What had gone before: Investigating a clue to horrific experiments going on in the Morlock Tunnels, the X-Men found the remnants of a clan of scientists and their experiments. A pair of Prime Sentinals had killed the scientists and all their research. After a brief battle, the X-Men destroyed the Prime Sentinals. At the mansion, Jean Grey was concerned about a lapse in her powers, while Iceman was enraged at the recent activities of the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants. Finally, Rachel Summers, long thought lost in the timestream, had returned home.

______________________________________________________________________________________

Stephen Crosby and William Short
Proudly Present
The Uncanny X-Men as they Celebrate
Christmas in their Eighty-Eighth Issue
In a very special story entitled:
A White Christmas
______________________________________________________________________________________

Winter in Westchester County was a beautiful thing. The air was quiet and peaceful, cold and crisp. There was hardly a hint of wind, which allowed the snow to fall gently to the ground in a natural manner, until it slowly became a wondrous field of white that stretched as far as the eye could see.

Traditionally, there was nothing more special than a White Christmas. That night, it came. The snow softly fell throughout the starry night.

That night, at a very special home in Westchester County, a former President cheated on his wife, who was abroad on political business.

Also that night, at another home in Westchester County, a young woman looked out the window, watching the snow come down. Her name was Rachel Summers, and her face was one of unimaginable joy.

"Years ago, I hated winter and Christmas." There was deep sadness in Rachel's voice. "In the camps, there was no real way to survive in the winter. Mutants didn't have luxuries like central heating, or even simple fire for the most part. And, of course, we couldn't use our powers. There were three times as many casualties on a winter's day, than on any other day of the year."

A tear slid off Rachel's right eye. "As for Christmas, well, it was non-existent. Most people were too busy trying to survive to think about peace and good will towards their fellow man. Me, well...." Rachel choked back a tear.

"It's all right, Rachel." Jean Grey Summers wrapped her arms around the shoulders of the young woman who, in an alternate timeline, had been her daughter. "I know it's difficult to talk about. You don't have to-"

"No, mom, I don't have to." Rachel continued, struggling to keep her voice under control. "It...it was around Christmas that...it happened. We had come down to the mansion from Alaska to celebrate with our friends. I remember sitting by the tree, shaking presents, when the mob arrived. The Professor's powers had been growing weaker over the years, and even with your help, he couldn't calm the hatred those people had. They fired on the mansion. They killed Professor Xavier."

Jean held Rachel closer, as if her presence alone could have helped Rachel through the memories. Rachel continued, as tears streamed down her face. "Wolverine went berserk. He leaped out the window, slashing into the crowd. It's just what the government was waiting for. The moment we defended ourselves, we were named a threat, and the Sentinels came."

"Rachel, please. This isn't the time-"

"It's exactly the time, mom. Nightcrawler teleported me and the other children out while the rest of you tried to fight them off. You and dad died, and all but Wolverine were captured. Later, he told me that he got smashed into the sub-basement, and he managed to make it into the Morlock Tunnels. Free, he hurried to grandma and grandpa’s house, where Nightcrawler was supposed to hide all the kids." Rachel tensed up at the image in her mind. "The Sentinels were already there. They'd killed grandma and grandpa, aunt Sara, my cousins. Kurt tried to protect us, but they killed him too. Them they killed everyone else, save for me. My powers hadn't manifested, but they could detect the mutant gene, and they took me alive, so they could study me!"

Jean Summers rested her head on Rachel's and softly rocked her daughter. "Don't worry, Rachel. Those awful things won't happen; not now."

Rachel cried softly. "No, mom, you don't understand. Those things can still happen, no matter what you've done so far. Mutant terrorists strike at humans; human terrorists strike at mutants. For every step mutants make towards acceptance, villains like Magneto and Toad force it back three steps. For every kid out there who thinks that mutants are cool, there is a respected citizen that cries out to sanction mutants in order to protect those same kids. The future's uncertain, mom."

"I'll tell you what is certain, Rachel." Scott Summers walked into the room, a tight smile on his face. "Professor Xavier is running for office, and with our support, he can win. When that happens, any negative action the government had planned to make against mutants will be non-existent. Combine that with the X-Men acting in the capacity of a government team, fighting the good fight and showing the public that mutants can be a force for good. At the same time, we'll be dealing with any evil mutants that act
against peace. That, Rachel, is certain."

Rachel Summers shook off her mother's embrace, and turned to face her father.

"Is it dad?" Rachel asked. "First, the Professor is running on a pro-mutant campaign. That's it, his whole campaign. Considering the fact that most voters couldn't care less about mutants, his chances of winning are very slim unless he speaks on other issues. Even then, it's not certain that he'll win."

Building momentum, Rachel continued. "But let's suspend reality for a moment, and say that the Professor does win. He'll be one independent vote, alone against party politicians. To have any impact, he would need two things. A large number of public support in numerous states and districts across the country. He'll also have to be willing to compromise. In order for him to get a vote for or against this, he'll need to give a vote for or against that, even if he doesn't agree with the bill. Those are politics, dad, and unless the Professor can learn how to play the game, he'll end up doing more harm than good."

