nexus_crossings | When Life Slows Down

When Life Slows Down

It is a major downer for Peter to have a leg cast right now. His whole life seems to be crawling along at a snail's pace. He is used to being the first to class... but is now the last. He is used to living life in the fast line... but is now stuck behind some senior going half the speed limit. And he feels like he is that senior.

And he can't focus right. Which is why he was headed to his hide-away in the attic, and took all that effort to drag himself up one step at a time...

When his head popped up in a whole new area that definitely was not the attic. His eyes went wide as sights and sounds surrounded him, and he was not even all the way out into the Nexus plaza yet.

He tosses his crutches onto the ground of the plaza, then pulls himself all the way up out of the hole in the ground that is his Nexus portal. And sits there on the ground for a moment. His eyes seem to move very quickly surveying everything around him.

He doesn't seem concerned about moving off the ground right now. His finger tap quickly on the floor beside him. More than anything in the world he wants to see everything... visit every Nexus shop... sample every exotic treat. But the cast has him contained. Sullen and contained.

"What would be your version of 'being between a rock and a hard place'?"

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"To end up with a loser like me as his family?" Peter is just parroting words said to him by a few bad father figures in his life.

"I am not sure about that."

Caspar raises an eyebrow. "Is that what he calls you now? You said he lets you spend time with him."

"Not him." Peter frowns. "Step-dads. Boyfriends of my mom."

"All right, well, your mom has shit taste in men." He pauses a moment, then adds, "You could very well be a loser for all I know, but someone who truly loved your mother wouldn't insult her son like that."

Caspar knows a thing or two about dysfunctional families. Impatiently, he gestures for Peter's hand. "I'm getting tired of staring down at you, let me at least get you into a chair. What does dad think of you, huh? That's the only variable that matters here."

Peter nods slightly at Caspar's assessment. He takes the offered hand, and relies on the other man to get up to his feet.

"A chair would be good."

"We have not had any interaction. Besides helping savetheworldandrebuildtheschool." The last few words are blurred in his quickness.

Caspar helps him up without trouble. He finds a chair (a comfortable one, he's in a generous mood) and drops Peter into it, then hands him his crutches.

It takes a moment to parse his speedy reply. "Is that how you broke your leg?" He sits in a nearby chair, his eyes not leaving Peter. "Doesn't sound like you've got much to lose, if he doesn't even know you. It's worse when they do, trust me. Then they're full of expectations."

Peter smiles with appreciate with both the chair, and the fact his crutches are nearby.

"Yeah. I thought I had the upperhand in the fight, but then the other guy caught me." That makes him frown. "He used his powers to make the earth catch my leg."

His fingers are tapping restlessly. Very quickly.

"Maybe I am a little scared of his expectations already."

"His powers..." The kid must be from a world like Harley's. He makes note of the restless finger tapping. "So what can you do, then?"

It never ceases to amaze Caspar when someone is willing to admit their fears. He'd cut his own tongue out before he admitted that the real reason he's been brushing off talking to the Final Five is because of his very real fear that he'll learned something about himself that he'll wish he didn't know. "Why don't you start small, then? An anonymous letter or something. See how he reacts to learning that he has a son in the first place."

"I can move really fast." He answers the question. And then looks down at the cast on his leg. "Usually...."

Peter likes the idea of an anonymous letter. "Hey... yah... I could do that."

"How long until the cast comes off?" he asks. The kid looks like a caged animal, sitting immobile like that.

He was ready to have his idea turned away. When it isn't, he can't help but smile, if only for a moment. "The name's Caspar, by the way." He leans over, offering Peter a hand. "Does your father have powers, too?"

"Professor McCoy says it should only a few days." His healing abilities will make it come off faster than usual. But it still feels like months for Peter.

"Peter Maximoff." He smiles with the introduction. And returns the handshake.

"He does. He is the Master of Metal."

"Only a few days? Could be worse." He can tell Peter is itching to get it off, though. "Took me a few weeks to heal from getting shot."

"Nice to meet you, Peter." He settles back in his seat, although there is a distinct note of tension in his frame when he learns about his father's powers. "What does that mean? He can control anything metal?"

"Fast healing goes with the fact I move fast." Peter explains.

"It is called Magnetokinesis. He can manipulate all forms of magnetism and metals." Peter smiles slightly. "He used his powers to help the Professor rebuild the school."

"Lucky," he says, although he doesn't entirely regret his lengthy convalescence in a hospital bed. It gave him some time to get his act together.

Even though Caspar isn't made of metal, he can appreciate how much influence such powers could have. "Is this a school you go to? Is he sticking around? Your dad, I mean."

"Yep. The Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters." Peter smiles.

"Not sure yet. He and the Professor are talking about it."

"'Gifted youngsters,'" Caspar repeats. He smirks. "Doesn't sound like a school for losers to me. You should write that letter soon, in case he decides not to stay."

Peter smiles shyly. "Once my leg heals, I should be able to drop it off without him even seeing me too."

"I guess I just have to find the right words."

Caspar gives a close-mouthed huff of amusement. "Yeah, I guess you can, can't you."

"Well, that I can't help you with. My family is the epitome of dysfunction." He smiles, but there's a sharp, self-loathing quality to it. "I'm pretty sure I'd only make it worse if I tried."

"Well then... what would you recommend I don't say?" Peter smiles.

Caspar laughs out loud at that. Well-played, Peter.

"All right, well. I'd give him the facts. Make it clear so that he can't dispute the information. Don't make it into a sob story, he's already grieving. Just let him know that you'd like to meet him."

"So you would write it from the first-person? Like hi, I am your son, sort of thing." Peter asked.

"I'd keep it in first person. Otherwise you make it sound like someone else is involved in his business." He tilts his head thoughtfully and asks, "Does anyone else know that he's your father? How'd you find out?"

"Hardest letter I will ever have to write..."

Peter nods to the next question. "A few others. My mother told me."

Caspar tightens his jaw, but doesn't comment. Way to drop a bombshell on your kid, Mom. Especially after letting all those loser boyfriends into his life. It makes him think of Ellen Tigh, one of the Final Five who created the other biological Cylons. There's a "mother" that he wants nothing to do with.

"Probably should do it soon, before someone else spills the beans to him. This is your story to tell, not theirs." He stands up and straightens the cuffs of his blazer. "You've got a few days to kill before the cast comes off, anyway."

"Good idea. Thanks." Peter looks over to where his door is still in the ground.

"You think you can help me back into my door?"

When Life Slows Down

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