Chapter 1

Erik Lehnsherr knew the properties of a good book. And what he was reading, just did not qualify. As he closed the cover on the manuscript he'd received via fax just four hours previous he was already writing the rejection letter in his head.

'...We are most sorry to say that your submitted work was not on par with the standards we have come to accept at Lehnsherr and Howlett Publishing and will not be taking it on as one of our current projects. Please try again though while the genre and storyline was generic the characters were highly original despite some bad phrasing and spelling. It is always good to hear from new budding authors and try not to think of this as a rejection letter, more constructive critism,

Yours Sincerely, Erik Lehnsherr.'

Removing his reading glasses Erik rubbed his tired Ocean Blue eyes as his gaze found the wall clock above the door in his now dark office. "Bloody hell," he muttered as it was well out of office hours, 10:23 PM. Stretching he heard the satisfactory click of his shoulder joints, smiling to himself he sent the rejection letter, closing down his long abandoned laptop, gathering his leather jacket which he pulled on over his black turtleneck to shield his body from the harsh November winds outside. As he exited the office his fax machine lit up the room with an incoming fax, thinking carefully he remembered it required a paper refill, especially if there was another manuscript coming through for him to see by the morning. Taking a stack of paper from his supply closet he loaded it into the tray, stopping when he saw the transmission had completed with just two sheets of paper. Intrigued Erik lifted them and scanned them before enclosing them in his brief case to return home with.

As he drove through the bare streets Erik's stomach groaned in neglect as he attempted to remember the last time he had eaten. Breakfast: A Ham Panini and black coffee. Knowing his refrigerator was also empty and neglected Erik parked in a clear space near Main Street and walked in search of food. Before long his senses were assaulted by the unmistakable aroma of Indian cuisine. Knowing the restaurant fairly well he ducked inside and ordered food to go, returning to his car to make a hasty retreat before his feast cooled.

Erik's home was nothing to brag about, it was a small two bedroom apartment above a convenience store he shared with his fifteen year old son from before he had married. Pietro was fifteen years old and his dad was his best friend. He had silver hair and blue eyes like his father and his acquired style was most defiantly not from Erik, he wore faded jeans and a Pink Floyd T-shirt under a silver leather jacket accompanied by two belts each holding an old, still working Walkman and on his head he wore steampunk goggles. Despite his odd taste in fashion Pietro was a very well-liked student at his school and he got on well with students and teachers. He was also fast. Very fast. Even though he was a freshman Pietro held the record for the fastest student in school and competed against other schools in many various track events. When Erik pushed his key in the lock he could already hear Pietro as he shouted through his X-Box headset. Smiling he shook his head, inside he noticed the apartment was clean. Another positive about his son. Pietro was a very clean teenager. "Hit pause Tro, dinner is served." Erik called pulling two clean plates from the dishwasher. The noise from the game ceased and Pietro appeared in the kitchen already preparing the table for dinner.

"Lose track of time again? What was it this time?"

"Same old thing read, written and rewritten a thousand times before." Erik told him. "You come up with a name yet?" He asked his son as he lifted a small ginger fur ball from the counter, stroking its head softly.

"Sure did, it's on his bowl," Pietro said taking the kitten and placing his kitten food on the mat by the fridge.

"Azazel? I like it, suits him." Since he was a child Pietro had always wanted a pet, but Erik was allergic to dogs and his step-mother had been allergic to cats and almost anything with fur.

"He seems to like it, I was reading comic books earlier and he kept placing his paw on the character."

As they ate they talked about their day and weekend plans. "Well I have no plans."

"Not goin' to the birthday party?"

"Son the day I let you and Marie or any girl in your room without leaving the door open is the day I will go to Jean Grey's birthday party."

"Yeah, about that, Marie and I broke up," Pietro said looking down. "She left me for one of her brother's friends, he's a Senior. I couldn't compete."

"I'm sorry to hear that, you holding up OK?"

"Actually, I don't even feel sad about it, more… Relieved. Is that bad?"

"No, it just means you may not have felt that way about her. Are you still going to the dance?"

"Yeah, Kitty called and said did I wanna go with her as friends. I said yes."

"I always did like that girl," Erik said to his son smiling.

"Um, dad, wipe that grin off your face, Kitty and me could never be together."

"Oh come on, how do you know that?"

"Because she's a lesbian." Erik coughed a little in surprise.

"OK then, but still, door stays open."

"That's not all, she's a lesbian and I think might be gay."

"Son, just because your girlfrien-"

"It's not because of that, I've thought this for a while, I just didn't know how to tell you, you aren't mad?"

