━━ KLEPTOMANIA

IT TOOK US TWO HOURS to find one Peter Maximoff in the phone book.

During that time, Hank and I made soup, forcing Charles to at least eat a little bit. Most of it was wolfed down by Logan, who stated after finishing off his food that time travel makes a person very hungry. We finally found the young boy, and I was relieved to find that he lived close, only one town over, so we wouldn't have to take a plane.

Even though I've been on them more than twice, I still hate the idea of flying. Maybe it's because of that day in Cuba, when our jet was shot down, or something else, but just the thought of flying in a plane makes my stomach twist. Perhaps it's the fact that when I was with Shaw, he always took planes everywhere, and every time I think of them, of the posh furnishing and private areas, I feel like throwing up.

When we found the boy, Peter, Charles immediately said that we should go then, about to walk out the door still in his pajamas and robe. It took both me and Hank combined to push him back, forcing the drunken man upstairs to get dressed. Logan simply watched us with a half-amused, half-saddened smile when Charles finally disappeared and both me and Hank let out relieved sighs.

"He does that often?" Logan had asked. Hank scoffed and said nothing, going to the table and picking up their plans, stuffing them into his bag. I'd crossed my arms and watched the two carefully.

"You have no idea." I said with a light laugh. Though inside my chest, my heart seized, and I had quickly looked away. I shouldn't have said anything, because while we waited for Charles those next ten minutes, Logan couldn't stop looking at me. I knew he had seen right through the laughs, understanding the meaning of my stilted words.

Now I sit in the back of the car beside the time traveler. Hank and Charles sit in the front, the telepath (against my wishes) taking the wheel. Logan grunts loudly as Charles swiftly makes a turn, jerking us both to the side. My bell bottom jeans slide over the leather seat, and my hips hit the door with a painful thud.

"Careful!" I yell out as Logan is squished into me. He quickly backs away, glaring at Charles with a look that could burn holes through the fabric if he stared long enough. Hank turns back to make sure I'm alright, and I give him a little smile, hoping to reassure him. Ever since Charles got to his breaking point, Hank has always been extra worried whenever one of us groans or even has a slight cold. I understand. If even something little happened to either of them, I might never recover. We're all each other has. Not anymore, a part of my head sings, and I frown, pushing the voice away.

Charles raises a hand, but doesn't look back. "Sorry." It is clear by his amused tone he feels absolutely no remorse. I grumble under my breath and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, sitting upright once more. Logan leans on the other side, fiddling with his sunglasses.

I lean forward. "You really should have let one of us drive." I say lightly. This time Charles does look back for a second, catching my eye in the rear-view mirror. He chuckles softly and turns back. Both Hank and Logan back my claim up by nodding their heads. Logan gives an un-enthused clearing of the throat.

"Leena." Charles speaks up. "Do you remember the last time I let you drive us?" he asks, and my breath is snatched from my body as memories from that horrible day resurface. Hank chokes on a laugh and I send a frown his way.

"If I recall, it was Hank who actually went with me." I remark, pursing my lips. Charles raises an eyebrow and looks to Hank, who shakes his head.

"Worst decision ever." I gasp and lean forward, going to punch his arm, but Logan snatches me and keeps me from clocking my friend over the head. Hank jerks away and starts to laugh, Charles following suit.

"Easy, easy." Logan says, but his voice is light. He's enjoying this, and that only makes me angrier. I struggle for a second, but once I realize I won't be able to get past Logan, I sit back, pushing my back hard against the seat, still frowning. Hank and Charles won't stop giggling like little girls.

"I wasn't that bad." I try to reason, even if the words taste like a lie (which they are). This only makes the two, especially Hank, howl louder. Charles chuckles and makes another turn that sends Logan and me flying. I clench my hands into fists and turn my head to look out the window, not really paying attention to the blurring landscapes.

"What happened?" Logan asks, and I whirl around, meeting his eyes. I give a quick shake of my head, pleading with him not to delve deeper. Of course, he doesn't listen. "I mean, when you drove?" I groan and lean my head back, waiting for Hank or Charles to explain.

