"...they shoulda learned by now," a scrappy, masculine voice said as he bit down on a stogie, "If there ain't no body bag, why waste the dough on a rock with a plaque?"

The voice's owner, Logan, looked up at the African-American goddess figure who was easily more than a half-foot taller than him and waited for a tastefully patronizing remark...but it was not delivered.

Ororo Munroe's platinum silver mane flowed through the wind as her blue irises stared with a worried confidence upon her own gravestone. Although she was once thought to have been murdered by the monstrous android known as the Nanny, the black granite with bold white etchings engraved into it seemed like a permanent stamp on Storm's life. It was difficult for her to choose which emotion to feel.

Imprisoned for months by the mad son of Apocalypse and Jean Grey in the bowels of an old pyramid base, Storm experienced her own personal hell during that time. Although the one, true Cyclops was also in captivity with her, not even the battle-hardened fellow X-Men leader could have helped her deal with the psychological trauma of her severe and dehabilitating claustrophobia.

And yet, the Wolverine stood beside Storm and gazed upon his own grave, or rather, his memorial. For a time (which wasn't as long as Ororo's ordeal), Logan also experienced his own personal hell. Thrust into an epic war with the Shadow King, Wolverine himself defeated his nemesis, apparently punctuating the struggle with his own demise in the destruction of Alamogordo.

The two X-Men met in the most urgent of circumstances, when many of the original X-Men (save for Beast and Cyclops) were kidnapped by a living island. Professor Xavier went on a worldwide search to form a ragtag group to rescue his missing students. Ororo and Logan were some of the earlier recruits of the "second generation," so they had some time to get to know each other as the other members were gathered...despite the fact Ororo's English had been telepathically downloaded for her to learn in just a few hours.

Logan had tried to use one of his pickup lines on Ororo, but she wisely avoided that entanglement. Wolverine chuckled when he remembered what she had said to him, "Get away from me, you hairy, hairy fiend!" Of course, that was before he laid eyes on the buxom redhead, Jean Grey. Otherwise, he might have been pining for Ms. Munroe's affection all those years instead.

Storm looked over at Wolverine as he silently bowed his head, a smile on his face. Almost curiously, she found herself in a gaze just a few yards away...at the gravesite of John Proudstar -- Thunderbird -- the first full-fledged X-Man to die on a mission. They both knew it wasn't fair for them to be living while John still rested beneath the soil. But at least Thunderbird's life had finality. Storm didn't know what would happen next in hers.

"So...," Logan said as he tossed his cigar into the nearby foliage of dense woodland, "are we just going to pretend there isn't somethin' to talk about here, orrrrr--?"

"No," Ororo said finally as she crossed her arms and dug her foot into the grass, "there is a lot to talk about...I'm just not sure how to talk about it. Put it in words."

Logan's sideburned face looked up into the smooth, yet worn dark-golden visage of Ororo, "Then just spill it. You and I haven't really had a heart to heart for a month."

"You were recovering most of the time," Storm reminded as the almost childish excuse did not cause Wolverine to budge.

"So were you, O'. You an' Slim were in bad shape...not just from Washington," Logan said. "An' I'm not talkin' about the physical stuff." Wolverine suddenly stopped midthought, appearing to have something in his throat. After a brief moment of concentration, he spit a wad of something green and brown out of his mouth, "...goddamnit..."

"Another tumor?" Ororo asked.

Wolverine breathed slowly as he hunched over, anticipating vomit, "Healin' factor gets rid of 'em before they spread to the vitals. The skeleton ain't helpin' matters, either." He paused, "Shit...thought Hank said I was done with this."

"You were in a nuclear explosion," Storm said with a hint of a smile, "don't beat yourself up."

"You should take your own advice, Storm," Logan said as he stood upright, "Don't beat yourself up because Apollyon fooled everyone into thinking you were dead. I know it feels like everyone abandoned you...I've been there...but give it time."

"I'm still not sure how it happened," Ororo sighed with frustration. "I can't understand why not even Jean could see through the illusion."

Logan's posture changed as the delved into the part of himself that was wiser, "Apollyon could tap into people's emotions. From the way Jean tells it, he killed you, and then Cyke blew the kid's head off. The fight with Apocalypse must have been pretty intense, allowing the kid to gain enough power to create the fake deaths, imprison you an' Scott, and take Scott's place...not even Chuck could have seen it coming."

Ororo choked as she tried to prevent tears from welling up in her eyes, but when Logan reached and touched her arm, she lost it. Storm buried her head into Wolverine's shoulder and sobbed.

"Scott and I survived by eating dung beetles and pieces of our own costumes...," Ororo sniffled. "I was barely conscious from my claustrophobia...and all I had to listen to was Cyclops's indecipherable rambling from his visions...I was all alone in that dark cell..."

Logan caressed the back of Ororo's soft white hair, "Shhh. You're not alone, Windrider."

A rumbling of thunder halted Storm's loss of composure. She gasped, "Oh no...my emotions...I'm going to cause--!"

Logan looked up, and sure enough, the clouds had began to clump together, rising high into the atmosphere. He kissed her on the temple and tightly embraced her, "It's alright, just...whatever it is, let it come."

