Killer X

by Aelimir

For ilovetakahana and the secret mutant exchange. Charles is a serial killer of serial killers. Erik falls into his orbit and expects to get killed, but his life is spared and he inexplicably falls in love. Non- powered.

On the edge of a small town in New York stood a large, well kept bank. A sign out front read "Atomic" in big letters, and below it, "Bank here and your assets will explode!" Inside, a lone figure made his final rounds before closing for the night. His name badge read "Erik Lehnsherr" and "Teller."

As Erik passed the door of the boss, Sebastian Shaw, he flipped the bird, finding perverse delight in expressing his feelings towards him, even if he wasn't around to witness it. It was because of him that he was here much later than scheduled, given no other reason than "something came up." Erik wouldn't mind covering once in awhile, but Shaw did this regularly, cutting into Erik's precious violin practice. How was he supposed to give any decent performances at Azazel's Bar if he didn't keep his skills sharp? But it didn't matter to Shaw, who cared for no one but himself. Erik's only comfort was that he wasn't the only victim of this, Emma and Angel often having to cover as well. For some reason, Shaw didn't seem to trust Hank or any of the others to lock up properly.

He continued on and found the TV still on in the break room airing the late night local news.

"Local sheriff William Stryker urges everyone to stay calm, stay alert, and stay indoors as this unprecedented serial killer epidemic continues," said Moira McTaggert, the main news anchor. "Be very careful going out at night, which is when the majority of them like to strike. Call the police immediately if -"

Erik shut off the TV, cutting off whatever she was about to say. Erik had been attentive when the "epidemic" had first started, taking in every detail, but now it was getting repetitive. It had been the same thugs featured on the news for days, various serial killers focusing on their favorite specific targets. There even seemed to be a serial killer of serial killers on the loose, murder suspects turning up murdered themselves when police finally tracked them down.

Though the situation was certainly worrisome, Erik didn't believe in paranoia and let it slip from his mind as he finished his final check of everything. Satisfied, he took out his keys, jingling through them until he found the right one, stepped out into the cool night air.

The sound of a leaf blower met his ears as he locked the door securely. Erik turned, wondering who would be blowing leaves at this time of night. Then he caught sight of Janos on the side of the building blowing what little leaves there were into a pile. Erik huffed a laugh. He should have known. As their maintenance man and janitor, Janos had a strange fixation with using leaf blowers, high powered vacuum cleaners and air dusters. Erik could only guess why. Perhaps it was to make up for the fact that Janos himself was very quiet. Or it could be because of how strict and bastardly Shaw, their boss, could be, wanting everything perfectly spic and span.

So intent was he on his work, Janos didn't see Erik wave and continued around the back, the added distance muffling the sound of his pet machine to Erik's ears. Erik shrugged and continued on. He'd catch up with him tomorrow. He hadn't known Janos was still here, but there was no need for Erik to stick around. Janos didn't need to get into the main bank, just the maintenance shed. He'd be fine.

Erik was halfway to his car when he heard it. A startled, horrified scream abruptly cut off.

Erik froze, unsure of what to do, remembering the warnings on the news. At the same time, though, someone might need his help. Janos would not have heard, not over the sound of the blower. It was up to him to do something.

With an ominous feeling in his gut, he decided to check it out.

Erik ventured stealthily to the vacant alleyway where he'd heard the sound, glancing all around him frequently. Tense, on edge, every breath and crunch of gravel much too loud in the chilly silence, he questioned again the wisdom of coming out here. He was about to give up when he looked down another tiny alley between two buildings close together, catching sight of two shadowy men : one armed with a knife, the other tied up and struggling.

Neither of them noticed Erik at first, too intent on each other. Erik got a good view of the bound one's face, lit up in the moonlight, and his jaw nearly dropped in shock.

It was the spitting image of one of the serial killers on the news!

Erik took a moment to reassess the situation. It obviously wasn't as clear cut as he thought, maybe the seeming attacker was just defending himself and making sure the serial killer was completely subdued before calling the police.

However in the next moment, this theory was shot to hell as the man sliced the serial killer's throat with two decisive movements.

Erik just stood there watching with his eyes bugged out in horror, letting out an involuntary gasp. Though the man may have deserved it, in his opinion, it was still quite shocking, not something he had expected to witness tonight at all, or any night for that matter.

The killer whipped around towards Erik, brandishing the bloody knife, muscles tensed to spring at him. Erik supposed he should be frightened, but from the moment the killer had turned to him, all he could do was stare into the two very stunning blue eyes glaring at him threateningly.

Seeing Erik's strange, non threatening pose gave the killer pause, his tension uncoiling slightly, though he still closed the distance between them, pointing the dripping knife at Erik's throat. "Who are you?" the killer demanded, his voice tinged with a pleasant English accent.

"Erik," Erik told him, having at least enough sense not to volunteer his last name.

"I should kill you," the killer informed him, eyes narrowed.

"At least tell me your name first," said Erik, staring a bit dazed into the man's eyes, feigning relaxation when in reality his heart was beating faster from both the danger and attraction, something he thought, all in all, was inappropriate in this situation. Clearly it had been too long since he'd had sex.

The killer bit his lip, a strangely nervous habit for someone who'd just killed in cold blood. "I'm Charles," he said, sounding as surprised as Erik felt that he'd volunteered that information.

"Well Charles," said Erik, feeling giddy and stupid from adrenaline and panic, "You have the most remarkable, bluest eyes I have ever seen."

Charles blinked in surprise, knife going slack in his hand for a moment before pointing it threateningly again. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Nothing, just..." Erik's voice trailed off, and he swallowed, his current situation starting to fully sink in. He could be breathing his last breaths. "If that is to be the last thing I see, it isn't so bad." A cheesy line, but really, who could think straight at a time like this?

Wait, was he iflirting? /i What kind of person flirted with someone threatening to kill them? He did, apparently.

Charles didn't lower the knife, but confusion and conflict swirled in his eyes. "You know too much. I can't just let you walk away," he said, but his voice was starting to lose conviction, his eyes flashing with a strange, yearning vulnerability.

Erik remained silent, scarcely daring to breathe. Would he somehow get out of this?

"You'll go straight to the police, giving them their first lead on me, their mysterious serial killer of serial killers. Won't you?" Charles continued accusingly.

That voice, he could listen to it all day. "He deserved what he got," conceded Erik. While he didn't agree with the lengths Charles went in actually killing the man, he knew this wasn't the time to say it. Thinking quickly over what Charles had just revealed about himself, he realized he was face to face with one of the most mysterious serial killers featured on the news. "They all did."

"You're just saying that," argued Charles, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"If you're going to kill me, just kill me," said Erik bravely, gaze never leaving those mesmerizing blue eyes.

Charles pursed his lips together, frowning in doubt. "I only kill serial killers. I've never killed a bystander."

Erik, knowing that if Charles was going to kill him, he would have by now, responded, "There's a first time for everything."

With an abrupt motion, Charles pressed the blade against Erik's neck. "If you do go to the police, I will find you, and you will not be so lucky," Charles warned him, danger oozing from every word, face inches from his, breath puffing against his face.

Erik, holding perfectly still, swallowed. "I understand."

"Good," replied Charles. He removed the blade and slowly backed away, still bearing the weapon defensively. "Don't follow me."

With that, he disappeared into the night.

Erik barely slept that night due to a strange mix of fear and excitement. He locked all the doors and windows, peeking out every time he heard a noise. It wasn't until 3am that he finally fell unconscious on the couch, not bothering to set an alarm because he didn't work at the bank next day, being the weekend and all.

He woke up to the sound of the doorbell. Erik rubbed his eyes in confusion, his brain strangely foggy and slow. He wasn't expecting anyone until 2pm for violin lessons. It wasn't THAT late, was it? He never slept that late!

Suddenly the events of the night before came rushing back to him. What if it was the serial killer checking up on him? He didn't think he would just walk up to his house and ring the doorbell, but who knew. "No peephole dammit," Erik swore, deciding he would install one at the earliest opportunity. He didn't have much in the way of weapons either, being a peaceful musician and all, so he grabbed some wasp spray from under the sink and strode up to the front door, his heart beating fast in both fear and excitement. Then he flung open the door, bottle poised to spray. "HANDS UP!" Erik shouted.

To his embarrassment and relief, it was only Darwin. "Jesus, man!" the young black man exclaimed, raising one hand and setting down his violin case with the other.

"Sorry," said Erik sheepishly. He lowered the bottle and gestured to it. "I've been having, ah, a bit of a bee problem. Come in, come in," invited Erik.

Darwin came in, albeit slowly and cautiously. "You okay?"

"Yeah. You're early, I wasn't expecting you until two. That's all right, though, I'll be ready in a few minutes."

Darwin stared at him, confused. "It IS two, Erik," he pointed out.

"It is?" Erik said, astonished. He'd truly thought there was no way he could have slept that late, the latest he'd ever slept in his life was nine. He checked the clock, and sure enough, Darwin was right! "Good lord, you're right!" How had he managed that? It was like he'd been drugged or something.

"Rough night?" Darwin asked sympathetically.

