I was flying. The sky was a stormy gray, the clouds around me dark and heavy with condensation. I could smell the ozone in the air and feel it rush past my tongue, cool and bitter in my throat as wind whipped back my hair. It was pretty obvious that I was dreaming- the last I checked, I couldn't fly.

I remembered reading somewhere that dreams about flying were actually dreams about sex. Not that I believed that entirely. When I dream about sex, it tends to be about sex. When I dream about flying, it's about flying. I have a very straightforward mind. And anyway, if this dream had anything to do with my love life, it was definitely troubling: A squadron of bomber jets had begun tailing me through the clouds. A missile whooshed past my face and I swerved out of the way to avoid it, feeling dread pool in my stomach as it whistled away. The next missile the jet shot hit me, clipping my arm and sending me into a tailspin. The grey spires of the city below rushed up to meet me as I plummeted to the ground.

I was yanked out of sleep by a sudden scratching noise outside my door. I'm a light sleeper, and for a moment I thought I might have imagined it, something carried over from my dream. Even still, it took me a second to blink the grogginess from my eyes, and by the time I had fully regained consciousness the noise had stopped and my door had been pushed open a crack. I squinted through the sliver of light and caught sight of a single blue eye. I could feel a sigh in my throat just itching to be let out.

"You know, Charles, you could have just knocked."

"Yes, but where's the challenge in that?" The ex-heir let himself into my room, closing the door with a click. He was wearing the same suit as yesterday, wrinkled and twisted to one side so that the fabric stretched taut over his slim chest, clinging to his ribs like plastic wrap. The camera was still slung around his neck, but he was wearing a black fedora that looked a bit rough at the edges (Literally, the edges were fraying). He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall, staring at me in bed. "We need to talk."

I pulled the sheets a bit higher around my naked waist self-consciously before realizing that I had fallen asleep fully clothed and letting them fall back down. "I thought we already did."

He sighed. "No, Erik, I yelled at you and then we necked like teenagers on our friend's couch. That doesn't count as talking." He pulled off the fedora, worrying the brim in his hands, and it dawned on my why the thing looked so worn. "Anyway, this is about something else."

An eerie sense of déjà vu settled over me. "You want to hire me for a case." It wasn't a question.

"I'm not hiring you for anything. You're going to do this because you owe me, and because it's the right thing to do." He leveled his gaze at me. "And because I need your help and I have no one else to go to."

"This seems awfully familiar."

"It's about Raven."

"And now it's even more familiar. Are you sure we haven't traveled back in time three years?"

Charles snorted. "Like I would be caught dead wearing duds like these back then. Do keep up, Erik."

I shook my head. "Fine. What kind of trouble has your sister gotten herself into this time?"

"She…" All the mirth that had flickered in Charles' eyes while we bantered seemed to drop out of them. I almost thought I would see it land on the floor, a shimmering ball of blue, but that would be too weird and prove solidly that I was still dreaming. Not that I was ruling that out- the last few days had been surreal, to say the least. "She's taken up with another man I don't approve of, I'm afraid." His lips quirked in a weak smile. "I suppose that happens quite often, doesn't it?"

"It seems to be a running theme, yes."

"Her taste in men is a little questionable, I'll admit." I bit my tongue to stop a cutting remark from coming out. Saying that Raven Xavier's taste in men was a little questionable was like saying that the Titanic had a spot of bother with an iceberg. "And usually I try to keep her protected, but I've clearly proved that I'm not very good at that. Since I broke with my stepfather I haven't seen her much. I'm not allowed on the grounds, and we had a fight before I got kicked out. This is the first I've heard from her in a year."

"So how did she manage to have a relationship with someone?" I asked. "How could she have met with him without Marko figuring it out?"

"Like I bloody know." Charles snapped. "For all she's told me he could have been teleporting into her room every night. She's not very forthcoming with details."

"So you've talked to her."

