Sorry for the wait on this - I'm back at school and it's exam season xx

*Chapter 2*

When Raven wakes it is 1964, 1965. Until she opens her eyes, and she's not curling up against Erik like she'd once done, back in the first years of the brotherhood. She hasn't done that in thirty five years, not since Erik started getting even more serious and even more terrible to look in the eye. By that time she didn't even know if she was glad, because no matter how bloody her own hands were, his were drenched in red.

She is leaning against her brother. For the first time in forty years she's stayed at home. She is rather surprised how much she's missed the feeling - only she hasn't realised it until now.

She is also surprised they haven't been interrupted yet - though she doubts that lucky coincidence will last for long.

Charles is still asleep when she wakes, looking innocent and closer to the man she'd known before Cuba than she's seen since. And she's ashamed that she hasn't seen much. They might have differences in opinions but they are still family. Family doesn't turn each other away - and Charles proved that last night, even risking the potential safety of his students.

And he did that for her.

She should've come back before, even if it wasn't to stay.

Charles stirs. Raven smiles softly before her eyes catch sight of his legs and a hint of revulsion passes over her, not at Charles, or even at the injury. She hates herself for abandoning him that day. She knows know that he would willingly have let her leave had she stayed just a bit longer, even though he hadn't wanted her too. And maybe if Azazel had gotten him to a proper hospital in time he'd still be able to walk.

Only she didn't and he can't and all she do is torment herself with the maybes and could've beens.

"Raven," Charles mumbles gently, catching the last thought. She might be his sister but he won't threaten all their safety by staying out of her mind.

"I thought you promised to stay out of my head," she replies softly, knowing that such a promise went out the window the first time she threatened his students.

Charles kisses her softly on the top of the head and moves towards the edge of the bed, to his chair. She can't even offer to help him; looks away as he settles himself.

"Why don't you get changed? I think I still have some of your old clothes in my wardrobe."

She wants to protest, after all they are forty years too out of date but he's already rolled through to the bathroom - the same one she'd stood in and brushed her teeth, in her natural form for once - and there's something in her head that can't stop saying 'he kept her stuff, he kept her stuff'. She smiles for a moment, alone in the room, and then quashes the voice ruthlessly.

There is no need for it now.

Charles needs her now - and maybe she needs him too. Neither of them need great gestures of sentimentality, even though she already knows that they'll be reduced to them, even within a few hours.

Raven rummages through the wardrobe and there, at the back, is a small pile of clothes, all ladies and in her size. She smiles at the sight of one blouse - she'd loved that once - and grimaces at an outfit she wore out to the pub with Charles. She doesn't know what to wear - none of it is exactly in the best condition - but she goes with a pair of jeans with the least holes in and rips a few more ones strategically, as has become fashionable, and pairs it with an old blouse.

She pulls off vintage quite well, she thinks as she turns in the mirror. It feels like she's flying for a moment, like she's ten years old again, newly off the streets and taken in by a kind, rich boy who can do things as odd as she can. She can't help but do it again until she's twirling and twirling and finally lets loose a single giggle.

There is a chuckle.

She jumps, almost falling into the mirror, and finds Charles watching her from the bathroom door. Considering pretending that was doing nothing, she decides against it. Charles has always been able to read her well - in some respects - and right now he's in her mind so it's really just a waste of energy. She stops spinning though, letting the smile linger on her face for just a fraction longer. A smile tugs at the corner of Charles' own mouth as he watches her eyes twinkling, and Raven's eyes darken again as she realises that the last time he'd been able to do that - that last time he'd done that - was the three nights before he'd met Moira in that bar, oh so long ago.

Charles catches the thought and flinches at the memory of Moira, hating that he'd wiped her memory. It wasn't the first time he'd done it, but it was the first time he'd done it to somehow he'd genuinely cared about.

Raven catches the flinch and traces her thoughts back to Agent McTaggert. She doesn't exactly direct the thought at him, just considers the idea and waits.

He says nothing.

And the moment passes. And even in the back of her head she cannot stop being curious about what happened, even though she could guess from what she'd heard.

It wasn't exactly the first time she'd seen him do it. Sharon Xavier had genuinely thought she'd adopted a little blond girl after all.

"I see you found your clothes."

Raven lets the thought drop. "Yes. Although you might've put some new ones out."

"I might've." Charles looks at her searchingly.

They haven't yet spoken about the events that brought her here - and they need to.

"I stood in front of him," she starts and Charles can see it all in her mind. "I took it for him. Didn't even think it was the cure. And he looked at me like I was nothing and left. After all these years."

Charles' eyes grow sad. "After all these years," he echoes, imagining all those years going differently.

"I was nothing to him. After all this time. Because I'm human now."

"You saw on the beach Raven." It's the first time she's heard him say he name aloud since Cuba and she can't bring herself to correct him.

"Yes. He hates humanity."

"We both know why," Charles says gently. And she does - she does now, once she caught sight of the numbers imprinted on his forearm and realised what they meant.

"I thought he would act differently," she says miserably and they both hear the unspoken 'for me' missing from the sentence.

Charles had stopped believing that a long time ago, with a helmet and a coin and a bullet to the spine. Instead he pulls her close and lets the tears once again drip through his shirt.