"Yeah," confirmed Erik, running his hands through his hair, not knowing how out of sorts he looked.

"Why don't you get freshened up. I'm good with waiting right here," Darwin encouraged.

"Thanks," said Erik, returning the spray under the sink. Upon reflection, he was lucky it had been Darwin and not his neighbor, Logan. That man loved a good fight and would've flattened him instantly, laughing his head off all the while. Not exactly how he wished to start his day, though it was certainly better than having his throat slit. Erik shuddered inwardly, the murder from the night before still etched with too much clarity in his mind's eye.

Erik glanced at the clock as he made himself presentable, once again hardly believing his eyes. What the fuck? He must have slept eleven hours. Was this some kind of response to stress? He had to admit he was very stressed out. While the killer apparently didn't plan on killing him, he was most certainly still around, watching him to make sure he didn't go to the police. Who knew what he'd do next. Erik certainly planned on watching himself. He still did not like paranoia, but now, all things considered this was entirely justified.

He listened to the sounds of Darwin tuning his violin as he grabbed a few bites to eat. He found he couldn't stomach much, however, so he gave up on his lunch and returned to the living room with an apologetic smile.

Darwin was sitting there, well prepared to start. "So, bees, huh?"

"Er, yes... Logan stumbled upon a hive the other day and made them very angry," Erik fibbed. In all reality, he was kind of surprised that hadn't happened yet. He doubted even an angry swarm of bees would faze Logan. The man had nerves of steel.

"Yikes," said Darwin.

"Well," said Erik, clapping his hands together and glancing quickly out the window. "Let's get started."

Darwin was his easiest student. He could play any instrument and learned fast. Erik didn't think there was much more he could teach him, but Darwin still insisted on taking lessons. Therefore, Erik got away with only giving his student half his attention. Every time Erik saw something in the corner of his eye, though, he had to resist the urge to rush to the window to check it out.

Darwin noticed his distraction and finally commented on it near the end of the lesson. "You sure you're all right, man?"

"Absolutely," Erik said with his biggest grin, not knowing how manic he looked.

Darwin drew back a little. "If you say so," he said with an easy smile, packing up his instrument.

The doorbell rang, interrupting further conversation. Erik and Darwin immediately jumped up. "I'll get it," they said in unison. Their eyes met, laughing as they did so. Darwin gestured Erik to do the honors. It was his house after all.

Erik knew it was most likely Alex because his lesson was scheduled right after Darwin's. All the same, he opened the door with extreme caution and a bemused Darwin looking on.

"Alex," Erik said, grinned hugely in relief at the sight of his student.

Alex glanced at him, double taking in confusion. While he'd never gotten the sense that Erik disliked him, he'd also never shown such enthusiasm at seeing him before. "Hi," he said, staring.

"Come on in! Darwin here is just finishing up," Erik told him, stepping back to let him inside. Alex came in and set his violin case with a hard plunk that normally made Erik wince, but today he was just too happy he didn't have any homicidal visitors to care.

Speaking of homicidal visitors, the feeling, or at least the possibility of, being watched was starting to get to him. "Darwin, why don't you help Alex get warmed up? I've got to ah, check something."

"Sure thing," said Darwin eagerly. If Erik had been less preoccupied, he might have noticed the way Darwin's entire countenance lit up at the prospect at spending time with Alex.

Instead, he grinned shortly in relief. "Thanks," he said to Darwin. Then he grabbed the wasp spray from under the sink again and went outside. He trudged nervously around his yard, keeping a sharp eye out for Charles, and Logan too, while he was at it. He had a tendency to show up unexpectedly.

He didn't see anything, but he still couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. He was on his way back inside when he heard someone jump behind him and shout "Boo!"

Erik would deny to his dying day that he screamed. He whirled around to come nose to nose with a laughing Logan.

Logan continued to guffaw as he slapped Erik on the back. "You're strung as tight as those violins of yours!"

Erik glared at Logan, desperately wanting to punch him in the face. But that desire warred with wanting to tell someone about his situation. Not everything, but the basic gist of it. "I'm concerned I might have a dangerous trespasser," Erik admitted with a sigh.

As he expected, Logan perked up at that. "No shit, bub, caught someone trying to tap into your phone line."

"What?" Erik exclaimed in alarm.

"I was trying out my Wolverine sighter when I caught him. What do you have there, wasp spray? Wicked stuff, had that used on me once -"

"You caught someone trying to tap into my phone line?" Erik repeated.

"Yep," said Logan, not appearing bothered by this at all.

"What did he look like?" Erik demanded.

"Scrawny fellow, coulda pushed him over with my pinky," Logan boasted. "Couldn't see much 'cept his big blue eyes."

Erik just gaped at him.

"Thought about trying my new setting on Wolverine, but decided it would be more fun to brawl," Logan continued. He noted Erik's ashen face. "Hey, it turned out fine, not even a bruise! He scampered as soon as I came out of the house."

Erik didn't answer, just smiled weakly as the awkward strains of Alex's violin being mutilated reached their ears, interspersed with what was obviously Darwin taking over and attempting to improve Alex's technique.

"Bub, if it'll make you feel better, I'll let you borrow Wolverine until you're sure that runt is gone for good," Logan offered, his tone suggesting this was a huge sacrifice on his part.

"Wolverine?"

"My gun. Modified it myself. Now it's more like a super powered cannon," Logan explained proudly.

That didn't sound legal to Erik, but it sure sounded better than the wasp spray. "You're sure?"

"Anything for my favorite drinking buddy," assured Logan, giving him another friendly slap on the back. "Why don't you stop by later and get acquainted?"

Erik nodded. "Thanks," he said. "I've got to get back inside before Alex murders the violin."

"No kiddin', sounds worse than nails on a chalkboard," Logan agreed. Erik made a mental note to keep Logan away from Alex. The kid was discouraged enough with the instrument as it was.

Erik returned to the living room, where he noted that Alex and Darwin were getting rather cosy as Darwin attempted to show him the way to hold it to get better results. It Erik hadn't known for himself how bad Alex was at this and that he was probably straight, he'd say he was being deliberately obtuse to prolong the contact. In fact, Alex was only doing this because his mother had made a deal with him that he could play baseball if he learned an instrument. Scott had suggested Erik, so here he was.

Feeling a little bad that Darwin had to step in for him, even if he didn't seem to mind, Erik cleared his throat and broke in. "Thanks Darwin, I can take over from here."

"No problem, anytime," Darwin responded with one of his easy smiles. "I'll see you next week. Bye, Alex, keep up the good work."

Alex nodded shortly, barely hiding his skepticism. "Bye."

The challenge of teaching Alex should have distracted him completely from his Charles problem, but the fact was that Alex wielded the bow like it was some kind of weapon, making motions that unfortunately were all to reminiscent of Charles's killing slices. Which reminded him that he really should turn on the news to see what was being reported about the incident.

Alex was too caught up in his frustration to notice Erik's odd behavior. Overall, though, the lesson went better than normal, leaving them both in a reasonably good mood by the time it was over, considering the circumstances.

His final lesson of the day was with Sean Cassidy. In Erik's judgement, he was his most talented student, which was bizarre considering he was never sure Sean actually paid him much attention, his expression rather vacant and stoned. Erik strongly suspected a drug problem, in no little part due to the fact that Sean had once given him brownies, and after Erik had eaten them he'd felt very strange. Still, he tried to encourage him and be supportive. Once he got over whatever his problem was, he'd be a star, maybe even outshine Erik.

Erik said his goodbyes to Sean, who wandered vaguely out the door, violin tucked under his arm. When the door closed, Erik dithered on the spot, unsure of which was more pressing - getting Wolverine or watching the news.

In the end, he took a six pack of beer and headed over to Logan's. He could ask if they could watch the news together. Two birds, one stone.

Once Logan had the six pack in his hands, he became very agreeable and acquiesced easily to Erik's choice of TV channel. It was currently on commercials, so Erik turned to where Wolverine was showcased on the wall with a mix of relief and apprehension. Logan wasn't kidding when he said he modified it into more of a cannon than a gun. It was monstrous. Any sane person would run if that thing was pointed at them.

"Ain't he a beauty!" Logan said proudly, following Erik's gaze. "Look at my lasted modification," he added, pointing to a button labeled "P."

"P for pow?" Erik asked.

"Pulverize," Logan corrected in a matter of fact tone.

Erik just stared at Logan. Sometimes he wondered if this man was for real. He decided to change the subject. "Say, I thought you worked on Saturdays. You got the day off?"

"Nope, got the slip," Logan announced carelessly. "Boss said I loved the job too much."

Logan had worked as a security man at the local hospital. Considering Logan's enthusiasm for fights and guns, he could see where his supervisor was coming from. Still, Logan was his friend. "That's too bad." Atomic was always looking for help, but Erik wasn't going to suggest it. He knew how it would end - with Logan punching Shaw in the face. As satisfying as it would be to watch, he hated to think of the ensuing lawsuit. All things considered, he definitely would be keeping his mouth shut.

Finally Moira McTaggert came back on. Picking up on how interested Erik was, Logan kept quiet in consideration of his friend as she started reporting.

