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There were days when Raven didn't like working in the restaurant for long hours. She enjoyed seeing all the people and occasionally talking to the regulars, but it was when she got to the end of the night that she started having problems. Most days were all right, but then there were the days when it was like she was asleep standing up. Those were the awkward nights when she had to watch herself very carefully for fear that she would be just tired enough to slip.

Tonight was one of those nights and, once her shift was over, she amused herself by talking to Tom, one of her fellow waiters. It kept her awake and thinking and it didn't hurt that he was cute. She'd just talk and flirt with him for the few minutes it would take for Charles to show up and if she slipped him her number, then it wasn't like Charles would ever really know. Unless he happened to pick up.

"Maybe I'd better get yours instead," she told him. The last thing she wanted to do was have Charles looking over her shoulder as she tried to date. She loved him to death, but she could only pine for so long. She reached out to take his number and yanked her hand back when she noticed that the skin underneath her fingernails was blue. She tried to fight the panic. That would only make it worse. She managed to mutter some kind of excuse, but all Tom gave her was a confused and unhappy look. She cursed herself and looked around for Charles, hoping he'd come in the time she'd taken to make an idiot of herself.

"Please be here, please be here."

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"Those things are better experienced with a friend," she repeats and sighs softly. Her voice goes quiet, intimate, and she continues stroking her fingers along his cheek gently. She loves Charles, she does, but sometimes he can be about as blind as a bat and she wonders that he hasn't realized what he's said yet.

"I know all about the 'responsibilities'. As for someone I trust, well, there is only one person I trust and I have a feeling he's not interested." She tries to quash the warm feelings that his leaning into her produce and remind herself that he doesn't see her that way, that he will never see her that way. All she does is look to see how embarrassed he is talking about sex with her to see the proof of that.

"I'm beginning to think that I'll take what I can get. Like you. Are you trying to tell me you know most of the girls you pick up at the pub? Because I can promise you that you don't even if it might seem like it until the next morning."

She closes her eyes and rests her forehead against his. She wants sex, of course, but taking what she can get? That's a lie. She wants the romance. She wants to be someone's everything. She wants the kind of unconditional love that Charles gives her without it being a duty. She knows Charles loves her, but she suspects that part of it is that he feels responsible for her. She doesn't want someone to feel like they should love her. There's been an ache in her chest since Charles arrived, but before it was a purely emotional thing. Now that ache is beginning to get strong enough to be a tangible force that she can actually feel, that actually hurts.

She tries not to think about how very close he is as she whispers, "Don't you ever want...more?"

This isn't going quite the way that Charles might hope for it to go, and he knows that everything that he says only makes it worse, and if he digs himself any deeper into this hole he might end up burying himself alive in it.

"Good. That's - good, I'm glad. That you know about these things. It saves me having to - yes, well, you know and that's the main thing." The touch is making him feel that much more awkward, putting the topic of discussion beside it and the things that she's saying, and he might leap to the wrong conclusion. But, no, this is Raven, his little sister Raven, and that would be ridiculous to assume she was hinting at something.

Charles doesn't understand some of the things that she says and does of late, and as he's never been a young woman he doesn't expect that he ever will. So he puts it down to her trying to make a point, one that he isn't quite sure of yet, but of course that's all it is. "There's someone that you trust?" he asks with an air of surprise, but, in his own way, also with a mixture of delight and curiosity.

"Well, that's - that's different, of course, and I don't claim to be a good role model. In fact, I will quite openly admit that I think I'm a terrible role model for anyone. But your little cosmetic problem offers you an opportunity that I never really believed that I had, and when you do eventually meet someone it will be meaningful and loving and, with any luck, built on trust."

He takes a breath and opens his mouth to continue, but before he can ramble on he cuts himself off, Raven's question cuts him off, and he realies that she's suddenly a lot closer than she had been only moments ago. He closes his eyes for a moment and puts his arms around her, but the question stumps him because of course he wants something more, he would love to have a life full of love where he can settle down and start a family. But he's never really allowed himself to think that could happen for him, being a mutant sets him apart from everyone else, and he loves his work too much, loses himself in it, although he knows from having Raven there to pull him out of it that he wouldn't work quite as much if he had a good reason not to.

