Charles got married in his army greens.
He was booked to ship out in a week. It had been a spontaneous, rash decision on his part, stemming from an inborn guilt based on his inherited life of excess as well as a consuming desire to get away from the people he called family. The solution to his turmoils seemed to be to enlist.
His Mother had been appropriately shocked and suitably horrified, swooning and gasping when he'd told her, although he knew for a fact that the act was for the benefit of Mrs Emerson who'd been over for tea at the time, and that although she felt a faint sense of sadness for the departure of her only son, she was for the most part simply concerned over the social implications.
Kurt on the other hand didn't even bother to hide his delight. "Builds character!" he'd been touting for the past few months, "Worldy experience." was another and "Fighting for our nation!" made the cut as well. Anyone, even without the ability to see his darkest thoughts, the ones that hoped for his stepson's timely death overseas leaving the Xavier inheritance all to Kurt and his own son, could see that the man would not be sorry to see Charles go.
So this whirlwind romance and hurried ceremony, this was all for them. For Kurt and Cain Marko, Charles stood on this alter, one last insult from the upstart, good for nothing achedemic. Providing a new contender for the fortune in the unfortunate circumstance that Charles be killed in combat.
He looked out over the crowd and met Kurt's eyes. Oh the man was steaming! His thoughts were a tangled broil of hatred and fury and desperation. Charles was used to the first two, but the third was new and slightly alarming. The man on his darkest day had even considered the possibility of murdering Charles' future wife in order to ensure that the line of succession pass to him. He wouldn't actually do it, but the fact that the thought had been entertained was unsettling.
His mother, to her husband's right, was working her way to an orchestrated cry. There was a sense of finallyfinallyfinally there, a smug pleasure at the extravigance of the ceremony, much better than the Richards' boy's wedding a month back, and a touch of impatience at the speed of the proceedings. The Xavier complexion, you must know, burns easily on cloudless days like this.
Cain hadn't shown, which was fine with Charles. His mother had been furious, it was poor form for the stepbrother of the groom to be absent. But Charles was rather relieved. Because where Charles doubted Kurt's conviction in the desire to murder, his son was a different case. The man was greedy and malicious and not at all hesitant to fight for what he wanted. He'd have to warn Gabrielle to be careful when he was gone.
His fiancée, his girlfriend of two measly months, his bride his soon to be wife had entered to room while he'd been distracted by the minds of the guests, and was now climbing the steps of the alter.
Charles fixed a giddy-groom smile on his face and reached out to take Gabby's hands. The crowd cooed quietly at the display of what was surly true love.
Gabrielle Haller was a beautiful woman. To others that meant that she had long, pin straight black hair and long-lashed amber eyes. To Charles her beauty was most evident in her mind. Gabby's thoughts were the purest of any adult he'd met, and that had drawn him to her. The innocent tone of her mind was a refreshing break from the reeking corruption that flavoured most of humanity.
The reason, of course was that Gabby still had the mind of a young teenager. Charles had come across the comatose young woman while in training two months back. Gabrielle Haller had been unconscious since she was fourteen. Now, after six years of unawareness, the young woman presented Charles with a delightful novelty. He may have rummaged around a bit in her brain, reattaching stands of thoughts and soothing damaged areas, chipping away at the areas of trauma which had caused her to fall into that state in the first place, and then giving her a gentle shove to wake up.
It had been written as a miracle. After over half a decade they'd almost given up hope. To find that not only was the girl awake, but she'd also blissfully forgotten the horrors that had triggered the coma. It was the ideal situation.
Gabrielle had awakened to Charles' face, and his mind against hers. She'd fallen for him, then and there, on a conscious and subconscious level, her mind recognizing that he'd saved her, even when she herself couldn't.
That left Charles to the complicated task that was courting a fourteen year old. Gabrielle crushed like a teenager, and was utterly unsure of what to do with the new, mature body she found herself in. She was besotted with him that was a sure thing, but what did a teenager know of adult relationships?
But Gabby (as she'd gigglingly insisted he call her) was an enthusiastic learner. Throwing caution to the wind like only an infatuated teen could, she'd thrown her twenty-year-old body at Charles eagerly. And Charles, never one to be a prude, had shrugged and gone with it.
He supposed he should feel guilty about using such youthful innocence to achieve his own selfish means- mostly pissing off the Markos- but Gabrielle seemed straight out delighted to help him do so. Anyway, she was getting a fortune and a prestigious name in return.
The minister said his piece, Charles dutifully repeated the parts he had to while at the same time listening wih some amusement to the man's distaste for the whole thing. And oh, he'd heard whispers that the Xavier boy was an atheist, and that Ms Haller was a Jew, both equally damning sins in his mind.
Vows said, rings exchanged, blessing (grudgingly) given, Charles took his new wife in his arms and pressed a chaste kiss to her mouth. Gabrielle, still lacking an adult sense of propriety, threw her arms around his neck and opened her mouth passionately.
Charles could hear the gossip mills starting up, and tried to as gently as he could put some distance between him and his new wife. Oh dear his mother was absolutely mortified poor old girl. The other guests were all delighted at the new tidbit of scandal, and the only people who were feeling pure happiness for the young couple was the small group of nurses who'd come in from the city to see their precious Gabby married.
The reception passed in a whirl of too-rich food and false well wishings from the guests. Gabrielle was ecstatic as people she'd heard about of the radio or television, or seen in magazines patted her cheek and presented her with extravigant gifts. For Charles, it was just another party consisting of people who hated each other but pretended to be friends.
Finally, he helped Gabrielle into the backseat of the Bentley, helped arrange the voluminous folds of her dress around her, and squeezed in beside her. With the elite of New York waving them off, they pulled out of the church lot and onto the road.
Gabrielle had been brokenhearted that they wouldn't get a proper honeymoon, but was slightly placated when he'd shown her the Weschester estate. He knew that her idea of a dream vacation was the classic private villa in the Bahamas or the Caribbean, moonlit beach walks and romantic sunsets had coloured her mind pink orange and purple for weeks.
But Charles selfishly had shot down the tropical locations under the farce of his imminent deployment. In reality he just didn't want to go. Xaviers really did burn easily, that wasn't just his mother crying for attention. And he didn't like the way his legs looked in shorts, and sandals didn't agree with his feet. Thankfully, the mansion in the countryside reminded Gabrielle of a castle, appealing nicely to her childish fantasy that he was a prince who was whisking her off to a fairy tail life.
The sun had set, the clear winter sky now speckled with bright pinpricks of stars. The interior of the car was soothingly quiet after such a busy day, and Charles allowed himself to sink back into the seat and relax. Gabrielle leaned against his shoulder, a not unwelcome warmth at his side and dozed peacefully. The driver's thoughts were pleasent enough, half a mind on the road and the other half on his brand new granddaughter and how she'd clung to his finger earlier that day. It was lovely.
The road to Westchester was very nearly deserted at this time of night, and the few cars they passed chugged slowly along the patch-ice.
Except for the one that hit them, coming around the bend full speed and skidding sideways straight into them.