"Last night, the serial killer notorious for targeting young blonde women, aka the Blonde Killer, was found in an alley by Caspartina Street with his throat slit. Though it could be that one of his victims turned the tables on him, William Stryker believes it was the famed but mysterious serial killer of serial killers, otherwise known as Killer X. I'm here with him and Detective Levine for a full report."

"Thank you, Moira. The Blonde Killer was felled by the two left handed x shaped slices to the neck with a large knife that Killer X is notorious for, done standing in front of the victim, nose to nose, instead of a sneak attack from around the back. The rope, the knots, and the setting are all his trademarks as well as the meticulously removed clues to his identity. We're no closer to catching Killer X than we were at the beginning."

"Do you believe that Killer X poses any danger to regular people? Or does he see himself as some kind of dark hero?" Moira asked them.

"I do not believe that Killer X would ever harm a non serial killer. It just doesn't match with the psyche profiling I've done," Levine answered. "I do not believe he sees himself as a hero either. I've formed the impression that he sees it as a strange sort of penance for something he sees as an unforgivable crime."

"Thank you Detective Levine. On to other news..."

Erik changed to channel to wrestling, which he knew Logan enjoyed watching, disinterested in the rest of the news, yet deeply thoughtful about what he'd just learned.

"Caspartina Street? Isn't that where Atomic is?" Logan mused, interrupting Erik's train of thought.

"Yes," said Erik, not liking where this was going.

"Dammit, I should work there, you have all the excitement," Logan commented.

Only Logan would see the presence of a serial killer as a work perk. "Maybe I could set you up with Azazel - he's looking for help," Erik cut in quickly, hoping the call of free booze would be stronger than Logan's fighting fixation.

"Fair enough, bub," agreed Logan, downing his second beer. He refocused on the TV, making comments about the match that Erik barely paid attention to as he refocused on what he'd just learned about Killer X - or, as he knew him, Charles.

So, the experts didn't think he'd ever harm a regular person. In his experience, Levine was quite accurate with his findings, so it made Erik feel quite relieved and mostly out of danger. Charles would put him under surveillance, that was all. As he thought about how enticing his eyes had been, Erik could not muster the objections he normally would towards such intrusion. If he was perfectly honest with himself, now that a great deal of his apprehension was gone, he wanted to see Charles again. That flash of yearning vulnerability he'd seen in those eyes tugged at his feelings in a powerful way. Charles fascinated and excited him.

Logan ended up downing most of the six pack, along with more beer from his fridge. While he could drink Erik under the table, he wasn't infallible, and he soon was quite drunk, forgetting all about giving Erik Wolverine. Erik decided to let the matter drop.

Still, as Erik made the short trek to his front door that night, he kept a sharp eye out for a pair of stunning blue eyes. As he prepped for bed, he glanced out the window several times but saw nothing, his disappointment increasing. Maybe Logan had scared him off for awhile. Erik climbed into bed, drifting slowly off to a deep sleep.

The next day he woke to stiff morning wood. He'd been so wound up lately, no wonder his tension was coming out this way. Erik rolled onto his back, pulling down his boxers to take care of it. He stroked slowly with his fingers, thinking of nothing in particular at first. Gradually he drifted into his usual scenarios of topping eager men his age, wanting it harder and faster. Before long, the generic imagery morphed into big, vulnerable blue eyes, a smaller body pinned beneath Erik's, arms with surprising strength holding Erik tightly close, urging him closer still. One arm snaked up Erik's back, and a knife blade rested against his throat. "Fuck me harder," Charles said, his tone fierce and vaguely threatening.

Head full of the fantasy he'd slipped into, Erik pumped his hand harder, bringing himself to a swift climax. He opened his eyes as finished, the content of his fantasy sinking in.

He was infatuated with a serial killer.

Erik decided it was too early to worry about his sanity, so he got up and mindlessly went through his preparations for the day. If he looked outside more than usual, he didn't dwell on it, taking out his violin and losing track of time as he immersed himself in practicing. Azazel had invited him to play tonight at the bar and he wished to be ready.

His preparation was cut short when Bobby arrived for his lesson. Ann Marie came after him, so by the time they were done, Erik had to leave for the bar. He climbed into his red convertible, pleased that the weather had finally warmed up enough to put the top down. As he drove down the road, he heard an abnormally loud motorcycle speed up behind him. Erik glanced in the rearview, unsurprised to see Logan on his modified bike. Apparently he'd decided to take Erik up on his offer to give him a foot in the door with Azazel, for Erik could think of no other reason why he'd follow him to a gay bar where violins were going to be played. Logan was straight and didn't care for classical music, though he'd always been kind about the fact that Erik did.

Erik pulled into his usual spot. Logan pulled up beside him with a wave. Erik wondered for a moment if Charles was around somewhere, watching him. He hoped, and feared, that he was.

He carried his violin into the bar, and talked to Azazel about Logan first, while Logan sat at a table with a beer, eyeing the men around him speculatively. Azazel was open to hiring Logan, even with Erik's frank warnings about him, so within a few minutes the Russian had Logan in a back room, interviewing him.

Erik began warming up his instrument, preparing to go on stage. He knew it was a bit odd, playing a violin in a bar, but Azazel liked to offer all kinds of music so he had something for everyone. That strategy worked well for his business. Erik's violin Sundays were always crowded, and this was no exception, the place filling up fast now that Erik was due to play.

Soon Erik was ready. He started his first song, doing his best to get lost in the music to ease his nerves. No matter how many times he performed, he always got the jitters in the beginning.

By the time he started his second song, he'd relaxed. Logan was back, sitting at his table again, giving him a thumbs up. Erik gave him a congratulatory smile. He was glad to have helped Logan, though it meant that there would never be a dull moment around the bar anymore.

Erik refocused on his playing without further interruptions. At this point, he liked to work on the emotion of his playing, giving it soul. He usually focused on things like the death of his parents for the sad pieces, and the various successes of his students for the happy ones. Today, however, a pair of fierce yet vulnerable blue eyes crept into his mind, giving him renewed inspiration.

Logan surprised him by staying the rest of the night, talking with several patrons and drinking lots of booze. Erik finished his last song, thanking his many admirers as they gave him their glowing compliments as he made his way over to where Logan was now chatting with Azazel.

"Thanks for staying. I know it isn't your thing," Erik told him.

"No prob," Logan acknowledged.

"Your playing was especially superb tonight. Quite haunting," Azazel complimented.

Erik turned to him in surprise. Azazel usually did not compliment him. "Thanks," Erik said, feeling the night was a true success.

The next morning, Erik arrived at Atomic early, but didn't enter the building right away, instead opting to return to the crime scene. He didn't know why, but it seemed important to return there and face what happened. It was still early, the cool air giving a convenient excuse for the chills shuddering through his body as he walked briskly down Caspartina Street, ever closer to his goal.

The alley itself was blocked off with police tape, which was no more than Erik expected. Still, he just stood there, staring blankly at the spot for a little while, unable to shake the feeling he was being watched.

It was time for him to start his shift, so he headed back to Atomic, expression somber. When he arrived at the entrance, a mother and her little girl were waiting to get in.

"I know we're a little early, but I have some errands to run after this and I don't have much time," she explained.

"It's fine," said Erik amicably, reaching in his pocket for his keys.

Shaw appeared then, on the other side of the glass door as if from nowhere. "Allow me," he said, unlocking it and pulling it open with a large smile at the little girl.

She smiled back shyly as they entered. Shaw ushered them to his office, waiting on them personally, and gave the child a sucker. The mother thanked him profusely, saying what a sweet man he was.

Erik barely held back his snort. If she only knew the truth. He manned his teller station, starting his usual morning routine, as his coworkers did likewise around him.

"Have a rough weekend?" Emma asked from the station beside him.

Erik met her gaze. "No, no it was fine, great in fact. My violin performance on Sunday went really well."

"You look a little peaked," Emma persisted skeptically.

"It's nothing," Erik insisted. He desperately searched for a change in subject. "Why don't you come to Azazel's Bar one Sunday? It's a good time."

"Perhaps," she agreed.

"Maybe we could all go!" suggested Angel from her station on his other side.

"Not Shaw," Erik clarified firmly.

"Of course not."

Janos came by just then, carrying his air duster to Shaw's office.

"Janos!" Emma called, halting him. "What do you think about going to watch Erik at Azazel's Bar this Sunday?"

Janos paused, considering. Then he nodded and continued on.

"Maybe if we get enough beers in him, he'll finally talk," Angel speculated once he was out of earshot. Nobody at the bank had ever heard Janos speak, the quiet man communicating mostly through nods and e-mails.

"Worth a shot," Erik agreed, hoping he'd be able to witness that if it came to pass.

By lunchtime, everyone had agreed to come on Sunday. Feeling some performance jitters already, Erik opted to take his lunch outside instead of the usual break room, out away from the others.

As soon as he stepped outside, the skin crawling feeling of being watched returned in full force. Erik uneasily sat down on a bench, casting his eyes about every which way, certain Charles was near. He forced his lunch down, contemplating what to do. He couldn't stand the tension and uncertainty in the air, couldn't stand just sitting around here waiting for who knows what to happen, trying to predict what Killer X might do with him next.

