"An End to Loneliness" XXX-Men #1 (Archangel & Psylocke) By: Benjamin Wick ********************** The following is a sexually oriented story featuring characters trademarked and copyrighted to Marvel Entertainment Group, and used without authorization. This material may be considered offensive by some (so be warned) and innapropriate for minors (so please don't read it if you are one). I chose to write this story exclusively from Archangel's point of view to emphasize Psylocke's mystery. No one know's what's going on inside her head, not even me, as her writer! Oh, one last thing before I finish up this intro; there is an author's note that follows the story, explaining the story's place in X-Books continuity, as well as something of a bibliog- raphy. Enjoy... "I had a wonderful time, Warren," she said as they walked up the front steps and approached the mansion's door arm in arm. She smiled radiantly and her violet eyes sparkled in the moon- light. "Me too, Betsy. What's not to love about an enchanting evening of dining and dancing on the rooftops of New York City with the most beautiful British/Asian ninja telepath in the world?" he smirked. "No mean feat, considering I'm the only one we know of, Mr. Charmer," she slapped him on the shoulder. "Surely you can do better than that!" "Okay, okay, the most beautiful *woman* in the world," he amended. She looked skeptical for a moment, then smiled again. "Would you object if I were to probe your mind to verify the truth of that statement?" she challenged, grinning wryly. "Not at all..." Warren answered without hesitation. "Then I don't _have_ to. That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me," she crooned and planted an electric kiss on his lips. He pulled her closer, returning the kiss passionately, their bodies ground together and his loins tingled with a hot, maddening sensation. He felt a pang of regret as they broke apart. He reached into his pocket and fished out his key. He opened the door and invited Betsy to enter with a bow of the head and a sweeping guesture with his arm. She nodded acquiesce and stepped in to the foyer ahead of him. They ascended the stairs to the second floor. At the top, Warren stood and looked at her awkwardly. He blushed a little, which created an interesting effect on his light blue skin. He didn't know how to proceed, and felt like such an adolescent for it. He felt that he was getting all kinds of signals from Betsy all night, but hadn't been with a woman in two years; since his last long-time girlfriend Candy Southern was murdered as he watched helplessly, and they'd been serious for nearly six years. He didn't have sex with Charolette Jones during their short relationship, the right time never presented itself. So it had been almost eight years since he'd been in the position of first sexual encounter with a new lover! If Betsy was picking up any of this, she showed no sign. She just kissed him on the cheek and turned on her heel towards the left and the women's dormatories, sparing him a backwards glance and a wink. She sauntered off, as Warren was left to gape stupidly, watching her ass as it shifted beneath her slinky red evening gown before she dissappeared around the corner, and wonder what the hell happened. "Damn!" he whispered through clenched teeth. He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head slightly in dissappointment. Then he proceed to follow Betsy halfway down the hall, taking a right just beyond the stairway to Ororo's attic, through the galley and into the bath and dressing rooms. He flicked on the light and began to undress, neatly folding his tuxedo and setting it aside. Warren took slight notice of the hard-on he was sporting. His nine-inch blue penis stood proudly up and out from his short bush of groomed, sharply contrasting blond pubic hair. He chastised himself inwardly, he hadn't been with a woman in two years, but still styled his pubic hair out of the force of habit that he'd made as a millionaire playboy. He was a compulsive groomer. He turned on the water in the shower and stepped inside. Warren sighed heavily and tried to relax and let the tension be washed away by the water rushing over his smoothly muscled body, and be carried down the drain. It wasn't working. Betsy had him so worked up that he could have just grabbed her and fucked them both senseless right there on the front steps. He chuckled a little, the Professor wouldn't be likely to appreciate that. Plus, Bobby could be back from Long Island with Rogue any time, a visit with his parents never lasted very long. Warren tried to imagine Bobby and Rogue profusely excusing themselves and stepping over and around he and Betsy's twisting, grunting, sweating bodies. Imagining this litle scene wasn't helping him cool down any. Warren was lathering his hair and looked back down at his unebbing erection, he considered a moment and then closed his soapy fist around the massive organ and began to masturbate. He slid his slick fist furiously up and down his shaft and fantis- ized about Betsy until, standing on his toes with his arched back to the steaming water, he came, spolling out copious amounts of jizz from his aching, purple