Jean Grey rested her hand back on Rachel's shoulder. "Rachel, please, we're doing the best we can."

Rachel shook her head. "No mom, you're not. If you were, I wouldn't be here."

Scott Summers stepped forward. Inside, he was seething with rage. To be addressed so by his teammates was one thing, but his own daughter! "Why are you here, Rachel? As far as we knew, you were thrust into the timestream, left adrift until you finally ended up in the far future. A future where you die after living a long and good life."

Rachel nodded, meeting her father's gaze. "That's exactly true. After you're wedding, I switched places with Captain Britain, and I ended up in the timestream. I thought I'd drift there forever, but then I met a young woman. Her name was Tanya, but I believe you know her as Sanctity."

Jean nodded, her face tense. "We know Sanctity." Sanctity had used the two of them as her pawns, sending them back in time to witness the first meeting between Apocalypse and Sinister.

"Then you know that she has powers over time itself. Well, when her powers first manifested, she too found herself trapped in the timestream. She'd drifted longer than I had, but eventually we found each other. Using one-another, combining our powers, we managed to escape from the timestream. We found ourselves in a future where Apocalypse won."

Betraying herself, Rachel shivered slightly. "I had never thought anyplace could be worse than the future where I grew up, but Apocalypse showed me one. Mutants reveled in their supremacy, torturing helpless humans, and even lesser mutants. Daily, there were arena battles, free-for-alls where the winner would be the last one surviving, the strong. Most of the time, there wasn't a winner. From birth, children were tested for the mutant gene. Of those that didn't have it, only five percent were allowed to live. Even those few survivors had a low mortality rate."

"My god," Jean Grey whispered under her breath. Even Scott had seemed shaken by what Rachel was saying.

"I saw all this," Rachel continued, her voice hard. "And I remembered who I was; what I was. I was an X-Man, and so I tried to stop it. With Sanctity's help, and the help of a few others, I formed the Askani. We were a team of humans and low-level mutants, fighting an uphill battle the size of Mount Everest. Slowly, step-by-step, we weakened Apocalypse's hold on the world. Mutants and humans working together, we were the dream realized, united against a threat so massive that it threatened to annihilate everything that existed."

"We know the rest, Rachel," Scott interrupted. "You sent one of your agents into the past to get Nathan, with the intention of curing the techno-organic virus and using him to continue your war. When Apocalypse ruined your plans, destroyed everything you worked for in order to get Nathan, you brought Jean and I into the future to help you."

Rachel shook her head. "Sorry dad, but your wrong. I'd spent years in the timestream before I ended up there, so I had an idea of how the future of my timeline would go. I was getting old, dying, so I had Nathan brought here. I also knew that Apocalypse would choose this time to strike, so I had a fail-safe prepared."

Jean spoke, her voice low. "You cloned Nathan. You created Stryfe."

Rachel nodded, shame in her every action. "That's right, mom. I knew that Apocalypse would try and use Nathan as his host. I also knew that a clone wouldn't be suitable. My mistake was that I thought both would die in the process. At any rate, I planned for Nate to carry on in my place, helping the world heal after the rule of Apocalypse was ended. Since I wouldn't be around to raise him towards that goal, I had to bring two people who could. With my powers, and the life-support attached to me, I knew that I had roughly twelve years of life left. I'd be able to keep you there to raise Nate, and I'd be able to help him through the manifestation of his mutant powers and teach him to keep the T.O. virus in check."

"So," Scott stated, "Other than Stryfe surviving, everything went according to plan. And then?"

Rachel shrugged. "Then...I died. Through your eyes, I saw the end of Apocalypse. I saw Stryfe survive, but I knew that Nathan, together with what remained of the Askani, would be able to keep him in check. Content that my part was done, that the world would go on fine without me, I died."

For a moment, nobody had spoken. Finally, Scott Summers broke the silence by asking, "So, again, why are you here? If you died an old woman, how can you be here now, the same age as when you left?"

Rachel shook her head, and laughed lightly. "I honestly don't know. When I died, I returned to the timesteam, in exactly the same situation I'd been in. There, I saw Nate grow into a man and form the Clan Chosen. I saw him defeat Stryfe time and again, halting the Chaos-Bringer's rise to power. Finally, I saw Stryfe's final demise, and his escape into the past. I saw Nate, now Cable, follow after him. The next thing I know, I'm in Chicago."

Rachel laughed again, enjoying the absurdity of it. "Well, I was confused, let me tell you. I had always figured that I was sent into the future to balance out Apocalypse, to keep evil from winning the war. Once that was over, I suppose the timestream had no more use for me, so it just put me back where it found me, albeit overshot by a few years and several thousand miles."

Rachel spread her hands. "And that's it. I'm back in the past. I didn't feel Cable's thoughts anywhere, and I find out that he was apparently sent back to his future*. I also find out that Apocalypse is supposedly dead, with the cure to the Legacy Virus supposedly found**."