If only Charles wasn't a dangerous serial killer. Things would be so much simpler.

The only way to resolve this would be to get a dialogue going with Charles, gain his trust. But how could he do that when he clearly didn't want to show himself again? How could he force Charles to come out?

Charles, he knew, more than anything, didn't want him talking to the police. What if he made a point of taking walks near police stations? Went out of his way to greet police when he saw them? Maybe even get himself a speeding ticket, giving him cause to talk to one for an extended period of time, provoking Charles into checking on him?

That would be a dangerous game, Erik knew, but he had to do SOMETHING to ease this situation. Doing nothing was driving him batty.

The next few days passed without incident as Erik implemented his plan, keeping an eye out for his suspect stalker all the while. Then, later that week, Erik finally caught sight of those unmistakable blue eyes during his now habitual walk on his lunch hour. Erik's breath caught in his throat, his heart beating faster as adrenaline surged through him. A few people walking their dogs ambled past, completely oblivious to the fact that Killer X was in their midst. Unconsciously Erik stopped, torn at what to do.

Charles turned, and their eyes met, jolting Erik into action. He sprinted down the sidewalk towards him, causing Charles to turn and hightail it out of there. Erik kept up his pursuit, blood rushing madly through his veins until he managed to corner Charles in a dead end alley. Charles charged at him in attempt to tackle him, but Erik, surprisingly, managed to twist and use the momentum against him, pinning him to the ground instead.

Charles struggled fiercely, trying to kick, punch, and even bite him to get free, but Erik would not relent, though he was ever watchful for the knife Charles most likely had on him. Why didn't he pull it out and threaten him with it again? "Stop it," ordered Erik gruffly.

"What, so you can tie me up and turn me in?" demanded Charles, blue eyes blazing with anger and fear.

Strangely enough, that hadn't even crossed Erik's mind. "I just want to know how long you plan on following me, that's all," Erik returned reasonably, as if it were obvious.

Charles paused in his struggle. "I haven't decided yet," he admitted, his eyes lit with confusion, flashing that yearning vulnerability, before turning resolutely stony again.

Erik stared into the fierce blue eyes, forgetting everything else but how wonderful it felt to have Charles pinned beneath him.

"Now will you let me up?" Charles demanded impatiently, jolting Erik out of his trance.

iI will if you kiss me, /i came Erik's unbidden thought.

Some of it must have shown in his eyes, for Charles continued, "Unless you're going to fuck me, you can let go, I won't harm you unless you go to the police." He paused, then continued softer, "I promise."

A surge of hot fire rushed through Erik at Charles's words, still stuck on the "unless you're going to fuck me" part, barely taking note of the rest. "As much as I would like that, I do have to get back to work," Erik explained with a smirk, easing off him.

Charles got to his feet, dusting himself off and looking pleasantly disheveled, giving him one last look of warning, knife drawn, before walking away.

Erik still couldn't get those words out of his head, "unless you're going to fuck me." Charles wanted to have sex with him? Why didn't he, then? Why this game of hide and seek? Erik already knew he was being watched, what was the point?

He didn't catch sight of Charles for the next few days, a disappointed lurch in his stomach growing in strength every time he failed to spot him. A seed a protective worry wormed its way into his thoughts. Charles lived a dangerous life, but he was dangerous too, Erik tried to tell himself. His emerging desire to protect him made no sense, no matter what vulnerability he sensed buried in Charles.

Since it was now apparent that Charles planned on stalking Erik for an undetermined amount of time, he spent Saturday morning installing both front and back doors with peepholes so he would at least be forewarned if Charles did come calling. He hated being on edge whenever he opened his own door, though, all in all, Erik was much calmer now than last week.

He dove into teaching that afternoon, feeling much more like his regular self, focusing more on his students and less on what might be happening outside the window. So when Darwin offered to help Alex warm up again, he realized that maybe Alex had something to do with why Darwin kept on with lessons he didn't need. Alex didn't seem to mind, so Erik left them to it, deciding to go outside. For the fresh air, of course. Not because he hoped to see Killer X.

To his disappointment, Charles was nowhere to be seen. Logan was out, though, sitting and smoking. When he caught sight of Erik, he waved him over. Erik joined him, sitting on a lawn chair beside the large man. The unpleasant sound of Alex once more attempting to play the violin reached their ears, but this time, neither commented.

"How is the new job going?" Erik asked instead.

"Fab, though the lack of babes is disappointing," Logan admitted.

"I invited my coworkers to my show tomorrow. So you'll have some female company then," informed Erik. Logan would hopefully take some of the attention off himself. Performing in front of people you see every day was a little different than strangers, he was now realizing.

"Good," grunted Logan.

"You and Azazel getting along all right?" inquired Erik.

"Other than doing his creepy appearing and disappearing act, he's good."

Erik knew what Logan meant. Azazel could be quite sneaky sometimes.

"Speaking of creepy appearing and disappearing act, I saw your trespasser again today opening your mailbox."

"What did you do?" asked Erik.

"Ran him down with my motorcycle," said Logan gleefully. "Shoulda seen the look on his face."

Erik's jaw tightened, his fists clenching unconsciously. "Is he okay?" he asked sharply.

Logan snorted. "He scrammed to the trees where I couldn't follow the runt." He peered at Erik in confusion. "Don't see why you care. Have you called the police yet?"

"No, and I don't plan to. I can handle it," insisted Erik.

"Suit yourself," Logan shrugged.

"I've got a lesson to teach," Erik excused himself. He really should feel grateful, but all he felt right now was protective fury against Logan. Charles could have been seriously hurt!

He returned to the living room, where Darwin reluctantly let Erik take over. Erik took a few deep breaths and did his best not to take his anger out on Alex. Despite his efforts, Alex's posture wilted as the lesson went on. By the end, he looked positively miserable.

Feeling bad, Erik apologized, "I'm sorry if I've been short. I've been having some... domestic issues."

"It isn't you," said Alex, not meeting his eyes.

"What is it then?" Erik asked directly.

"This is going to be my last lesson," Alex explained.

"Oh? Your mom is letting you play baseball, no strings attached?" Erik asked, pleased for him.

"No, I'm giving that up too," admitted Alex, turning his back to Erik as he hurriedly rammed his violin into its case.

"What? Why?" asked Erik before he could stop himself. It wasn't his business, he was just very surprised.

A tense silence followed. Then Alex finally spoke up. "Is it true you play at Azazel's Bar? I heard Scott mention he was going to watch you there tomorrow."

"Yes," said Erik, confused as to where this was going.

"Do you ever... go there as a patron?"

Realization dawned in Erik's eyes. Feeling certain now what Alex was trying to say, he sat down on the floor in front of him, looking Alex directly in the eyes. "If you're asking I'm gay, the answer is yes."

"I - I am too," Alex confessed.

"What does that have to do with not playing baseball?" Erik asked, though he had a hunch.

"Guys on my team...well... They tease me about it. It's just not fun anymore. You know what, don't worry about it," said Alex abruptly, turning to go.

"Wait," said Erik. "If you like, you can come tomorrow. I know you're underage, but Azazel will let you in even though you won't be able to drink. I'll invite some of my other students so you will have others your age there," Erik offered, already deciding to call Darwin ASAP. He strongly suspected Darwin was gay and liked Alex. Apparently he was playing matchmaker now.

"You'll do that?"

"Absolutely. And don't quit just yet. Think about it," Erik encouraged him.

Alex nodded and left.

Erik went through the motions of teaching Sean, feeling nearly as zoned out as his student. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to be young and heckled for his sexual orientation. His thoughts drifted.

He was fairly sure Charles was gay. Did he get severely abused because of this, causing him to go violent? He certainly didn't want Alex to turn out that way. Erik's resolve to help him solidified.

When Erik asked Sean if he wanted to go to the gay bar tomorrow, the red head didn't even blink. "Sure," he said casually.

"Maybe we can do a duet," Erik suggested.

"Sweet," agreed Sean.

After Sean left, Erik immediately called Darwin, who was all too happy to accept the invitation, especially when Erik made a point of telling him Alex was coming.

So it was in high spirits that Erik started his performance on Sunday. His preoccupation with what Alex, Darwin, Logan, and Janos were up to diverted him to the point that he nearly jumped out of his skin when his eyes met with big, fierce blue ones near the back of the crowd.

Erik just stared a moment, jaw slack, nerves jangling, before forcing himself to regain composure and start playing. His hands shook, and he compelled himself to breathe evenly as he paled. What was Charles doing here? What was his game, his plan? Erik hadn't the faintest idea, but part of him hoped, fantasized, that there was no game, that Charles just wanted to see him.

It was difficult to forget those eyes trained on him and concentrate on what he needed to do. At the same time, he was determined to give the best performance of his life - for his coworkers, his friends, his students, but most of all, for Charles. Maybe if he enjoyed himself, he'd come again. Maybe if he enjoyed himself, he might see that there were better things in life than killing. If he enjoyed himself, he might even feel compelled to come up and tell Erik that.

One could only hope.

