Epilogue

Hank is there to meet him when he arrives, steering him quickly up the stairs to Raven's exhibit on the second floor. The buzz of the crowd seems to fill the spacious room, from the hardwood floors up to the ceiling rafters, the sound washing over Charles as he steps gingerly into the gallery space.

"This is a great turnout," he says, his eyes darting around the room until they land on his sister, resplendent in a dress of sapphire blue. "How is she?"

"In her element," Hank answers, the smile on his lips soft and fond. "She's amazing. And this is her best collection yet."

Charles nods; though he has no real understanding or appreciation for contemporary art, he's always loved Raven's work. From the start Charles has been her champion and her greatest supporter, and it warms his heart to see her success now, after so many years of relative obscurity.

"Care for a drink, sir?"

One of the servers interrupts his train of thought - an attractive brunette with pretty green eyes. She smiles at him, her gaze darting quickly between the two men before coming to rest on Charles. It's an obvious enough appraisal that even Hank notices, though Charles is quick to end the interaction, taking a glass of white wine off the tray with thanks before turning away, fixing his attention on one of the paintings on the wall.

Hank snorts. "Well that was subtle."

"What? I'm not here to meet anyone." Charles takes a sip of his wine and grins. "And she's not really my type."

"No I guess not," Hank laughs. "They can't all be Steve Rogers you know."

Charles sobers at the mention of Steve, though he tries hard not to let it show. He feels a little bad at the mortified expression that blooms across Hank's face, though not bad enough to help his new brother-in-law as he fumbles over an apology.

"I'm sorry Charles! I didn't mean to bring him up! I know it's only been four months and you're probably not ready to joke about it yet. I don't know what I was thinking…I think I had too many glasses of champagne in the limo with Raven-"

"No, it's fine." He smiles, giving Hank's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "The decision was mutual, and we have no regrets. Plus, you never know. Maybe I will meet someone tonight. Someone I'll get along with even better than Steve."

His weak attempt at a joke is less than successful, judging by the sympathetic look Hank sends his way. Charles tries to quell his growing irritation by turning to other topics, distracting them both with a discussion about the latest round of funding cuts and the impact on his research. It's enough to take Charles' mind off of the dismal state of his personal life, until Hank is called away to meet some of Raven's other guests.

As he wanders the room his mind drifts back to a night almost two years ago, when he first met Steve at another of Raven's shows. He'd been so reluctant to attend, too wrapped up in his misery over the divorce and unable to stomach the company of strangers. It didn't help that Raven's centerpiece was a life size canvas of his ex-husband; a moody, atmospheric oil painting that managed to capture every bit of Erik's beauty and intensity.

He's grateful at least, that there isn't another painting of Erik here tonight.

Charles exchanges his empty wine glass for a new one, before making his way over to a somewhat secluded corner of the gallery. He finds his brain clinging stubbornly to Erik; to a man he's now been divorced from for almost three years.

They had agreed not to keep in contact when Erik left for Germany, to give them both time and space to heal. It had been difficult for Charles, especially in those early months, not to just pick up the phone and call. He spent many hours of the day wondering if Erik ever regained his memories; he spent as many hours every night wondering if Erik thought of him at all.

Eighteen months later, and Erik is still ever present in his psyche.

Eighteen months later, and the man still leaves a dull ache in his chest.

"Charles."

The voice is painfully familiar, sending a jolt of – surprise? joy? apprehension? – through his entire body. He turns to find the subject of his musings standing right in front of him, as though his brooding has somehow conjured Erik from thin air, rendering him speechless with shock.

"Charles?" Erik repeats, sounding both nervous and a little concerned. He reaches to grip Charles' forearm, squeezing it gently as Charles continues to stare. "Are you alright?"

"What…how…Erik!" he manages to stutter, his arms wrapping themselves around Erik quite unexpectedly, pulling him into a tight embrace. "What are you doing here?"

"I just got back last week," Erik answers, smiling as they slowly pull apart. "I got Raven's email about her show and…well, here I am."

He's still a little stunned by Erik's sudden reappearance, though he does manage to rein his emotions in check. The last thing he wants to do is to blurt out something ridiculous, and make things uncomfortable between them.

"You look good," Charles says, unable to stop himself from grinning like a loon. "You look amazing, actually."

And he does, looking completely different from the last time Charles saw him, still too thin from the accident and his face lined with sorrow. The man in front of him now is full of life, eyes warm and happy, impeccably dressed in a dark navy suit and open collared shirt.

"So do you," Erik remarks, and the way he's staring so intently makes Charles' stomach do a double flip. The wide smile lessens slightly at his next words, though he doesn't take his eyes off of Charles. "Is Steve here? Are you…how are things? Good?"

"Things are good," he answers, and doesn't fail to notice the smile slipping off Erik's face. "And I hope things are good for Steve too, though I wouldn't know. We're not together anymore. He's overseas; back in the Army where he belongs."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Charles sighs, and tries not to read too much into the almost hopeful expression on Erik's face. "Don't be sorry, he needed to do it and I supported him. He had a best friend, someone he thought died in combat years ago. Turns out he's been a POW all this time. He's gone to get him."

Erik nods. "Understandable, I hope he finds his friend." He reaches to touch Charles again, only to drop his hand rather abruptly. "Are you okay? With everything?"

He looks impatient, but Charles can tell that the frustration is directed inwards, at Erik's own inability to express himself. If anything, Charles finds it ridiculously endearing, the wave of fondness he feels sudden and overwhelming.

"I'm fine, really. How are you? How's Edie?"

Erik's smile is infectious, and Charles can't help but grin at his enthusiasm. "Mama is wonderful. She's coming back in a few weeks, after I get everything settled with the new house. She can't wait to see you Charles; she's missed you very much."

"I've missed her too," he says, swallowing the rather sizeable lump in his throat. "So much, Erik. I've missed her so much."

He doesn't know how long they stand there, surrounded by a sea of people yet utterly alone, lost in each other's presence as they hadn't been for years. Finally, something in the distance seems to catch Erik's eye, shaking them both from their reverie.

"I should probably say hi to Raven," Erik says, as he takes Charles' hand. "I'll…see you later?"

"No," he blurts out, and Erik looks surprised, though he doesn't let go of Charles' hand. "I mean…Raven is pretty busy right now, with the show. Do you…want to grab a cup of coffee with me? We can catch up, yeah?"

The smile on Erik's face is blinding. "Yes, Charles," he says, voice soft and warm. "I'd love that."