{Author's Note: I do not own X-Men or any of the characters, incase that wasn't obvious.}

Erik paced back and forth across the street from the modest little suburban house. He couldn't be a father. He just couldn't. After all he's been through and all he has done—had to do—there was no way he could be responsible for the life of a child. Not after what happened the first time he became a father. Not when he failed his first child so horrifically. No. He had to be mistaken. The boy from the Pentagon was not his son. He was not.…..

**************FLASHBACK*****************

Erik was meditating. Of course he wouldn't call it that. Meditation sounds weak, but essentially that was what he was doing. That is until the regularly scheduled barely edible lunch on a plastic "duh" tray hit him in the side, but that was when his daily schedule changed abruptly.

There was a note on the tray: "MIND THE GLASS." What in the world did that mean?

He looked up still expecting to see the usual boring guard staring down at him, instead he saw a young man grinning at him. No, not a young man, a teenager, a child really. He couldn't be older than 15, 16 tops. That wasn't the strangest part though. The boy was extremely pale and had silver hair and eyebrows. Erik immediately reasoned he was likely a mutant. The teenager also seemed vaguely familiar for some reason, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why. He knew he had never met the boy before. He'd certainly remember that hair and the smirk.

Erik stood up to get a closer look at the boy and figure out what the hell he was planning on doing, something stupid most likely.

He watched curiously as the boy placed his hands on the glass roof above him, and his hands became a vibrating blur.

Then suddenly glass was reigning down on him, and at that moment, even though he still had little reason to believe this child would be able to break him out of his plastic prison, he allowed himself to feel something he thought he had lost in the past 10 years of his imprisonment. Hope.

Erik pulled himself up through the now empty ceiling, Glancing briefly toward the boy then the doors of his cell.

"In three seconds those doors are going to open and twenty guards will be here to
shoot us."

"I know, that's what I'm waiting for." Said the boy as he somehow zipped up beside Erik.

Erik felt a hand being placed on the back of his neck. "What are you doing?" he asked the boy.

"I'm holding your neck so you don't get whiplash." The boy responded so quickly he barely comprehended what he said.

"What?"

"Whiplaaaash."

Just when Erik was finally figuring out just what the boy might be planning on doing, the doors opened and a guard shouted "Don't move!"

The next thing Erik new he was inside an elevator and….oh god….he was going to be sick. Ugh whatever just happened, Erik never wanted to experience it again.

As he struggled to keep his nausea at bay, the boy spoke again, "You're good, it'll pass. It happens with everyone."

At the sound of his voice, Erik glanced back at his would be rescuer and saw he had changed into a god awful silver jacket, a pink Floyd shirt, and some silver sneakers. Seriously? Who was this kid?

"Must have done something pretty serious. What'd you do, man? What'd you do? What'd you do? Why did they have you in there?"

Jeesh this kid liked to talk. "For killing the president." Did the boy really have no idea who he was rescuing and what I had been accused of doing? Did he just go around breaking out random criminals in his free time, or was he simply here on a whim?

Erik heard the boy give a brief "Oh" of shock.

Suddenly feeling like he should defend himself a bit. Erik responded, " The only thing I'm guilty of is fighting for people like us."

"You take karate? You know karate, man?"

Karate? The boy appeared to have the power of superspeed and he really thought Erik fought for their kind using karate? Maybe the kid was just being sarcastic. Erik had never really spent much time around children once he had grown up, so he wasn't exactly an expert at interacting with them.

"I don't know karate, but I know crazy." He told the boy. With that response, he thought he heard a brief chuckle from the kid. Followed by "They told me you control metal."

"They?" Well that was slightly reassuring. At least the boy wasn't working on his own. Hopefully whoever had concocted his escape new what they were doing, beyond picking up Erik and dragging him along at vomit inducing super speeds.

As Erik was pondering who could be the brains of this operation, the boy spoke again, "You know my mom once knew a guy who could do that."

Holy shit. No, he thought as he made the connection as to why the boy seemed so familiar. When he first saw the boy looking down at him, it was like looking at a slightly altered image of his younger self. Especially those eyes. Erik had never met anyone with eyes as dark brown and haunting as his own before. The boy's smirk didn't belong to him though. His smug smile brought to mind a woman he had tried not to think about for quite awhile. Magda. But this boy couldn't be Magda and his son. For Christ's sake, he hadn't seen Magda in what 15 no 16 years. Oh crap.

Erik was starting to feel sick again, and he knew this time it had nothing to do with the after effects of superspeed, But before he could turn around to examine the kid, he was being punched in the face by someone he never thought he'd see again.

After a highly tension filled reunion with Charles, their little company was suddenly being rushed by armed guards.

Nobody move! Hold it right there!

"Charles." His former friend sure was taking his time at ending this predicament.

"Don't move! Hands up or we will shoot!" A guard shouted

" Freeze them, Charles!" What the hell was he waiting for?

"I can't." Charles responded.

He can't?

"Hands up!" The guard shouted once more.

Well if Charles wasn't going to get them out of here. Then he would do what had to be done or die trying. There was no way he was going back in that cell after getting this very brief taste of freedom. Despite this valiant thought Erik heard gunfire and just had time to think, Please let the boy live through this.

Then everything went haywire. Bullets flew by him and guards flew everywhere. And when everything settled, there was the boy, across the room standing nonchalantly and looking, if possible, even more ridiculously childish with a guards hat plastered on his head.

Wow. Erik couldn't help feeling a little bit proud, but then he realized he felt proud because there was a high possibility that this boy was his son, which got him feeling sick to his stomach once again. So he quickly followed Charles and walked by the boy without saying anything. He was afraid if he tried to articulate any kind of thanks, he would blurt out things that he wasn't sure he was ready to acknowledge.