*(Seen in MV1's X-Men 70)

**(Check out the Giant Sized X-Force to see how that happened)

"Not supposedly," Scott stated. "I spoke with X-Force, Rachel, and they saw it with their own eyes. Apocalypse is dead."

Surprisingly, Rachel Summers threw back her head and laughed. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she answered her startled father. "Sorry, dad, but in the hundred years I was fighting him, I saw Apocalypse die over half-a-dozen times. Each time, he returned in a new body, despite all my attempts to stop it. Unless I'm mistaken, all X-Force saw was the death of Apocalypse's body. He'll be back dad, you can count on that."

Scott frowned. "I'd suspected that, and I'd prayed that it wouldn't be true. Still, he's gone for the moment, Rachel. I suppose it's possible that the Legacy Cure is too good to be true."

Rachel nodded. "Apocalypse is no scientist. That's why he once allied himself with Mr. Sinister. Anyway, the Legacy Virus is the least of our concerns. Magneto rules a territory in Canada. Genosha is in ruins, a symbol of what the world could become. Of late, all the good mutants have done has been balanced by deeds just as bad. So far," Rachel smiles at her mother, "I've only seen one piece of good news."

Jean smiles back at her daughter, and places her hand over her stomach. "I can't wait to name you Rachel."

"Neither can I, mom. Neither can I."

______________________________________________________________________________________

Christmas was the most wonderful time of the year. At least, it was supposed to be.

Case in point: 1407 Graymalkin Lane. The Xavier Institute. The home of Professor Charles Francis Xavier and his X-Men.

In the nursery, Jenny Livenhill spent time playing with the numerous children, sharing in their innocence.

"Oooo, Erica!" Jenny chastised the mousy little girl with a stubby pig nose, sniffing her own nose as she did so. "Geez, I should have remembered diaper changing when I volunteered for this."

Laying the mutated toddler on the small table, Jenny, the youngest X-Man, set about changing her diaper.

She made a face as she tossed the dirty, and rather heavy, diaper in the trash. "I swear, I'm been doing this at least a hundred times today."

Jenny turned in surprise, and frowned at the intelligent looking two-year old staring up at her. "Seventeen? There are fifty of you here, and none of you are potty-trained!"

Jenny shuddered, and not just from what the kid, Adam, had told her telepathically. Mostly she was shuddering because the kid was speaking telepathically. Adam was also speaking with an intelligence that Jenny figured was a helluva lot higher than her own.

"Well, from what I was told, those Darwin guys weren't exactly the baby-sitting type."

No, they weren't. One of the adult mutates was capable of digesting human excrement, so we were her responsibility. After Nanny kidnapped us, we became even more neglected. Adam looked around the room, studying all the children. They like you. They like the attention you're giving them. It makes them feel loved.

Jenny blushed slightly. "Aww, that's terrific. Can you tell them how much I love taking care of them?"

Adam shook his head. When I try to talk to them, they don't answer back. Mostly, I pick up confusion in their thoughts. Many of them are still too young to properly communicate, and I fear that some may never have the capacity to.

Jenny reddened again, this time in anger. "Th-that's horrible! Any chance these children had for a normal life destroyed, and for what? So they could be mutated and studied!?"

Yes, Adam responded swiftly. We have been exploited, taken advantage of. Fortunately, they don't understand this, and are spared the pain of such awareness. I am not so lucky. Adam met Jenny's gaze, and it freaked her out totally. Nor are you. Not anymore, that is.

Jenny didn't realize that she was backing up until her back had hit the wall with a thud. "Wh-what are you talking about? Sure, that fat lard Mojo kidnapped me and tried to use me to kill people, but look where that took me. I'm over that now-"

I'm not talking about that. As impossible as Jenny thought it was, Adam seemed even more creepy that he usually was. I'm talking about the experiences you buried. The experience that Timmy made you relive. I'm sorry he had did that to you. Timmy meant well, but at heart he was just a selfish bully that liked to hurt people. And he hurt you bad, didn't he Jenny?

Anger built from deep inside Jenny, and she barely noticed the tears that fell from her eyes. "Stay out my mind, Adam. Do you hear me? Stay the fuck out of my mind!"

It helps to talk about it, you know. I was exploited too, in a way. Adam looked up at the ceiling. I suppose I shouldn't be angry, considering that I was a success, but I am. I look at the other children playing, enjoying their stupidity, and I find myself envying them. I'm never going to be ignorant of the awful things done to me. I'm always going to be aware of the awful things out there, the ugly things that are all around me. I'm going to have to live with hate, and that makes me angry.

More tears slid down Jenny’s face, and she knelt down until she was face-to-face with young Adam. "Sometimes, I'm angry too. Right now, Adam, I'm angry at you, and I feel hate. I'm angry that you reminded me of something that I wanted to forget, but most of all I hate that it happened to me in the first place. I'm sorry that I'm angry at you Adam, but I just can't make it go away. First Jean, and now me. If people are going to hate you, Adam, it's not because of the ugly things that you can see. It's because you show the ugliness for what it is, and not everybody wants to see it."