"Isn't that what everyone would like to have in their lives? Something more."

"You, Charles. I trust you with everything." Maybe she shouldn't. He keeps breaking her heart and so maybe she shouldn't trust him with that, but she doesn't seem to have a choice. Her voice is sad as she continues. "You can be so thick sometimes. Of course I trust you. Who else would I trust? You're my only friend." There were people she knew. Acquaintances. People she talked to after work. But she never invited them home, never accepted their offer of a drink after work, never even let them know that she was older than she looked. When she had a problem, when she just needed to talk, it was Charles she went to.

She lets that sink in for a minute or maybe she's screwing up her courage before the next words come out of her mouth. "And so you're the one person that you say that I should be with and, perversely, the one person who never will." Or maybe it's her that's the perverted one. He is her brother, after all. Maybe they weren't biologically brother and sister, biologically, but he basically raised her. If that makes her perverse then she's...she's fine with it. Or at least she can't do anything about it.

"And I love you." The words slip out before she can help them. She could leave it there, but she doesn't want to hear his brotherly response. "And please, don't come back with a quick 'I love you, too'. I'm your sister and you know I love you, but it's just...just that I want more."

It hits her that she's done. She's tired of the half truths, of the hopes and fears, of wishing for something that may never, probably will never happen. She squeezes her eyes tightly together and takes a deep breath. This is the end of everything as she's known it and a large part of her is terrified, but the larger part is just sad. It feels as if she's letting go of something special.

"And if that wasn't clear enough for your thick skull, then have this." They're already so close that it's no effort at all to lean in fractionally and press her lips to his. She doesn't expect a response except maybe revulsion and so she pulls away quickly. She tries to pull away from his arms. She's not a little girl anymore. She can't stop hoping that Charles will be her prince. She has to go and find one of her own.

Charles is, for lack of a better word, shocked. Everything seems to be moving so very slowly and far too fast all at the same time, and he isn't sure whether or not his brain is keeping up with things, especially not his body, so he simply stands there, stunned, arms lowering slowly from the hold on Raven when she pulls away. If he weren't so surprised by all of this he might hold on. Would he? Should he? He isn't sure, doesn't know if that's what he wants to do, or if it would be for the right reasons, so for the time being it's probably for the best.

So many thoughts and feelings swim around in his mind, whizzing by too quickly to really hold onto them long enough to focus on.

Eventually he does snap out of it, unsure of what he's going to do or what he's going to say, but knowing that something right now is perhaps better than nothing at all, and either way he's almost certain it's going to be the wrong thing.

Charles laughs. A loud, sharp, although short, burst of sound that pulls out of his lungs and echoes around them. But there's no humour to it, if anything it's more an act of relief, and he does feel better for it once it's over. "Oh, Raven, is that what all of this has been about? The strange way that you have been behaving, and the quite frankly upsetting mood swings?" He's smiling as this part of it is registering, sinking in enough for him to join some of the dots, but it doesn't last.

"But I do love you, Raven, and, yes, as your brother, as a member of a family would love any of their relatives." There's a bitter little twist to his lips, and he adds in a mutter, "Well, most family members at the very least." He sighs, at somewhat of a loss, and takes a small step closer to fill some of the space that she's put between them. "But I have never thought of you that way, Raven, I'm sorry. Anyone would be so very lucky to have you, I truly believe that, but I'm afraid I'm not that lucky nor have I ever been."

The thought of anyone feeling that way towards him is absurd, maybe in passing, but as something meaningful? It's laughable. And to think that Raven, the young girl that he adopted as his sister and gone to great lengths to protect and care for, who he's watched grow up into a fine and beautiful young woman, no credit to himself, is just...impossible. The fact is that he's never thought about it, never even considered it, not because of Raven but because of himself, because he has never thought himself worthy enough of anything serious, always pictured himself growing old in the mansion, still engrossed in his work, with visits from Raven and her family, because Charles is many things, of that he is aware, but capable of being the thing that someone should commit to is not one of them.

