Thanks, MirrorFlower and DarkWind for all your encouragement over reviews on all my X-Men fanfics. Your a doll.

Please keep reading, and reviewing. I like, everyone else, without shame could live on them.

Oh, and the one first-person piece in here is Alex btw.

Noir

It all started with a murder. And it all ended hopelessly. A victim of circumstance, he's life is set against dark backgrounds and cast with morally bankrupt associates. Everything thing in Erik's life was set up for him, and everything went as planned. The great creator of all, the director, the coordinator, the motherfucker with the microscope, made him into the little boy who could bend metal fences but still couldn't tie his shoe lace, a turtlenecked hunter, and finally into the caped revolutionary.

"Let's go find some fresh air, my boy." Charles would try to end the spiral to melodrama in that short time when peace was an option, and so was hunting for fresh air. "It's always depressing to stuck in this house all day."

Depressing was something that he would deal with. Actually, in hindsight, Erik understood that he would of never handled complete freedom to enjoy peace or happiness. Too many choices, when you don't have an overwhelming and ever presence goal to complete. Choices that could take to you many different places, with many different outcomes, when Erik only wanted the possibility of two. Win or die.

They walked through the garden a handful of times in that strange moment of stillness. Never holding hands. The kiss and the punch that had followed, taught Erik there intimate limits. Brushing each other's hand was an established okay.

"As, I was saying lovely day." And unlike when they played chess, and discussed heavy topics and past events and upcoming miseries, the garden was reserved for talk of the weather and of the crazy new flavors of soda pop how much Erik enjoyed baked goods.

It started with a crime.

He had stolen an egg. Had gotten away with as well, until he had placed it on the wooden slab his mother used for cutting roots of the potatoes. "Look, mama."

She turned away form her scavenging, wiping her hands with her apron. "What do you have there, Max?"

"Something special for dinner." He was so very proud. Now a man for taking care of his family. Max was put off though when his mother shook her head, and mad the tutting noise of disapproval. "Where'd you get that?"

Five year olds did not carry money, and people did not give away food. It was a fact of Poland. "A man gave it to me."

Picking it up, and cradling it in her hand as something precious, "No stealing, Erik. Not only God is watching, but we do not take what oughta be given."

They egg never did see home again though. It was hardboiled, and cut into three, served for dinner.

"Professor, about that eye?"

"Rather dashing isn't it? Brings out the the color to my cheeks, and really fits the role of an adventurer that I've taken to lately. Like Lawrence of Arabia, or a romantic cowboy looking for some Aztec gold." That's just how it went when you asked Charles about his eye. Not exactly the same way my mom would answer, but pretty close. The same point at least. To avoid the truth.

Charles ain't no woman though. My mom needed help, but never asked. I hate her a little for that, ya know? Instead of confronting my dad or calling those feminist social workers, she ran off. I have a feeling woman just do that, and I hope not men. Because I really want Charles to stick around, after pretty much promising he would.

I, unlike, Sean who gives up too easy and pretends that its probably no biggie, and unlike Hank, who is sure that Charles is some sort of unreachable god, I keep pressing though. Asking Raven was no help though. Shrugged me off, and told me it was none of our business. Which means she already knows. Noway she's act that nonchalant about her dear brother.

"It's nothing Alex. Just got into a little scuffle at a gentleman's club." It's laughable, really. Our pussyfooted boss getting into a barfight. What would it be over, some sort of 'my theory of evolution is better, and much larger than yours' argument gone violent. At this point, I'm sure it was this Erik fellow who hit him. A real Nazi Hunter, like the kind you read in those rags that always have articles about alien landings, and that JFK is really a lizard man, always decked out in a turtleneck seems like culprit to flipout on our candyass leader. Confronting him seems like a great idea, right? "Was it Erik?"

Now I hadn't expected a start answer, so when he just said yes I was a little thrown. "You better of hit him back."

"Would it make you feel better if I did?"

I really wish my mom had hit my dad at least once. Beating on her like that, he should of got a little of it, ya know? Payback, or vengeance, or some sort of punishment. Not just TV dinners with cold mashed potatoes and gamey turkey for the rest of his life now that she was gone. "Yes."

It started with a crime.

A crime against decency. "Is this really alright?"

The hair that grew sparsely on Erik's stomach was scratching at a kneeling Charles cheeks as he tried to leave a few kisses. Both found being with a man was different and more awkward than being with a woman, even when it felt right. There wasn't set roles to fall back on. Too much intimacy seemed emasculating, while not enough was cowardly like giving into human norms of sexuality. "I believe it is more than right."

It's not like Charles likes giving blowjobs, but he certainly loved receiving them. And that seemed like a right enough reason for him. But Erik needed more that just right, he needed truth. That they were doing wasn't against nature, and that sex was different than love, but maybe they can try both. So Charles stopped his advance, and places his hands around Erik's hips, and looked up at him. "I respect you, my friend. I do not find this indecent or immoral. And I hope you have it in you to still respect me after we are through, cause dear lord, I really need this. And so do you. Give me the okay when your ready."

All sort of things went through Erik's mind in that moment. Like what would his mother think, or could he let his closest friend that much closer, and that things will be different and change can be a bad thing, and that being a homosexual was going to be just as serious as being a mutant. But also, other things seemed to become important as well, like why the hell do you suddenly care about what society thinks? And look at this man on his knee, practically begging to suck you off, and saying no would be insane, and he would no longer be allowed to call himself a man. Most importantly, it was Charles. "Go ahead."

His pants were down to his ankles, and his cock was in Charles hands. Instantly, he knew he would regret this. It was now another thing out of his control, and he was just along for the melodrama.

It ended with a crime.

A crime against nature, against humanity, against love, and mostly against himself. But he does not know that yet. And in this crime, Erik realizes he's not just a victim of circumstance, and that he does have some control. Just the timing of it all was off, and if he had know this before maybe things would of been a bit different.

But probably not.

I said the word cock, now I have to up the rating. Or at least I think that's how it works. Please keep on reading. And suggestions for chapter themes are welcomed. I'd use them.