Adam cocked his head to the side. I don't like seeing it either, Jenny. I suppose the reason I keep revealing the ugliness that I see, is that I don't want the burden all to myself. Intellectually, I'm superior to everybody in this room put together, but emotionally I'm almost as innocent as these children.

Jenny nodded. "I-I understand, Adam. And I'm sorry, but I don't want to share your burden."

That's okay Jenny. I wouldn't want to force my burdens on anybody. Adam leaned back, resting his little head on the pillow of his bed. He closed his eyes. And Jenny, I'm sorry. About everything.

Jenny kissed the child on the forehead. "It's okay Adam. I'll live with it. And Merry Christmas."

Nearby, another child kicked up a small fuss. Jenny turned towards the young boy and, a smile on her face, picked him up to comfort him.

Here, among the innocent, she could forget her own childhood, and her own shattered innocence.

______________________________________________________________________________________

In the Danger Room, Iceman and Archangel practiced honing their skills and powers.

Riding his ice-slide over the laser blasts, Iceman froze the inside of the laser cannons. Without a release, the cannons overloaded and exploded. A short distance away, the Archangel soared above a pair of missiles, and ripped through their armored casings with his razor sharp wings. They plummeedt to the ground, exploding harmlessly away from the two X-Men.

The scenario over, Iceman de-iced and turned to face to his landing friend. "Heh, feels good to cut loose every now and then, eh Warren?"

Archangel contracted his wings into what appeared to be a metal backpack. "I was 'cutting loose' the other day, against those Prime Sentinels. My wings held against their plasma blasts, allowed me to outmanuver one. If I had my old wings, I would have been useless in the battle."

Iceman gave a wry laugh. "Okay, Warren, cut out the Death persona for a minute, will you? It's really starting to freak me out. Come on, you were never useless as the old Angel."

Archangel narrowed his eyes at Iceman, and he gave a faint snarl. "Times have changed. We aren’t fighting giant, slow-moving robots or petty self-hating mutants anymore Robert. Our enemies have grown more vicious and dangerous, and we have to change with them. Even Cyclops is getting with the program, judging by his actions of late. He took little notice of the dead mutates we found, treating them as though they were dead rats."

Iceman shook his head. "No, Scott wouldn't takes lives for granted like that. He must have been in a form of shock or something."

"It was no shock," said Archangel. "Out of all of us, the only one who gave a prayer was Rahne. While she wept over the dead, Cyclops cared only about what information we could gather from the fried equipment and remnants of the Prime Sentinals."

Suddenly angry, Iceman stalked up into Warren's face. "I'll bet that makes you happy, huh? Everybody's getting just as bloodthristy and you are!"

Archangel looked Iceman in the eye, and shook his head. "Happy? Far from it. This is me, Robert; what I've always been. Even if I had hidden it from myself for so long. It's everyone else whose breaking character, and that unsettles me. Things are changing. They've been changing since the Professor announced he was running, and not all the changes are for the better. Quite the opposite, in fact."

Archangel turned from his bewildered friend and strode towards the exit.

"Warren, wait up!" Iceman yelled. But it was too late. Archangel was out the door, once again shutting out his friend.

______________________________________________________________________________________

In their room together, Dazzler silently wept while Longshot slept peacefully.

______________________________________________________________________________________

In his room, Blockade, otherwise known as Barry, sat on his bed and talked to his lady love on the other end.

"Moira, ye sound so upset! What is it love?"

"Ach. Nothing ye need be worry'n about," her voice on the other end stated. "I'm just a wee bit nervous about these speaking trips. Aye, I do miss the days when it was just me in me lab, working day and night. I just wanted tae wish ye Merry Christmas, Barry."

"Yeah, Merry Christmas, Moira," Barry responded, not entirely convinced.

______________________________________________________________________________________

In her room, Rahne Sinclair also wept. However, Shadowcat was also there, holding Rahne and weeping with her.

"Ach! Kitty, it was so aweful! They were everywhere, looking up at me with their lifeless eyes! I-I felt as though they were judging me!"

"It wasn’t your fault Rahne. They were all dead before you got there. You did what you could."

"I know, Kitty! I know! But I cannae stop crying! They were all dead, and the others dinnae care! An-and somehow I felt like I was the one who wasnae normal!"

______________________________________________________________________________________

Within the mansion, the men and women of the X-Men began to celebrate Christmas in their own way. Some celebrated the new life on the way, while others enjoyed the new life that has already arrived. Others mourned lives that had been lost, and another mourned a life that had never even had a chance.

All the while, snow gently fell from the sky. There was nothing quite like a White Christmas.

______________________________________________________________________________________

Next Issue: Well, let's just call it a New Year's surprise, shall we? Needless to say, it will be the beginning of a menace that will plague the X-Men....until the menace that will plague them to the big one hundred! Come on, even Will and Steve can't spread a story that much. For now, enjoy a saga that is all Crosby. A saga which starts in the following, eagerly awaited back-up story....