Once Hank has gotten a hold of himself, his face half red from all the laughing, he turns around to face us, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "She crashed."

"We crashed." I correct him, but Hank shakes his head vigorously, staring at me with head slightly to the side. After a moment, I let out another groan and say. "Alright fine, I crashed." this time it's Logan who laughs a little, then immediately shuts his mouth when I turn my murderous gaze on him.

"Oh, come on, Leena." Charles remarks. "We all have to at some point."

I suddenly turn defensive. "How was I supposed to know you couldn't drive on both sides of the road? In England they do it the opposite way!" Logan seems to start choking. "It's very confusing!"

"Wait, wait," Logan says, holding up a hand, his tone growing a little more serious. "You didn't know which side to drive on?"

"Oh, shut up." I say. "Hank didn't tell me."

"Because I thought it was obvious!" Hank tries to say. Despite being an adult, able to drink and drive (we're still working on that a bit, though) I stick out my tongue at him. Hank closes his mouth with a snap, and I know he wants to laugh, but I give him a warning look. Don't you dare. Hank turns back around and leans into his seat. Charles gives a knowing chuckle and looks ahead, but Logan still stares at me as if I'm some alien from the moon. Suddenly the man faces away, and he sits straight up, moving to tug on Charles' shoulder.

"Here, here." I scrunch my brows and gaze over Logan's shoulder to the little house beside the car. Charles is still driving fast, and soon he'll pass it completely.

"Where?" Charles asks. Soon the conversation we had only moments ago is pushed to the farthest corners of my mind, and my chest thrums with exhilaration. If this boy, Peter, says yes, then we're one step closer to saving Raven. We're one step closer to getting Erik back. A smile like the sun. a bloody coin. Whispers, whispers, whispers. Not for the first time since my decision back at the manor, I wish I hadn't agreed to stop taking the serum.

"Just up here." Logan says more urgently.

"Alright, alright." Charles replies, annoyance tinging his words. "Don't get excited." Logan mumbles under his breath as Charles pulls up in front of the house and stops suddenly. Again, both me and Logan are sent forward. My face slams into the back of Charles seat, and I whine as my nose is smushed up against the fabric.

I turn to Logan, who's rubbing his forehead. "Next time, I'm driving, alright? Don't get used to it." Charles gets out and opens the door for me, and I take his hand, climbing out of the back seat. We slam the doors close and I walk around the car with Charles, looking up at the small but nicely landscaped house. Logan doesn't wait for us to catch up, and swiftly walks up the front driveway to the door. Charles and I share a look, then lightly jog to catch up.

Logan knocks fervently on the glass front door. I wait with my arms crossed at the back, standing on my tiptoes to get a better look into the house, but seeing as I'm still as short as a seventeen year old, I can barely see a thing. Charles is rubbing the sides of his temples, and I pat his back comfortingly. The man smiles at me a little, then we both turn back when the sound of the door opening hits our ears.

"What's he done now?" a concerned female voice calls out. I push my way in front of Charles to stand between Hank and Logan. The woman in front of us startles when she sees me, something I've grown used to. People usually don't see a little girl with a bunch of older men that often. When —if ever— I go out with Hank and Charles, people often give us dirty looks. I simply return the favour, seeing absolutely nothing wrong with any of what we're doing.

The first thing I notice about the woman is the dark circles under her eyes. The sight is all too familiar. The lack of sleep, the need to cover it up with mascara and makeup, or simply with a confident look in your eyes. She holds herself strongly, hiding the exhaustion. Her face seems to say I'm fine, but I know for a fact she's lying.

"I'll just write you a check for whatever he took." the woman continues, looking back up to an awkwardly smiling Hank, a stoic Logan, and a tipsy Charles. I just stand there, unsure of what to do.

"Are you a friend from school?" the woman turns to me. I jolt back and Charles places a hand on my back. I open and close my mouth like a fish for a few seconds, unsure of what to say. Suddenly I become acutely aware of something brushing up against the side of me. I turn my head a little and swear I see a flash of silver, but the next moment it's gone, and I frown.