A solitary tear fell from Ororo's hallow eye, "You don't understand the pressure of keeping my composure all the time...And I know it's been years that I've been training, but...it's still not enough...I don't think I've ever told anyone, but I don't think I was ever in control of my powers."

Logan smiled and remained calm, despite the darkening skies, "You've made lightning strike at least ten times in the same place once. I'd call that control, darlin'."

"I'm not talking about fighting Sentinels or the villain of the month, Logan," Ororo muttered. "I am really just...overwhelmed and..."

"...human?" Logan wondered in his one-hundred year plus wisdom.

Ororo broke off the embrace as the cool breeze and clouds were replaced by a sunny sky. Almost by surprise, Storm looked up at the sun, shielding her eyes with her hand cupped over her brow. "There was a time when I really thought I was a goddess, then Charles told me the truth...like I was some sort of naive child. But underneath it all...it's been a hard transition. American culture, mutant prejudice...and then there was my mohawk phase..."

Logan sighed, "You weren't wrong about bein' a goddess, Ororo. People worshiped you, you helped them. You've helped a lot of people, me included."

"I killed him...I took his life because it was the right thing to do," Storm berated as she belligerently approached Wolverine.

Wolverine raised his hands calmly in defense, "Er...huh?"

Ororo sighed, "Charles."

"What the hell are you talkin' about?" Wolverine asked.

Storm sighed as she shook her head, "Before all of this mess...even before the Mark Rogers incident. Lilandra used Shi'ar technology to reincarnate Charles...sort of. He was in a Shi'ar body, but...it was him. He asked me to kill him..."

Logan suddenly paused, "...my God...so that's how the Shadow King was able to hold onto Charles' spirit."

Ororo nodded.

Logan cleared his throat, "Oh, and...I had no idea Lilandra did that. Put you through that."

"Nothing is ever quite that simple anymore," Ororo sighed as she caught attention of movement in the woods.

With his back to the disturbance, Logan could already smell the scent of their guest. With his arms crossed, he huffed, "It's okay, Jubilee."

The young Chinese-American girl stepped forward onto the grassy patch that made up the resting ground for many of Xavier's fallen soldiers -- the self-proclaimed mutant pacifist included. Jubilee worked up the courage to present a smile to her somewhat surrogate parent figures.

When they last worked together, before Jubilation left to join Generation X (thought of by many as the New Mutants' sequel), times were simpler. Fighting for equality between man and mutant was an adventure...or so Jubilee thought.

Logan silently thought Jubilee was exactly like how Kitty first was when she joined the X-Men. Although, Jubilee had an attitude and bravery that helped her get through some serious squabbles Kitty never experienced. Even though Shadowcat matured over time, Jubilee got her licks in all at once...and didn't have the time to grow up like she would have wanted.

*BOOM*

Both Jubilee and Wolverine jumped at the bright flash of lightning, which left the gravestones engraved with the names "Logan" and "Ororo Munroe" as a large smoldering pile of rocks.

"Jesus, Storm!" Jubilee yelped. "I know you're friends with Dazzler, but I didn't mean to kick her disco queen butt! Iwasundermindcontrol!"

Storm held up her hands. "I'm sick of this somberness," Ororo said with a smile. "I say the three of us go have some fun for once."

Logan smirked and glanced at Jubilee, "I know you've been dyin' to see that one movie. The one with the green ogre whose ass I didn't kick?"

"They made a movie about...Drax the Destroyer?" Jubilee pondered. Storm appeared to be equally bewildered.

Logan's eyes looked from side to side as he held out his hands, "SHREK!" He cleared his throat, "You wanted to see Shrek 2, right?"

"Ohhhh...," Jubilee nodded with a chuckle. "Heh. Shrek. Yeah." The teenaged California mallrat suddenly emerged in the face of Ms. Lee as she shouted, "I want LOTS of popcorn! Jumbo tub! Oh! And Raisinettes! I can eat like...two boxes full in two hours! Oh God, what am I gonna wear?!?!"

As Jubilee skipped off through the woods towards the brick mansion in the distance, Wolverine and Storm both realized they were a little short on petty cash. Logan's eyes lit up as he fumbled around in his jeans front pocket and pulled out a gold credit card. Storm shook her head, holding a bout of laughter inward.

"...I could've sworn I had my credit card right here in my wallet!" Scott Summers said as he held up his brown leather billfold for all to see as his ruby quartz shades glistened in the pale lights of the sub-basement's medlab.

"Don't worry about it," Jean Grey-Summers giggled. The X-Woman known as Phoenix's smile faded and she sighed as she refocused attention on their longterm patient.

Cyclops nodded and put a reassuring hand on his wife's shoulder, "How long did you say she's been like this?"

"A couple of months," Jean said. The patient in question was Rachel Summers, a young 20-something girl with Jean's hair and Scott's attitude. She had been comatose for months, apparently set off by the Shadow King himself, but there was also the fact her ability to timeshift her astral form had some responsibility for her condition as well.

A half-black, half-Puerto Rican woman with cornrows tied up into a ponytail stood up with a clipboard and scribbled down various numbers and readings coming from Rachel's vitals. "And you said she was staying at the coma ward in Georgetown Memorial?" Dr. Cecelia Reyes asked.

Jean smiled slightly and nodded, "It felt wrong, just leaving her there, when I could just keep her here...trying to reach her mind myself."

