Madeline had never showered and dressed so quickly in all her born days. Raven had laid out a blue satin slip dress on her un-slept-in bed, with a single sheet on notepaper on top saying '?', but had obviously not had the time to wait around for her missing bridesmaid to return and provide an explanation for her absence.

Madeline slid into it, and into the highly improbable shoes that Raven had selected for her, in record time and hobbled as quickly as she could to Raven's room, where she found the blue girl standing in front of a full length mirror trying on the dried cornflower crown which constituted her entire wedding outfit. She spun around at the sound of the opening door.

"Maddie! Where in the name of God have you been? It's starting in half an hour! How do I look?"

"You look amazing, as always. I'm so sorry, Raven. Something… came up. I'm the worst bridesmaid ever, I should have been here to help you get ready…"

Raven gave her a lopsided grin and indicated her garland. "Somehow I managed," she quipped. "Right now, I want you to explain to be what 'came up'!" Maddy's mouth opened and closed as she tried to come up with something true that wouldn't blow Charles' cover completely, when a knock on the door saved her.

"I'll get that!" she blurted gratefully, and flew to the door where she found Hank looking agitated in a morning suit.

"Hey Maddie. Is she in there? I need to speak to her."

"What? No way! You can't see her before the wedding, it's bad luck!"

"But-"

"Oh come on Maddie, you know I'm not the superstitious type," said Raven, coming up behind Maddie and pulling the cracked door open wide. She beamed at her husband-to-be, then her face fell as she took in his expression. "Oh God, you've changed your mind, haven't you?" she said flatly.

Hank bilnked. "What? What, God, NO, Raven. Absolutely not. It's just-" he came into the room, and took both her hands in his. "Something's happened. Something I didn't-"

Raven put a hand to his cheek.

"Hey. Hey, calm down. What is it?" Hank rested his face against her hand, took a deep breath. Then he looked into her eyes.

"My- my parents are here. They came."

Raven's face split into a dazzling smile.

"Oh my God, Hank that is so wonderful! I know we sent the invite, but you didn't really expect them to show, not after – everything. I'm so happy for you." She kissed him on the cheek, and gave a little jump of excitement. "I can't wait to meet them!"

Hank smiled weakly.

"About that…"

A quizzical look clouded Raven's happy smile. "What is it?"

Hank stuttered. "It's just… I mean they're here… but they're still, you know… it's a lot for them to be here. To accept me. To try. And I just think… I mean it might be easier for them if…" He trailed off helplessly. Raven looked blank. And then her expression closed up. Here hand fell from his face.

"Oh." She said. Just that. Hank turned red, looked at his feet.

"I know it's a lot to ask. I know. I'm sorry. I'll go."

He got to the door when Raven called him.

"Hank?"

He turned, just in time to see Raven's blue form ripple away, replaced with golden hair, peaches and cream, blue eyes sparkling with tears.

"See you at the altar," she said, he voice flat, controlled. She smiled a brittle smile.

Expressions fought in Hank's face –guilt, shame, gratitude. But all he said was "see you at the altar," then fled with unseemly haste. Maddie watched him go, then turned back to Raven, not knowing what to say.

"Raven? Are you alright?"

Raven wrapped her arms protectively around herself, crossing them over her breasts – Raven who had no shame. When she turned to Maddie, her face was wet, but her voice was steady as she said "help me find something to wear, Maddie. Please. I need something white."

Charles was doing his level best to charm the socks of Dr and Mrs McCoy, with a combination of quintessential British courtesy and the elan that was bursting out of him today on account of his change of circumstances. The two middle-aged Midwesterners were cool and guarded, and he could tell that this was in addition to being most reserved by nature. But under his onslaught of charisma they were just beginning to unbend, although he could see the repressed recoil in them every time one of the more obviously mutated guests took their seat in the marquee. He tried not to judge them too harshly for that, to quell the defensiveness he felt on behalf of his brothers and sisters. They came, he reminded himself. They are clearly incredibly uncomfortable and unsure, but they cam anyway because they love their son. They are trying; it's a start.