Logan finally answers for me. "No," he says. "We just need to talk to him." the woman nods her head as if she understands completely, and lets us walk past. I can hear a TV playing distantly in the background. When I follow after Hank and Logan, Charles puts a hand on my arm, and I stop, turning around in confusion. He points down to the doormat I've just stepped on.

I frown as I walk across the scorched marks in the center of the mat, going straight up from the bottom to the top. Charles and I share a concerned look before we follow after the others.

The woman calls out. "Peter!" I wince at her loud tone. "The cops are here — again." I raise a brow as the woman eyes me strangely, then closes the door behind us. I don't point out that she said nothing about me. She points us down the stairs leading to the basement. The house is neat and clean, but those same scuff marks lead through the wooden floors, cutting grooves into the oak. My hands go to my waist as I follow at the back. We all walk down the stairs carefully. Knowing me, I place one hand on the railing, making sure I don't slip and fall the rest of the way down. The faint sound of a ping-pong ball clacking against a table rings around my ears.

We enter a room covered in paraphernalia and an assortment of junk stacked neatly against the walls. My frown deepens as I look around to see heaps of unopened boxes. They seem to have never been touched, and I notice with confusion that most of the boxes contain the exact same things. Either this guy bought these in bulk, or there is a much more unsavoury reason as to why he has all this junk.

"What do you guys want?" a young male voice sounds from in front of us. "I didn't do anything." I turn my head back and freeze, my eyes widening. The ping pong table rests in the center, white ball bouncing back and forth. Only there aren't two players. There is simply one, and he's running back and forth so fast I can barely keep up with where he is. Silver flashes across my eyes and suddenly the boy comes into focus, and he's standing right in front of me, hand outstretched, a bashful smile on his face.

Charles curses behind me and takes a step back. I don't move, but tilt my head to the side as the boy watches me. "Hi." I say slowly.

"Hey, I'm Peter." he replies, still holding out his hand. I look down cautiously, then shake it. His smile grows wider, strange silver hair glinting in the sun streaming from the one open window. The moment he let's go of my hand, he's gone. We all turn around and find him sitting on the couch behind us, hands up to the back of his head, feet up on the fabric. Charles moves closer to me.

"I've been here all day." Peter says. When our eyes meet, he winks. I give him my best frown, eyebrow raised, and his face darkens slightly. I hold in a laugh.

"Just relax, Peter." Logan says, stepping closer to the boy. "We're not cops." I shift from foot to foot, arms crossed, aware that this boy probably knows more than he's letting on, by the way he sits, relaxed, and the fact that he already knew we were coming back out front. I know because of the silver blur only several minutes ago.

I'm right. "Of course you're not cops." he says. "If you were cops, you wouldn't be driving a rental car." My mouth hangs open. "And they don't allow minors to become police officers." he looks at me. It takes everything in me to restrain myself from telling him my real age. Now is not the time.

"How'd you know we've got a rental car?" Charles asks. I bite the inside of my cheek. Ever since I crashed the last car he owned, the man never bothered to buy a new one. We never needed a car, because we barely ever left the house.

"I checked your registration when you were walking to the door." We all stiffen and look at each other. I let my hands drop to my sides, energy bubbling up at the feel of a threat. My eyes narrow, but Logan gives me a warning looking, telling me to back off. I grimace but release my fists, and the darkness curling up the couch stops. Doom, doom, doom, the energy sings as the shadows retreat. I force myself not to keel over at the whispers inside my head. Peter won't stop looking at me.

"So you went through our wallets?" I ask him.

Peter shrugs. "I also had some time to kill after that, so I went through your rental agreement and saw you're from out of town." We're only one city over, but I don't say anything. Peter's voice is clipped, and he talks about as fast he runs, and my brain feels like scrambled eggs at how rushed he's speaking.

It's probably not unusual with this boy.