head. *That* was working. No subsitute for Betsy's flesh, but it got rid of that maddening hard-on and loosened him up a bit. Besides Warren was no stranger to jacking off during this two year, *and counting*, he thought with melancholy, dry spell. He finished his shower and dried himself off. He proc- ceded to the adjoining dressing rooms and found his bathrobe among the rest of the team's robes and a stockpile of standard blue and gold training uniforms. He put it on, picked up his tuxedo, and proceeded back through the galley, down the hall, past the staircase to the first floor and the foyer, and to the men's dormatory wing. As he approched the door to his room, he noticed that it was slightly ajar. Battle-honed suspision kicked into high gear, he dropped the tux and squinted his eagle-sharp eyes. Fully tensed and ready to unfurl his deadly wings, he twisted into a stance from which he could slam the door wide open with a powerful side kick. the gentle telepathic voice reached him and calm flowed through his mind and body, stopping him in mid-kick. But the adrenaline didn't stop pumping into his system as he recognized the voice and realized what it must mean. He opened the door and turned the dimmer knob above the light switch, illuminating the room in a soft glow. Betsy sat stark naked at the edge of his four-poster bed, her left leg dangling over the side and the other tucked up under her. Her hands rested on her left knee, which caused her arms to press her enormous breasts together, creating an amazingly sensual effect. *Warren, my boy,* he thought to himself, *you're gonna get laid after all,* and unconsciously closed the door behind him. Betsy jiggled a little with laughter like the tinkling of bells, and said, "How perceptive you are Mister Worthington," as she slid off the bed's satin comforter, making a small swishing noise. She stood tall and Warren marveled at her volumptuious, yet athletic body. Smooth, flawless bronze skin, shapely limbs, a flat belly slightly rippled with the faint suggestion of femin- ine abs, large breasts with plum nipples that complimented her darkish skin beautifly, elegant Asian face that managed to carry and suggest her British-born aristocracy in a unique effect, and flowing lusterous deep purple hair. Warren noticed that her little triangle of pubic hair was purple as well, meaning that while Betsy Braddock was blond by birth, Kwannon's exotic hair color must have been natural. Unless she dyed that too, but that seemed unlikely. Warren gulped and licked his lips in a nervous gesture, a sticky sweat popped up on his brow and he trembled slightly as Betsy strode toward him confidently, heaving her chest with deep breaths... a no doubt intentional effect. She reached out to him, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other on the base of his neck and pulled herself to him, mashing herself against his body and fiercely kissing him. She finessed the folds of his robe open with her knees, and, positioning her left leg between his legs and her right leg alongside the outside of his left leg, she began to grind her crotch against his left hip. Lifting her left leg to his crotch, she began to rub his balls with it. Warren's eyes bulged and his heartbeat became erratic, thumping in his chest and temples so hard he thought he might pass out. She had sucked his tongue into her mouth and was rolling her's around it, *she was on his tongue!,* alternating between little nips at the tip with her inscisors and grinding it lightly between her molars. Warren gasped deeply, forgetting to breathe through his nose, and almost choked. Betsy sent a telepathic cascade of laughter, like a babbling brooke, across his mind. She continued to suck his face, tickling the roof of his mouth and licking his teeth for awhile before she began to close her mouth, forcing his to close with it by sucking the air out of him. A loud, astoundingly dry, smacking sound was produced when both their lips came together and the seal was broken. Warren let out a nervous laugh, little "huh" sounds between gasps for breath. "Wow," he wispered sincerely with glazed eyes. Betsy untied his robe and pushed it over his shoulders so that it dropped off his body. She put her hands on his hips and lowered to her knees. *Good Lord!* he thought, his head spinning, *The almost got me off!* Betsy cradled his genitals in her hands, cupping his sack in her palms and holding his stiff member between her thumbs. She massaged his nuts and gently kissed the head of his cock, wetting it with saliva. She tilted it upward and flattened her tongue onto his balls, slowly running it up the underside of his shaft and upon reaching the end, swiftly gulped down his entire penis, tightened her lips snugly around the base of his dick and slowly retreated to the head, which she began to polish with her tongue. Then she licked the side of his cock in a back and forth motion before taking it back into her mouth and continued to give him the best head of his life. Sucking, licking and nibbling him into new heights of ecstacy. "Wait," he panted, heavily setting his hand on her head when he was teetering on the edge of an orgasm. She disengaged and