As Hank's father nodded and said that he had indeed read the fascinating longitudinal study in last month's Lancet about the relatively low levels of all types of cancer experienced by patients with the mutant X gene even if recessive, Charles noticed Madeline, ravishing in a blue satin frock, gesturing to him from the open flap of the marquee. It must be time. Charles politely excused himself to the McCoys, rolled into the aisle and clapped Hank warmly on the lower back. The younger man was dancing nervously from foot to foot, pulling at his high collar and checking his pocket over and over again for the rings.

"Showtime old chap. Good luck," Charles whispered encouragingly, then wheeled himself back up the aisle to take his place beside Raven.

Hi double-took when he exited the marquee, to find her in her old human disguise, pulling uncomfortably at the floaty sleeves of a white lace summer dress he'd last seen her in about 12 years ago. Madeline was whispering in Raven's ear, holding her arm.

"Raven you don't have to do this. Not like this. Hank will understand. You can change back-" she broke off upon seeing Charles. He raised his eyebrows at her and they shared a mental exchange.

What is this?

Hank. You know, his parents. He said it would be easier.

Charles scowled.

Easier for whom, I wonder?

He reached up and pulled his sister's hand away from where it fiddled with her dress and held it to his cheek.

"It doesn't have to be this way, my love. I can speak to Hank." But Raven raised her chin, shook her head.

"No. He doesn't ask for much. He puts up with a lot. It's just one day," she said, the words belying the total misery in her tone.

"But Raven. It's your wedding day," he said, grimacing with the shame, the suppressed anger, and the hurt he was unwillingly picking up from her. She pulled away her hand, folded her arms.

"It is. It's mine, and his. And I've made up my mind. Now are you going to walk me down that aisle, or am I going to have to give myself away?"

He sighed, and smiled weakly at her.

"You know I wouldn't miss this for the world. If you're sure, then let's go get you married."

Maddie looked at him from behind Raven's squared shoulder, shook her head helplessly. He raised his shoulders in the barest shrug.

This is wrong, Charles. It's horrible and wrong.

It's what she wants. Well, it's what she's decided. You know all she'll do is dig her heels in if I argue with her. Her mind's made up.

I know. But this is wrong.

Raven turned to Maddie, held out her hand.

"Bouquet?"

Maddie passed it to her. Raven held the clutch of cornflowers and ox-eye daisies up in front of her like a shield. She took a deep breath, and then suddenly set off, so Charles had to pivot suddenly in his chair to stay alongside. Maddie fell in behind them and the string quartet struck up the bridal march. Hank turned in his place and took in his bride, and in his face – instead of joy, or awe, or love – they saw only relief.

The benches had been cleared away, tables and chairs laid out around the marquee, filled with Hank and Raven's guests. The band was playing a mixture of jazz standards and popular songs, the champagne was flowing freely, and the bride and groom stood side by side receiving congratulations. Now the ceremony was done and Raven had met his parents without incident, Hank had relaxed, loosened his tie, and was smiling and talking easily with his friends, his arm round Raven's waist. Raven, however, was stony faced, her lips mouthing conventional responses while her hands unconsciously tore her bouquet to bits. Whenever one of the tuxedoed waiters walked by her with their trays of champagne, she took a glass – Raven who never drank. Maddie was watching her from a nearby table, in the way you watch a dormant volcano that has begun just barely to rumble and smoke. She couldn't see a way for this to end well.

She rose and threaded her way through the crowd to where Charles was sitting, staring morosely into his glass of champagne. He saluted Maddie lackadaisically as she sat by him.

"Well, I wasn't holding out great hopes for this marriage," he murmured to her, "but at this rate I'd be surprised if it lasts the night. Tell me Maddie, how can a man like Hank be so, so clever, and yet also so incredibly stupid?" She tapped his glass with his and then upended it.

"Your guess is as good as mine. Better even. Or not, I suppose, now," she said, looking around for another waiter. "Poor Raven. You know, there could be worse times for your little party trick; it would make her so happy, and it would give us all something else to think about. Not to mention, if you leave it much longer, you won't actually be able to stand up, even though you can, if you see what I mean." Charles snorted mid-swig and choked a bit, then clinked their glasses once again.

"Touche, my dear. I was wondering when the right moment would be. I'm actually surprised how awkward I feel about it, especially after all this drama; I feel like 'the sorbet after a side of beef', as Oscar said." Maddie blinked at him.