"Are you FBI?" he asks us, then points to me. "I mean obviously you aren't." then he's up and back to standing in front of me. "So why are you here?" And then he winks at me again. Charles grabs onto my wrist as I curl my fingers up, darkness swirling in my palms. Not only is this boy intriguing, but equally as infuriating. I don't know whether I want to smirk at him or punch him in the face. Then I curse myself. Since when did I get so violent?

Peter disappears again and then pops up at the table behind us, Charles' leather wallet in his hands. "Nope, you're not cops," he says, holding up a little white piece of paper in his other hand. "Hey, what's with this gifted youngsters place?" the wallet and card that makes my blood boil then drop onto the table, and Peter vanishes. I groan as Charles looks down to his jean pocket, lets go of me, and grabs the items his items.

"That's an..." he says softly. "old card." from a different time, I think, a happier time. Charle puts it back into his pocket, and we all face the table. I cross my arms and look sharply at a smiling Hank.

"Well, he's fascinating." the man says happily. I give him a look.

Charles leans closer to us. "He's a pain in the arse." I can't help but let out a giggle.

"He's definitely... something." I put in. Hank turns to Logan, a gleam in his eye. Hank always gets this way around other mutants. I don't think he's obsessed with other people's mutations, but they're definitely something that makes him less upset. I think it reminds him of the students from before, with all their wild abilities and volatile hearts.

"What, a teleporter?" Hank asks Logan.

"No, he's just fast." Logan says, hands on his hips. "And when I knew him, he wasn't so... young." I frown a bit at the negative way in which Logan says the word. I may be older than Peter, but I'm still not exactly out of my youth.

"Young?" We all whirl around to see the boy sitting back on the couch, a half eaten popsicle in his hands. Without my permission, my stomach grumbles. I haven't eaten anything since we stopped at a 7-Eleven three hours ago.

"You're just old." he finishes. I snort, raising a hand to my mouth, trying to cover the laughter that bubbles up inside my throat. Peter grins from ear to ear, and Charles gives me a dark look. I shrug my shoulders a bit, then bite my lip, keeping the laugh from erupting again.

"So, you're not afraid to show your powers?" Hank asks him. The awe in his voice is unquestionable. My thoughts drift back to when we were staying at the manor, right before Cuba, and Hank couldn't bear showing his mutation to others, too concerned with what it looked like. Despite my mutation allowing me to keep it hidden, I still partly understood. I was so afraid of losing control that I could barely show Charles or Erik the dark energy. Every time it crept up on me, and someone else was in the room, I would curse myself, afraid of hurting them.

"Powers?" Peter asks. "What powers? What are you talking about?" Charles and Hank look confusedly at each other, but I know better. "Do you see something strange here?" I look down at Peter, able to see through his facade. Fear pricks at his heart, a fear that his speedy words and winks won't be enough to save him one day. The fear radiates off him, but also the exhilaration. He can't help but push other people's buttons.

"Nothing anybody would believe," I speak up, and Peter snaps his mouth shut. "If we told them." He looks at us, a smile on his face, a challenge in his eyes. Logan sighs and smiles softly, while Charles looks murderous and Hank is shaking his head, amused.

Then Peter is gone. Again. A second later he shows up behind us, playing an arcade game furiously, back turned.

"So who are you," he asks, voice softer. "and what do you want?"

"We need your help, Peter." Logan says.

"For what?"

"Saving the world." I mutter. Charles elbows me in the ribs, and I grimace. He gives me a look that tells me Peter isn't one of those hero types. He'll refuse if that's the only reason. I glare at him but close my mouth.

"To break into a highly secured facility," Logan cuts in. "and to get someone out." Not just anyone, I think. Beside me, Charles clenches his jaw, and I bring my hand down to lightly touch his wrist.

"Prison break?" Peter asks, still not turning around. "That's illegal you know." We all look at each other, turning in a circle to peer at the colourful array of clearly stolen goods piled up around the room. Televisions, arcade games, boxes upon boxes of shoes, all barely touched. Yeah, illegal. I hold back a laugh.

