, he remembers Charles, he remembers Mystique-
And he didn't do any of it.
He knows immediately who did.
In the morning, he's at her doorstep. She and Pietro move all the time, always on the run from something, but it's never hard to find her; she never makes it hard for him to find her.
Pietro answers; he doesn't seem the slightest bit surprised. "She's in the back," he says.
"Is that any way to greet your father?" Magneto says, raising an eyebrow. Pietro shakes his head, but he lets himself be pulled into a hug.
"Sorry," he says. "She's making me really tired right now."
Magneto's face goes hard. "Tired is not the word I would use for what she's making me."
Pietro rubs his forehead. "I really don't want to get into the middle of this."
"You already are," he tells him, but he pats Pietro on the shoulder. "But we'll set all this right soon enough."
"Let's hope we do it before she decides to try again."
Wanda is sitting on her bed, cross-legged; she's wearing her headphones, listening to something so loud that Magneto can hear it clearly from across the room. She turns it off when she sees him, pushing back the hood of her red sweatshirt so she can take off the cans.
"This isn't a surprise," she says.
"When is the last time anything was for you, Wanda?"
"I take it you're not impressed with my handiwork," she says, leaning back against the wall; she's wearing a smug smile, and Magneto wants to smack it right off her face. That would be unfair, really- she learned that one from him.
"I don't know what all you've done," he says. "I doubt I even know the half of it."
"You didn't think it was all about you, did you?" she scoffs. "There were so many things that needed to be mended, and while I was fixing all your mistakes-"
"My mistakes?" Magneto demands. "As I recall, before you decided my business was your own-"
"You'd just gotten out of prison," she says, ticking items off on her fingers. "Charles Xavier was still alive and countering you at every single turn, and that woman-"
Magneto has to clench his hand into a fist to stop himself from backhanding her. "That woman helped raise you, you ungrateful, venomous-"
"Was still taking advantage of you." She opens her hands. "You're welcome."
His nostrils flare in anger. "I can't believe you."
"Everything's worked out, hasn't it?" she says. "You'll even get your powers back, in time. So will Mystique."
"And when she does," he says, and he has to stop to swallow down the emotion that's threatening to choke him, the emotion he'll never give her the satisfaction of seeing, "I will never see her again."
"Yeah, that was what I was going for," she tells him.
"She was with me for forty years, Wanda," he says coldly, "and you took her away from me. You can't begin to understand how that feels."
"And here we go again," she says. "That's all it's ever going to be, Papa. Her over me."
This is an old argument, and now she really is making him tired. "It's never been like that-"
"It's always been like that," she snaps. "You put her ahead of me, you put her ahead of my mother-"
"Don't, Wanda," he says flatly. "Don't you dare bring your mother into this."
"Isn't that what all this is about?"
"No, it isn't," Magneto snaps. "If you wanted your mother back, you could have her, right this instant. This is about you taking revenge on me for what happened to her. This is because you thought I tried to replace her with Mystique."
She stares at him hard. "Didn't you?"
"No," he says, his voice leaving absolutely no room for argument. "You will make this right, Wanda. You will do it now."
She crosses her arms. "What if I won't?"
"Then I will make it right myself," he says, "even if it takes the rest of my life."
"You can never undo what I've done," she tells him.
"No, but I can stop you from ever changing anything again." He pulls the syringe out of his pocket. "If you will not change this, I will destroy you."
She flinches back. "I'd stop you before you could."
"Try me," he says, leaning down over her. "If you knew anything about me, Wanda, anything at all, you would know that there is nothing, absolutely nothing you could do to me that is worse than all the things I have already been through."
She stares at the syringe for a long moment before looking up into his eyes. "Do you love her more than me?"
"Wanda," he says gently. "You're my child."
She shakes her head. "That's not an answer."
"I loved her first," he says quietly, "but I will always love you and your brother more. You already know that."
She doesn't say anything in response; she just takes a deep breath, letting her head fall back against the wall-
Magneto wakes up in his own bed, in the fortress; it's cold, just like it always is, reassuringly so.
He wakes up alone.
He doesn't know how much energy he has for this anymore.
The door opens, and just like that Mystique walks in, drinking from her water bottle, a towel draped over her arm.
His mouth feels dry. "Where have you been?"
"The gym," she says, leaning down to kiss him. "Jean Grey was on the television. It was so bad I had to leave."
He tries to temper his amazement and utter joy into mild amusement. "You couldn't turn off the TV in your own gym?"
"Pyro was in there," she says, rolling her eyes. "If I'd turned it off, he would have wanted to talk."
He fits his hand to the curve of her hip. "How long has it been since Alkali Lake?"
It's amazing how clearly she can raise her eyebrow at him despite not having any. "Two weeks."
"And you're certain Jean Grey's not dead."
"Much to my chagrin," she says. She frowns at him. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?"
He grins. "I'll be feeling a lot better once you come over here."
She laughs, going to him.
--
They're in a park, the soft autumn sunshine warming them; the last flowers are still in bloom. Pietro has gone off somewhere, and it's just the two of them, sitting together on a splintery old wooden bench underneath a huge oak tree.
"You have your grandmother's eyes," she says, laying a hand on the side of Wanda's face. "I'm so glad you never took after your father."
Wanda laughs, putting her hand over her mother's, turning it to kiss the palm. "He could be worse."
Summary: Suddenly, he understands.
Fandom: X-Men: First Class, X-Men: The Last Stand, general Marvel 616ery
Word Count: 1209
Rating/Contents: PG, the most shameless of the shameless fix-its
Pairing: Magneto/Mystique
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: So we all understand that The Last Stand isn't canon as of XMFC, right? Because the timelines don't sync at all, and also because The Last Stand sucked and was sad and made everybody's heart hurt. So not only is this a fix-it, it is a fix-it for something that is not even canon. That is how much I hate that movie. Also this story requires some comics-canon knowledges, but, like, nothing wikipedia couldn't fix.
