Chapter Text
When the boy at the front of the group with blood-stained bandages over his eyes had begun to call out directions confidently like he knew where they needed to go, the battered speedster had felt the first inklings in a long time of hope that someone was helping. And not just anyone, but one of the two men he would give anything to see at this moment in time. As it was he kept the bubble of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him inside and hidden, it wouldn't do to get distracted by maybes and end up back in cuffs in a cell. His mind would not stand another stint so soon.
Imprisonment had been torturous for Pietro, the guards cuffing him in place in his cell so he was forced to endure every single second of time that passed. Even when he tried to move unyielding metal bit into his wrists relentlessly, followed by a shock and spasms of pain that lingered for hours. Everything about his incarceration had been designed to break his will, but he had not submitted; had resolved not to when his kidnapping off the streets of the town he had called home had become apparent. He'd stood his ground in agony long enough for Wanda to escape to a safer location, despite the searing pain in his leg and the subsequent collision with the floor when one of the men sent to get the twins had shot a bullet through his leg to stop him running.
Reeling himself back from the hell that had been his life over the past few years, Pietro squinted as sunlight started filtering through the tunnel. Actual sunlight. Not UV lights over the operating table as he lay out on a slab to be poked, prodded and injected with chemicals that made him shudder in flaring pain and vomit for days as his body tried to expel the damage, and not pale excuses of the real thing squinting through the barred cell that held him in eternal misery, but actual, warm sunlight. He made himself hang back from rushing forward and taking that heat on his face all for himself, instead ushering the younger ones up the stairs, leaving the blindfolded boy and Emma (who was one of the few he'd spoken to during imprisonment as their cells had been fairly close together) to lead the way. Only when the last shuddering boy had climbed up the stairs did Pietro follow the crowd; coming to stand at the back of the group and closing his eyes for a moment letting the sunlight spilled over his face. He felt it warm his skin beyond the bone deep cold that had settled over the dark months previously, before he turned his attention to where the other kids were staring.
The bubble of hope rose into something much grander and harder to ignore as opposite him he saw Charles Xavier, standing still as he faced them with a welcoming smile and wide open arms. His brown hair no longer hung ridiculously down to just above his shoulder, but instead was cropped back into a shorter style that curled round behind his ears, perhaps to hide the signs of thinning, and he stood tall, with a confidence that looked well earned. As Pietro stared on he realised that Charles seemed to be having a telepathic conversation with those at the front of the group, but soon enough he heard the words he longed to hear.
"You're safe now."
It was followed by an instruction for everyone to come along because they had to go, but Pietro barely heard it with the emotions choking his throat. He blinked them away and shook his head, jogging to catch up with the others. One by one they all filtered onto Charles' plane, quicky scrambling for the back, huddling together for protection. Pietro lingered until he could climb up the stairs alone and as he did, he came face to face with Charles, who simply touched two fingers to his wrist and tilted his head towards the cockpit, now seeing him as who he was instead of an indistinguishable face in a group of lost souls. Nodding, Pietro followed, sliding the door closed behind them and sinking against it, leaving Charles to set up the flight plan and get them in the air, waiting for the autopilot to kick in before he found his voice.
"You came."
He hated how feeble he sounded; how broken and lost and utterly faithless. Showing the pain and torture he'd been through was not something he wanted to do, but Charles had a way of drawing it all to the surface. To make stubborn Lehnsherrs feel that it was okay to be in pain.
"I'd have been there sooner if I had been able to get a lock on the facility. If I had known you were in there," Charles answered calmly, gesturing to the co-pilot seat. Pietro hobbled over and sank into it, his leg now aching with the residual effects of the poorly treated bullet wound and subsequent damage done to him after to ensure he would not be troublesome. He glanced up to see Charles frowning and knew the telepath had noticed.
"You weren't to know. I left you and Father to find Wanda and asked you to give me time to come to terms with the whole family thing. You stuck to your word," the speedster sighed, not wanting Charles to shoulder guilt after this. After busting Magneto out of prison and the subsequent adventures that had entailed, files had been unearthed that had led to his discovery that Magneto was not just a stranger to him but his father. He'd also learnt of the odd relationship between Charles and Erik, that was both lovers and enemies, and had subsequently learnt that the genetics professor was his step-father - if he wanted. Charles had stressed to him at the time that there was no obligations on him to accept that; after all two men in a relationship was hard enough for the time period. Pietro had swallowed the information and gone his separate ways from them; seeking out his twin sister to tell her the news and to take time to comprehend it himself. He'd found Wanda, but they'd only been together three weeks when the mutant hunters had arrived and he'd lost his freedom.
