A/N: This is one of my favorite moments in the story! The version of the song played during Charles's present can be found here, it has extra verses not heard on the radio: http colon slash slash www dot youtube dot com slash watch?v=XQtAOuBjysc I recommend listening to it as you read. Also, I stole the Elvis song idea from RandomPenName. Go read her story, Echoes of the Mind! If you haven't, you are missing out!

Thanks to WithLoveFromTorchwood, Azzy494, MirrorFlower and DarkWind, EloraVashara, Pocky of NyaNyaLand and luna2k for your awesome comments! Though I have already written the rough draft for the ending, I haven't really addressed yet if they plan to stay married. I leave it up in the air. Might write an epilogue and address it, we'll see.

Charles's Present

Charles searched Erik's mind for the perfect present, pleased when he realized that he didn't need anything except his own talents. "Ladies and Gentlemen," said Charles, standing up without further ado. "I have made a gross oversight which I now wish to correct. I forgot a wedding present for my dear husband! So, to make up for it, I will bring here to you all tonight, Erik's mother, who will talk to us and sing us a lovely song." Charles saw no reason to wait, so he immediately conjured the illusion of Erik's mother, who appeared very real to all of them.

Erik sat in his seat, frozen and overwhelmed, as his mother walked up to him with a smile, wrapped her arms around him and held him for a few minutes. She was radiant, and just as he remembered, right down to the perfume she wore. Erik started crying as he hugged her back. Charles wasn't bothered by this, because he knew Erik was actually very happy, but he did think it strange nonetheless.

Present time...

Bobby had, of course, recorded the time Erik's mother was there, but Charles's gift only fooled minds, not cameras, so they couldn't see her. Charles relaxed some for the first time. For once, he wasn't being a self-aggrandizing idiot, even if he was going despicably, monstrously overboard with his telepathy.

Erik, meanwhile, turned his head a bit and used his hands to try and hide the fact that he was crying. Even though he couldn't see his mom in the video, he remembered the moment vividly now. It had been so intense, it could be compared to torture, but it was the best kind of torture he'd ever had. He couldn't thank Charles enough for that experience, but he couldn't seem to speak right now.

Yesterday, at the wedding reception...

Erik's mom let him go, and she sang a beautiful German song, one Erik had always loved to hear her sing. Erik was sobbing now, and his chest was so tight, he could barely breathe. He didn't know how Charles was doing it - his mom had been murdered in front of him when he was ten - but she was here, finally, after all these years. Drowning in emotion, he couldn't speak, couldn't think, except to listen her her lovely voice again.

When she was finished singing, everyone cheered like mad for several long minutes. When things got quiet again, she turned to Erik and began to speak. "Erik, I love you so much. I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you in the concentration camps, and I'm sorry I couldn't protect you from Shaw. It wasn't your fault you couldn't move the coin in time to save me from getting shot. I forgive you, because there is nothing to forgive. As I said then - everything is all right."

Erik was crying so hard now, he couldn't see.

She kissed his forehead. "Erik, honey, I'm so glad you're getting married. Charles is the best possible husband for you."

"Thanks...means a lot," Erik croaked.

"Erik, join me for the traditional wedding dance between mother and son," she invited.

"Yes, mom," he choked out, sniffling and following her out to the dance floor.

Charles decided, for the benefit of the audience, the band would play a song in English instead of German. He searched his addled mind for a good song, and came up with what he believed to be an appropriate one - I Will Remember You, the longest version he could find in the brains of the band members. He had the band play it, and Erik's mother sing it. She perhaps came out sounding a bit too much like Sarah McLachlan, but nobody seemed to care, least of all, Erik, who could barely stand now, he was sobbing so hard. The whole room was sobbing, including Charles, and it was all he could do to continue on with the complicated illusion.

The song finally ended, and Erik would have collapsed if his mother hadn't been holding him up. Charles had planned on her making an exit at this point, but he didn't think Erik's fragile emotional state was up to that at the moment, so he decided he would have her stick around a bit more.

Erik's mother half carried him back to the table and sat him down. She pulled up an extra chair for herself. Charles stood up, a bit wobbly since both he and Erik were having difficulty concentrating on the maneuver. "I propose a toast - to Erik's mum - the best mother on the planet!"

The room erupted with cheering and shouts of agreement and the sound of glasses tinkling together.

Erik raised his glass, took a sip, then focused on getting his breathing under control so he wouldn't pass out, his head in his hands and his whole body shaking from the intensity of the experience. Charles had dug through his memories rather ruthlessly so he could make a proper illusion, and so his childhood memories of his mother, long forgotten, swam at the forefront of his mind.

Present time...

"I am so, so sorry, Erik," said Charles. "What I did to you was awful. I was completely out of control."

Erik decided there really was no longer any point hiding the fact that he was crying. "No, no Charles...don't mention it..." He couldn't quite voice what the experience had meant to him. But, he certainly wasn't angry at his telepathic friend. Yes, it had been quite a shock, almost a trauma, to his system, since he had lived in hate and anger for so long. But it had been worth it.

Yesterday, at the wedding reception...

Charles, seeing now that the dance between mother and son had been taken care of, knew that it was time for Erik and him to dance. But unfortunately his new husband was in no fit state to. What to do, what to do...perhaps he had gone a bit overboard with his telepathy, but Erik was happy, wasn't he? So it was all good really.

