𝐒𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐓 (X-Men ~ Peter Maximoff)

The Paris Incident

"Where were you Charles?! You were supposed to protect them! You were supposed to protect Jennifer and you used her then left her for dead! She was sixteen Charles, sixteen! You abandoned her! You and Hank, off hiding, pretending to be something you're not. You abandoned us all!"

Charles stared up at Erik in fear and horror, expecting him to kill them all right then and there in a fit of pure rage. But it never came. Instead the plane levelled out just in time to avoid crashing into the ocean, Hank quickly pulling up as hard once the controls started working again. Finally seeing how much suffering he had caused in his solitude, Charles retreated to the co-pilot seat, needing as much room between him and Erik as possible on such a confided place. He would've like to think that he was hurt because the bond between the two was well and truly gone, but in reality it was because Erik had been right. He had left the world when it needed his help the most, sharing his own grief with the entire world as thousands more mutants died due to a lack of intervention that he could've easily provided.

Blatantly ignoring the NO SMOKING sign on the wall, Logan pulled a cigar out of his shirt, seemingly completely unfazed by the fact that they had almost collided with the ocean mere moments prior. "So, you were always an asshole."

Erik turned around slowly. "I take it we're best buddies in the future?"

Logan scoffed, waiting for his cigar to catch alight. "I spent a lot of years trying to bring you down, bub."

"How's that work out for you?," Erik asked, though he already knew his answer. Quite frankly, he wasn't a fan of the fact that some random guy from the future was ordering him to save the world, but he could bear with the arrogance for a little longer.

"You're like me – you're a survivor."

Seeing Logan exhale some smoke, Erik assumed their conversation was over and went to take a seat but was abruptly stopped when Logan branched off into a new subject.

"You mind telling me who this Jennifer kid is? She your daughter or something? Why's she caught up in all this?"

Erik rolled his eyes. "You're from the future. You tell me."

"That's what I'm tryin' to tell you, I've never hear of her. And Peter, the fast kid? He's head over heels for her, but twenty years from now it's like they never met. And you and me-" he gestured between them with his cigar, "- we didn't know each other that well, but you monologued a fair whack about why Charles was leading us into our graves, and not once did you bring her up."

Frowning, Erik took the seat he'd been hovering next to. "What're you saying?"

"I'm saying that Jennifer Jones doesn't exist."

|☆| ~ |☆| ~ |☆|

Older than Jennifer by six years, NBC News had been the first news station in the world to broadcast regular updates on world events, like the televised version of a newspaper. It connected people all round the world and educated them all on current issues and information. It was a reliable source with large coverage, and so it was only natural that it was channel Jennifer chose to watch the Paris Peace Accords on.

If all went to plan, this would be the most boring hour of her life, and all that would be seen was a reporter talking infront of a crowd and then a bunch of officials walking out of the old stone building. If not, well, that was why Jennifer was watching – as if her attention would stop anything wrong.