stood, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. He was begining to get over his initial shock and befuddlement and was ready to take a more confident and active role. He took her by the waist and guided her to the bed. He lifted her into his arms and slid onto the bed, setting her down with her head on the pillows. He opened her legs and sat between them with his legs folded under him. She was so beautiful, lying naked on red satin, one arm lay slightly crooked at her side, the other bent in a right angle, lying palm upward. Her eyes were closed and her lips slightly parted. Her head was tilted to one side, stretching her elegant long neck. Warren was drawn to that neck, he bent down and kissed it gently. She smelled of tropical flowers, light and sweet. He trailed kisses down her body, lingering on her breasts and belly. He was forced to untuck his legs and lie flat as he moved downward. Now he was propped on his elbows between her silky thighs, his face only inches in front of her pussy. He reached out and placed two fingers on the soft folds of her labia, which were the same plum color of her nipples, and spread them open to reveal the glistening pink within. He touched the tip of his tongue to that pink flesh, capturing the salty tang of her juices. Betsy moaned slightly. Warren clamped his mouth onto her mound and forced his tongue inside of her, slithering it along her petal-like folds and grinding her clitoris. Betsy writhed and twisted. As Warren continued his oral ministrations she reached her first climax and began to thrash around so hard he could hardly keep his lips affixed, so he slid his arms under her legs and locked them around her thighs. He rose to his knees, lifting her hips and leaving only her head and shoulders still in contact with the bed, he pressed on with determination, relentlessly licking and sucking and pulling at her folds with his lips. She came noisily again and he was spurred on by her reaction and the musky smell of her fluids. Less than a minute later she came a third time and he stopped eating her out and set her down. Betsy lie there catching her breath, covered in a glist- ening sheen of sweat, her chest and abdomen heaving. Warren leaned over and kissed her on the mouth once before inserting his dick between her wet and swollen pussy lips and into her tight channel with a low grunt. He rammed it in to the hilt, until he felt his sack come to rest between her buttocks. He was instant- ly enraptured by the hot sensation and saw double for a moment. He didn't really realize how much he missed this and was struck all at once by overwhelming passion, love for Betsy and joy at their sharing this, and bittersweet memories of Candy. Taken by a brilliant spontaneous and exiting whim, he lifted Betsy's shoulders up, crossing his arms behind her back. He pressed her to his chest and rolled the two of them over. He sat up, scooched over to the edge of the bed and stood, holding Betsy off the ground by pressing one arm across her back and supporting her under the ass with the other, all the while managing to keep himself deep inside of her. Betsy squealed a little with surprise by this sudden and swift movement, reflex- ively grabbing his shoulders and wrapping her legs around his hips to keep from falling. "What are you..?" she stammered, staring at him with a look of confusion. He just smiled broadly at her and didn't answer. He disabled the security on his windows by entering his code on the remote control that lay on the nightstand. He proceeded to the window, bracing her against the sill for a moment while he threw it open. "Don't scream, please," he asked her quietly, "We've already made too much racket," he grinned and pushed forward, sending them tumbling them into the night. "Warren!" she yelped, her eyes widening impossibly as she clutched him crushingly tight. "Are you crayzeeeeeeeee?!" she hissed; to her credit, very quietly as they plunged from the second story window. Warren spread his wings wide and arched upward at the last second, Betsy's hair brushed the lawn as their momentum was redirected. They shot upward at a nausiating velocity, Warren giggled to himself at Betsy's expression. Her teeth were clenched and her eyes were shut tightly, a tear escaped from the corner of an eye and swiftly ran down her cheek, dragged by the "G" forces. Warren stopped climbing and began to hover. Betsy shivered against him, looking ill, and cautiously opened her eyes. He began to laugh heartlily. "*You* _bastard!