Erik let his eyes wander at one point, smiling softly in satisfaction as he saw Alex and Darwin sitting close together, holding hands. A few tables over, Logan was chatting up Emma. From her expression, he couldn't tell if she was amused or annoyed by this, but by the way she was leaning towards him, she was perhaps more interested than her face let on.

What really made Erik's jaw drop was Janos sitting at the bar with Azazel. His lips were imoving. /i. Erik just stared at Janos, wishing with intense curiosity that he could hear what he was saying. He'd definitely have to invite Janos here on a night he wasn't performing.

After he finished his final song, his usual adoring fans crowded around him, offering compliments. Erik smiled and thanked them, but focused most of his attention on locating Charles.

Before he could, a young woman who'd had too much to drink told him he was really hot and pulled him into a kiss. Erik just stood there, stunned. Finally he pulled back with a stutter, feeling the hair on the back of his neck prickle. He jerked around, finally catching sight of Charles, who was glaring at the drunken woman furiously. When he caught Erik looking at him, however, he turned to stalk out of the bar.

"Wait!" Erik called desperately, trying to push his way through the crowd to reach him. Charles ignored him and continued on outside. By the time Erik reached the door, he'd long disappeared into the night. His heart sank in disappointment. He'd almost had him, almost got to talk to him again. Erik's breath hitched, surprised at how emotional he was getting over this. The tension of the situation must be getting to him more than he thought.

His near miss only solidified his determination to see Charles again. He kept a sharp lookout, venturing outside as much as possible. He turned on the news, learning about all the local serial killers with renewed vigor, thinking he might be able to figure out where Charles would go if he knew more about his targets. Other than Charles, there were four prominent serial killers on the loose right now: one targeting gays, one targeting children, a copy cat of the Blonde Killer, and another one focusing primarily on older men.

Did Charles merely go to the bar to track the killer of gays? Erik's hopes dimmed at this very real possibility, yet he also couldn't forget the black look he'd given the drunken woman who'd kissed him. He didn't know why he would have that expression unless he was jealous. If that was the case, why didn't he make a move on Erik?

Despite his determined vigilance, it wasn't until Thursday after work that Erik finally caught sight of Charles's retreating back.

Erik followed him quietly and eagerly, doing his best to remain undetected. His heart beat so loudly, though, he was sure Charles could hear it. To his relief, Charles didn't seem to realize he was being followed. He led him to a shoddy part of town before entering into a run down apartment.

So this was where he lived. Erik dithered near, uncertain whether to knock on his door. He wasn't stupid, being involved with a serial killer was dangerous, even if he did only kill other serial killers. Yet he didn't believe Charles would hurt him. He just couldn't quite let him go.

The decision was made for him when he looked at his watch. He had to go meet up with Emma, his coworker, as he'd promised her earlier that day. He could always come back later.

He settled into a booth at the coffee shop, waiting, lost in thought. The sound of the chair across from him being pulled out snapped him back to reality. "Emma," he greeted. "Shaw finally let you off? He's been having you cover a lot for him, hasn't he? It isn't right."

She gave him a brief smile. "I know. I didn't think I was going to make it for awhile. Finally some kid came in and distracted him enough to get him in a good mood."

"He has a soft spot for the kids," Erik commented. Shaw could be a real bastard but that all changed when a child entered the room. "It's kind of cute."

"I wouldn't call it cute exactly. More like pedophilia," said Emma.

Erik laughed. "Not everything is about sex, Emma. You've been reading too much Freud." Emma was studying to become a psychologist.

Emma gave him a baleful look. "You mark my words, Lehnsherr. You'll see I'm right. I actually felt bad about leaving that kid with him, but he insisted I left, so I did."

"He'll be fine," Erik assured her. They ordered their coffees and sandwiches. Erik glanced around distractedly when he thought Emma wasn't looking.

In reality, she was. "What's got your panties in a twist?" She asked with a smirk. She'd been asking different variations of that question for days. Ever since he first met Charles, now that he thought about it. He thought he'd done a good job of acting normal and distracting her with the Azazel's Bar ordeal but apparently nothing got past Emma.

"I don't wear panties," Erik evaded, flashing his shark grin.

"So you go commando? Sexy," Emma commented. It was times like this Erik wasn't sure she was joking or flirting, making him wonder if she wanted to be more than friends. Then again, maybe she knew he was gay.

The hair on the back of Erik's neck prickled. Unable to help himself, he turned his head to find the source, breath catching because he believed he already knew. Sure enough, two shockingly blue eyes were staring at him through the window. Erik jerked out of his seat, then sat back down.

Emma raised an eyebrow. "You can't tell me nothing is wrong. You're obviously ready to jump out of your skin. What's going on?" She leaned forward. "Finally found the man of your dreams? Afraid he'll catch me with you and get the wrong idea?"

"So you do know I'm gay," stuttered Erik in relief.

"Don't change the subject. Spill."

Erik shifted in his seat and thread his fingers through his hair nervously. He could still feel Charles's burning gaze on him, though he wasn't sure where he was now. He could no longer see him through the window. Emma followed his gaze to the window, but seeing nothing, returned her gaze to Erik pointedly.

Erik cleared his throat. "So maybe you're right," he admitted finally. "There is a guy."

"I want to hear all about it." Seeing Erik's alarmed look, she smiled. "Let's start easy. What is his name?"

"Charles," Erik informed her.

"Charles," Emma repeated, sounding charmed. "Is he an English gentleman?"

"Yes, I think so. He has an English accent," said Erik.

"What does he look like?" Emma asked.

Erik, knowing he was being obvious but unable to help it, glanced around again. He wanted to get up and find Charles so badly.

"Is he here?" Emma asked perceptively.

"I - er," said Erik eloquently.

"He IS here," she said with a triumphant smile. "Hm, an Englishman. I imagine him being the sort of professorly type, am I right?"

Erik worked his jaw helplessly.

"He's that man right over there isn't he?"

Erik followed her gaze with trepidation. His stomach dropped when he saw that indeed, Charles was there in a corner, sitting in a booth, staring at him.

"He IS," Emma said, reading his gobsmacked expression correctly. "Well what are you waiting for Erik, introduce me!" She leaned forward, adding in a whisper, "He doesn't stalk you, does he? Though to be honest, I wouldn't mind him stalking me either."

In a sort of horrified trance, Erik allowed himself to be pulled out of his seat and led over to Charles. Emma sat him down in the chair beside him and stole a chair from another empty booth for herself, seating herself across from Charles. "I'm Emma Frost. Erik's friend," she introduced herself, putting a lot of emphasis on 'friend.'

"I somehow doubt you are only his friend, Miss Frost," said Charles coolly.

"Don't worry. I have no designs on him. It's nice to be friends with a guy who doesn't stare at my breasts. Because he's gay, don't you know?"

Charles met Erik's wide eyed gaze with a delighted smile. "I had my suspicions. Thank you for confirming them," Charles said brightly, a predatory gleam in his eye.

"So you haven't even got to first base yet!" Emma commented. Erik wished he could hide under the table.

"No," Charles said, a smile still adorning those too red lips.

"Well, sugar, you should know I've never seen Erik so smitten with anyone. He totally wants in your pants. He needs to get laid, he's been acting so twitchy lately. What do you think?"

Erik still couldn't quite seem to find his voice, feeling more mortified by the second.

"I think that I will see what I can do," Charles informed her with a sly smile and a heated glance at Erik.

Erik swallowed, arousal surging through him at this. Finally he could speak again. "Are you done discussing my sex life?" he asked Emma.

"Depends," Emma said.

"Depends on what?" Erik demanded, his edginess getting the better of his temper.

"Only if you tell me more about you two. Now I'm intrigued. How did you meet?"

Erik felt a surge of panic, killing his earlier arousal. Charles jumped in. "We met when Erik was closing the bank and I was out for a moonlit stroll, thinking about how romantic it would be if I had a significant other there to enjoy it with me. And there he was!"

If Erik hadn't been so terrified of Emma seeing right through him to the truth, he would have snorted at the ridiculous lie.

"And Erik, what did he do?" Emma asked, ignoring Erik's ashen face.

"He was a bit speechless when he first saw me to be honest. Said something about my eyes." Charles smirked.

Emma laughed gleefully. "Now there's a first! Then what happened?"

"We took a walk, made small talk," said Charles. "Then we went our separate ways. Since then we've bumped into each other a few times but neither of us has really made a move yet." Charles turned to Erik and smiled predatorily. "Until now, of course."

"Well, I shan't keep you two lovebirds apart any longer," said Emma cheerfully. "I'll be going. Nice to meet you, Charles."

"Likewise, Emma," said Charles. He waited until she was out the door before turning to Erik again and speaking in a low, dangerous voice. "I told you not to follow me."

"I thought it was time to turn the tables," Erik said, too embarrassed by the previous conversation to admit to the truth.

"Don't do it again." Erik felt something sharp poke his leg briefly, but Charles was out of his seat and out the door before Erik could come up with a good response.

That Saturday Erik woke up feeling unusually groggy, rapidly becoming aware of ropes binding his arms and legs to the bed, a gag stuffed in his mouth. He struggled a bit, but he was bound quite securely. Realizing who he would see, he opened his eyes.