"Come on, we really do need to get you inside and out of the cold. How about we discuss this further over a cup of a tea, mmm?" As much as he wants anything other than to be having this conversation, if not only because he doesn't really know what to say in response, or how to deal with it in the right way, he really is worried that if she stays out in the cool night with the rain still slowly coming down that she's going to end up getting sick. "There should still be a packet of those biscuits that you like so much at the back of the cupboard."

There is something in Raven that breaks with every new word that comes out of Charles' mouth. She's known, or at least suspected, that he didn't feel that way toward her, but that's the point of hope, isn't it? It's something to cling to because you don't know any better. It's why she's never asked him before. She wants to cling to that hope like a child clings to a warm blanket. If she could, she'd take back the words that have sprung from her mouth. She wishes she could say that she was joking, kidding, but even if she does, it won't change the answer that he's given her.

He loves her like a sister. Never have words been so cruel, especially when she can't even blame him for them. Of course he sees her like a sister. He's raised her as one. He's the one who was there every time she scraped a knee or was bullied in class or even when she was just lonely. But there are lines that brothers just do not cross and she has found the one.

She flinches when she laughs - that bit of cruelty is something she can blame on him - and pulls away again when he tries to move back closer to her. She can't. She's already done the one thing that would hurt her most, she's already opened up to her in the way that she's always been terrified about - and he's shut the door in her face. She can't go back to the way things were. She can't stay locked behind that door and pretend she doesn't have the feelings she does. It's not fair to her or to him.

"Charles." She begins slowly, but the words come from someplace deep inside. They're words that have been waiting to be said. "I'm not your little sister. You may think of me like that and we may have grown up together, and maybe that makes me your sister in your mind, but...but you don't have to protect me anymore. Don't forget, I'm not that much younger than you are. I may not be able to have some kind of a normal life, but I want one. You were always the only one I could imagine having that life with because with you, I wouldn't have to be everyone else's normal. I could be my own. But...but I understand."

She's outside, but she's already getting claustrophobic. She needs to get out, get away, have some time to herself to think.

"I need to go now. okay? I can't do the 'happy little family'. Not tonight. I promise that I'll be back before morning, but I need a walk. By myself."

Charles is truly lost for words for a whole minute, if not longer, and that is not something he finds himself being very often. But the way that Raven flinches away from his touch, now, and throws back the fact that, as much as he might picture it that way, the two of them are not nor will they ever truly be siblings, not in the normal sense. To him, however, she will always be family, no matter what the general rules are in the world, in his heart and in his mind she will always be something more to him.

It hurts, to hear the words, to have the facts that he knows pointed out to him from the one person he never thought could hurt him quite as much as he is right now. But she has every right to do so, and he knows it, but more than that, considering the circumstances, he can't even bring himself to be angry at her for it.

He doesn't try to make another advance towards her, because for as slow as he can be at times he can see how much she seems to be suffocating at the present, and whether intentionally or not this is somehow his fault.

"Raven, please, let's be civil about this. Come home with me, we can talk about this properly and deal with it." Somehow, no matter he says, he doesn't see how she's going to be even remotely convinced by him. He feels a panic building up and working its way through him. "It's late, love, and it's getting rather cold out here. Where on earth are you going to go at this time?"

Their flat isn't that far away, but right now it feels a great distance away, and he knows that if he has to finish the rest of the walk alone it's going to feel ten times worse. "If you're worried that I won't listening to you, hear you out, then I can assure you that I will. You have my word. But please come home before you catch your death out here." The idea of Raven harbouring feelings for him beyond what he himself has always told himself he felt isn't as terrifying as it perhaps ought to be, and that worries him a little. But it doesn't mean anything. Does it? Surely he would have considered it before now if it did. "I can't leave you here to wander the streets alone at night, that would be irresponsible of me, and as much as I believe you capable of taking care of yourself, I sharen't be able to rest knowing that you're out here by yourself."

"There's nothing left to say, though, is there? I told you, showed you, exactly how I feel and you just...don't. Really, that's all there is to it." She takes one step back and then another. She wants the steps to be easy. She knows what she has to do. But the steps are harder than any she's taken in her life. "You don't know how much I want to say that of course I'll come with you, of course I'll let you take me home and that of course things will be the same as they've always been."