Dr. Reyes grasped the clipboard close to her bosom and smiled reassuringly, "Well, the good news is that she's in good health, minus the entropy in her muscles she'll eventually have to deal with...when she wakes up." She cleared her throat, "And boy, I thought Bobby was being his usual self when he told me Rachel was your daughter from an alternate future...I'm sorry for that misunderstanding earlier."

"It's alright," Scott said. "We've...been through a lot together...even though Jean and I never really got to see her grow up--"

"--We still have a familial bond," Jean finished for her husband. Realizing how outlandish it seemed to Cecelia, Jean sighed, "It's...complicated."

"I imagine," Cecelia said as she strode up to Scott and tapped her pen against his shoulder, "And what about you, mister? Have you been taking your vitamins like I told you at your last check up?"

Scott rolled his eyes, "My wife would turn my mind into a schoolgirl if I didn't."

"Who says I have to telepathically manipulate you?" Jean joked.

"Oh," Scott snickered as he playfully poked Jean in the ribs, causing her to squeal, "Okay, Mrs. Summers."

Cecelia smiled, "Well, if there's no question you're taking your vitamins, then I guess I can go. Brooklyn General still needs me."

As Dr. Reyes headed for the metallic sliding door, Scott called out, "Thanks, Cecelia." As Cece waved, Scott bowed his head in thought. He jerked his head up and pointed, "Hey, Cecelia...?"

The doctor turned around, "Yeah?"

Jean looked up into Scott's eyes, or rather, his lenses. Scott swallowed as he looked down at Rachel, "Would you want a job? Here, I mean. The X-Men are pretty good makeshift doctors, but we usually just let the tech do the work. We need a medic who knows what she's doing. Jean can download thoughts from the greatest surgeons in the world, but she can't be here all the time. And that Xorn guy, the healer from X-Corp, can't fly up here everytime there's a crisis."

Cecelia turned her head and sighed. She looked back at Cyclops and Phoenix, remembering the first time they met, Cecelia had to surgically remove a bomb from Scott's chest. She always tried to avoid falling into the trap of a hectic life just because she was a mutant. But some things just weren't as simple anymore.

"I'll think about it," Cecelia said finally before she exited through the sliding door, which shut with the sound of released compressed air.

Scott breathed through his nose for a moment to think of what to do next and asked, "Has there been any word from Cable or X-Man?"

Before Jean could answer, the sliding door opened as Domino walked through, dressed in her black leather uniform. She scoffed, "I hate being called a clown. We're not hiring her, are we?"

"We need someone like Cecelia around, Domino," Scott replied.

"I haven't heard anything from the two Nates," Jean said in response to Scott's initial inquiry.

Domino's ears perked up in response to the name, "I haven't either. Why, are you trying to contact Cable? Believe me, I've tried. He's off the grid."

"Cerebro hasn't been able to pick him up, either," Jean explained. "And we have been recalibrating the search for Earth's orbit, trying to see if he's locked himself up in Greymalkin or something." She sighed, "There's nothing. Can't even establish a connection with Prosh."

"Does that mean they're dead?" Domino asked. Cyclops shot Domino a hard look, but turned his head towards Jean, intent on knowing the answer as well.

Jean shook her head, "It's fuzzy...one of the reasons Rachel is like this is because she and Cable were traveling through time together -- trying to discover how I became Phoenix."

Scott chuckled, "Why would they do that? Everyone knows it was the Phoenix Force."

Domino, having witnessed exactly what happened, explained, "I don't think it was exactly like that, dude."

"But, regardless," Jean interrupted, "somehow, I feel that Cable and Nate are somehow alive, but not at the same time. They're almost...beyond it."

"Wait, go back, what about the Phoenix For--AHHH!!!" Cyclops shouted as he gripped his skull as his synapses exploded with the pain of a precognitive vision. As he lost motor control, Scott lost the ability to control his knees, and he fell backwards.

"Scott!" Jean shouted as she immediately took telekinetic hold of her husband, stopping him just inches from the floor. But that didn't stop the pain Cyclops bore witness to in his subconscious...

The lake…

A gentle, summer breeze rolled across the lush grounds of the Xavier Mansion. Spring had been behind the mansion's inhabitants, but something almost… in touch… with Mother Nature was keeping the fields of grass that much greener, and the leaves in the surrounding orchards that much fuller.

To the far north east of the grounds, a serene lake rested just before the orchards. The aforementioned breeze touched it from time to time in smooth gusts, causing the surface of the water over it to tremble soothingly for the figure observing it.

His name was Jared Corbo, a native to Canada and reserve member of Alpha Flight while with the X-Men. Under the code name 'Radius,' he had fought to protect his homeland and then supposedly for the mutant cause using his power to constantly generate and expand a force field of fluctuating energy.

While it had been well around a month since he discovered that his role with the X-Men was not what it had seemed to be, Jared was still with them. Upon the return of the team's first leader, operations had ceased and all the active members had been allowed time away from the team as the X-Men had been restructured.

But Jared had found it harder and harder with each passing day to wear the X, not knowing what he had known. It wasn't until the recent enlightenment in a thick manila file that he had received from Doctor Hank McCoy that he regained a sense of emotional composure.