As he expected, Charles stood over him, arms crossed, a strange look on his face. "You're awake. Finally."

Erik could not speak with the gag, so he just stared at him pointedly, his heart hammering, though part of him was strangely relieved that Charles had finally made a move.

"You followed me to my house," Charles stated. Erik stared at him, wondering where he was going with this and why he felt the need to restrain him. Charles leaned over him, his face inching closer to Erik's, resting his hands on his shoulders. "I know you were going by those police stations to get me to approach you." His lips were inches from Erik's now. "Why won't you leave it alone, hm? Behave so I'll leave you alone?" The big blue eyes bored into his. "I think you just want to fuck me, like Emma said. I'm going to take this gag out, and you're going to tell me if that's what you want." Charles took it out with surprising gentleness.

Erik, breathing a little faster than normal, gathered himself a moment before responding. "Yes, I want to fuck you," he admitted. What he really wanted to do was a lot more affectionate than that, but it didn't seem like the right moment to let that slip.

"Hmm, kinky," Charles responded with a smirk.

"Let me go," Erik demanded, jerking against this bonds pointedly.

"No, I think not," Charles said firmly.

"How am I suppose to fuck you if I'm tied up?" asked Erik, attempting to reason with him.

"Well," said Charles with another smirk as he undid Erik's pants, "That won't be a problem, because I am going to ride you. Right here, on this bed," Charles stated, pulling down Erik's pants and boxers to reveal his hardening cock. Charles stroked it a bit with his hands, watching intently as Erik grew more erect. Erik's body shuddered with arousal at having those dangerous hands on the most sensitive part of his body.

Then he sank his mouth down on Erik's cock, sucking and licking, causing Erik's eyes to widen as he jerked and twisted violently at the sensation, though he was unable to move much, bound as he was. Charles hummed, achieving his goal to make Erik hard fast, and Erik groaned helplessly at the wonderful vibrations. Satisfied, Charles removed his mouth and let go of his cock, smirking at Erik's resulting disappointed noise.

Charles stood up and pulled his own pants and underwear, but no more than necessary, only baring his ass. Then he slowly, carefully straddled Erik's thighs, eyes never breaking contact with Erik.

"I have lube in the bathroom," Erik offered hoarsely.

"That won't be necessary. I came quite prepared," Charles informed him, smirking. Erik bit back a groan at the mental image of Charles preparing himself especially for him.

Then Charles grabbed Erik's cock, which jerked, and sank down on it, achingly slowly. Erik desperately tried to thrust, but was unable to do much more than jerk his hips a little. Charles's smirk became more pronounced at that.

Finally he was fully sheathed, and he clenched around Erik a few times, causing him to moan and jerk. Erik desperately wished he could at least have his arms free so he could touch him, maybe pull his infernal shirt off, but it was no use. He knew Charles had no intention of freeing him.

Charles began to move slowly up and down, riding him.

"Faster," Erik pleaded, sweating now and breathing fast.

"Hm, no, I want to make this last," Charles said. His smug expression faltered a moment, revealing that aching vulnerability that called to Erik's heart.

But Erik couldn't address that right now. He groaned, panting as Charles brought him to an achingly slow climax. When they had both gone over the edge, Charles climbed off of Erik. He took a needle out of his pocket. Erik's eyes widened.

"Just a sedative, same one as before," Charles assured him. He injected it into Erik's arm. Erik's world grew fuzzy, then dark.

The next time he awoke, he was no longer bound, and his pants and boxers had been pulled back up and secured. Charles was nowhere in sight. Judging by the fact he didn't feel sticky, Charles must have cleaned him while he was out. Erik smiled to himself, strangely touched by the gesture.

Erik got up groggily and got himself a snack in the kitchen, remembering the encounter with satisfying clarity, the haunting, wrecked, vulnerable look on Charles's face as he reached his climax. He sure wouldn't mind a repeat, though hopefully unbound next time.

But to be honest, Erik wanted more than some casual, unattached fucking. He felt far more for Charles than that. He wished he'd met him under different circumstances. Circumstances where Charles would be a bit more trusting and open to spending time with him, getting to know each other. Erik sensed a fascinating mind behind those orbs and he wished to learn more about the mysterious man that was slowly, strangely, capturing his heart.

On Monday, Emma cornered him in the break room. "So how did it go with Charles this weekend? Did you make it past first base?"

Erik debated a moment, then admitted, "Yes."

Emma smiled. "Wonderful, when are you going to see him again?"

"I don't know," Erik revealed. "He seems to think it's a one time thing."

"And you don't want it to be. Sorry, sugar. Though I think he has more interest in you than that. Mark my words," she assured him.

Erik gave her a doubtful look, and turned on the TV to change the subject. The news was on, talking about the serial killer epidemic. Lovely, just what he wanted to think about right now. Still, it presented an interesting opportunity to question Emma about it without arousing suspicion. "Why do they do it?" Erik asked Emma.

"Target and kill certain groups of people?" Emma clarified. At Erik's short nod, she continued. "It's a deep subject, but with what has been going on and all the interest in it, my psychology teacher has been talking quite a bit about it. Basically there are four types, Visionary, Missionary, Hedonistic and those who do it for power or control."

"But how does it come to that for them?" asked Erik, wanting to understand Charles better.

"Usually through childhood abuse and neglect," commented Emma. "Pretty much all serial killers have had a tough childhood in some way or another. When they don't have any healthy relationships, their ability to empathize with others is compromised, and they live in a little fantasy world where they can do no wrong."

Erik nodded thoughtfully. Charles must have had a tough childhood then. But he didn't think Charles's ability to empathize was as compromised as Emma made out. Maybe there was hope for him. Maybe he could convince Charles to stop killing.

Or maybe he was just a lovesick fool in over his head. He went back to work, Emma none the wiser about the true motivation for his questions.

After work he came around to Charles's apartment again, but stopped himself before approaching the door. He doubted Charles would have stayed here if he still didn't trust Erik. If he was here, it might not be wise to provoke him, even if he did only wish to know him better. Emma's words had given him a lot to think about and he wished to see if there was really any hope or if he was just fooling himself. He dithered for a moment longer before turning and leaving.

That Saturday, Erik awoke to find his arms and legs bound tightly to his overstuffed chair, Charles once more standing before him with his arms crossed. Erik found himself feeling grateful that at least Charles had picked the most comfortable seat to tie him to, and not the hard wooden chair at his dining table. His next feeling was disappointment that he wasn't in his bed. It didn't look like round two, then, unless Charles liked chair sex?

"You followed me again," Charles stated. "You went to my apartment."

"I didn't think you'd still be there," Erik defended himself.

"I thought you just wanted a kinky fuck," Charles continued, ignoring his objection. "Then you'd lose interest. But that isn't all, is it? You're curious about me, aren't you? I ran into Emma and when we got talking she told me all about your conversation about serial killers. You want to pick me apart, hm? Find out just how fucked up I am?"

"I do want to learn more about you," Erik admitted. Once again, he didn't think it was a good time to reveal the affection behind his desire. He would do that when Charles trusted him more and would believe him.

"Well then," said Charles, beginning to pace. "It all started years ago with my little sister. I had heard of a serial killer on the loose who targeted young girls. I did my best to keep an eye on her and protect her. But," Charles continued, his words dripping with rage, "I didn't factor in the possibility that the serial killer was my abusive stepfather."

Erik's face grew slack with horror.

"So one day, I came home from school to catch my dear old stepdad in the act of killing her in the same style as the serial killer I'd seen on the news. I put two and two together, realizing it was him. I grabbed a knife, snuck up behind him and slit his throat. My first kill," Charles informed him. "That bastard took away the only thing I cared about, killing someone he was supposed to protect. I had nothing left, no reason to stay, so I left home and took to the streets, making it my mission to kill those bastards before they could kill someone else's Raven."

Erik could see the terrible pain in Charles's eyes, despite his attempts to hide it. "I'm sorry," he said, thoughts still mute with horror.

"Hm yes but sorry doesn't bring her back, does it?" snapped Charles bitterly, meeting his gaze. Erik could now see quite clearly the agony there, the complete devastation at the loss of his sister, just how much she meant to him, how much her loved her and blamed himself for not saving her. "It's these bastards that have to pay for perpetuating even the idea of serial killing. I will kill every last one of them and honor Raven's memory. Her death will not be in vain. Thousands like her will be saved. I was too late for her, but I will not be too late for them. So you see, I'm not a criminal Erik, it's these bastards that let those killers live that are the real criminals."

"I don't have an answer," Erik replied honestly.

"Then I'll thank you not to mock mine," Charles practically snarled at him, though Erik made no move to do anything of the kind. "There, now you know what I'm all about. I've lost my mystery. You can pick me apart with Emma and we'll go our separate ways."

Before Erik could react, Charles turned and left without another word.

Erik moved his hands, realizing that Charles had tied him loosely enough so he could undo himself, though not fast enough to catch up with him. He set to work, contemplating what he'd just learned. He could understand Charles's rage, and he couldn't say whether what Charles did was right or wrong. The only thing he knew for sure was that he didn't want this to be their last meeting.