_" she exclamed. He stopped laughing and looked her dead in the eyes solemnly. "Oh, come on, Betsy! Look around you and try to tell me you don't want to be here," as he spoke, his eyes swept the sky and came to rest looking down at the mansion. Her eyes followed his. She looked at the mansion, seeming small below them, then over to the horizon and the forested Appalacian mountains, bathed in the soft moonlight. She gasped slightly and smiled, her face softening and her stifling grip loosening. The starry fall nights of urban Westchester in the New York highlands were always gorgeous, but infinately moreso from this altitude. "You're forgiven," she breathed and kissed him deeply. Warren, having kept still inside her for so long began to pump his hips slowly, sliding his organ in and out in long, sensuous strokes. He held her tightly to him, burying his face in her neck and hair as she twined her legs around his and stroked and kneaded his buttocks. They screwed in a vertical positon, bobbing up and down slightly against a backdrop of stars as he flapped his wings sporadically. The heat of their bodies quickly rose to protect them against the chilly autumn night. After a few minutes Warren reoriented them, turning so that they were horizontal, with Betsy hanging underneath. He held her legs to his sides and she hooked her arms under his armpits and gripped his shoulders from behind. Confident that she wouldn't fall, he began to fly, soaring over the estate's grounds. He proceeded toward the mountains and the jet hanger, pistoning furiously and grunting while they kissed and licked all over each other's faces, throats and ears. Soon Betsy came, spasming violently. Warren had never seen a woman react to an orgasm like she did! He was worried about one of them losing their grip, so he rolled them over so that he was facing the sky and turned back towards the estate. Betsy regained her composure and sat up, balancing across his hips and bracing her hands against his shoulders as he closed his on her waist. She began to ride him, moving in synch with his thrusts as though they were choreographed, as if one was an extension of the other. Warren noticed that they were passing Scott and Jean's place and soon were over Breakstone lake, when Betsy suddenly straightened bolt upright. She swayed back and forth, stroking her breasts and trailing her hands up her neck into her hair, pulling it up above her head and licking her lips. She looked so etherially beautiful to Warren, her face, breasts, and belly bathed in luminescent moonlight. She was positively aglow! Warren gazed at her long and hard, his eyes caressing her soft form, over the contours her body. He looked past his sweaty pecs and abs to their joined reigons. He watched his cock as it plunged in and out of her and felt the inevitable climax building, he moaned and growled as Betsy panted and squealed, she was going to come too. He drew her back down to him and steeled himself for it. Suddenly he felt Betsy in his mind and became disoriented by strange, alien sensations that were coming to him. He struggled to understand and realized that she was linking them, allowing him to experi- ence what she was feeling! He felt like he was going to burst as she syncronized and shared their orgasms, literally doubling the staggering sensation. All reality seemed to explode and fall apart around him, his groin burned with the white-hot ecstacy of the senses-shattering super orgasm. Warren's muscles locked and his eyes bulged, he howled out loud and lost control of his wings. They dropped from the sky like a stone and landed in the lake's cove with a splash. Warren was shocked by how cold the water felt against his hot skin and swallowed a lot of water before surfacing. He was barely able to tread water, his muscles felt like jelly. He scanned the water, searching for Betsy. There she was, sputter- ing and coughing. He doggy-paddled over to her. "Are you alright?" he asked. She nodded with one last cough and smiled misceviously, flicking her eyebrows upward twice rapidly, as if to say "you like?" "That was un-*fucking*-be- *lieve*able!" he answered to her silent query, "Pardon the pun." "Of course," she nodded her head toward the shore and began to swim away. Warren stared, wondering where she got the energy to move that fast. Then he began to follow and was surprised that his strength was rapidly recovering. She reached the beach, halfway between Scott and Jean's cottage and the cove's peninsula, before him. She crawled a little way inland and rolled over onto her back, propped herself up on her hands and lifted her knees. She began to slowly open and close them. Warren rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue, she was absolutely relentless! He crawled up to her and, since he wouldn't be able to get hard again for about fifteen minutes, he took one of her tits into both of his hands and leaned over to close his mouth around the nipple. He began to suck forcefully and nip at it as he ran his right hand down her abdomen and laid his palm against her bush, stroking her labia and clitoris gently with his middle finger. He worked open the folds with his index and ring fing- ers, and inserted his middle, followed by his index, into her vagina. Betsy shuddered and groaned as he stroked up and down, by approaching the pussy from above and arching the fingers into the channel, the clitoris was constantly stimulated, when coming at it from ahead would completely miss it. By her reacton, Betsy obviously appreciated the technique. She ground her pelvis into the sand, thrashing her head back and forth as he noisily sucked her tits and furiously frigged her. She reached down and took Warren's limp penis into her hands, brushing it between her fingers and thumb until it was erect. She closed her fist around it just as she came, squeezing it painfully. Warren