Jared had been sitting before the mansion's lake in contemplation and reflection for the better part of the afternoon, a knee clutched to his chest lazily, and the bulky manila file resting at his side along with a navy blue duffel bag. He wore a pair of black boots, blue jeans, and a white shirt underneath a thin black and red jacket.

It wouldn't be much longer until he was gone from this place…

"Jared?" a strong, yet feminine voice suddenly beckoned. Jared broke from his train of thought and turned his head towards the sound of the voice. Standing there in the distance was a young and slender British woman with blonde hair, wearing a white blouse with the sleeves rolled up and khaki Capri's with a pair of white tennis shoes.

"Hey, Allison…" Jared said as she approached, squinting a bit as the sun behind her shined around her form. He hadn't seen Allison Crestmere, the former New Mutant known as Magma, since Apollyon had manipulated their emotions and set them loose on Washington, DC, and part of him was afraid of just what to say if he did see her again.

"What are you doing?" she asked as she came within feet of him, a bit bewildered at why he would be sitting at by the lake alone. The duffel bag caught her eye, but she let it slide as she awaited his answer.

"Just relaxing a bit before Puck swings by to pick me up," he answered as she took a careful seat on the grass next to him, sure not get any stains on her clothes. Jared stole a glance of her new attire and how it fit her form before asking, "You just get back?"

Allison cocked her head to the side; quietly looking down to the grass that she rested on, as if she were studying it, before she nodded in response to Jared's question in half-remembrance that the young man was still there.

"How was it?" Jared asked, turning his attention upon her somber facial features. Having found a new respect for the woman after recent events, he didn't try to joke or touch upon her distant behavior that evening. He just wanted to be there for her… and she for him.

"Humph... Enlightening, to say the least," Allison replied as she began to pick at the lengthy grass surrounding the two, all the while thinking back on her time away from the mansion. "I was able to get a lot of thinking done back home," she continued.

"That's always good to hear," Jared said without averting his eyes away from the lake. He lifted up a piece of folded paper, holding it up for Allison to see. The look on her face fell hard and bemused. "I've done a bit myself, you could say," he stated indiscreetly.

Allison continued to eye the paper curiously. When Jared neglected to retract it from her view, she reached out and snatched it from his grasp rather harshly. Jared smirked to himself half-heartedly at the British woman's audacity. It was always one of the funnier aspects of hers to witness, at least when he was in the right mood.

"21 30 N, 80 00 W…" Allison read, before she lifted her head back up to Jared and shot him a suspicious, almost condemning look. "These are coordinates," she confirmed as she slowly started refolding the paper. "Where are you going?"

"A little place called Elian, Cuba," he said quietly, reflectively. Jared took in a deep breath and picked up a thick, manila file at his side. He shifted it into the hand closest to Allison and looked to her as she took it. "Beast says it's where my brother's supposed to be… heh," Jared said before looking back out to the lake. "I gave Hank a month, and he gave me more then Apollyon could in my whole time with the X-Men."

The young British woman opened up the file, her eyes immediately falling on a collection of surveillance photos, news articles, and other tidbits of information. It was quite the comprehensive package, but there was an unnerving feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her shoulders were growing tense and her breath slow. But why?

"The name of the town reminds of that story a long time ago about a little boy who came to the US with his mother on a life raft…" Allison commented, hoping to break away from the awkward feelings overcoming her. She didn't look away from the packet, however. The fear that if she had to look Jared in the eye he might notice what she doesn't was too much. "Elian Gonzalous was his name, I believe."

Jared nodded contently, remembering the story as well. "Yeah, but then Castro wanted the boy back," he added, feeling oddly quieter around Allison than his usual self. It was as if he had come to a decision, but he continued with the small talk as if it weren't of the slightest relevance. "Wonder if there's a connection."

A beat of silence suddenly crossed the two with Jared's last inquiry. With each passing moment, Jared became a distant solemn while Allison became more and more angry with her unease. It wasn't something either was familiar with, but Jared was the first to make a mental note that it was easier with the other around.

"How long will you be gone?" Allison broke the silence as she closed the file and set it aside. She continued keeping her gaze adrift from his, shifting her legs from underneath her and crossing them. Jared remained quiet for a moment, forcing Allison to lift her eyes up to his face. To her surprise, he was staring back at her, hardened and somberly.

And she knew exactly what he was trying to convey to her.

"Jared!" she barked in abhorrence at his implication. It wasn't like her to care so much for someone else's decisions, she had known that much, but this was just too much for her to take. Maybe it was the medications she had been taking to keep her schizophrenia in check, or maybe she really was falling in lo -

"I really don't know if I'll be back or not," Jared confessed with a light shrug. Allison's nostrils flared as she listened to his words, knowing that she wouldn't like the reasoning, but allowing for him to continue. "Puck's dropping me off and I'll be… however long it takes, I guess…"

Allison shook her head and uncrossed her legs, growing even tenser than she had been. All the information in the manila file that Hank McCoy had supplied him with… even the simple nature of the mission alone… It didn't add up.

"I know you're a stupid, stupid man, Corbo, but don't tell me you're even thinking of going this alone," she said with a sneer. Jared could see a fire in Allison's eyes, familiar like the times he had seen her upset before, but different in the sense that it was only a mask for something else that she was feeling.