"Whatever on earth are you rambling on about, Charles? You're drunker than I thought. You might as well just-" she stopped so suddenly he sat up straight, worried something awful had happened. He turned to follow her astonished gaze, and saw a figure lurking in the entrance to the marquee, wearing a pale grey suit and carrying a large, flat, brown-papered parcel under one arm.

Erik.

Was it Maddie's thought or his? He couldn't tell. For surely their feelings mirrored each others': total astonishment; and dangerous joy.

As if gathering himself together, Erik had pulled himself stiffly upright, and strode across the floor towards the bride and groom. Raven's mouth fell open in utter shock, and Hank went puce and started opening and shutting his mouth like a fish out of water. Erik held out the parcel to him, offered his hand to the astonished bride.

"Hank; Raven; congratulations," he said. "I'm sorry I missed the ceremony, my flight was delayed. But I'm glad to have the chance to wish you all the best. I hope you will be very happy." His kept his hand held out, waiting for one of them to take it or hit it away. The entire room had fallen silent as he spoke, and now a susurration of whispers and exclamations started to rise up, only to fall silent again when Raven, ignoring Erik's extended hand, fell straight into his arms with a strangled sound that was half sob and half laugh, and clung onto him crying, laughing, and he put his arms up around her, pressing his face into her neck and whispering something that sounded like "I'm sorry," but couldn't possibly have been. After all this was Erik Lehnscherr, who didn't do apologies. Hank stared, opened his mouth and shut it again, and then in what was probably the best decision he had made that day, went off to put the gift on the table with the others, leaving Raven to draw Erik over to a table and practically shove him into a chair. The two of them settled into a deep discussion, and Raven looked more alive and more like herself than she had been all day.

Charles stared, and stared, and stared, completely unaware that tears were falling from his eyes onto the crips white tablecloth. He stared at Erik, taking in every detail of him, unable to believe the man he'd dreamed of and longed for so many months was actually sitting a stone's throw from him across a marquee, talking to his sister. He's here.

Suddenly he became aware of a hand squeezing his under the table. He glanced up at Maddie, saw a reflection of his feelings in her face.

"Oh Charles," she said, her voice throbbing with happiness. "It's now. It has to be now. This is the moment. Oh God, I'm so thankful I'm going to see his face. Go on now. Go to him."

Charles squeezed her hand, trying with all the power he possessed to let her feel the strength of his gratitude, his love. And then he nodded, dropped her hand, and wheeled across the marquee towards Erik.

Raven had left Erik for a moment, made her way over to the gift table to mollify her disgruntled groom. Erik, whose face had been full of expression and feeling talking to her, had shuttered up now. He looked around the room guardedly, noting all the stares, the whispers, some of them fascinated, some openly hostile. He tensed, preparing himself for a challenge. Then he noticed Charles.

He watched him approaching, taking in everything that he had missed so much – those too blue eyes, those too red lips, that flop of hair over his face, that smile. The smile was if anything more radiant than Erik had remembered or could summon up in fantasy; he felt as though he was caught in the beam of a spotlight, the light moving ever closer until he was utterly dazzled by its blaze.

Charles came to a stop in front of him, so close Erik could have reached out and touched that light, so close that he could smell that smell that was so completely utterly Charles, warm wool and old leather, tea and toast. He forced himself not to close his eyes and shamelessly breathe it in like a smoker sucking in his first of the day. He forced himself to stay in his seat, keep his hands on the tabletop, not to fall on his knees and bury his face in Charles' chest and forget everything except that scent.

"Erik. You came," said Charles, and his voice was effulgent with affection, with welcome. Erik felt, as he so often did, utterly chastened by the ease, the generosity, with which Charles gave his love away. He smiled tightly, trying not to let his lips tremble, his heart jump up in his chest and out of his mouth.

"I did. I wore a suit. I brought a gift. Just like you said."

Charles laughed, almost giddily. Erik's smile became less tight, more real.

"And as you see," Charles replied, with a quirk of his eyebrow, "everything's going just as swimmingly as we expected."

Erik barked a laugh involuntarily, then cut it off. "How can you joke? I mean what the hell is Hank playing at?" Charles shook his head.