Bobby took control of the situation. He had never showcased his mutation in front of a crowd before, but for the first time, he felt confident it would be accepted. Charles had given a gift with his talents, so now it was his turn! "I have a gift for the two of you!"

Charles beamed. "Groovy!"

Erik raised his head to look. It was an ice sculpture of the two of them. It wasn't any more talented than Erik's metal statue had been, but Erik managed a weak smile nonetheless.

"I love ice sculptures! So handy that it won't melt either, thank you, Bobby!" gushed Charles.

Emboldened, Bobby began decorating the sides of the room with ice sculptures of various people, while everyone complimented him on his work. He glowed from all the attention on something that was uniquely him. He'd never felt so proud of himself or so lucky to be alive.

By the time Bobby was done, Erik was recovered enough for a dance. Charles decided that it would be to the Elvis song, "I Can't Help Falling In Love With You," and he would of course sing it, since that was far more romantic.

The couple did not make a very graceful or coordinated sight. Erik still could barely put one foot in front of the other (the alcohol they were consuming was not helping, either) and Charles's legs were at odd angles, making it obvious that those weren't the things supporting him. Erik didn't even know how to dance, and while Charles did, he was too drunk to do it properly. The music began, and Charles started to sing.

Present time...

Charles was considering the fact that, while he could not become invisible, he could trick them into believing he wasn't there. However, he couldn't bring himself to use another mind trick after all the unscrupulous, domineering ones he had done last night, to the detriment of his friends and people he'd come across. Charles could not interpret the expression on Erik's face, and he really didn't want to look at Bobby.

Yesterday, at the wedding reception...

Charles sang the song to the very end, at which time it was less of a dance and more of a drunken stagger. In the midst of it he forgot all about maintaining the illusion of Erik's mother, so she ended up disappearing. Erik, fortunately, did not seem to notice this by the time they returned to their table and everyone came out to dance. Charles let the band pick the songs now. He wanted to take it easy for a moment and let Erik recover more too. He hadn't said a word since his dance with his mother and Charles again got the vague notion that perhaps he had been too aggressive with his telepathy, forcing him to relieve the happiest moments of his life all at once. Perhaps it had been too overwhelming. It was such an unhappy thought though, he didn't like it, and Erik hadn't complained. He would just have to forget about it.

Azazel chose that moment to wander up to their table. Charles gave him a welcoming smile. He had sensed the teleporter in the vicinity, so he naturally had invited him too. It was only polite. He was the only person in here who he hadn't needed to coax into not being confused with the situation.

Though that didn't mean that the teleporter wasn't confused by any means. "You okay, Erik?" Azazel asked in a rare moment of concern. He didn't understand what was going on, but his leader did not seem himself at all.

"I'm fine, Azazel," he assured him quietly.

Azazel hesitated before asking what he wanted to ask. He didn't have a problem with the whole gay thing. His former employer ate bombs for breakfast, a windless day didn't mean that he wouldn't get swept away in a tornado, sleepwalking for him meant waking up in random places around the world, so in comparison, gay was quite tame and boring. What he wasn't sure about was the fact that it was Charles. Unlike Emma, Azazel really didn't think it was his business who Erik was friends with, but the simple fact was that he didn't understand how their marriage could work, and it seemed a bit rushed. "Do you think this marriage will work out?" he asked his leader.

Erik looked confused. "Why not? We have fun together. What else is there?"

"You're enemies," Azazel pointed out.

"No we're not," said Erik, baffled. "I think you've been drinking too much."

"I think there's a saying? Pot and Kettle?" Azazel grumbled. He'd only had a glass of wine, while he'd never seen anyone as wasted as Charles and Erik were right now. "You disagree about how to deal with the mutant acceptance problem. Charles wants integration, you want domination. So you work against each other. You try to stop each other's plans. Don't you think that will cause a rift?"

Erik looked doubtful, but Charles, wanting to make Azazel feel better, decided to address his concern. "Maybe you're right," he said. "We'll call a marriage counselor."

A man walked up to them not a minute later and asked them what sort of marriage problems they were having. Charles was having trouble articulating it, (he simply didn't get it right now, he couldn't see a problem) so Azazel took over and told him his concerns.

The counselor looked confused. "If you're both leaders at opposite sides of what could be described as a war, what made you decide to get married?" He had never heard of anything like this.

"We have fun together," said Erik, as if that explained everything.

The counselor could see that he needed to ask more detailed, intelligent questions to get anywhere. "When did this rift start?"

Neither Erik nor Charles could make heads nor tails of that question, so Azazel took over again. "During the Cuban Missile Crisis. My former employer was trying to start WWIII, and they stopped it. Then the humans tried to bomb us so Erik caught the bombs and was going to bomb them back. I was in and out of consciousness, but I think that's when the rift started. Charles didn't want him to bomb the humans with the bombs they intended to kill us with, and Erik wanted to bomb them so the mutants wouldn't be on the receiving end of a Holocaust, like he experienced as a kid." Erik hadn't told him about that, but he hadn't needed to, the brand on his arm said enough.

"That's only the beginning, though," said Azazel, "of why I'm confused as to how this will work."

This was far beyond the counselor's usual scope, and he gaped through the whole explanation. "You don't need a marriage counselor, you need a professional negotiator." He shook his head and left.

Next chapter: Wolverine cameo, part one!