The dark cave like room looks as depressing as ever and seemed to hum faintly with the ever-present whir of old medical equipment powered by jury-rigged generators. Miles away from SHIELD's eyes and the chaos that had shattered Havelstadt, Pietro Maximoff stood with folded arms, his jaw clenched tightly. Beside him, Wanda's breath hitched slightly as she looked down at the unmoving form of their father Erik Lehnsherr, the man the world feared as Magneto.
His body lay still on a reinforced cot, veined with soft pulses of magnetic feedback dancing across what remained of his armor, now scorched and cracked. His chest rose and fell, slow and shallow, each breath a painful effort. His silver hair, usually sharp and immaculate, was matted with sweat and streaked with blood.
"Why won't he wake up…" Wanda whispered, her voice barely above the hum of the medical bay.
Pietro didn't answer at first. He just stared. Even now, their father looked imposing like he might snap his eyes open any second and bend the room to his will.
Instead, there was only silence.
Wanda turned toward her twin, her brows knitting together. "I don't understand you couldn't have just told me you were going to aid father. Had to find my way by following you!."
Pietro blinked. "Wait you followed me?"
"I heard you on the phone," Wanda said, wrapping her arms around herself. "You said something about father… I told Irene, and then I ran after you."
His lips parted, stunned. "Wanda… That was stupid. You shouldn't have done that. You could've been caught or worse killed."
"I had to," she replied quickly. "I needed to know he was alive. I—I needed to see him." She hesitated, glancing down again at Erik's bruised and battered face. "It wasn't exactly easy keeping up with you, by the way."
Despite himself, Pietro gave a humorless chuckle. "Yeah. I'm fast like that."
At the foot of the cot, a figure moved. A tall woman with ashen skin, short cerulean hair, and green eyes glowing faintly from a mutation-enhanced optic nerve stood from checking Erik's vitals. Clad in sleek white scrubs laced with flexible circuitry, she adjusted her gloves. A name tag read: Dr. Lys Meira — Metabiological Recovery Specialist.
Wanda immediately stepped forward. "How is he? Will he wake up?"
Pietro raised a hand. "Let her speak."
Dr. Meira folded her hands in front of her. "His body is in a state of total systemic regulation shutdown. To put it bluntly… he nearly burned himself alive." She stepped toward a monitor, tapping a few keys to show erratic, low-level brain activity.
"When your father forcibly assumed dominance over the electromagnetic spectrum across a continental range, he overclocked his neuromagnetic system to the point of degradation. It's similar to cerebral burnout except... on a scale no ordinary human could survive."
Wanda paled. "What do you mean by... degraded?"
"His body isn't just injured," Meira explained, "it's rejecting his own power now. The electromagnetic field around him is in constant flux, as though it's searching for something to latch onto. The backlash of aligning with that much raw force short-circuited his biofield." She paused, lowering her voice. "I can't say if he'll ever wake up the same. Or at all."
Pietro's eyes narrowed. "That's enough. Leave."
Meira glanced between them, nodded, and exited without another word.
Silence lingered again. Wanda stepped closer, brushing some of the hair from her father's forehead. Then softly
"Why didn't he look for me?"
The question caught Pietro like a punch in the gut.
He shifted uncomfortably.
"Pietro?" she repeated, voice small.
A beat passed.
Flashback — Hours Earlier
Mystique's sharp gaze pinned Pietro beneath a blue brow as she stood in the shadows of the safe house garage. "Don't tell him. Or her. Not now."
Pietro frowned. "She deserves to know who pulled her out of that hellhole."
"And what do you think Magneto will do when he learns I was the one who saved his daughter while he was too busy trying to go after powerful mutants in a tug of war with Xavier?"
"You think he'd be mad?"
"I think…" Mystique looked away, her voice distant. "No Pietro I know he'll be pissed beyond belief and I would be on the run if I get lucky enough not to end up as a pinprick."
Pietro folded his arms. "So I lie?"
"Not forever. Just… not now. Let her be angry at the world, not him or at least not yet."
---
Present
"I don't know," Pietro finally said, the words feeling like glass.
Wanda narrowed her eyes. "You're lying."
He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. "Listen, you can't tell him. Not yet."
"Tell him what?" she pressed. "Why won't you just say it?"
There was a pause between as Pietro contemplated Ravens words and became.
Drenched in guilt.
Pietro met her eyes. "That's what I'm trying to find out."
Wanda stepped back slowly, confusion and suspicion flooding her face.
"Pietro… what are you not telling me?"
He didn't answer. He just looked back down at their father.
And the stillness in the room grew colder.
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