gritted his teeth until it was over and she began to slowly stroke it as if she were milking a cow; pinching the base between thumb and forefinger and pulling down. Shortly she came again, her pussy was becoming quite slick and Warren was wearing his arm out by fingerfucking her so quickly. When she climaxed a third time, he felt his drawing close. he received the telepathic order. He frowned slightly. Being the cultured gentleman he was, he found splattering a woman slightly distasteful and disresepectful. Making her swallow was absolutely unforgiveable, that's why he told her to stop when she was blowing him. But, she was request- ing it, so he was willing to do as she said. He rose to his knees and she propped herself on one elbow, taking his cock in her hand and giving a final few jerks. He breathed harshly through his teeth, squirting on her gigantic bosom. She held onto his spasming dick, and laughing with delight and aiming it like a firehose, she coated her tits. She aimed it just below the base of her throat most of the time, allowing the jizz to run down her cleavage, some of it oozed down her belly and collected in her navel. Warren gaped at the incredible amount of glisten- ing semen that was glazing her mountainous breasts. She laid back down on the sand. she ordered, pressing the heels of her hands on the sides of her boobs and rubbing them together. "But I just..." he protested. She cut him off by shaking her head and gesturing at his still-erect member. He was astoun- ded, his cock was showing no signs of becoming flaccid, it was still as hard as ever. He wondered how the hell that could be, then figured it must be Betsy's doing. Mastery of the brain is mastery of the central nervous system. She was preventing the inevitable "crash" that was part of coming down from an orgasm, a fair comparison being how a drug user's system crashes when coming down from a high. *This* was a pleasant utilization of telepathic abilitites he'd never thought of before! He straddled her stomach and inserted his penis between her slippery tits. He began to pump and she squeezed his tool tight between her breasts, alternating between grinding them in a circular motion and sliding them to mirror his thrusts. The sensations were very pleasant, the softness of her plump breasts, the sticky tackiness of his come, and the warmth the friction created. He removed his hands from his hips and began to tweak her nipples, circling the bumply areolas with the pads of his fingertips and pinching and pulling the nipples gently. He continued to piston for only a couple more minutes when he felt his climax approaching, much sooner than usual. He guessed that if given the chance, men's orgasms happened closer together as they continued to have them, just as women do. Women are capable of having multiple orgasms after prolonged stimulation, orgasms so close together that you can hardly tell them apart. With Betsy, Warren could have multiple orgasms! He would have to try that sometime, and shelved the thought away. He threw his head back in the air, moaning and grunting as he came, the ejaculate spraying out from between her tits and drenching her lips, chin, and neck. Betsy was laughing again, she just loved to be coated in a man's juices. Warren guessed that one of his old habits was about to change while he was partnered with her. Warren stood and Betsy reached for his hand. He took it and helped to pull her up. She stepped back a couple paces from him, that disturbing little grin was back. Warren was wondering what the hell she was up to when she scooped some of the jizz off of her body and smooshed her palm into his face playfully. Before he had the chance to yell and freak out, wipe his face and spit, she smashed her body against his. Holding him in a tight bear hug she licked his face and kissed him, forcing her messy tongue into his mouth. Though it was surprisingly tasteless, he was still pretty grossed out. *She really loves this stuff,* he thought to himself. Suddenly she released his mouth and tackled him into the water, making him forget all about her little trick as they wrestled and played around in the lake. They horsed around like teenagers, splashing and dunking each other, laughing and making idle threats. After about fifteen minutes, Betsy made for the shore and Warren gave chase. He reached the beach only a few steps behind her and sprinted, knocking her to the sand. They necked for a little while and Betsy ended up lying halfway on top of him, her head on his chest as he stroked and ran his fingers through her drying hair. "I love you, Betsy," he whispered and kissed the top of her head. Warren felt her cheek pull upward into a smile and she snuggled closer against him. "I love you too," he heard her say as he drifted off to sleep. A little more than three hours later, Warren awoke. He squinted against the light of the sunrise and stretched, yawning. Then his eyes snapped open as he realized that they'd fallen asleep on the beach. "*Shit!* Betsy!" he shouted, shaking her. "What?" she moaned groggily, annoyed. Then her eyes flew open and she sat up, her eyes flicking back and forth to confirm their location. "*Shit!