That is the easy solution. It's the solution that wouldn't require any effort on her part at all. She can just slide into it and pretend for a little while longer. Except the easy way out is a weight on her conscience. The easy way out is a lie that she can't tell, refuses to tell, any longer.

"You want to know where I'd go? Nowhere. Or maybe everywhere. I'm not leaving, but I need to clear my head. I need space, Charles, please. I need..." She knows the next words out of her mouth are going to sound horrible. She says them anyway. "I need time to grieve. I've been waiting for you since I knew what those kinds of feelings were and you've just told me that there's no point waiting. I can't just go back to normal after that. Not right away. Please, don't argue with me over this."

She's so tired and it's not the sort of exhaustion that a good night's sleep can cure. Her shoulders are slumped and she's sure there are shadows under her eyes. There's only so much that she can do and she suspects that her concentration isn't the best right now. She's keeping her form only as a matter of habit.

"Just let me go, Charles."

There are so many different ways that this could have gone and somehow this still feels like the worst of all of them. Charles stands there, at a loss of what to say to make her go home with him, so that he knows that she's safe and warm and taken care of, and feeling so much more helpless than he ever remembers feeling in his entire life, which, considering chunks of his childhood, is saying something.

"But I don't want to let you go, Raven," he says, looking and sounding surprised at his own words, at how foreign his voice registers to his own ears, and he might not know what it is that he's doing here, or why he's saying it, but he knows, now, that it is most definitely true. "Can you not see that? I don't want to let you go, Raven, because you are far too important to me. Perhaps I don't care for you in quite the same way that you do for me, but it's not as if I've actually given it much thought. I..."

The pause lingers, and he can feel the tension it leaves, his own suspense building because he still isn't sure of what he's saying or where it's coming from, but he needs to put this right. "This isn't something that I ever would have dreamed you to long for, love, and because of that I never allowed myself to indulge in such thoughts. But that doesn't mean that I - that there isn't..." But he doesn't know how this part of the conversation finishes, or what's driving it, and he frowns, frustrated at the situation and angry at himself.

"You know me better than anyone, Raven, there will never be anyone who could be as close to me as you are, so you must realise how bad I would be for you in such a way. I work far too many hours, locking myself away until you drag me back to reality, and I should perhaps admit that I am so very grateful for those gestures. But I'm selfish, Raven, and so very set in my ways, and you deserve more than that. You are worth so much more than that, than what I could ever possibly offer you. You already share everything that I own, but outside of that I can't offer you anything that you ought to have."

Yet something nags at the back of his mind, something he can't quite put his finger on, and it refuses to stop. What if he were to think about this, to come to terms with the idea - would it make a difference? Maybe. Maybe not. But he knows that she is worth ten times what he is, and that he's already stolen so much of her life by keeping her safe, locking her away from the world in order to protect her, because as much as he believes he has saved her time and time again from the cruelties of the world, he also isn't ignorant to his own actions enough that he could ever justify some of the things that he's done over the years. This, for example, being one of them. He should let her go, really, he should, but he's selfish, he hates the thought of anyone else getting her, no one will ever be good enough, and no one would ever look after her properly without some ill intention behind it.

"Please, let us just go home for tonight. I promise I sharen't speak to you if you need your space, I will go directly to bed and remain there if it means that you will be safe and warm at home where you ought to be."

"Stop it," she says. Her voice is pained. She should go, a part of her even wants to, but she can't help but be caught by his words. There's something he's not saying or something that he's talking around and it's drawing her in again. Hope. He's giving her hope again and he really should stop it because it's confusing. Feeling as if she wants to press up against him and flee for her life both at the same time is utterly confusing and she just wishes she'd make up her mind. She thought she had until he began talking again.

"Stop talking about what I should need or should have. What I should have is exactly the thing that makes me happy. That puts a smile on my face. That makes me feel safe. You don't have to list all of your faults. I probably know them better than you do, but I love you anyway. Or maybe because of them. Because of the way I'll come into the study and find you asleep on your book. Because of the look you give to the women you pick up at the pub. I might hate it, but there are times when I want you to look at me in that way."