"If you got far enough into that file there, you'd see that there's some kind of small, but high class medical facility there in Cuba," Jared stated as he motioned towards the packet at Allison's sides. "It specializes in plastic surgery for mutants wanting to hide their mutations," he explained imposingly, though his voice grew soft as the thoughts of just why his brother may actually be there. "Their methods are apparently banned and slapped with an "unethical" label by most countries, which can only mean trouble."

"Thus why they've set up shop in the fuzzy armpit of the world, Cuba," Allison stated straightforwardly as she rose to her full height whilst dusting down her khaki pants and straightening out her shirt. She crossed her arms, looked down to Jared and huffed matter-of-factly, "And thus why I'm going with you."

"What?" Jared suddenly shot at her as he sprung up to his feet. He waved his hands at her in a dismissive manner, scoffing with a cold laugh. "Now wait a sec, babe. This is a solo mission," he explained. "Personal stuff… you ever heard of such a thing?"

Allison steadied the mixing emotions she was feeling, most of which comprised of anger at the stupid, stupid man and his stupid, stupid decisions. She took a deep breath through his nostrils, allowing them to flare up, before she would respond.

"Yes, Jared, I have heard of such a thing," she said firmly and clearly, putting all of her weight on one leg. She paused, but couldn't help but allow her voice to grow delicate as she rhetorically questioned, "Why do you think I'm coming with you?"

The realization was slowly beginning to creep up on Jared, and it warmed his heart to think about it. He found himself snickering as he loosened his shoulders and put his hands on his hips, presuming of her matter-of-factly, "You love me, don't you?"

"Shut it," Allison demanded with the roll of her eyes and the disgusted shake of her head. The distant roar of a jet's engines caught her attention, and she looked to the sky to see a jet descending from the clouds down to the mansion grounds. She looked to Jared again, arrogantly stating, "It looks like your friend's arriving and we don't want to keep him waiting, do we?"

The roar of the jets grew louder and louder, the pressure of its descent causing the surrounding trees to shake wildly and broad shifts in the lake. Jared looked up to the sky to see the Alpha Flight jet prepare for a landing not far from the both of them, then back down to Allison with a wild grin on his face.

"No," Jared said, his grin fading into a gentle smile as he took a step closer to Allison, peering down into her eyes knowingly. She slowly uncrossed her arms, dropping her guard for him, and he brought his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him.

Just before leaning down to her and pressing his lips to hers, Jared Carbo whispered to Allison Crestmere reassuringly, "We don't."

Not far away…

Monet St. Croix watched from her seat on the mansion's rooftop as Jared and Allison loaded up what little belongings they had acquired since the mansion's destruction into the Alpha Flight jet that had landed by the lake. They were two of her teammates since she had joined the X-Men, or at least Apollyon's faux-squad, and now they were leaving.

She knew of Jared's ambition to find his missing brother and of his fondness of Allison, but that the two would be connected in their departure had never occurred to her. They were leaving the mansion for a good while, she could tell, but what that meant to her she hadn't yet decided. Times like these it was hard to know where one stood, she thought.

But one man - a former globetrotting adventurer who had since settled into his role as a Catholic priest and representative - was determined to help her find where she stood in a world that hated and feared her. She just hadn't known it yet.

*BAMF!* came the sound of exploding smoke and brimstone, startling the young Algerian woman for a moment. However, when she saw who had emerged from the cloud of black and purple, she grew ironically relieved at the sight of a demon.

"Guten tag, mon compagnon jeune, joli, fminin!" Kurt Wagner chirped in a mix of German and French tongue as he dropped down to the rooftop with a graceful 'thud' and fell into a crouch, his knees bending as if they were made of rubber.

In contrast to the demon-like mutant's dark hair and skin, pearly fanged teeth, and glowing yellow pupils, he wore a dark pink button-up shirt and a pair of blue jeans with no shoes. The very sight of his light-hearted poise was warming.

"Hey, Kurt…" Monet returned the greeting with a half-hearted giggle as she translated his words. She smiled lightly to herself though, happy to see him again and on such better terms, and she explained luke-warmly, "I had no idea you spoke French."

"Just enough to get me a date when roaming Paris," Kurt replied, almost flirtatiously Monet would have thought if she hadn't known better. "How have you been?" he asked openly, and she took a moment to think about the question before replying.

"Scott - the real Scott, I mean - he's been very kind for what's happened, but very distant," Monet explained as she turned her head, staring out distantly across the mansion grounds. "I know he's trying to not touch on any sore spots I have about what happened, but it still hurts… especially when he acts so friendly and so blatantly avoids the subject."

"Ja, I know what you mean," Kurt said with a nod in agreement and understanding. He furthered her own thoughts with, "It feels almost as if he's just trying so hard to accept the world as it is… perhaps to forget what has happened to him and Ororo?"

"Yeah… maybe…" Monet said as she continued to stare out into the distant blue sky, and she shook her head with grief. "But sometimes it's not always good to forget things like that. Like what happened to me, Jared, Allison, and… and Jubilee…"

Monet closed her eyes and let out a sigh in defeat of her own insecurities, thinking back to Apollyon. "I still can't help but wonder why he really chose us..."