In front of him a chess piece moves.
Something in his brain clicks, a box that's been locked tightly creaking open. He can see, suddenly, the events of the past few weeks, but he's looking at them distantly, as through smoke glass. He's moving, he's acting; he remembers Jean Grey, he remembers Charles, he remembers Mystique-
And he didn't do any of it.
He knows immediately who did.
In the morning, he's at her doorstep. She and Pietro move all the time, always on the run from something, but it's never hard to find her; she never makes it hard for him to find her.
Pietro answers; he doesn't seem the slightest bit surprised. "She's in the back," he says.
"Is that any way to greet your father?" Magneto says, raising an eyebrow. Pietro shakes his head, but he lets himself be pulled into a hug.
"Sorry," he says. "She's making me really tired right now."
Magneto's face goes hard. "Tired is not the word I would use for what she's making me."
Pietro rubs his forehead. "I really don't want to get into the middle of this."
"You already are," he tells him, but he pats Pietro on the shoulder. "But we'll set all this right soon enough."
"Let's hope we do it before she decides to try again."
Wanda is sitting on her bed, cross-legged; she's wearing her headphones, listening to something so loud that Magneto can hear it clearly from across the room. She turns it off when she sees him, pushing back the hood of her red sweatshirt so she can take off the cans.
"This isn't a surprise," she says.
"When is the last time anything was for you, Wanda?"
"I take it you're not impressed with my handiwork," she says, leaning back against the wall; she's wearing a smug smile, and Magneto wants to smack it right off her face. That would be unfair, really- she learned that one from him.
"I don't know what all you've done," he says. "I doubt I even know the half of it."
"You didn't think it was all about you, did you?" she scoffs. "There were so many things that needed to be mended, and while I was fixing all your mistakes-"
"My mistakes?" Magneto demands. "As I recall, before you decided my business was your own-"
"You'd just gotten out of prison," she says, ticking items off on her fingers. "Charles Xavier was still alive and countering you at every single turn, and that woman-"
Magneto has to clench his hand into a fist to stop himself from backhanding her. "That woman helped raise you, you ungrateful, venomous-"
"Was still taking advantage of you." She opens her hands. "You're welcome."
His nostrils flare in anger. "I can't believe you."
"Everything's worked out, hasn't it?" she says. "You'll even get your powers back, in time. So will Mystique."
"And when she does," he says, and he has to stop to swallow down the emotion that's threatening to choke him, the emotion he'll never give her the satisfaction of seeing, "I will never see her again."
"Yeah, that was what I was going for," she tells him.
"She was with me for forty years, Wanda," he says coldly, "and you took her away from me. You can't begin to understand how that feels."
"And here we go again," she says. "That's all it's ever going to be, Papa. Her over me."
This is an old argument, and now she really is making him tired. "It's never been like that-"
"It's always been like that," she snaps. "You put her ahead of me, you put her ahead of my mother-"
"Don't, Wanda," he says flatly. "Don't you dare bring your mother into this."
"Isn't that what all this is about?"
"No, it isn't," Magneto snaps. "If you wanted your mother back, you could have her, right this instant. This is about you taking revenge on me for what happened to her. This is because you thought I tried to replace her with Mystique."
She stares at him hard. "Didn't you?"
"No," he says, his voice leaving absolutely no room for argument. "You will make this right, Wanda. You will do it now."
She crosses her arms. "What if I won't?"
"Then I will make it right myself," he says, "even if it takes the rest of my life."
"You can never undo what I've done," she tells him.
"No, but I can stop you from ever changing anything again." He pulls the syringe out of his pocket. "If you will not change this, I will destroy you."
She flinches back. "I'd stop you before you could."
"Try me," he says, leaning down over her. "If you knew anything about me, Wanda, anything at all, you would know that there is nothing, absolutely nothing you could do to me that is worse than all the things I have already been through."
She stares at the syringe for a long moment before looking up into his eyes. "Do you love her more than me?"
"Wanda," he says gently. "You're my child."
She shakes her head. "That's not an answer."
"I loved her first," he says quietly, "but I will always love you and your brother more. You already know that."
She doesn't say anything in response; she just takes a deep breath, letting her head fall back against the wall-
Magneto wakes up in his own bed, in the fortress; it's cold, just like it always is, reassuringly so.
He wakes up alone.
He doesn't know how much energy he has for this anymore.
The door opens, and just like that Mystique walks in, drinking from her water bottle, a towel draped over her arm.
His mouth feels dry. "Where have you been?"
"The gym," she says, leaning down to kiss him. "Jean Grey was on the television. It was so bad I had to leave."
He tries to temper his amazement and utter joy into mild amusement. "You couldn't turn off the TV in your own gym?"
"Pyro was in there," she says, rolling her eyes. "If I'd turned it off, he would have wanted to talk."
He fits his hand to the curve of her hip. "How long has it been since Alkali Lake?"
It's amazing how clearly she can raise her eyebrow at him despite not having any. "Two weeks."
"And you're certain Jean Grey's not dead."
"Much to my chagrin," she says. She frowns at him. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?"
He grins. "I'll be feeling a lot better once you come over here."
She laughs, going to him.
--
They're in a park, the soft autumn sunshine warming them; the last flowers are still in bloom. Pietro has gone off somewhere, and it's just the two of them, sitting together on a splintery old wooden bench underneath a huge oak tree.
"You have your grandmother's eyes," she says, laying a hand on the side of Wanda's face. "I'm so glad you never took after your father."
Wanda laughs, putting her hand over her mother's, turning it to kiss the palm. "He could be worse."