She pauses, not exactly sure what to say next.

"Stop sounding like you're...like you're... Brothers let their sisters go. Parents let their children go. If that's what you feel for me, like some kind of little sister or my protector, you should be able to let me go. If you can't," she says, laughing humorlessly, "then maybe it's for the same reason that I can't seem to leave even when I think you're going to break my heart. Even when you already have. I love you, no, I am in love with you, and even if there is the slimmest hope that you might return those feeling I can't leave. I can't just walk away and forget all about you, about this. You're wrong. I don't care about what you own. The one thing you can offer me is something much more precious to me. Love. Not dutiful love, not safe love."

The thoughts in her head are so scrambled that she simply acts on instinct and goes to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She doesn't kiss him, though. She searches his face with eyes that are so vulnerable. She's terrified that he will just stomp on her heart one final time. After a moment, one hand slides down his neck and presses to his chest.

"I want this," she whispers. She looks down at her hand and, when she looks up, her eyes are yellow. It's a sight for him only. "After everything that I should or shouldn't want, should or shouldn't have, this is all I want. All I need." She wants him to kiss her. She's already taken that first step and she desperately wants him to take his, but her eyes are already beginning to well with the tears that will come with his rejection. In her imagination, she can already begin to feel him pull away.

Charles leaves a lingering silence looming over them, sighing heavily with the sudden overwhelming feeling of being so beyond confused it actually hurts, and he knows that as much as he should make some sort of official decision he isn't in a right place to do that. But if he were to have a little time, to mull everything over, to weigh up the pros and cons on both sides, and to sift through his own thoughts and feelings that he's swallowed down for so long he can no longer tell what's what.

He, at least, owes her that much. To make a choice based on true feelings rather than in the spare of the moment, and especially for lack of anything else. And he really doesn't trust himself to make the right decision. If he says no, if he turns her down, he knows that he's going to lose her and the thought alone is unbearable. But if he rushes in and says that, perhaps, there is a chance, then he's offering her something that might turn out to be false, and being the cause of her pain, like he knows he is right now, is just as unbearable as losing her.

When she moves in, puts her arms around him and invades his personal bubble, Charles doesn't object, doesn't try to shake her off, and not because he feels it would hurt her, but because he has no desire to break the contact. But he also doesn't think he can lean in any closer than a little shuffle step forward, not here and not now, but maybe someday.

Raven's eyes are beautiful, he thinks, something that he's always found stunning enough for the need to pause and admire them, and it's hard not to hold their gaze, so he doesn't try to break it. A part of him suddenly wonders why he gets the way that he does whenever she reveals her true form - the main reason, he knows, is because if anyone were to see and he couldn't force them to forget in time, or the situation were to get out of hand, something very terrible could happen to her and he can't allow that. But he also wonders if it just made him feel better in general not to see her that way, if he was being more than protective and being selfish in keeping her hidden.

He knows that the little girl he found in the kitchen of the mansion that night was someone that he feel instantly in love with, fascination and wonder, and relief not to be the only one who is different. But what if it was more than that? What if, keeping her in this more acceptable form, wasn't merely for her own protection from the outside world, but from Charles himself?

Charles sighs again, softer this time, and finally does lean in. But he doesn't kiss her, he just rests his forehead against hers in an affectionate gesture, perhaps something a little more so than he might usually, and he closes his eyes to bask in it before he speaks.

"This is all very sudden, Raven," he points in a small voice, just audible above the patting of the rain falling to the ground and bouncing off of buildings. "Perhaps I ought to let you go, it would be the decent thing to do, and that alone is enough to prove to you how selfish that I can be. Because I..." He pulls back to look at her, a sad smile pulling feebly at the corners of his mouth, and the sorrow and regret in his eyes. "I can't do it. I know that I should, truly I do, but I can't. But I need time. To think, to make sure that what I decide to act upon is real. It's a lot to ask, all things considering, but can I have that?"