He frowned. "Not exactly. Last night one of the maids from the estate turned up at Alex's. I have no idea how she knew I'd be there; I suppose she asked around. She gave me a note from Raven begging me for help. She said-" He broke off, his eyes dropping to the floor. "I don't even want to think about it. Here, I've got the note, you can read it."

He pulled a crisp white envelope out of his jacket and walked over, handing it to me. He sat down on the bed and I caught a sudden flash of memories: bandages, fingers pressing to a bruise, Charles' mouth on mine. I blinked, trying to dispel the distracting thoughts as I read the note.

My eyes widened as I scanned the words. "You're kidding."

Charles looked like he was on the verge of tears. "Unfortunately not."

"She was sleeping with the Russian."

"His name's Azazel." Charles supplied. I rolled my eyes.

"Yes, I can read and I also have long term memory, thank you." I re-read the first few sentences, remembering the black-haired Russian henchman under Shaw's employ. He had given Charles and I a decent number of bruises and contusions, and he had been helping Shaw keep Raven hostage in his apartment. Now in the letter she was saying that she loved him. My mind was whirling, and it only got worse the more I read. "He's missing." I rolled my eyes. "Of course he is."

Charles buried his head in his hands despairingly. "I'm the worst brother ever."

I patted him awkwardly on the back. "No you're not. You're just… not the best." He glared up at me through his fingers. "At least you tried. It's the thought that counts."

"I'm going to punch you."

"Please don't. Anyway, what do you want me to do?"

Charles shook his head. "I don't know. But she's asking me to find Azazel."

"But he's a mook!" I protested. "Why would she want him back?"

"Why are you asking me? I'm not a mind reader!" Charles bit out. "All I know is that she says she loves him. And she's my little sister, Erik. I just want her to have a life where she's happy."

So not a life like yours then was on the tip of my tongue. Thankfully I have iron self control. "Do you have any idea where he could be?"

"No."

I sighed. "I'm going to have to meet with her, then. That's the only way I can find out where he might have disappeared to. Can you figure out a way for us to get her out of the house?"

He nodded. "I'll try."

We stared at each other. The silence stretched on for a long, awkward moment before I cleared my throat, and Charles jumped a little. "So are you staying?"

"No, of course not." He stood up briskly, straightening his tie. "I'll be on my way, I've got to go… arrange things, I suppose. Track down that maid and see if she can get a message to Raven. And then I have to develop some photos at the office. And… other things." He finished lamely. "I'm really quite busy, you know. It turns out having to work for a living is a tad different than the lifestyle I'm used to."

I gave Charles the once-over. The bags beneath his eyes were dark and heavy, and his wrists where they poked out from his too-short sleeves were thin and bony (more so than usual, at least). I wondered how long it had been since he had eaten a decent meal.

"Do you want to go get breakfast with me?" I blurted out. He wrinkled his nose, his forehead creasing like I had offended him.

"I just told you I was busy."

"And I have nothing else to do today." It was a lie, but that didn't matter. "That café down the road is still open, right?"

"Asteroid M?" Charles raised an eyebrow. "Yes, it's still there. I can't be the only person who thinks that's a weird name for a café."

"Let me buy you something to eat."

Charles screwed the fedora back onto his head, glaring down at the floor. "I don't need your charity."

"Yeah, but I'm hungry, and you're here, so what's the problem?" I stood up from the bed, brushing kinks out of my suit. "I won't bite."

He snorted, but the ghost of a smile started to appear on his face. "I happen to know for a fact that you do. Don't lie." He ran a finger around the shutter speed toggle of his camera. "I'll wait for you in the hall."

"Wait for what? Here, I'm up." I started towards the door, but the sight of Charles with his arms crossed over his chest blocked my path.

"No. You're getting changed. You have a suitcase right there, put on a new set of clothes. I'm not going anywhere with a man who slept in his clothes."

"You know I could have very easily pointed out the inherent hypocrisy of that statement, but I chose not to because I have a deep and unabiding respect for your feelings."

He patted my cheek, smirking. "Sure you do. I'll be in the hall."