"Pietro, you are my son, the best thing I ever did in this world, I could never be mad at you and so you're gay, I still love you."

"Thanks dad. Love you too."

"Now," Erik said clearing away their plates, "still think you can kick my ass at Halo?"

"All the time," Pietro answered lifting Azazel who was rubbing against his leg.

"Set it up and prepare to get your ass kicked."

"In your dreams, old man."

That night, long after Pietro had fallen asleep Erik was sitting on his bad, still dressed, looking through some papers while sipping a beer with Azazel curled up on the pillow beside him. His eye caught the fax he received before leaving work and curiously he picked it up to read.

'Dear Mr Lehnsherr,

I hope I spelled it right; I'm horrible for names,
My name is Charles Xavier and I'm a writer I've been having some trouble with my current publishers regarding my latest book and I think I need a change, not just for me but for the sake of the book. Anyway I would like very much so to meet you and discuss things, come over tomorrow and we can talk about it. By the way the genre as I know you'll need to know is erotic fiction. Look forward to hearing from you,

Charles.'

Underneath there was a phone number. Erik didn't give it a second glance after reading the word 'erotic', he had no plans to add that to the genres he published. If he wanted to read erotica he'd read 'fan fiction' or that God awful 'shades of grey.'

With a sigh he removed his glasses and cleared away the papers it was three in the morning. Changing for bed Erik turned off the lamp on the bedside table and lay under the covers until his breathing evened out.

The following morning Pietro made pancakes while his dad sipped coffee, "working even later?"

"I'm part owner; sometimes I just don't have a choice." On the counter beside him his phone buzzed.

'Hope you got my fax, hope you don't mind got your number from your business partner. Please get back to me.' He read aloud.

"Well?"

"It's an erotic story, not what we publish. Besides it's probably some guy who read that Shades book and thought, 'easy money, I can write that.'" His phone buzzed again. 'I know what you're thinking and no this isn't some Mr Grey rip off. I actually never read that book and never plan too.' Pietro laughed a little.

"He's persistent. Go on dad, at least give it a try," his son said.

"I guess it couldn't hurt, but first I need a meeting with Logan about giving my number to strangers." Erik decided replying to the text and calling his business partner while his son chuckled knowing Logan was gonna get it. After a shower and grilling Logan; Erik sat to watch the news.

"And now to the world of books, popular erotica writer Charles Xavier had abandoned his publisher of six years and four books over disagreements with his latest draft." Erik sat to listen carefully, recognizing the name. "Xavier's books have made millions for his publishers but seemingly unhappy with what they had planned he has dropped them and is rumored to be searching for new publishers."

"Isn't that the guy who texted you?" Erik jumped a little not hearing Pietro come in.

"Yeah it is. I think I'm going to have to research this guy before I meet him tonight."

"Want to borrow my laptop, it's quicker than yours is."

"That would help, thanks, where are you going?" He said noticing his son was dressed for an outing.

"I was about to ask you, me and Kitty were gonna go to the mall to you know, co-ordinate for the dance."

"Right, I nearly forgot about that, here, take the spare card, get yourselves dinner while you're out, then when you get home order a pizza or something I don't know how late this meeting is going to run, not to mention this guy lives over an hour away."

"Thanks dad," Pietro said setting up his laptop.

Erik typed in Charles Xavier into the search and was greeted by fan pages about his books, he clicked on a review page to see how his books were perceived. Liking what he saw he felt a little better going into the meeting as he got in his car later that day. With directions to hand he drove when he got an incoming call from Logan. He answered it through the car's bluetooth.

"What did I do this time?" The voice asked.

"What have I told you about giving out my number?"

"OK I know but Erik, we want this guy, you know my job is scouting out good authors with potential, well this guy brings in the big numbers. And I mean big numbers."

"Why me, why not Jean or Remy?"

"You think I'm letting Remy near a guy like this? Or Jean? Hell no, I'm gonna warn you Erik this guy is intense. Not to mention I'm pretty sure he's doing it with his intern. 16."

"The kid's parents know about that?"

"I don't think anyone should know, but he calls him his intern so it sounds better. Better then PA anyway."

"Just don't do it again Logan. I'm heading over there now."

"Good luck Erik."

Rolling his eyes Erik hung up the call and focused on his driving, having never been this far out of the city center. Finally he arrived at his destination. Xavier Mansion. He drove down the gravel path of the extensive grounds parking near the front door. It was a very big building and very spacious. It was time for him to see just what kind of a guy this Charles Xavier really was.