"Don't you understand?" she whispers. "I want you to be seflish. Tom wasn't what I was looking for as my happily ever after. He was what I was looking for as second best. The runner up to something I could never have." She thinks she understands what is about to happen. He'll have his time and then, somehow, he'll find a way to talk himself out of having what he wants. Or maybe it isn't even something he wants. Maybe it's just something she's talking him into at least trying. In one situation, it'll be his fault and in the other hers, but either result ends up the same.

Her own eyes are equally sad when she looks at him. "Then let me go for my walk. I'll be safe. You know that despite all of your worrying, I can protect myself if I have to. I can blend in anywhere I go. You need your time to think and I need mine. I'll be back in an hour or two, you have my word. I just need time." She needs time to come to terms with what is about to happen.

After all, if he wants this as much as she does, or at all, wouldn't he have kissed her by now?

"Just say 'yes, dear' and open your arms and by the time I've come back, you'll have had your think and then we can have that talk that you wanted back home." More likely, he'll try to let her down easily and she'll go up to her bedroom and slam the door behind her before he can get very far into her speech. He says he doesn't want to let her go and she believes him, but she's not convinced that it's for the reasons he's implying.

The idea of allowing Raven to wandering the streets alone with the night falling quickly down around them makes him fret over her safety. But the truth is that he knows that she can take care of herself should the need arise, and a part of him hates that, because it's one less thing that she perhaps feels the need to depend upon him for.

So he nods, the hesitancy of it giving away how unsure he is to let her go at least for this, but he doubts that there's anything he can say or do right now that would keep her from going.

"This is obviously something that you have put much thought into," he says with an edge of understanding, "And I very much doubt that I can prevent you from going. But promise me that you'll be careful?" He doesn't just mean for her safety as he would anyone else, though, and it's obviously playing on his mind, the constant reminder that she isn't like every other girl, that life is harder for her because of her mutation. "Please, love, I realise that you're upset, but promise that you sharen't be off doing anything that might draw attention to yourself."

"I'll be fine, Charles," Raven promised as she began stepping away. She wasn't planning on going to the wrong side of town. She wasn't even planning on seeing anybody. She meant what she'd said. She needed a walk. The farther away she got, though, the more her chest hurt. It was like some kind of tether between the two of them was being pulled to the snapping point. She kept looking back at him until she was forced to turn out of sight and, when she did, she pressed her back against the wall and let out a shaky breath.

She couldn't believe what she'd just done. She'd told Charles about her feelings. She'd told him that she was in love with him and he'd...what had he done? She stlil wasn't sure whether he was postponing the inevitable or really meant that he was interested. She rubbed at her chest to try to ease the ache and began walking again. No. Surely he was just trying to keep her safe.

She was out like that for two or three hours. Each time she began heading back to her flat with Charles, doubt and panic crept in and she headed in the other direction. She wasn't sure she was ready for a confrontation with him. Once had been enough for one night and even then, nothing had really been resolved. She didn't feel any better. If anything, she felt a little worse for wear. And now he knew and even if she'd wanted to, things would never be the same again.

Finally, she decided to just go inside. He was probably well asleep and she couldn't stop herself from yawning every other minute. She needed some sleep, too. And in the morning...in the morning maybe she could pretend this had just been a bad dream.

She slipped her key into the lock and turned the door handle quietly. If he was asleep, she wasn't going to wake him up for anything.

Charles spent the remainder of the walk home with his hands buried deep into the pockets of his trousers and his head hanging low. He felt several things, most of which he tried not to focus too much on, but the shame and guilt weren't as easy to ebb out.

Once he entered their flat, Charles had skipped dinner and made himself a hot chocolate after peeling away the rain-soaked layers and climbing into some warm pyjamas. It helped, a little, but as he warmed up his brain worked faster through the events, thinking seriously and in depth about what is the best thing to do and what is the right thing.

Eventually, Charles couldn't stand it any more, pacing around the flat and wondering whether or not Raven was okay, switching back and forth between concern and sifting through pros and cons, and still he came to no real conclusion. So he crawled into bed where he tossed and turned restlessly until he finally wore himself out and fell into a fitful slumber.

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