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Christmas Tidings
Starring:
The Previously Forgotten X-Treme!
Brought to you by Stephen Crosby

James sat in his small room, polishing his gun. Around him, the walls of his room were literally covered with articles cut-out from various newspapers and magazines. Several photos were torn, slashed with a knife over the individuals in the photos.

The photos and news clippings all had the same thing in common. The word 'mutant' was in every headline, and somewhere in each photo was a costumed individual with an 'X' somewhere on his or her body. One photo had seven costume individuals, each unmasked. Beneath was a headline that read "X-Men Reveal Secret Identities".

James rocked back and forth, polishing his weapon. His eyes were on that particular news clipping. One face, one name, stood out in particular. A name that James knew, the name of a nice couple that his grandparents were friends with. Nice people that he had eaten with, gone on fishing trips with, laughed with. He had even met their grandson, shaken hands with him.

James shook a mutie freak's hand. He shudderd at the revolting thought.

For their deceit, they would pay. James stroked his gun, looked at the photo, and smileed. Soon, he would be visiting his grandparents for Christmas. Soon, he would make those mutie-spawning bastards pay.

______________________________________________________________________________________

"Hello, Mr. Summers."

Philip Summers was already standing, and was already moving towards the young man before he had begun to speak. Cane clacking against the hard wood, his hand held out before him, Phillip’s smile reached his sightless eyes. "Boy, you saved my life. I won't object if you call me Philip."

Adam took the old man's hand, and gently placed his other hand on Philip's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Mr. Summers, but the lessons of youth are not easily unlearned. Formality is a term of respect where I come from."

Philip laughed. "Well, far be it from me to argue with a race that's reached the stars. Would you lead me inside, Adam? Deborah's always wanted to meet you."

Shouldering his bag, Adam moved to help Philip into the house. As the younger man opened the door, the elderly blind man was calling out into the hall.

"Deborah! Set another place at the table, honey! We've got company!"

Down the hall, the door opened to reveal a quaint little kitchen. An elderly woman stepped out, wiping her hands on her apron. "I hope he can eat for three. The Fletchers just called to cancel. Their poor grandson - you remember James - caught a touch of the flu."

At the sight of Adam, Deborah stopped in the doorway. "Philip, is this the man that..."

Philip smiled and nodded.

Adam stepped forward, his hand outstretched. "Mrs. Summers, it's a pleasure to meet-oumph!"

For an old woman, Deborah Summers breached the distance between herself and the young man with surprising speed. She also had a surprisingly strong grip, as she nearly hugged the life out of Adam. "You dear, dear boy. Thanks to you, I have the pleasure of waking up next to my husband every morning*."

*(Adam X saved Philip Summers' life in Marvel's X-Men 39. X-Treme fan Steve!)

Pecking Adam on the cheek, Deborah stepped back to take a better look at him. She frowned. "Philip told me a lot of things about you, but he obviously didn't tell me everything. Certainly not that you looked like an MTV rocker."

Philip stepped forward with his cane. "Now, Deborah-"

Adam laughed. "It's all right, Mr. Summers." Adam fingered one of the two long braids hanging down past his shoulder. "I apologize, Mrs. Summers. This hairstyle is the customary way of my...people."

Deborah laughed. "Now, now, you can admit the truth around me. Philip told me everything. I almost didn't believe it, but considering everything I've seen in the last five years, I gave him the benefit of the doubt." She gave her husband a warm smile. Somehow, the blind old man sensed it, and he gave her on in return.

Adam smiled. "Very well, then. It is a custom of my race." Adam shifted his eyes around the hall, and he slid his bag off his shoulder. "I'm sorry, but this gets heavy after a while."

Deborah moved quickly. "Oh, you can just set that down anywhere. And actually, I was referring to those marks around your eyes. I suppose I'm just an old-fashioned woman. I've just never been comfortable with tattoos."

Adam gave another light chuckle as he set his bag next to the coat rack. "If it makes you feel any better, it's not a tattoo. I suppose you could call it a birthmark, though it's one that is shared by my entire race. Bird's feet for the descendants of birds."

Deborah barked out a small laugh. "Birds? Oh my, that was rather clever." She looked back towards the kitchen. "Dear me, is that the ham burning?"

Philip stepped forward. "You'd better see to dinner, Deborah. There are some things I'd like to show Adam."

"All right. You boys go play while I fix the meal you've almost ruined."

"It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Summers," Adam stated as the elderly woman hurried into the kitchen. "You have a wonderful wife, Mr. Summers."

Philip sighed. "Don't I know it. Over fifty years Deborah and me have been together, and not a day goes by that I don't thank Jesus."

"Jesus?"

"An old military friend of mine from New Mexico. He introduced us." Philip started forward, moving through the house as though he could see everything. "Come on. I'd like to show you some things."