Fortunately, Darwin had finally dropped his lessons, having indeed only stayed on to see Alex, which meant he had more time to gather his wits before dealing with Alex. With Darwin's encouragement, Alex hadn't given up yet, despite what he'd said a few weeks earlier.

Needing to distract his haunted mind from the horrible agony he saw on Charles's face, he switched on the news. Never had he been more of a news watcher than since Charles had come into his life.

He clicked the TV on, freezing when he saw a picture of Darwin appear on the screen.

"- the latest victim of the serial killer targeting gays," Moira McTaggert said.

The controls slipped from Erik's hand as he stared blankly, his mind numb with shock. No, there had to be some mistake. Not easygoing, kind, supportive Darwin.

"He was leaving a local bar last night," a shot of Azazel's Bar was shown, "Where he was waylaid as he reached his car. We believe that his killer was hiding beneath it and restrained his legs before Darwin could react. Then he was dragged into a back alley, where he was tortured and murdered."

Erik sank to the couch, his face deathly pale, head in his hands. If he was this devastated, how must Alex feel? Erik could only imagine.

Erik cancelled all his plans for that weekend, including his performance at Azazel's Bar. In his grief and rage, he wanted to storm out to Charles's place and demand why he hadn't killed the serial killer before he got Darwin. Never had Erik felt more sympathetic to Charles's point of view than he did now. Yet, in the end, he wanted more for Charles. Wanted him to be more than a killer, live more than a life of solitude and revenge. So though his heart ached for Darwin, he refrained from confronting Killer X.

When he confronted Shaw near his office about getting time off for Darwin's funeral, the bastard was less than sympathetic.

"Surely you can find another student to replace him?" the son of a bitch said coldly. "I don't see the big deal."

Erik only refrained from punching Shaw in the face through the intervention of Scott, though he himself looked no less enraged. "I'll work in Erik's place," Scott offered through gritted teeth.

Shaw glanced between them appraisingly.

"I'll close for him," offered Emma from behind Erik, unexpectedly joining the confrontation.

"If you insist," said Shaw carelessly, softening. He wasn't looking at them, though, as he said it he was looking at a young boy who'd just entered the bank with his father. "I have work to do," he concluded, shooing them away as he made his way over to the kid.

The week passed in a numb, robotic haze for Erik. He'd known Darwin for years, ever since he was a little boy. He was almost like the son he never had. The young man was bright, talented, bringing joy everywhere he went. Now, he was gone, just like Erik's parents.

On Friday morning, the day of Darwin's funeral, Erik found an unsigned note slipped under his front door, simply saying, "I'm sorry."

Erik didn't need to be a detective to know who it was from. He wrote a note of his own: "Not your fault," and slipped it under the door of Charles's place despite Killer X's warning, grief making him reckless.

He hurried from there to Darwin's funeral. There would be no showing of the body, for it was not fit for viewing and still being investigated. But everyone wanted to pay homage to Darwin nonetheless. A large crowd showed up, but Erik felt no surprise at this. Darwin had many friends.

Erik found Alex and sat with his arm around him, offering silent support to the devastated teen. Sean sat on Alex's other side, looking even more dazed than usual, if that was possible.

Azazel and Logan came as well, sitting in front of Erik. They turned around, speaking in hushed whispers to Alex. "I am very sorry," said Azazel, his face grave. "I know it is no comfort to you, but I have asked Logan to beef up security in the parking lot."

"I'll be patrolling with Wolverine," Logan promised darkly. Erik made a mental note to warn Charles somehow to stay away and not murder there. Logan was definitely in the mood to shoot first and ask questions later.

"I will put up a plaque or statue or something. You pick," Azazel continued.

Alex nodded, giving a weak smile.

That night, Erik left his front door unlocked and a rope coiled by his bed in invitation. It was perhaps very strange, but nothing would make him feel better right now than waking up to Charles breaking in his house again.

He was very disappointed when he woke up Saturday, unbound and no Charles in sight. His Saturday lessons were cancelled again, but he kept his lessons with Ann Marie and Bobby on Sunday, for something to do.

Sunday night, he took a walk near the alley where he first saw Charles. He hadn't come that way for awhile since it had been blocked off as a crime scene, but now it was completely cleaned up and free to the public again. He didn't know why he had the urge yet again to come here. Some irrational part of him seemed to believe that returning would make everything make sense.

Erik stiffened and stopped as he felt someone grab him from behind and slide a knife in place against his throat. "I'm beginning to think you just like the danger," breathed Charles into his ear, making Erik relax. He wasn't safe, exactly, but he knew as long as he played by the rules, Charles wouldn't harm him.

"You are very dangerous," Erik enunciated carefully. Charles hadn't drawn his knife on his throat since they first met and this was feeling a bit too reminiscent of that confrontation.

"Well, then you should know that in one split second, I could kill you. Before you could even blink," Charles threatened.

"Yes. Yes you could," Erik allowed, trying to keep his voice neutral.

"I know where you live. I could sneak in and kill you while you sleep."

Erik didn't answer, unsure of where Charles was going with this.

"I suggest you get your kicks elsewhere unless you wish me to follow through. I have many bastards to kill and you are interfering."

"Sorry," apologized Erik reflexively.

"Hm," said Charles skeptically. He removed the knife from Erik's throat and stepped away.

Erik slowly turned around, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender, meeting those intense blue eyes, unsure of what to say. "You didn't come Saturday morning," was what came out.

"I did, but when I saw how easy you made it for me I realized you needed me to increase the danger," Charles stated.

"That isn't what this is about," Erik finally admitted.

"Then what could you possibly want? You got your fuck. You know what makes me tick. I can't think of what else you would want with me other than the thrill of the danger."

Erik gazed at him silently, unsure of what to say, how it would be received. "I want to be your friend," he said finally, wanting much more than that in reality but feeling it wouldn't be well received at this point.

"I think you can do better than being friends with me," Charles replied bitterly.

"I don't see how," Erik argued.

"Hm, you need to get out more," goaded Charles, but Erik didn't rise to the bait, seeing right through him. Seeing this, Charles frowned and pointed the knife at him again. "Don't follow me," he said, turning to leave.

"Wait," said Erik.

Charles paused, turning back to him questioningly.

"Logan is patrolling Azazel's Bar with his super powered gun. It isn't safe for you," said Erik, feeling foolish but determined to warn him anyway.

Charles stared at him, vulnerability flashing quickly through his eyes before slipping back to his cool neutral. Then he disappeared once more into the darkness.

Another couple Saturdays passed, Erik more disappointed at Charles's continued absence each time. He did, however, start performing at Azazel's Bar again, dedicating all his songs to Darwin. Alex, Sean, Emma, and even Janos showed up to every performance, though Erik suspected that the later two were there for Logan and Azazel, respectively.

The following Tuesday, he tried to go to work but was unable to enter because of police tape. Going cold, he had an ominous hunch this had something to do with Charles.

"What's going on?" he asked Emma.

"Mr. Shaw was murdered last night, right here, as he was locking up the bank," she told him, face pale.

"Mein Gott," said Erik, slipping into his mother tongue, such was his shock.

"Nothing was stolen though. The police aren't sure why he was targeted," she continued in puzzlement.

If it had been Charles, it meant that Shaw was one of the serial killers the police were looking for. Or was this another move in this odd chess game of theirs? Somehow, Erik didn't think he'd kill Shaw just for that. If it had been him at all.

Erik cooperated with the police, answering all their questions truthfully but omitting his own suspicions and knowledge of Charles. This was his first time actually talking to a policeman since before meeting Charles, and he hoped to God that Charles wasn't watching and thinking he was being betrayed.

The bank would be almost completely shut down for a week or more, so Erik went home, keeping a sharp eye out. When he entered his house, Charles was waiting for him. Erik tensed, expecting to be attacked, had Charles seen him talking to the police? But Charles just sat there calmly, smiling brightly, posture non threatening for once.

Erik closed the door behind him, never losing eye contact with him. "Charles," he said, walking towards him and taking a seat across from him.

"Erik. Well, as you can see, I did it," Charles announced triumphantly.

"Did what?" Erik asked, flummoxed.

"I figured it out what you wanted." Seeing Erik's continued blank look of incomprehension, he continued, confusion leaking into his voice. "I discovered Shaw was a serial killer. You knew all along, didn't you, about the children that bastard raped and killed. But you wanted more than prison for him, you wanted him dead. You didn't tell me directly because you couldn't quite bring yourself to be responsible for his death in so direct a fashion. So you pursued me and kept me around until I figured it out and killed him for you."

Erik's jaw was slack in shock at Charles's bizarre conclusions. "I - That's not -"

"It's all right, Erik. Not everyone has the heart to kill," Charles said in understanding.

"You've got it all wrong," Erik insisted, frustrated at Charles's conviction he was right. "I had no idea he was that serial killer. I just thought he was a typical bastardly boss. Yes, Emma thought he was a pedophile but I didn't believe her."

"Hm," said Charles a bit skeptically.

"Charles," started Erik, face serious, unsure of how to articulate how he felt about him in a way that Charles wouldn't scoff at, to explain what was really going on, why he wanted him around. "I love you." Shit, he didn't mean to say it so bluntly, but the cat was out of the bag now.