"I would like to think that I might have attempted to keep an eye on you, despite that. But after Raven..." Charles murmured, trailing off before the memory could linger on darker times where his gift was feared, and Pietro leant forward, resting a hand on Charles' knee.
"I needed time to come to terms with everything. You respected that wish. And besides you've been busy setting up the school. You can't be everywhere at once," he insisted, knowing that his step-father was the kind of man who saved hundreds but still got upset over the one he didn't quite manage to save. "At least you came, not Father. I have a feeling things would be a lot less simple if he had."
That pried a chuckle from the telepath as he brought his hands to rest over Pietro's own, squeezing the speedster's hand gently. For a moment the two men just sat in silence, joined only by their hands as the X-Jet flew them back to safer ground.
"They didn't break me in there, you know? They tried... believe me, they did. But I knew one of you two would show up. I'm not one for false hope, but I knew you'd detect this group of mutants eventually. It was only a matter of time." Pietro explained quietly, turning his head to look out the window, marvelling in the endless blue stretched in front of him. "Either you looking for lost souls for your school, or him looking for another facility to raid. I suppose when you have a father leading each side of the mutant movement it allows for more faith than that of my fellow inmates."
Charles was silent as he spoke, and when Pietro turned his gaze back he saw that the telepath was staring at him with an unreadable expression. The speedster was simply relieved it wasn't pity.
"You are a strong man, Pietro. Definitely your father's son," Charles eventually said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. At first Pietro was confused as to why, but then he flicked his mind back over his last few words, and realised why Charles was choked up. He'd referred to him as one of his fathers indirectly. The telepath had seen his acceptance without him needing to show it. "To have come out from where you've been unbroken by their work is more than most will have managed. You can rest at the mansion, where you'll be safe, and I'll contact Erik and let him know you've been found."
"Don't you think that's a bad idea?" Pietro interrupted, because honestly he couldn't see on what universe telling Magneto he'd been imprisoned and experimented on was a good idea at all.
"On the contrary, I rather think Erik would rather hear it from us, than learn of it later down the line from someone who makes a comment about the speedster in the next cell over. He may not react well, but at least if he's given the chance to assess your wellbeing, to see you standing on two legs and safe, then he may save his crusade on humanity for another day and spend his time ensuring you are okay instead." Charles rationed, though Pietro could tell the telepath doubted whether even Erik's love for his son would be enough to quell the rage.
"I see your point. It's a tad manipulative, but I can see why we'd play it that way. He could be of use anyway. When they kidnapped me they shot me in the leg and the surgeon who fixed me up was useless at best. There's still some small fragments or something in there. Something sharp and metal that makes it difficult to walk. He could pull it out, probably." Pietro sighed, drawing his hand back now to lean in the chair. "And no I'm not elaborating further than that. Maybe later, when I'm settled. But for now I just want to revel in the fact I'm out of that hell."
Charles chuckled sadly at the speedster's question, amused that his enquiries as to how much medical attention Pietro might need had been predicted, but upset he needed to ask.
"Okay we'll save that for when your father comes. He won't be as easily deterred as I am. For now rest. I'm going to check on the other children," he replied, clambering to his feet with a groan. Pietro watched as the Professor's hand went to his back, fingers resting over an old wound before he straightened with a contained grimace.
"I see you're still choosing walking over your mutation," he started and at the enquiring look that was sent his way. "The argument on the plane between you two wasn't kept private for long."
"Ah," Charles paused, then shook his head with a sigh. "Not really. Hank altered the treatment and it no longer affects my mutation to a significant degree, after all he's had ample time to work out some of the kinks. However its less effective for longer periods of time. Today is a good day and I can walk unaided, but most days I rely on a cane that Erik fashioned for me or use the chair. It's unpredictable and difficult but there are worse things happening in the world so I cannot complain."
Pietro did not need to ask to know that Charles was referring to the torture he and the others had endured. He settled back in the chair and let his eyes close, the sunlight filtering in the front windows lulling him into a sense of serenity. He heard Charles walk out to the others, leaving him alone with the faint sounds of the autopilot running its course, and he let out a woosh of air as the fear that had clutched at his chest in a striking hold finally dissipated and left him room to breathe.
When Charles came back he found the speedster drifting somewhere between sleeping and awake, exhausted physically and emotionally. He brushed the hair off Pietro's face and drew a blanket from a hatch near the door, draping it over the boy he thought of as a son, choosing to let him rest for now. Later the nightmares, the pain, and the inevitable conversation with Erik would come. But for now he'd let Pietro bask in the realisation of freedom and take him to the mansion where he could heal in comfort and safety. And then once he was settled they could call Erik, reunite father and son, before turning their attention to finding Wanda with Cerebro and bring the family together safely in a place they might finally call home.