He’d never come here in a car. He still wasn’t in a car. He was on a motorcycle. But still… this place held a lot of memories, didn’t it? And normally, he would’ve been on foot. He pulled down the winding drive to the front of the school and popped the bike up on the cobblestones to make it to a side alcove for motorcycles and scooters and bicycles that he knew was there. Parking the big beast, he took off the helmet and settled it on the back end, locking the mechanism. Then, he was moving to the door. That’s where Quicksilver stopped.
He moved quickly to the opposite side of the door and pulling out his phone, dialed a number he hoped would answer.
“Hello love.” The accented voice of one Elizabeth Livingston came across the line as the brunette picked up her cell from her vanity and answered it after seeing the number on the caller ID.
“So, I’m here. Sure I shouldn’t just make my way into Manhattan?” Pietro asked. He felt the nerves all over his body tense. He felt nauseated. His father had always been very influential in his life’s choices and even when they disagreed - which was a lot of the time - he had this respect for the man. He had a pedestal built of platinum, not just stone in Pietro’s heart. Truth was, Pietro wasn’t sure he wanted to face this. He just needed an excuse to not do it or… a push.
“Your father is sick, he’s dying. You need to go in and see him, to say goodbye. If you don’t, you may not get another chance and trust me on this one, you’ll regret it.” Liz replied, spritzing a bit of perfume on her wrists before rubbing them together, her phone tucked between her ear and shoulder.
“Yeah. I just…” He moved the phone from one hand and ear to the other. “What do I say?” He shook his head and took a deep breath. “Gee, sorry I tried my best to stay away from you as much as possible. Guess in retrospect that might’ve been harsh.”
“You just say I’m Sorry. What happened in the past, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re there now. That’s all he’s going to care about.” Liz answered, slipping her feet into a pair of black Jimmy Choos. “Anyone else going to see him?” She asked, wondering if Pietro had any other family support at the moment.
“I don’t know if the sisters are here or what. Guess I’m about to find out,” he saw the door opening and as some students walked out, he walked in, phone still to his ear. He just needed to make his way to whoever was coordinating this place at the moment and get them to take him to his father or tell him where to go. He hadn’t been a student or faculty or resident of the Xavier School in a very long while and so, he’s play proper and act like a guest.
“Call me after if you want. I can carve out an hour or two if you want to have lunch later. Nothing too important on my docket that I can’t push back.” Liz took a final look in the mirror, knowing that nothing less than sheer perfection was acceptable when you were the Black Queen. Appearances mattered.
“Very well. Knock ‘em dead.” He smirked before cutting the line and looking at the person at the desk in the office he had gone into. Same set-up, they’d either escort him or call someone to escort him, he was sure. After all, He was Quicksilver, known to be a thorn in the sides of X-Men for years. Traitor to the cause. Who knew how many more names were thrown around, right?
“I’m here to see my father. Magne…” Pietro paused and swallowed. “Erik. I’m here to see Erik Lensherr. Someone left me a message.”