Charles laughed bitterly. "People don't love killers," he informed him.

"I do," Erik insisted.

Charles stood angrily. "I did what you wanted, don't lie to me like this!"

"I'm not!" Erik shot back. "I'm just not good enough for you!"

"Don't be ridiculous, who wouldn't want you? I've seen the way people look at you, especially at your performances, you could have anyone!"

Erik ignored this. "No one will ever measure up to Raven in your eyes, will they? You will never love anyone else!"

"That's not true Erik!"

"Then why are you arguing with me?"

"You can do better than me, anyone would!" Charles snapped.

"I think you should let them be the judge of that!" Erik snarled in frustration.

"Well I think you're mental!"

"I think you are too so it looks like we're on the same page," Erik pointed out, a trace a humor cooling things down a little.

"Erik I really don't see how this can work. I have to keep on with this and you don't agree with killing people."

"I think it's worth a shot," Erik insisted.

Charles huffed in exasperation. "I'm leaving, don't follow me," he said. Erik noted with satisfaction that this time, Charles did not rely on weapons or ropes to enforce this request, trusting Erik would obey. He disappeared out the front door, and Erik resisted the urge to look out the window to see where he went.

Ball was in Charles's court now, he would either agree to be with him or he wouldn't. It was no good trying to force it.

Erik watched the news, noting how, true to what Charles told him about Shaw, there were no more reports of the child serial killer. There were, however, increasing serial killings of gay men. Erik wondered if Charles was having more luck tracking him down than the police. Somehow, he was sure that was the case. It hadn't even occurred to the police that Shaw had been killed by a serial killer, much less Charles, so their investigation had pretty much halted, and the bank reopened.

To everyone's surprise, Shaw had left his bank to Janos. Janos proved to be the quietest boss Erik had ever had, still communicating primarily through e-mail. It was a nice change, though he still wished Charles hadn't killed for it.

He didn't hear from Charles for a few weeks. Erik's feeling of being stalked abated, leaving him strangely empty and lonely. In a twisted way he'd enjoyed the excitement and attention. Now it seemed like Charles wasn't interested anymore. He wasn't interested in taking a chance with him. He only had room enough for Raven in his heart after all.

Erik had just left the Azazel's Bar, trying to forget Charles, when he felt the point of a blade against the back of his neck. Erik oddly couldn't help but smile. He really thought they were past the whole threatening thing but it was good he was back, regardless. "Charles," he breathed happily, willingly allowing himself to be pushed from the parking lot, away from Logan's patrol. He didn't want Logan to see Charles pointing a knife at him and get the wrong idea. Charles just didn't trust people, that was all, and no wonder with his own stepfather killing his sister.

"I'm not your boyfriend, you fag," an unfamiliar voice snarled. Erik's eyes widened in horror. It wasn't Charles at all. He really was in danger! "You're the serial killer on the news," realized Erik. "The one that killed Darwin."

"Right in one," said the voice. "Move. Walk to that alley over there or I sever your spine here and now and drag you."

Erik's heart pumped wildly in a panic. Where was Charles? Why hadn't he caught up with this bastard yet? Why, oh why did he tell him to stay away from Azazel's Bar?

They reached the dark alley. "Face the wall and put your hands above your head," said the killer.

Erik complied, desperately trying to think of a way out of this situation.

The killer patted him down, looking for weapons. "Bet you liked that didn't you, you perverted fag," he goaded.

"You know nothing about me," Erik gritted out, feeling oddly calm now. Being around Charles and Shaw must have desensitized him to this sort of danger, messed up his survival instincts. It seemed he was surrounded by serial killers these days. Well, curiosity killed the cat, when you play with fire you get burned, and all that.

"I am going to tie you up, then I'm going to cut off your dick, then you are going to tell me what a faggot you are, then you are going to die," the killer informed him.

Before Erik considered what to do, another, more welcome voice interrupted him. "I'm afraid you can't do that. That particular part of him is rather valuable to me," Charles said, somewhere close behind them.

"Get your hands off me, faggot," growled the killer.

"Oh I'm not going to do that. You see, I'm a serial killer too. Yes, THAT serial killer. And that's my boyfriend you're threatening. Doesn't that seem like a good end for you, to be killed by a gay man defending what's his? Hm?"

Hearing sounds of a struggle, Erik quickly turned around to aid Charles. But he seemed to have things well in hand, arm around the killer's throat with a knife poised to strike.

"Would you like to do it Erik?" Charles asked, as if it was only polite to offer.

Erik considered the now rather pathetic, struggling man who'd had every intention of killing him on cold blood due to his sexual orientation. "You do it Charles," he decided, knowing how much it would mean to him to finally be in time to save someone he cared about.

Erik watched in horrified fascination as Charles slit the killer's throat twice in his x formation. Charles released his grip and let the body fall on the ground.

"Let's go," said Erik hurriedly, putting his arm around Charles, pulling him away from the crime scene.

Charles wrapped the knife in a cloth and stowed it in a specially made pocket, allowing himself to be led away. Erik had him get in his car. Silence reigned as he drove them back to his house, each lost in their own thoughts and the shock of what had just happened.

They entered Erik's house and he silently gave Charles towels and whatnot to clean himself up, doing so himself as well.

Finally Erik broke the silence. "Charles. Thank you," he said, meeting his eyes, voice deep and sincere. "You saved my life."

"You're welcome," said Charles softly.

"Did you mean it?" asked Erik, feeling a bit like a teenager. "What you said about being my boyfriend?"

An endearing blush crept over Charles's cheeks. It seemed a bit funny that someone who'd just killed someone like that could still be so shy. "I - That is..."

Seeing this was this chance, Erik seized it. "You weren't too late this time." He put his hands on Charles's shoulders. "You are just one man. You can't save the world Charles, but you can save one man, and you did that. Isn't it time to give up this life? Would Raven have wanted this for you? I know I don't. Stay here, with me. Or if you want, we can go somewhere where they won't find you." He stepped closer. "I want you."

"I -" started Charles, speechless.

"Stay."

They stared at each other. Then Charles leaned into him, and Erik, reading his intention, met his lips with his own for the first time.

The kiss heated up fast, hands wandering, stripping each other of their clothes, pressing as close together as possible, only breaking apart long enough to retrieve the lube from the bathroom.

"I think you have me at a disadvantage," said Erik with a teasing grin, gesturing to the pants Charles still wore. Erik was completely naked.

Charles's eyes grew serious, never breaking contact with Erik's as he slowly disarmed himself of his weapons from various pants pockets and strapped on his ankles. Then, Charles slowly set down his final weapon - his large killing knife - on top of Erik's dresser, out of reach from the bed. Erik stilled, realizing what a huge moment, what a huge gesture it was. It touched him, honored him, that Charles trusted him. It also really turned him on that Charles would surrender himself to him like this.

Charles stripped himself quickly of his pants and underwear as they made their way to Erik's bed. Charles pulled Erik on top of him, parting his legs and handing him the lube. Erik stared down at him with dilated eyes, drinking in the long awaited sight of Charles lying naked below him. Gone was the brash smugness Charles had the first time. Now the aching vulnerability was there in full force, making Erik want to kiss him senseless.

Charles hooked one leg around him in clear invitation. Breathing hard, Erik prepared Charles with his fingers, throat tightening at the unguarded intimacy. The leg tightened around him as Charles squirmed down on his fingers in encouragement.

"I'm ready, just do it," gasped Charles through ragged breathing, his eyes bright with need.

"I don't want to hurt you," Erik objected, though he'd grown harder than ever at Charles's eagerness.

"I know, just do it... Please," insisted Charles, the polite word sounding foreign on a tongue that was far more used to threats. "I want your cock up my bum."

Erik twisted and scissored his fingers one last time before pulling them out. Charles grabbed Erik's hips and guided him insistently closer. Their eyes met as Erik pushed into the wonderful tight heat. Erik moaned in satisfaction at finally being able to do this with him, unbound this time. Charles stared at him, eyes wide yet dark with excitement and anticipation.

Erik started slow and soft, kissing him tenderly, stroking his cheeks with almost unbearable gentleness. Charles made a needy noise, clawing at him to give him more, faster, harder, gripping his back, wrapping a second leg around Erik, tightening both in encouragement. The new angle helped Erik find his prostate, ramming it and grunting with satisfaction as Charles gasped and tightened around him. His focused unrelentingly on that spot, giving Charles what he wanted, in no mood to draw it out any longer, bringing them both to climax quickly. Erik pulled out gently and rolled slightly to the side, so he was still pressed against him but wasn't crushing him with his weight.

They lay in silence for several minutes, coming down from their high and catching their breath.

It was Charles that broke the silence. "I was afraid that I hadn't made it in time," he admitted quietly.

Erik tightened his arms around him. "You did," he reminded him.

"I don't want to let you out of my sight," Charles added.

"You don't have to," Erik assured him. "If you stay. If you stop killing." He turned to face Charles, their eyes meeting. "Will you?"

Charles gave him a slow, small smile. "Yes."