*" she hissed. "I already said that," Warren quipped, standing up and brushing the sand off his naked body and shaking out his hair. Betsy did the same. "C'mon," he said, holding out his arms. She went to him and he picked her up. He covered the distance bet- ween the lake and the mansion flying low, at an altitude about equal to his height. They reached the wing that held the men's dormatory and Warren's window was directly above and still open. They were standing in front of the window to Professor Xavier's office. Warren happened to glance inside and noticed a gather- ing. He quickly shot upard to the second floor, hoping that they weren't spotted. He set Betsy on the window sill and she climbed in, he followed. "What's going on down there?" he asked. "The Professor has summoned Hank, Scott, Ororo, Jean, Bishop, and Bobby. They must be briefing for a mission," she answered. He picked his robe up off of the floor and handed it to her. "Here, get back to your room with this. I hope Charles didn't want either of us for the assignment, so that no one's looking for us," he paused. "I noticed, none of your clothes are in here. You came here like that?" "Yes, I scanned everyone but you as being asleep and I expected you to be in here, I thought that coming to your door naked would be fun," she smiled, putting on the robe. "I was inspired by your comment last night that we should 'cut to the chase'," she quoted. There was a knock at the door, "Hey, buddy," it was Bobby's voice. Warren and Betsy froze. The door swung open as Bobby continued, "Are you gettin' up or wha... ohboy," he whispered, staring at Betsy. Warren, though he was the one who was still naked, stepped in front of her. "I..." Bobby stammered, averting his eyes, "The Prof sent me to..." Betsy moved around Warren and brushed past Bobby. "Drake, *get the hell out of here!*" Warren snarled, turning him by the shoulders and pushing him out the door. Warren took a step into the hall and heard Rogue's voice. "There you are, Betsy," she was saying, "me an' Remy were just looking for you in your room," sure enough, Remy was right behind her as usual. It was sickening, the way he tailed her every move. He made eye contact with Warren and covered his mouth, snickering. Then Rogue saw him too. She blushed and turned her back, swiftly proceeding toward the stairs. Remy opened his mouth to say something rude, and Rogue barked "Gambit!". He dropped it and followed her, stealing a backward glance to Warren, he winked and gave him a "thumbs up." Warren covered his face with his hand and retreated into his room, slamming the door. *Even without Jubilee around, this will spread,* he thought, plopping onto his bed. He smiled, *But given the chance, I wouldn't have changed a thing.* Betsy sent. This was the beginning of a beautiful realationship. No more brooding in solitary for Warren, Apocalypse was months dead and Warren had met a woman to pull him out of the darkness he'd allowed himself to grow comfor- table in. It was no longer enough and he was ready to rejoin the land of the living. Pushed into action by Jubilee's biting words, he'd allowed himself to love again. And he'd never felt so good in his life. -The End- AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wanted to make this story as "real" (that is, it could have happened if Uncanny X-Men were an adult book) as I could, by grounding it solidly in the comics' continuity and by paying very close, careful attention to faithful and accurate characterization. To establish continuity, I place it chrono- logically between Uncanny X-Men #319 (Archangel and Psylocke's first date) and Uncanny X-Men #320 (the first part of the Leigon Quest). I assume Rogue's limited series to take place after Uncanny #318 and X-Men #38, during X-Men #39, and ending before Uncanny #319. Bishop's minseries must take place either between Uncanny #314 and #316 or during the two week lag between Cable #16 and Uncanny #318. That's how I quantify the presence of Rogue, Gambit, and Bishop. For those of you who may not have gotten some of the references to the past I made, I will list the issues in which they take place. Archangel's relationship with Candy Southern started in Uncanny X-Men #31 and became a long-distance relation- ship during the early issues of X-Factor up until her death in X-Factor #34. Archangel's relationship with Charlotte Jones, which was not depicted as being particularily serious and seemed often forgotten by the writers, began in X-Factor #59 and hasn't been depicted since Uncanny X-Men #294. I got the layout of the mansion and the estate's grounds from the X-Men Survival Guide to the Mansion. Psylocke referred to two past lifetimes, those being her life in Britain, cronicled in the Captain Britain trade paperback, and her first tenure with the X-Men, beginning in New Mutants annual #2 and running through Uncanny #211-251. Her third and current lifetime began with her transfer to Kwannon's body in Uncanny #256. Apocolypse has been presumed dead by the X-Men since X-Force #18. And finally, Jubilee suggested that Archangel let the people he cared about know it in Uncanny #318, which prompted the date in Uncanny #319 that lead to this story.