A motorcycle skidded to a stop in front of an old, rusted and twisted gate. The man on the bike looked around wearily. Several cars were parked around at random places. Getting off of the bike, the man laid his helmet on the seat and stepped over the old gate. As he walked up the drive, he stopped and looked up. The remains of a building loomed over him. Most of the roof was gone, and windows were busted. Doors hung off the hinges, and grime covered the building. As he stood there, another man walked up beside him.

"Logan," greeted the newcomer.

"Summers," grunted Logan.

The two men stood there, not saying anything, just staring at the building.

Another person approached, this time a woman. "Almost eighteen years," she said softly. Logan grunted in hello.

"It is hard to believe," said another woman, standing with them.

"Oui," said another man, appearing beside Scott Summers quietly with another woman beside him. "Remy didn't tink he'd be comin' back 'ere."

"Neither did I," Remy's companion said quietly.

A few others arrived, standing there with the others, just staring at what used to be the X-Mansion.

"Alright, then," Scott said. "To me, X-Men."

All of the used-to-be X-Men followed Scott into the destroyed Mansion. Only one room remained un-destroyed in the house – Cerebro . As the X-Men walked towards it, the door slid open.

There was already a woman inside the long, circular room. Her long blonde hair was braided down her back. She wore a grey pant suit, and had a long white coat on over it. Though everyone in the room knew she was nearly 47 years old, she didn't look a day over 35.

"X-Men," she greeted.

"Emma," Scott greeted. "Good to see you."

"And you as well," she replied. She turned to Logan. "I trust you arrived without any trouble?"

"The only problem I had on the way was with Gwen," sighed Logan, joining Emma. "Temp called and said she got into another shouting match with the maid."

"Gwen!" said the woman beside Scott. "Oh, how is she?"

"Very well, thank you, Jean," Emma said with an incline of her head. "And Andrea?"

Jean sighed. "She's been better. She's having troubles with school."

Jean Grey-Summers looked good for her age of 48. Her dark red, shoulder length hair had only a few traces of grey, and her green eyes shone. Her simple jeans and red T-shirt looked good on her body.

Her husband Scott Summers, however, didn't look well. His dark brown hair had noticeable traces of grey. He had dark bags under his eyes, and his lips were drawn down in his frown.

The rest of the X-Men had changed, too – Remy's hair had gone mostly grey, and he was still limping from the accident, nearly 18 years ago. Rogue was with him – she had kept her hair the same as always, short, brown, with her white streaks. She was wearing glasses, and had crows feet.

Peter and Kitty both looked good. Kitty had recently cut her hair in a short bob. Peters salt-and-pepper grey hair was cut the same as always. Lockheed, perched on Kittys shoulder, looked a bit greyer, but still energized.

Storm was off to the side, her white hair tied back. She wore traditional Wakandian garments, revealing burn scars on her neck from the accident.

"Not that I'm not glad to see you all, but vhy are ve here?" Kurt asked. Kurt Wagner looked the same as always, even though his arm had been replaced with a metal arm created by Forge when Kurt lost his in the accident.

"Because, Kurt," Rachel said, leaning against the wall. "They seem to think the X-Men need to get back together."

"Vhat?" exclaimed Kurt. "All of us?"

"No," Hank McCoy said. "Only the ones that are willing to come back." He looked around. "You are all willing to come back?"

The room was silent – everyone looked at each other.

"No." Everyone turned their head to Scott.

"What?" Jean asked her husband.

"I said no. Jean, we have a good thing going here. No mutant haters, no evil terrorists, no Magneto. I'm not going to drag Andrea and Nicolas into our old ghosts."

"Actually," Hank said, swallowing. "We don't want you all back as the main X-Men." He cleared his throat. "The fact is . . . well . . . see, all of our children are mutants, so . . . um . . ."

"He wants our kids," Logan said.

The whole room was quiet. All you could hear was the wind outside Cerebro, and finally Rogue spoke.

"We all knew they'd have ta use their powers at some point," she said.

"But what reason do we have for coming back?" Kitty asked.

"Emma?" Hank asked.

She nodded. Placing Cerebro on her head, she closed her eyes. The room lit up, and they flew past hundreds of thousands of people, until stopping on one individual.

"This is Morgan Trask," Emma said.

"Trask?" Bobby Drake asked from the back of the room. "As in, Bolivar Trask?"

"His granddaughter, yes." Emma zoomed in on her. "Age thirty-three. Republican. Anti-mutant. Genius. Graduated high school at age sixteen."

"So?" Rachel asked. "What's her problem?"

"Did you not hear me? Anti-mutant, and genius. What do you think will happen?"

"That doesn't necessarily mean she's out to destroy mutant-kind, Emma," Scott pointed out.

Emma glanced at Logan, who nodded, tossing Scott a blueprint. Frowning, Scott unrolled it and gasped.

"The new and improved mutant killers," Emma said. "Think a bigger, badder, meaner version of the Master Mold."

"We need the team," Hank said. "Please, everyone. You know what this could do."

The room was quiet, and then Remy put his arm around Rogue. "You're right. We're in."

Kitty and Peter looked at each other. "I guess we are too."

"Us as well," Storm said.

Rachel sighed. "Guess I don't have any other choice, huh? I'll do it."

Bobby nodded in agreement.

Everyone looked at Jean and Scott. "Sorry, guys," Scott said. "But the answer is still –"

"Yes," Jean said firmly. Scott looked at his wife appalled, and she sighed. "It's what Charles would want! Scott, we knew this day was coming! It's time."

Everyone still stared at Scott. Finally, he sighed. "So when do we start we building the mansion?"