A/N: As promised, I have made it to 50! Thank you all for your kind words, support, and for sticking by me with this insane drabble series even as it drifted much too far from canon, skipped details, mixed up other things, and became too angsty or slashy (well, actually, I dunno if there is such thing as too much slash... XD ).

50. Peace At Last (Finale).

Storm smiles and kisses Professor Xavier on the cheek as she plops down into his bed beside him. Jean hurries in, holding Scott's hand, and Rogue and Bobby trail in after them. "Happy 90th birthday, Professor!" they cry out, laughing.

"I've got the cake! Out of the way, munchkins," Mystique snorts. She's returned for good, now, because there is nothing left to fight, and no reason to hide. Her son tags along by her side, glad to have a mother, even if she still looks young (no more than forty, thanks to her genetics), and he has fully grown already.

Logan grunts, but he's soon smiling, putting out his cigar and stuffing it into is pocket as he enters the old man's room. Gambit (another person they've picked up along the way to join the X-Men even after the war) pushes past the super-healer, and Logan merely sends the card player a glare.

Charles chuckles dryly, his voice weak, and he lifts a trembling hand to scratch near his ear on his bald, wrinkled head. "Cake? You spoil me. I'll die of diabetes before any of my main organs fail."

"Oh, shush, Charles," Mystique says oddly softly. She isn't kind to many people, too toughened by the ways of the world, but she is gentle to her son, and always her brother of years ago. "At least have a bite. You can manage that, can't you?"

"I can handle blowing out candles as well, you know," the telepath reminds with a twinkle in his warm blue eyes, turned a but grey around the rims from age. "I still have a few working body parts, my lungs, mind, and heart plenty strong."

"I know, I know," the blue woman smiles, and sets the tray over the bedcovers atop his again useless legs. "You've lived such a long, full, trying life, Charles. And I believe you have a few more stable years left in you."

"I would sure hope so," Charles agrees. He glances around. "Where's Erik? Bloody old chap is always late to everything."

"He's a bit older than you, Charles; he still has his legs, but it takes him a while to use them," Jean reminds softly.

Hank enters the room then, Erik Lehnsherr in tow. He hasn't called himself Magneto in over a decade. Storm moves out of the way, getting up from the bed to permit Erik to sit there instead. She moves over to Hank, planting a kiss on his lips, and then standing in his arms as they all gather 'round the two elderly men.

"We've lived through a great deal more since we last spoke of the past, Charles," Erik murmurs. "Back in '88. Do you remember? That was the day you talked me down from one of my rages, and it was the first time you verbally said that you love me."

"I remember," Charles murmurs. "Although," he adds with a smile, "It does help to peek into your mind and see the memory. My own is rather shot by now, my great mind aside."

Erik chuckles, and he looks down at the cake between them. "Shall I cut it for you?"

"Not before I light the sucker up and he blows the candles out," Pyro (John refuses to be called anything but) strolls in, lighter in hand. He flicks it open, stirs the flame, and takes it into his hands to send over to each candle, even at a distance. It whizzes past Bobby, and nearly grazes his clothing. Pryo teases him too much, but they truly are friends.

Candles lit, they sings to Charles, and soon, Erik is helping him blow them all out – all ninety of them – and even Jean moves past Logan to lean over and help them out with her lungs, even if she could have snuffed them out herself with her powers.

"Cheater; they helped you," Mystique teases lightly, but she's amused nonetheless.

They remove the candles, Erik cuts the cake by moving the metal spatula around in the air, and jean levitates plates for the spatula to dump slices onto. Everyone gets one, and even after they laugh and eat the birthday cake and leave, students pass by Charles' bedroom all day, saying, "Happy birthday, Headmaster!" as they walk by.

Erik turns to Charles in the evening and grasps his hand, choosing to sit up beside the other mutant in his bed. "You will never hear me speak this aloud again, but I have to say it: I was wrong, Charles. Peace didn't seem like an option, and yet here it is, pure serenity. We achieved that by choosing a side and methods together, instead of apart. And for the past few years, I have oddly been nothing but elated, as if my burdens have been listed. My past is a distance worry, foggy and imperfect, but no longer painful. And I think I have you to thank."

Charles shakes his head, smiling. "What a considerate gift for my birthday, Erik: your humbled honesty. Such a rare sight," he teases airily. He turns more serious, but not by too much. "However, I am not the one to thank. The children did it; they were our future and our answer all along. They helped ease the pain of your past by giving you fresh, more pleasant memories to erase the sorrowful and angry ones."

"I think you're right," Erik sighs, feeling relief. "I can never say thank you because they won't understand what for, but I am grateful to them. They have been wonderful children to us, Charles. They have been more of a family than I ever had, or thought I could have." Erik's eyes water, but he blinks away the tears. "And you more of a friend, companion, and partner than I had ever hoped to even dream of."

The words are so rare to be spoken aloud, the words at one point only a vague feeling Charles has stumbled across in the recesses of Erik's mind in the past, and it's such an unexpected thing to hear from the once-calloused man that it startles and bewilders the telepath for a moment.

Then, Charles is grinning.

"I feel the same, Erik. More than you can ever know in words, so here, let me show you."

He links them with invisible threads, pulling and projecting simultaneously so that Erik may hear Charles' thoughts and feel Charles' emotions. And it's entirely true, down to the core.

And it's the best birthday of Charles' life, because, finally, a solid semblance of peace has arrived in his heart, thanks to the closeness to peace has settled across the globe; as close as it can be, the same as any acceptance can be made for skin color or sexual orientation; made of flaws and exceptions and hints of negativity, but generally wholesome and bright, and shareable.

The End.