"Uh..." Logan says. "Well, only if you get caught." He finishes, and despite the images of Erik swirling through my head, a smile plays on my lips. This boy, despite being way too young for a job like this and having some real issues on personal property, is intriguing. Fun and swift. Intriguing.

"So, what's in it for me?" Peter asks.

Charles, rubbing his eyes with one hand on his hip speaks up. "You, you kleptomaniac, get to break into the Pentagon." Peter stops playing. The noises cease. Birds seem to stop chirping, the TV upstairs has quieted down. All that can be heard is the breathing of five mutants in a downstairs basement, filled with stolen items. After several moments of this ominous silence, Peter swivels around in his chair to face us. His eyes are alight with a fire that wasn't there before, and a smile, bigger than the one he gave me on the way in, rests on his mouth.

Then the smile falters, replaced with a ridiculous pretend smolder. "How do I know I can trust you?" his tone is serious, and I'm surprised to find that he's completely genuine. His mistrust and suspicions run circles through my head, shadows curling in my eyes.

" 'Cause we're just like you." Logan replies sternly. Peter looks at us each in turn. His doubtful gaze does not waver, and I bite the inside of my cheek, turning my head to Charles.

The man looks to me and then to Logan, speaking to both of us. "Show him." I nod and turn back, my smile leaving my face. Peter shifts in his seat as I lock eyes with him. I don't move, keeping my hands at my side, but let the dark energy pour out of me, twisting up my arms. Peter gasps as flits of emotion, black as night weave their way from his head. He swats at them, then winces as the energy heats his skin. I reach out an arm, and a little shadow figure of Peter running in circles dances around my palm. My eyes, completely black, fade back to their normal green. Peter lets out a happy yelp and almost topples off his chair, then turns his head to face Logan.

I also gasp as three long, almost bone-like claws sprout from under Logan's skin, cutting through his flesh. I wince as a flicker of pain washes through me, and place walls up higher to keep from shrieking out loud. I look back to Logan, eyes widening. Is this really what he has to go through every time he uses his mutation?

Peter is speechless. He simply sits there, watching us, looking between me and Logan, his face twisting in disgust at the sound of Logan's claws retreating back in. I shudder also, not blaming the kid.

Finally, after what feels like hours of standing in complete silence, Peter speaks up, talking to Logan. "That's cool, but it's disgusting." he says, and I laugh. Charles looks at me pointedly, but I give him a look that says; oh come on, you can't deny the kid is entertaining. Despite not having his telepathic powers, Charles grunts and turns away. My smile widens. I'm clearly right.

I look back to Peter, who then points at me. "Yours however... wicked."

"Thanks." I respond genuinely. Then Peter's no longer sitting on the couch, and I look around in confusion before he turns up again right in front of me, his hand outstretched. It takes me a moment to orient myself before I realize that he's holding something out to me.

It's a long package of orange plastic, and I frown.

"Popsicle?" Peter asks. I pause for a moment, then take the treat out of his hands and dig into the sweet treat. Peter smiles and dashes away.

I turn to see Logan, Charles, and Hank staring at me. "This is going to be fun." I tell them, and in this moment, the thought of Erik, of Raven, and of my own death in the future seem to be so very far away.

Very, very far.

AUTHOR'S NOTE...

A bit of a short chapter today, but I'm still pretty happy with it. I love a lot of things that happened in this chapter. FIRST AND FOREMOST, we met Peter! I absolutely adore Peter Maximoff (and Evan Peters) sm, he's such an adorable bean and one of the highlights of these movies. Now before anything else, I would like to say that Leena and Peter WILL NOT get together. They are strictly platonic and have an incredible BROTP, so yeah, just thought I'd let you know that the love story happening in the next book will not be with him...

This was probably the last pure and mostly happy chapter we'll get for this act from now on, so ENJOY IT, because it only goes downhill from here. As always, don't be afraid to comment, vote, and perhaps give me a follow? I love and appreciate every single person reading this book!

Love you, Mal