When you're a child, you play a game called cops and robbers. You're either a cop, waving your gun-shaped hand, or you're a robber on the run. You're either a good guy, or you're bad. If only things were that simple now.

Charles Xavier had been on the New York Police Force for nearly ten years, and he was proud to say he has never fired his gun, and he has never been shot at. He was a Harvard graduate. He worked a desk job, though no one thought him any less than the men working the works streets. He used his brain more than his muscles. He took evidence, and tried to solve the crimes.

That is, until nine months ago. It took them several months to figure out what was happening; all they could see was that crime was skyrocketing. The only lead: Apocalypse. Obviously they had taken the lead as a warning, a promise of what this new band of criminals wished upon them. But it took a little longer to realize it was a name. And that made things much, much harder. It was easy to take down a bunch of crazed lunatics—it was another to try and take down a leader. Charles obviously took interest in the case, eventually leading on the investigation. He had gathered in the few months very little information about Apocalypse. This man had never been seen, save his four closest followers. And even these "Horsemen" sightings were very rare. All evidence lead to a dead end. All Charles could do behind his desk was sit on his hands and pray that someone miraculously stumbled upon ground-breaking evidence. So Charles did the logical thing, and petitioned to take his investigation to the streets.

Charles sighed as he stacked the remaining papers neatly on his desk. No doubt Alex would trip and send them all flying, or Hank would come looking for a form and completely ransack the piles, but at least it was clean for now. Today was the day. Today he would go out there, and he would find a lead. He had high hopes, but he tried to dwell his excitement. This was the equivalent to poking a hornets nest and crossing your fingers that none of the hornets stung you. He was asking questions no one wanted to ask. Questions that would cause some dangerous people to look his way.

"I still cant believe little Charles is leaving the office," a voice cooed behind him. If anyone else had said that, Charles would have been irritated to say the least. But when he turned, he saw exactly what he expected: the blonde hair, the steaming fresh coffee in hand, and the playful smirk.

Charles only shook his head and smiled. "Raven, how many times do I have to say it? I'm perfectly capable of doing this." His sister, though she also became an officer, had taken a much different route. She liked the adrenaline rush of a chase and the dumbstruck look on men's faces when they realized her flirting had led them straight to handcuffs. She was undoubtedly the best undercover field agent they had. She would die before she spent all day behind a desk.

Raven nonchalantly took a sip from her Styrofoam cup. She was sitting on the edge on the desk across from Charles', swinging her legs back and forth like a child. "Is that why Hank got you to get a partner?"

"What?" Charles exclaimed. He looked two desks down, to where the forensic scientist was shrugging his coat off. He had only arrived a moment or two ago, and his hair was still a wiry mess from the wind. "Hank!"

McCoy looked up, eyes wide. Once his eyes locked on Raven, they turned into a squinting glare. He abandoned his desk, closing the few yard gap between him and the siblings. "You told him, didn't you?" he accused.

Raven merely shrugged. "I figured you told him. He's leaving right now. This is a little last minute, even for you."

Hank rolled his eyes, now trying to explain his action to a very disgruntled Xavier. "You're trying to take down Apocalypse, Charles. He's one of the biggest crime bosses since . . . maybe ever."

"That's an exaggeration," Charles deadpanned as he shrugged on his coat. He was going out there, whether they liked it or not. "If you're so paranoid about my safety, Alex can be my bodyguard. Isn't he usually lounging around doing nothing?"

Hank shook his head firmly. "For once, he's actually doing his job. The new recruits are coming today, and he's on babysitting duty."

Raven smiled fondly. "I love the recruits. They're so small and timid and scared of us. Kind of like ducklings." Memories resurfaced of their first year. Raven, Charles, Hank, and Alex were all that was left of their class. They stuck through years of writing parking tickets and fetching coffees, and now they were going to take down a crime boss. At least, Charles was. The rest would shake their heads at his impossible dream, but support him nonetheless.

Charles frowned. It was true that a handful of new policemen were starting their first day, and they were practically children. They didn't know anything that wasn't in the textbooks. If you let them wander, they would likely bring the whole force down within the hour. Charles felt a twinge of sympathy for Alex; he certainly was babysitting. "How about you?" he desperately asked his sister.

"Nope. I'm working my own case." She slid off the desk and stalked off.

Hank shrugged. "I knew you'd make a big deal, Charles, but I got a really great guy from Interpol."

This raised Charles' eyebrows. "You got someone from Interpol?"

"Yeah," Hank nodded. "Be grateful I don't want you lying dead in a drain pipe. He should be here within the hour."

Charles let out a huff, but let Hank return to his desk. Charles slumped into the chair beside his own desk, and waited. He waited for five minutes. He got up to get a coffee. He waited another fifteen. He watched as Alex appeared, a slew of fresh-faced young adults behind him. They really were almost children. Charles introduced himself, and tried his best to catch a few names. One was Alex's brother, Scott, whom he had met occasionally over the years. The kid looked good in a uniform. There were two other girls—one intelligent young woman with red hair, the other dark hair and a bubbly personality. The fourth was a fidgety teenager with silver hair. Charles wondered what possessed him to dye it that color. Alex continued the tour, and Charles was once again left by himself.

Well past an hour of waiting passed, and Charles stood from his desk. He stalked over to Hank's desk; it really was a good thing the two were stationed so close by. They were always going back and forth, exchanging notes on cases or getting ideas, or just making small talk. "He's late."

Hank looked up at Charles. He had just been interrupted trying to read a very long (and in Charles' opinion, boring) essay. "I'm sure he'll be here soon."

Charles crossed his arms. This was exactly why he didn't want a partner. He was so excited about his investigation, he had come to work almost an hour early. He had done all of his paperwork in advance. All he wanted was to get out there and find at least something promising. And now he would have a stranger on his heels, watching and second-guessing his every move. It wasn't fair. Charles was well aware he was a grown man and that he was sulking, but he didn't care.

Behind him, there was the sound of someone clearing their throat. Charles turned, and Hank once more looked up from his text. Before them was a tall man with sharp features and an expressionless face. A fedora covered his hair (Who wears a fedora these days?) and he was covered in a long jacket. He had a briefcase in his one hand. Hank quickly stood, and eagerly shook the man's hand. He began to gush about how grateful he was the man could come on such a short notice, and how he would enjoy New York very much, and all the typical things Hank said when he was kissing up.

"This is Charles Xavier, your new partner." Hank gestured to Charles. Charles eyed the man wearily and tried for a polite smile. It felt more like a grimace. Slowly, Charles shook the man's hand.

"Erik Lehnsherr," the man introduced himself.

Charles quickly let go of his hand. He didn't dislike the man, but he most certainly didn't want somebody riding on his heels. It seemed he didn't have much say in the matter. "Come on. We're late."

This idea was inspired by a dream I had on a very, very long car trip. Note that I have little knowledge about police procedures or jobs, so any information would be helpful, be it first-hand experience or something you saw in a police/crime TV show. I hope you guys enjoy this! I plan to continue, vaguely following the plotline of X-Men: Apocalypse. (And yes, if people want me to continue, you will see more of the younger X-Men. Also, Charles isn't paralyzed for obvious plot reasons.)

Stay awesome, my dudes!

~palmtreedragons