Kurt grew quiet for a moment in thought of what the young Algerian woman was saying, and then after coming to a conclusion, he sprung himself across the rooftop from her side, around her back, and crouched down to her side as to reach a more intimate proximity.

"There's probably a number of reasons why, Monet, as there usually is with these sorts of things" he explained to her softly, but remaining firm and straight forward as to not patronize her. "All of you are inexperienced in telepathic shielding techniques, no? Emotionally unstable due to your youth and recent experiences as well, perhaps…

"He more then likely figured you were all easy to subtly manipulate..." Kurt deducted, but then he gestured outward with one of his tri-fingered hands. "But… on the other hand," he suggested with a supportive smile "He did have a point, from what you say."

Monet sighed to herself reflectively and looked to Kurt, sincerely curious of his point. Kurt's smile grew even wider, prouder, as he saw that he had reached her, and he declared unto her, "You're all survivors. You're what the future needs. You're X-Men."

"Hmm…" Monet cooed to herself and looked back out into space, appreciative of Kurt's insight. However, she couldn't help but think of the sight she had seen earlier, of two of her teammates departing in an Alpha Flight jet that had landed by the lake moments ago.

"Thanks, Kurt," she finally said, sincerely but regretfully. "That helps, sort of, but… it doesn't seem like Jared and Allison subscribe to that suggestion…"

"That still remains to be seen," Kurt said with quiet optimism, and then his glowing yellow eyes strayed down to the driveway of the mansion. "As it does with Dazzler…"

Monet followed Kurt's line of visage down to the driveway below, where she saw Sam Guthrie and Alison Blaire (Cannonball and Dazzler respectively), embrace one last time. It was a long, heart-filled hug and neither was sure if they'd see the other again.

But nonetheless, Alison was the first to release in the embrace, reluctant, and she gently touch his chest before turning to the cab that had been waiting for her. Even from three stories up, the two by-standers of the departure could see that both were visibly shaken.

Sam crossed his arms as Alison entered the yellow vehicle, slamming the door shut. She tried her hardest not to look back - it was a doomed relationship anyway, right? - And then she signaled for the cabby to drive.

And Sam's eyes never left her as the cab pulled away…

"What about you?" Monet finally asked and she looked to Kurt, hopeful almost, as she continued to hug her knees close to her chest. "Are you going to be staying around?"

"I'll be playing an active role in the next couple of missions Scott has planned," Kurt confirmed with a coy, even mischievous toothy grin. "After that?" he asked rhetorically, and reached for his rosary in contemplation. "It's hard for me to say…"

Letting the gentle silence set in between the two for a moment, Kurt and Monet each took the opportunity to reflect on where they individually stood as X-Men. Whether their role in the dream of Xavier's lead them down different paths, they would take their paths with stride. The world was turning into a new place and fast, and they had both decided that it just might be up to them to make sure what exactly it turns into.

Turning his head up and away from his rosary, Kurt looked to Monet with a playful smirk and stood up to his bare feet, holding out one arm while he creases the other over his torso, and he bowed to her in respect for her time.

"Auf Wiedersehen und godspeed!" Kurt said in his German tongue with the flick of his free wrist, and he gave the young woman one last gaze. He winked at her, exposing his fanged grin in an even wider smirk before he disappeared in another cloud of smoke and brimstone, a resounding *BAMF!* echoing off the mansion's rooftop.

"Bis herum, Kurt," Monet replied in a whisper underneath her breath, and she turned away from the clearing smoke to look out through the cerulean sky and into the falling sun as it set on the horizon. "Bis herum…"

One hour later…

An exact forty feet below the surface of the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning rested a large, underground complex that almost equaled square-footage of the grounds of the entire estate itself. There were many rooms within the vast complex, one of which made up the X-Men's briefing and meeting room.

It was a room where the people behind the ideals and dream of their deceased mentor shed their identities and take on their designated code names. It was where the details of the world's very ongoing safety and the goals to reach in a distant future were planned. In that alone, the room's very nature designed it to be a place of the utmost seriousness.

"Hear ye, hear ye!" the playful, mocking voice of Iceman boomed across the room as he banged his hand on a round, metallic table. "Conference de la Prime shalt soon convene!" he continued in presentation with the swinging out of his arms.

"Are you still drunk from last night, Bobby?" Jubilee asked jokingly, crossing his arms narrowing her eyes onto the one of five founding members of the X-Men.

"Aye!" Iceman proclaimed heartily, with vigor. Those sitting around him at the briefing room table - Storm, Cannonball, Wolverine, and Jubilee - all shot him an awkward look in unison. He gazed about, then swallowed the lump in his throat and stammered, "Err… I mean…"

Domino and M, who were standing with their backs against the briefing room wall and their arms crossed, simply shook their heads. Storm and Jubilee had chuckled to themselves lightly while Cannonball and Wolverine simply cracked their respective smiles. It was then that the sound of the air-pressurized door opening caught their attention.

"All right, gang. Settle down, huh?" Cyclops's voice suddenly commanded in a mix of sincerity and mock authority as he entered the room with Phoenix. They had just done a sweep of the grounds and made a few calls to other X-Men, but now it was time to get down to business. "This is our first real meeting in just around a month, and trust me when I say we have a lot to cover."