Adam followed Mr. Summers into the old man's study. Inside, he stared in awe at his surroundings. Framed photos cover the walls, all of them in black-and-white. Adam's eyes crawled over the photos, taking each one in. Most were photos of military jets, on the ground and in the air. Several were of various ceremonies, with medals being awarded, and friends hanging together for what may have been the last time.

Philip smiled, his hands grazing over the captured memories he could no longer see. His sightless eyes centered onto one photo he touched, that of a young man receiving his pilot's wings. "This was my son, Chris. It was the proudest day of my life when he joined the Air Force. There's nothing a man wants more than for his children to follow in his footsteps."

His hand trembling, tears formed in the old man's eyes. "I'll never forget the night I picked up the phone, and the man on the other end told me about the plane crash. In one fell swoop, I'd lost almost everything that ever mattered."

Adam's hand rested on Philip's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Mr. Summers. I had never known my parents, but to have found them, and then lose them again...I can only imagine."

Philip wiped his eyes. "I lived it, son. Every day, for ten years, I flew over the crash site. Each time, I tried to imagine what happened, thought I could still hear their screams. For ten years, I mourned, before I found out my son was alive the entire time. Before I found out my grandsons had been shipped from orphanage to orphanage, while their father was out in space playing pirate. For ten years, I'd mourned a son who couldn't be bothered to tell his own father that he was still alive."

Adam lowered his head. He knew the man Philip was talking about. Corsair, the legendary space pirate and leader of the Starjammers. A ruthless rebel that had stolen an advanced starship and waged a one-man war against the Shi'ar. A man responsible for countless deaths, and by rights should have been put to death. Instead, Empress Lilandra, the very sister of the Emperor Corsair had murdered, had pardoned this vile criminal.

"And your grandsons?"

Philip looked up at Adam, his eyes bright. "Of them, the only one I can blame is myself. Everything that they went through, happened because I didn't even try to search for them. Oh, they've grown into fine boys, but the lives they've chosen...well, I suppose they've done the best they can for themselves."

Adam took in the numerous photos again. "Mr. Summers, you have lived an incredible life. When I started in the Shi'ar military, my dreams were only a fraction of what you have experienced."

Philip gave a harsh, rather bitter laugh. "And look at where it's taken me, Adam. Standing in this room, touching old photos whose images I can only remember, and the experiences themselves barely remembered at all. I've lost my son, never got to see my grandsons grow up, and all I have in return are the memories of fleeting moments of glory. Experience all that you can, Adam. Just don't lose sight of what's truly important."

Before Adam could respond, before he could talk about his own quest to find his past, Deborah's voice rang out.

"Supper time!"

Philip took Adam by the arm. "Help me to the kitchen son. It's time to eat."

______________________________________________________________________________________

James trudgeds through the snow, his eyes focused on the lit windows up ahead. He hugged the gun tight beneath his jacket. Soon, he would have his chance.

"Mutants, and everything they touch, is a disease." James muttered beneath his breath, repeating words he had heard so often before. "We, the Friends of Humanity, are the cure. We shall purge the earth, and eradicate the threat that mutants pose with their very existence. So too, shall we track down the traitors of humanity, and make them paying for helping to destroy their people."

James continued towards the house, feeling his gun. That nigh, he intended kill two traitors, and send a message to mutants everywhere. For all their power, they could not protect each other. One-by-one, they and their allies would fall, until only the pure humanity remained.

Creeping up beside the house, James reached his hand beneath his jacket, and glanced in the window. There they were, eating their dinner, acting as though they were normal people. But they were not normal. They had bred mutants, and that made them just as bad, if not worse. James tightened his grip on his gun. They had a dinner guest, a man with odd marking around his eyes and strangely braided hair. He must be one of them, a freak that had to be destroyed.

James almost drew his gun and fired through the window. If he had, he would have taken them by surprise, and killed them quickly. James didn't want it to be quick, nor a surprise. They should know what's coming, and meet their end as slowly and painfully as possible. No, they should suffer, as penance for their crimes.

White snow swirling around him, James crept along the side of the house. If their guest wa a mutant freak, then James would need some surprise.

Lifting his gun by the barrel, James strode towards the fuse box.

______________________________________________________________________________________

"Mmm-hmmm, Deborah! I swear, you're apple pie gets better every year!" Philip Summers leaned back in his chair, and patted his stomach.

Adam placed his fork down on the empty plate, licking his lips. "Mrs. Summers, I thank you for making my first homecooked meal truly memorable."

Deborah Summers smiled as she gathered up the dishes. "My goodness, Adam, if you thought this was something, you should stop by for Easter dinner. Now, while I'm up, is there anything you boys need?"

"No ma'am," Adam said quickly, rising from his seat. "You've done more than enough. Here, let me take care of those."

Adam reached for the plates, but the elderly woman deftly evaded his attempt. "I'm an old-fashioned woman, Adam. You just try and stop me from doing the housework, and I'll-"

The next thing that came out of Deborah's mouth was a slight scream, followed by a loud thud as she fell in the now pitch black kitchen. There was a crash of dishes. The lights had suddenly gone out, throwing the quaint old home into total darkness.

