Lorna had a dream. It was hazy, like she was watching it through frosted glass. She was on a plane with her parents. She knew they were her parents in the way dreams simply give you knowledge, but their faces were blurred as if they were made of smoke.
The sound came in bursts at first, the deep rumble of engines and the murmur of voices, until an argument broke through the haze. Her father's voice rose. He was angry. He accused her mother of having an affair with a wanted criminal named Eric. The words came with weight, each one striking harder than the last. He said Lorna was that terrorist's child, not his, and that her mother had lied for years to make him raise a child that was never his.
Her mother's denial came quick and fierce, layered with desperation. She tried to speak over him, her tone rising into something frantic. They talked about betrayal, about lies that spanned years, about danger coming for them all.
Lorna sat between them, feeling smaller and smaller, her pulse racing as the voices grew sharper. She begged them to stop. Her small hands gripped the armrests, her knuckles pale.
The air inside the cabin seemed to change. She felt something in her chest, deep and growing, like a storm gathering in her bones. The desperate wish for the shouting to end became a roar in her head. The roar turned into a pressure that built behind her eyes, in her fingertips, in every nerve in her body.
Her parents were still yelling.
The storm inside her broke.
A magnetic pulse burst out of her body, invisible yet devastating. The lights flickered and the metal around her screamed. The sound of tearing metal mixed with the panicked cries of her parents. The fuselage ripped apart. Cold air rushed in like a flood. Lorna reached for her parents, but the world twisted into chaos, a spiral of black and white. Then nothing.
The nothing shifted into the sound of her own gasp.
Lorna sat up, lungs burning as if she had been holding her breath for years. Her legs swung instinctively to the floor, her body already dropping into a fighting stance before her mind caught up. For a moment, everything was white. Her eyes watered as she squinted, trying to push back the blinding light. Slowly, shapes came into focus.
She was no longer on the road where she had been fighting. She was standing in what looked like a hospital room. A narrow bed sat behind her, sheets rumpled. Beside it stood a set of machines blinking with vital signs. She looked at her hands, turning them over as if checking for damage.
"What the...?!"
Her fingertips brushed against her ribs. The memory of pain was fresh, but the pain itself was gone. Her body felt healed despite those critical injuries.
Lorna slumped back onto the bed and pressed her palms to her forehead. The dream was already pressing into the corners of her mind. Her parents, the plane, the fight, followed by the burst of magnetic power that had destroyed everything... Then terrible silence afterward.
It was her fault.
The thought settled into her chest like a stone. She had killed them. She had been a child, but the truth felt no lighter for it. The guilt, the sadness, and the truth that she was the daughter of a terrorist and that her mother cheated... It was like too much for her to process. She pressed her lips together until they hurt, forcing herself to swallow it.
This was not the time. She could not afford to sink into grief. The past could be buried for now. Survival came first.
She took a slow breath and slid off the bed. She tiptoed toward the door and carefully opened it, trying not to make a sound, and peeked out.
The room outside was not the sterile white of the medical bay. It looked like a living area, warm and oddly domestic. A large couch faced a low table. Beyond it was a kitchenette with polished counters and a coffee machine that hissed softly.
On the couch sat a boy with silver hair. He leaned back casually, one leg crossed over the other, a jumbo box of popcorn balanced on his knee. His hand moved in quick bursts, shoving fistfuls into his mouth with a speed that seemed just a little unnatural.
Near the coffee machine stood a brunette girl in a deep red dress. She was waiting for the brew cycle to finish, her fingers resting lightly on the counter.
Lorna stepped fully out of the doorway. She took a moment to glance around again, taking in every detail she could. No visible weapons. No immediate threat. That meant nothing, but it gave her a second to act.
She walked toward the center of the room, keeping her tone even.
"Hello," she said.
The silver-haired boy glanced at her, his eyes bright and a little too knowing. He grinned around a mouthful of popcorn. "Well, Sleeping Beauty is awake," he said before tossing another handful into his mouth.
The brunette turned from the counter. Her gaze landed on Lorna, and something unreadable flickered across her face. She walked forward slowly, her coffee forgotten. "You are safe here," she said, her voice calm but layered with something heavier.
Lorna crossed her arms. "Safe from what?"
"From Shaw," the brunette said simply. She stopped a few steps away and studied Lorna. "You were injured. I saved you and brought you here. Take a seat." She nodded toward the couch.
Lorna walked over and sat on the empty spot.
The silver-haired boy extended his fist toward her. "Name's Pietro. You can call me big bro. Remember to add Big Bro Pietro. Got it? Ha! It got a nice ring to it."
The girl in red smacked his head.
"Oow!" Pietro rubbed his head and looked toward her. She gave him that look. "Seesh! Fine, you can call me Pietro."
"Stop embarrassing yourself. Grow up," She said before smacking his head again.
"Stop hitting me. I always wanted a little sister. So back off," Pietro fought back with words obviously.
Wanda cracked her knuckles. "Care to repeat that last part?"
"Please continue," Pietro quickly backed off.
Wanda sat beside him. She looked toward Lorna, who was slightly smiling, seeing the situation. But she still got her guards up. "I am Wanda. Your elder sister. I guess you have lots of questions. So ask away."
[A few minutes later]
Lorna sat in silence for a long moment after Wanda finished answering her questions and told her the truth.
The truth about Magneto was far from the twisted story her dream had given her. He had not been a father to any of them in the way most people meant the word. He had taken Wanda and Pietro when they were children, not out of love, but because their powers made them valuable to him. He had raised them like weapons, training them to serve his cause. He had lied to them and tried to manipulate them since childhood.
When she finished, she reached forward and took Lorna's hands in hers.
"I know what you are feeling," Wanda said. "The confusion... betrayal. That aching question in your chest about whether anything in your life has ever been real. I know what it is like to have the people you thought were your parents turn out to be something else entirely. It is a wound that does not heal clean."
Her grip tightened slightly, not to hold Lorna in place but to make sure she knew the connection was real. "The whole parental thing is messed up. I will not lie and say it gets easier overnight. But I can tell you that you are not alone in this. We are here with you."
Lorna's throat felt tight. The words she wanted to say were tangled up with the bitterness that had taken root in her. She opened her mouth, closed it again, then let out a slow breath. "I don't know what to think right now," she admitted.
"That is fine," Wanda replied. "But here's some advice from your big sis. Don't dwell on the past and on what ifs. Walk forward and create new memories. If it were anyone else, I would've said that won't be easy, but seeing how you kicked some serious ass back there... You are strong. You got it."
The sound of a door opening broke the moment. All three of them turned toward it. Tony walked in. He glanced at each of them in turn, his gaze settling on Lorna for a beat longer than on the others.
"So," he said, "our newest house guest is awake."
Lorna leaned back slightly, studying him. "And you are… Tony Stark!" She stood up.
"In flesh," Tony walked to her and extended his hand.
Lorna quickly shook his hand.
"Nice to meet you," He said with a smile.
"Yes. Wow! I mean, yes. Nice to meet you too," She said with a little stutter. All her strong alpha female behaviour disappeared for the moment and for the moment, she forgot about her parental crisis situation. Her only focus was on Tony. 'OH MY GOD! That's Iron Man. I want to see the suit. If I ask nicely, will he give me one? Maybe I can get him to sign one of his figurines from my collection or the poster.'
Lorna Dane... Iron Man's biggest fan.
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