Phoenix stroked her hand across Cyclops's arm as if for support before taking the last seat at the packed briefing table. There were only six chairs, one of which that she noted would have surely been occupied by Polaris had she not been upstairs resting. Cyclops had made his way to the head of the briefing table, preferring to stand.

"First and foremost…" he began with an accomplished smile, gazing through his black and red-lensed visor at the people around him. "I'd like to say that the reconstruction of the mansion, based on its prior blue prints, is officially complete."

A round of applause and hammy yelps exploded from the eight other X-Men present at that moment. Cyclops continued, "Unfortunately, the briefing room was designed and near completed just before my impersonator was dethroned, so it looks like accommodations are a little tight for now.

"Bear with me," he pleaded with the gesture of his hand. There were a few scoffs from those against the back wall and a few contrasting smirks from those sitting. "I'm sure we'll figure out something a little less 'friendly' in the coming days. The living quarters, however, should be more than enough for the lot of us.

"Every one of you is welcome to grab a room, but it's perfectly understandable and acceptable if you prefer to live off the premises," Cyclops offered with a reassuring nod. Domino crossed her arms over her chest, thinking over the offer for a moment. She almost felt like he was speaking directly to her…

"And before anyone asks, yes, things do look pretty Stone Age around here technology wise," Cyclops confirmed with the rise of his brow. He explained, "Much of the Shi'ar technology that aided in our operations was destroyed when the mansion was demolished post-riots, and we don't have the means nor even a desire to contact the Shi'ar to ask for more. We're done with the intergalactic free loading, so get used to it."

There was a resounding of collection of saddening 'boos' and hisses, and the leader of the X-Men waved his hands back and forth as if to garner their attention.

"Does this mean we're handicapped?" Cyclops asked with the hunch of his firm and powerful brow, pausing before he shook his head in a dismissive way. "Not a chance," he declared. "We still have some of the world's finest and most sophisticated tools at our disposal, thanks to Warren, Betsy, and X-Corp. Funding for some of our more… exotic operations… will be provided by them, as well."

"So th' free loadin' thing is still okay, as long as our friends live in th' immediate star system?" Cannonball interjected with an almost bashful grin. Jubilee punched him in the arm with a giggle as the rest of the X-Men laughed heartily. Cyclops rolled his eyes behind his visor and couldn't help but leak a light smile.

"Something like that," Cyclops confirmed with a light chuckle as he rubbed a hand across the back of his head. The tension between everyone was very low, and that was more than he could ever ask for after recent events.

He continued, "The Danger Room is up and running, along with Cerebro and the Hangar Bay. Repairs to the Aurora have been completed, and since everyone loves the Blackbird, we'll be looking into finding a decommissioned version."

Iceman and Jubilee looked to each other with radical smiles on their faces and high-fived. Storm looked at the two from across the round briefing table, a gentle smile of admiration on her face. Bobby and Jubilee were easily children at heart, and probably always would be. She almost envied their naïve ways…

"But since I'm a firm believer in trade offs, that means everyone has to start wearing spandex again," Cyclops interrupted her thoughts, musing with a straight face. Another set of groans and 'boos' from his teammates quickly followed. Scott waved his hands up at them defensively and stifled a laugh. "Heh, okay, okay… just kidding about the spandex…" he confessed. "That about sums up the mansion and equipment operations. Are there any questions before we move on?"

"Right here, bub," Wolverine chimed in with a nod and the shake of his cigar.

"Shoot," Cyclops said to Wolverine with a welcoming nod as he leaned into the briefing room's table, supporting himself upright with his outstretched arms. He wasn't a telepath like Professor Xavier was, but he had prepared himself for a series of questions and reasonable responses in advance.

"Couldn't help but notice we've become a smaller crowd since our last get-together," Wolverine stated plainly and paused to take a drag from his cigar. He gradually exhaled the smoke through his nostrils and then asked, "What's goin' on with everyone else? Will they be returnin' to the team any time soon, or are we the only ones up to the challenge of this new mission o' yours?"

The two questions were legitimate ones, and while Cyclops knew how to answer them both, he had to take a moment to mentally structure his response. All eyes fell on him quietly, expectantly, and he let out a sigh in preparation. There was a lot to cover, so he would take it easy as to discourage his gathered team.

"It's tough to speak for everyone absent, but I know for sure that Beast will be rejoining the Avengers in their West Coast division," Cyclops began to say, immediately noticing the awkward looks on everyone's faces in response. He explained, "While it's true that he returned to the Avengers for personal reasons, the public has always viewed him as one of the most popular mutant figures in the United States. His role with the team could very well aid in the furthering of mutant/human affairs, especially at a crucial time like this."

Most everyone seemed to have mixed feelings with that explanation, particularly in losing a valuable asset and friend in Hank McCoy. There were shrugs, laughs, and even a couple of scrowls abounding. But taking a note from Professor Xavier before him, Scott Summers was willing to let everyone have their own feelings… just as long as those feelings weren't to interfere with the X-Men's operations.

"Dazzler and Nightcrawler have decided to pursue a similar path in the dream, and I personally support the three of them in their new journeys," Cyclops continued to say as he gazed around the faces of everyone in the room. "Not just as teammates, but as close, longtime friends," he added before going on. "Polaris is on inactive duty due to her pregnancy, while Radius and Magma have decided to take an extended leave of absence. It's not yet known of any of them will be returning.