"I know. The idiot. But here we are; the deed is done, by hook or by crook, and we'll all have to weather the fallout. If there's one thing Raven isn't, it's a submissive wife – she's accommodated him today, but he'll be paying for it by and by If I'm not much mistaken."

"Sooner than you think, by the looks of it," muttered Erik, watching with some approval as Raven, who had been quietly remonstrating with a spluttering Hank, began to raise her voice.

"Oh God," groaned Charles. "I do hope she isn't going to initiate divorce proceedings before we've even cut the cake. It cost a fortune. And looks frankly delicious."

Suddenly Charles leant forward confidentially, put a hand on Erik's arm. Erik felt something like an electric shock go off inside him, went rigid in his seat.

"I tell you what," he whispered, "why don't we give them something else to think about for a moment?"

Erik looked at him blankly, bewildered. Somewhere outside the roaring in his ears, the band had struck up a jaunty melody, a lilting major chord and a gentle jingle of bells, almost festive.

I may not always love you, but 'long as there are stars above you…

"Erik Lehnsherr," Charles murmured playfully, his hand gently smoothing the fabric on Erik's forearm, "may I have this dance?"

….you never need to doubt it, I'll make you so sure about it…

Erik stared at Charles in confusion, the beginnings of anger. Dance? It seemed such a cruel joke.

But then Charles rose to his feet and held out his hand.

…God only knows what I'd be without you…

Erik's eyes widened in shock, then his face fell in disappointment. The serum. Of course. A special occasion, and Charles had wanted to actually walk his sister down the aisle.

No love. This is real. This is all me. All of me.

"Gott in Himmel!"

Erik shot to his feet like a scalded cat at the sensation of that gentle mental touch. His eyes filled with scalding tears, but he stared furiously through the blur, unwilling even to blink in case this vision, which was obviously, had to be, a delusion, a dream, just disappeared. Charles just smiled at him, waiting.

…If you should ever leave me, though life would still go on, believe me….

"Charles," Erik rasped, the tears just falling off his face now, unheeded. "Charles. How? How? I…"

Charles smiled almost sympathetically, and sent a gentle mental summary of what Maddie had done, what she had given to him. Erik gasped as if he'd been punched, literally staggered. Charles put out a hand to steady him, gripped his forearm. Erik put his other hand on Charles' arm, gripped so tightly it hurt.

…the world would show nothing to me, so what good would living do me…

"But this time… this time… forever?" All Erik's fear, all his vulnerability, showed naked in this almost pleading question. And he didn't even care. Charles smiled like a supernova.

"This time, forever."

Erik gasped again, this time more like the helpless ghost of a laugh. Charles put his other hand to the taller man's lean face, cupping his cheekbone with infinite gentleness, and Erik leaned desperately into the touch, closed his eyes tight shut and breathed in sharply through his nose, trying not to just break down completely.

…God only knows what I'd be without you….

"Erik. Please. Dance with me. It's been so long." Charles gave the metalbender's arm a gentle tug, and Erik, helpless, let himself be led, stumbled after Charles onto the dance floor like a man in a dream, wrapped his arms around Charles' waist as the telepath's arms went up around his neck, and they moved together, foreheads pressed one to another, Erik's face screwed up tight against the tears that wouldn't stop falling and the sobs that were coming after, his hands digging into Charles' jacket like a drowning man clinging to a life raft. And all the while Charles' fingertips traced soothing circles on the back of his neck, and Charles' voice murmured softly, "it's all right, my love, it's all right…" It was only when Charles gave a loud sniff that Erik opened his eyes and realised that he was weeping too.

…God only knows….

Erik brought his trembling mouth down softly, infinitely gently, onto Charles', felt an answering tremor in the younger man's full lips as he answered the kiss. Distantly Erik heard a woman's short sharp scream and the smash of a glass, and he vaguely understood that Raven hadn't known before he did; but the vast majority of him was given over to this kiss, this moment, when it felt like some miraculous and ever-loving hand had swept across his life and swept away every injury, every pain, and every crime, leaving only the sweet, the pure, the whole. Leaving only this: his lover's lips, his lover's hitching breath inside his mouth, his lover's tears meeting and mingling with his against his face. There was nothing more than that in his whole heart.