Unaware of this, Philip Summers leapt out of his chair, feeling about with his cane. "Deborah! What's happened?"

Feeling around, kneeling next to where Mrs. Summers had fallen, Adam took the old woman by the arm. "Mrs. Summers, are you all right?"

Deborah's voice was shaky as Adam started to help her up. "I-I'm fine. My ankle's twisted, is all. And I dropped the dishes. My favorite plates, broken. Philip, the fuse must have blown again."

Philip hurried around the table to help his wife. Somewhere, his ears picked up the sound of a window breaking. "It wasn't the fuse, dear. Someone's in the house."

Supporting the elderly woman, Adam looked towards the sound, his cat-like eyes faintly piercing the darkness. "You two stay low. I'll handle this."

As Adam moved forward, he heard Philip behind him. "Deborah, can you make it down to the basement alright?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then get there, light a candle, and wait."

"Philip, just let Adam deal with it."

"Deborah, this blackout means nothing to me. Besides, if I can't handle a burglar, then the military's not worth joining. Now get to the basement."

Adam heard Mrs. Summers sigh, and knew that the longtime couple was embracing. He heard a door creak open, and one individual going down steps. The other, Mr. Summers with his cane, followed after Adam.

Adam turned, and faintly saw the outline of Mr. Summers. "Sir, please, this might not be a simple burglar."

Philip chuckled. "If it's one of them supervillains my grandsons fight, I doubt he'd have gone to all this trouble. Either way, I'm not going to hide while some maniac threatens me and my wife in my own home."

Adam nodded. "I can respect that. I'll lead the way though." Adam started forward, but Philip grabbed him by the arm.

"Wait! Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"It sounded like...Down!"

Tripping Adam with his cane, Philip threw the two of them to the ground. A split-second later, a gunshot rang out. Adam didn't need to see the bullet hole to know that it was imbedded right past where his head had been.

As quick as lightning, Adam rolled away from Philip Summers, rose to one knee, drew a knife from somewhere upon his person, and sent it hurtling in the direction of the gunfire. He heard it thud into the wall.

"Missed, freak!" A voice laughed out from the darkness. "But this time, I won't!"

Another shot was fired. But Adam had already thrown another knife in the direction of the voice. Impossibly, the knife deflected the bullet in mid-air.

"Show your face, coward!" Adam cried, a knife in each hand. Next to him, Philip Summers was rising to his feet.

"That voice," Philip trained his sightless eyes in the direction of the voice. "James, is that you? For the love of god, boy, what do you think you're doing!"

That voice erupted from the darkness again, filled with hatred and revulsion. "I know exactly what I'm doing, race traitor! I'm purifying humanity, striking a blow to mutie freaks everywhere! Once I'm done here, I'm gonna blow away those mutie grandkids of yours! Just as soon as I blow the traitorous heads off you and -"

"You will not!" Adam crieed, flinging one of his knives and he leapt forward. Finally, his eyes had properly adjusted, enough so that Adam made out the faint impression of his assailant. His knife caught the boyish figure in the leg.

With a yelp of pain and alarm, James fired his gun a third time.

Adam grit his teeth as the hot bullet tore into his side, but otherwise he barely felt it. An instant later he was on the attacker, knocking him to the ground with a single powerful blow.

Straddled over his attacker, Adam looked him in the eye, the tip of his knife pressed against the young man's throat. "So tell me, 'pure human', how superior do you feel now? I am not a blind old man, or an elderly woman. I am what you would so affectionately call a 'freak'. So I want to know, just how superior do you feel right now!"

James met Adam's gaze with one of his own. It was the glare of a madman, totally devoid of all fear, and completely full of hate. "Go ahead, freak. Kill me, just like your kind will kill all humanity unless you're stopped. Your nothing like us, and you'll never be like us!"

Adam gave a murderous smile, and shifted his grip on the knife. "You're right. I'm nothing like you, and by all I hold dear, I pray I will never be like you."

Pulling the knife back, Adam's eyes glowed a faint red. Suddenly, James felt like he was on fire, as a fierce heat suddenly swept throughout his body. In a matter of seconds, the pain became too great, and he was unconscious.

Putting the knife away, Adam stood. He looked down at his attacker with disgust and pity. "Philip, are you all right?"

The blind old man shakily made his way towards Adam. "I'm fine, Adam. Is he..."

"He'll live. All I did was ignite the electrolytes in his blood. By the time he wakes up, he'll in the custody of your law enforcement officials." After a brief moment, Adam continued. "You know him."

Philip nodded. "The Fletchers, the couple that canceled for dinner, they're his grandparents. Last year, he joined Scott, Alex and I on a fishing trip."

"I assume he didn't know they were mutants then. How could he have found out now?"

