*Author's Note*
2039, the future is in peril. The next generation of X-men depend on them to stop apocalypse from destroying the past.
Wolverine- Did one-eye write that? Sounds like something cupcake would say.
Cyclops- Screw you Wolverine, if I wrote this story your painful, painful, death would be written in the first sentence you rabies ridden nethanderal.
Wolverine- That'd be alot better than you're punk-ass kissing death so bite me where it burns, tight-ass.
Cyclops- What's that? Logan's foaming at the mouth again... Thats what I thought. BTW: Jean and Emma happen to love my tight ass.
Wolverine scoffs- Is that why she was ripping my belt off in X-3, didn't think so.
Cyclops- She ripped it off becuase you dress like a wife-beater and she was trying to give you a make-over you until your horny ass attacked her and she-
The Phoenix- BOTH OF YOU SHUT THE HELL UP BEFORE I ASH THE SHIT OUT OF YOU!
On to the story...
In the year 2039, a young lanky blonde was plugged into Cerebro, his frantic but still powerful telepathic mind searched the computer's mutant interface for his friends. The ones which had suddenly disappeared, finally he found one of his teammates.
His fellow X-men, was in the same panic… His team, which was on the verge of saving the world… Again, Had just disappeared before his eyes. Faded like the ink on an old photo until they were gone completely.
The young telepath had found this same leader, the panic ridden imprint of his older brothers deeply analytical mind.
'Gabriel' he called into his mind.
'Alexander?'
Decades in the past, Scott Summer's coma induced, mostly broken, gauze wrapped body, lay limp in a hospital after being found in near death fifty miles from Alkali Lake. Doctor's had revived him, nurses pricked needles into his skin and pumped him full with numbing morphine and other pain-killers and then had packaged him up in white to set his broken bones to heal.
The Monitor beeped slowly as Scott struggled to breath, his mind shrouded in darkness and he mostly thought he was asleep. Mostly.
That he'd wake up next to Jean, and have to deal with Logan, his students or some other crisis when he awoke. That the professor would smile and joke about Scott needing a break from work before he had a psychotic episode and killed Wolverine.
Sometimes he felt he should wake up, that he'd be sleeping far too long. That something was wrong, but then he imagined he was cuddled up to something warm. That the troubles could wait a few more seconds before he was to wake.
"New coma patient have a name?" a nurse asked the Doctor who scanned an almost blank clip board except for black print and conditions chart.
"He's another John Doe Mystery Man." The Doctor sighed as she eyed Scott, "Must have hit the ground from a helicopter about fifty feet up with all those broken bones." The Doctor shook her head, "The man is more than lucky to be alive."
"He's in real bad shape." The nurse smiled sadly at Scott, "Sure is cute though, poor guy wonder if he has a girl somewhere."
The I.V. beeped slowly, and overtime it would begin to speed up. But that would take time, time he didn't realize he really couldn't afford.
Charles Xavier stepped out of the Taxi, with the smile the size of Manhattan on his lips. He was home at The Institute, and he was walking.
Two things he'd never thought, he would ever be again. The birds chriped, the clouds moved slowly against the cyan blue of the sky, the Mansion bright as day, and the green of the trees seemed just a little more greener with each passing second.
His Hope was once turned to dust by Jean Grey's Alter-Ego The Phoenix, but with his new body and help from Moira McTaggert his long-time best friend Xavier was now both physically and most importantly mentally healthy enough to return to his beloved X-men.
He would have returned sooner, but... Things never went as he planned. He found himself unsure of how to walk, and more unsure of his new body, his mutant powers seemed faraway of course they returned just as powrful as before.
His arrival alert consisted of a button which turned on the high chime of false bells, and a small smile at Miss. Ororo Monroe whose bright unusually blue eyes widened marginally when he entered her mind to simply say something he'd always said jokingly before.
'And always I said I'd never stand eye to eye to you Storm.'