"But that's okay," Scott proclaimed with a confident nod to everyone in attendance. "What we do - as soldiers to a cause - it's not for everyone. The six I just mentioned? Pursuing the dream using their own, individual talents, expertise, and abilities is what's for them. It all adds up and makes a difference, I say. Xavier's vision WILL come true, as long none of us stray from it. It'll just take some work, and if we gain more and more support of any kind for a cause, and stick together, then anything's possible."

Everyone grew quiet and reflective at his words, slow nods in agreement being exchanged between a few. Storm found herself looking unto Cyclops, as if having found a new appreciation for the inspiration that he always tried to instill in every one of the X-Men. It was that same inspiration that kept her going in their captivity, she noted…

Cyclops let his words settle in for a moment, looking about to each and every member of his X-Men as they took his words in. He finally continued, "Now that that's covered, I'd like to discuss the mansion's new security protocols that are in place in the event that - "

The sliding, metallic doors to the briefing room parted with a pressurized breath, Cyclops's words dying in his throat as he shot an expectant look its way. No one was visible in the doorway, but a metal swivel chair came sliding into the room.

Crossing the space between the doorway and the briefing table quickly, the wheeled chair stopped slowly next to Storm's chair, all eyes fixed on it cautiously and curiously. It sat there for moments, inaudible, until the sound of approaching footsteps became evident.

And there was only one set of eyes that didn't grow wide in the climatic suspense as a tall and lithe man appeared in the doorway, a pair of sneaking boots and a black cat suit underneath his brown trench coat. His mop of hair was a ruddy brown, and his pupils were a piercing, glowing ruby.

Mixed responses fell upon everyone in the room.

Domino and M were bewildered, though thoroughly interested in the new arrival. Storm and Jubilee, though both equally surprised, found themselves welcoming his presence. Iceman let out a sigh of disgust and Wolverine scowled, shaking his head.

Cannonball was the only one of the crowd who was firmly content, while Cyclops and Phoenix were quiet and expectant, the former biting down his lip in anticipation as the lithe man took nonchalant step after step to his chair and took a seat.

"Glad you could join us, Remy," Cyclops welcomed the late arrival with a knowing grin. Gambit brought his legs up onto the briefing room's table, propping his feet up and crossing them at the ankles. He folded his hands behind his head and nodded his head to Cyclops, returning the knowing look.

"Tre fashionably tardif est mon point fort," Gambit explained in his suave sing-song, French tongue with a smirk and gesture to Cyclops. Being the only one to understand him, M rolled her eyes and suppressed a giggle. Remy bit down on his lip and folded his hands back behind his head, adding, "Glad you would have me back, mon ami."

Cyclops nodded to Gambit with a smirk of his own, his reasoning for asking the Cajun Thief to return to the X-Men echoing in the back of his mind. It would only be a matter of time before his string of special operations were unleashed. Until then…

"Alright…" Iceman broke in halfheartedly as he stood up from his chair, Cyclops's train of thought wondering. "This is everyone, right?" he asked and his longtime friend in Scott Summers gave him a quick smile and a firm nod. "In that case, I think it's safe to say that the security protocols can wait. Let's break out the keg, folks!"

Cyclops and Phoenix broke into immediate laughter along with the other members of the team. Iceman hunched his brows with a wicked smile, gesturing for the door, and Cyclops muttered the words, "fine, whatever!" and waved him away. Ecstatic, Iceman leapt up from his chair and patted Cannonball on the back, urging him to follow suit.

And as everyone began to pile out of the room, spirits hopeful and hearts content for just what the future may really bring them, Wolverine remained seated took another drag from his cigar. Remy LeBeau - Gambit - hadn't moved from his seat either, and two simply exchanged the glance of a blood feud. 

Neither had seen each other since the splitting of the X-Men into the Alpha and Omega, and Gambit couldn't help but grin as he noted the tension between he and Wolverine. With the hunch of his brows, the Cajun stood from his seat and gave a salute to the wild man, before he turned on his heel and casually exited the room in pursuit of the others.

Washington, DC.

Senator Robert Kelly awaited before the large statuesque slain president and looked into the eyes of the Lincoln Memorial. It was one of the few national monuments that went undamaged during the newly-dubbed District Mutant Riots that transpired a month ago. The sun had begun to set in the American capital. But the end of daylight meant something more than the coming nightfall.

Senator Kelly buttoned up his navy blue trench coat as another man with a briefcase approached him. The white-haired man simply nodded.

Robert asked, "Are you sure you want to do this? You'll be funding the Friends of Humanity. Not only that, but the administration is going to be backing them, as well. If we lose the election in November--"

"The administration is not going to lose," the man declared as he handed the briefcase to the senator. "I won't allow it."

"What about your daughter?" Senator Kelly asked.

The man's heart appeared to break as he winced and looked away. He sighed, "I'm doing what I must. She is my responsibility..."

Ambassador Cartier St. Croix stepped out of the shadows, "...and I need to set things right."

NEXT ISSUE: Looks like the conflict didn't end with the death of Apollyon! Don't miss X-Men Prime #18 as we try to work our magic in the debut of...THE BRIEFCASE PROTOCOLS! You won't be disappointed!