Philip chuckled. "Don't you watch the news, son? Scott, and a bunch of his friends, publicly revealed their secret identities on national television just a few short months ago. Well, Deborah and I had gotten our fair share of grief from the neighbors, but most of the folks have known us for years, and they managed to look past our family. We certainly hadn't expected anything like this to happen."

Adam yanked his knife from the boy's leg, and was moving to retrieve his other two knives. "These...friends of your grandson's, who are they?"

Philip thought for a minute, and shrugged. "You probably know them as the X-Men. They’ve been called mutant terrorists of sorts. Well, I haven't met them all, and not all of them made their names known. Deborah and I have a tape of the news conference-"

"I'll need to see it," Adam said. "As soon as this kid is locked up, I'll be going. I suggest you and your wife find a safer place to stay." He yanked his first knife out of the wooden chair, and tucked it away.

"Now, wait a minute, Adam. What are you going on about?"

Adam stepped past Philip, moving towards the coat rack. "Because your grandson exposed his identity, an anti-mutant fanatic tried to kill you. Other X-Men revealed their identities. They have close friends and relatives, and eventually an anti-mutant fanatic might decide to kill them. This Scott, did he mention anything like this to you?"

Philip shook his head. "No, I haven't even heard of him since the announcement."

"Then he's either an idiot or he doesn't care. From what I saw at the hospital, after you were rescued, I'll assume he's an idiot. Philip, you were suddenly thrown into his world, made a target. If I wasn't here...."

Adam knelt down over his bag, and unzipped it open.

Walking over to Adam, Philip placed his hand on the young man's shoulder. "What are you planning on?"

Adam looked over his shoulder, to look up at Philip. In his bag was a uniform, made of a material not native to Earth. Adorning the wrists, elbows, and knees of the uniform were thin blades, also made of a metal that had never before been seen on the planet Earth. There were many more blades in the bag, various daggers, throwing knives, and two axes.

"I plan to tie up the X-Men's loose ends."

______________________________________________________________________________________

Author's Notes

Finally, after more than a year, the Christmas issue of the X-Men has come out, along with the back-up story that I intended for the Marvel Fanfare Christmas Special. This was a terrific issue for me, as I got to focus on two characters I've always enjoyed, Rachel Summers and Adam X.

Rachel, as you all know, is the alternate future daughter of Scott and Jean, and has always been a major character in the X-Verse. Adam X, better known as X-Treme, has been in character limbo since before the Age of Apocalypse. I believe he last appeared in issues 2 and 3 of the second Captain Marvel series. Something about him being hunted by the Shi'ar agent version of Eric the Red or somesuch. I haven't read the issues.

The one issue I have that features Adam X is Marvel's X-Men 39. In that issue, Philip Summers, Scott's grandfather, goes blind while he's flying and crashes. Adam X finds the man, and uses his powers to keep him warm and alive through the cold Canadian night. Later in the issue, Jean links their minds so that Philip, and old WWII fighter pilot, can experience a dogfight that Adam X fought in outer space. It was a nice issue by Fabian Nicieza that I believe was supposed to lead to things that were later axed.
Nevertheless, it remains one of my favorite issues, and of course was used as the basis for my back-up story, which introduces Adam X to MV1.

Now, if you've heard of Adam X before, you'll know the huge theory that hangs around his head. Perhaps it's what Fabian had planned, seeing as how he wrote the issue that began a huge fandom debate and directly ties into the Adam X theory. I will not be exploring this theory, as I believe it was what ultimately led to the limbo-ism of what is otherwise a terrific character. Instead I will be using a huge event that Shawn Connelly used in his X-Men run to tell the tale of Adam X, in the hopes that you all forget
the theories and debates to see the terrific character potential underneath.

So, what's next for Adam X? Well, I plan to write a series of stories in which he tracks down the loved ones of each X-Man that revealed his/her secret identity. Besides Cyclops, these include Phoenix/Jean Grey, Shadowcat/Katherine Pryde, Nightcrawler/Kurt Wagner, Iceman/Robert Drake, Colossus/Peter Rasputan, and Rogue. Basically, this means that Adam will be traveling all over, from Russia to Eastern Europe to Long Island to Chicago, then to wherever. Of course, I realize that you're thinking of
several questions. Well, I've got some answers.

Q: Isn't Peter's family already dead?

A: Well, Adam doesn't know that. Also, the killers (Russian government), were never really punished for the murder of Peter's parents.

Q: What about Gambit's family?

A: Well, Gambit wasn't among the X-Men that revealed their identities. He left just before then, and then joined up in the beginning of Will's run, only to die. Sort of makes me wonder why Will bothered to bring him in, but whatever.

Q: Rogue never revealed her real name. How can her family and loved ones be threatened?

A: Hey, she was from a small Southern town. It's possible somebody recognized her on tv and said "Hey! Isn't that mutie so-and-so's daughter! Let's go lynch him!" The real question you should ask is "How the hell is Adam going to find her family?" And the answer is "With help." For now, that's all I'm saying.

So sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride as the X-Men veer into Year 5!

Until next issue, I remain....

Stephen Crosby