A/N: Welcome to this newest story of mine. As always, this is just the disclaimer saying that I own none of the characters, places, or recognised ideas. Credit for all of those goes to the people who own them, I just watched Indiana Jones then X-Men back to back and thought up this cross over story.

In order to make it work, the dates for the two films have been moved slightly. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is supposed to happen in 1957, whereas X-Men: First Class happens in 1962. So, in order to make them both fit, I've moved the timing to 1959.

Updates will likely be sporadic, I am writing as I go and with the nature of life I cannot promise to stick to a schedule. I hope you enjoy the story, and I preemptively thank you for any reviews, favourites or follows I get from those who like it.


The overly cheerful singing blaring from the television in the adjoining room was at least half drowned out by his frantic scrabbling around for a place to hide from the impending blast. The fireplace drew a blank, and there was no other solid structure to hide in. If this was just an earthquake, Indy would look for a small built in closet to seek use, as the small space would likely be strong enough to withstand the shaking. But no closet or bathroom, no matter how strongly built, would stand against the atomic blast that was going to hit them in under fifteen seconds.

In desperation he dashed to the kitchen, cursing under his breath. A stroke of genius had him opening the fridge and frantically throw everything out of there. A tiny corner of his mind was amazed at the level of detail they had gone to to make this village as lifelike as possible, down to the perishable goods in the fridge. However, if he had had the time to stop and look he would have seen that the dates on most of the food items were passed, and that a huge sticker on the back of the fridge declared it unfit for use due to damage in the structure. He didn't have the luxury to investigate, so the large crack in the back of the fridge remained undiscovered as the six foot man wedged himself into the cramped space.

As the fridge door slammed shut on the count of one, Indy sent out a plea to whatever god may exist to help him. There was too much in his life he wanted to finish, and also he wanted revenge. If he survived this, he was going to find Mac and make him pay for betraying them. The betrayal hurt him deep, more than all the injuries he had sustained in fighting Dovchenko. He hadn't suspected a thing until his old friend had turned his gun on him, and he was sick of being betrayed or let down by those around him. If he survived this, he was going to change.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Four hours later and Indy half wished he had died in the explosion. After being thrown about in the cramped fridge, and cracking his head a number of times in the process, and having stumbled around in the wasteland that had been a pristine desert for a while, he had finally been found. The soldiers had maintained a distance, forcing him to climb into the back of an empty truck to be driven somewhere. The army base they were in was quite large, and Indy was easily lost in the corridors as he was led through to some kind of decontamination shower. Then, the questions began.

He slumped forward, using his elbows to prop himself up on the table and massaged his temples gingerly. The stress of being kidnapped, shot at, blown up, and now interrogated by the FBI was creating one hell of a migraine. And to add to his predicament he was also trying to ignore the fact that occasionally, if he looked up too quickly, he could actually see two Agent Smith's. Indy tried to surreptitiously breathe slowly and evenly to combat a rising feeling of nausea brought on by his sensitive head. It also seemed to help return the number of people in the room back to normal, instead of their being double. He reluctantly tuned back into the argument that had been blazing above his head whilst he had been composing himself.

"So what am I being charged with? Apart from surviving a nuclear blast?" he said, trying to keep up the cocky facade that was almost as synonymous as the bullwhip was for him.

"Nothing yet, but frankly your association with George McHale calls into question all of your activities, including those during the war," Smith declared. The man looked all together way too gleeful and smug about the whole situation, and Indy would have loved to knock a different look onto the agent's face.

"We will find out the truth you traitor," a voice murmured.

He shook his head to deny the accusation but remained silent, knowing that speaking would continue the argument that he really didn't want to have. He was surprised Ross didn't argue the accusation for him, but he guessed they were both tired of the conversation going round in circles.

With a start Indy realised that he had tuned out again, and the other three had seemed to reach some kind of ending to the meeting. Both of the suits were preparing to leave and were no longer bothering to look down their noses at him. All the files had been collected and were tucked into the matching briefcases, which were grasped firmly in left hands and carried from the room. A sudden impact on his shoulder had Indy jumping violently, which jarred his already tender head. The resulting wince that Indy failed to hide had the hand quickly retreating from his shoulder.

"Sorry Indy, I thought you heard me," Colonel Ross apologised from his seat next to him.

"I was a bit lost in thought," Indy replied ruefully.

"I'll take you to the train station and get you a ticket home, I guess the Russians didn't think to grab your wallet at the same time as grabbing you," the military man chuckled.

"Thanks Bob," Indy swayed slightly as he stood. "I don't think I'll bother heading back to the digsite in Mexico, the guys can do well enough without me. Sleeping in my own house sounds amazing."

"You're going to need it, things aren't going to be easy for a while."

"You can say that again, I bet those two are going to love digging through my files," Indy yawned.

"I didn't say anything," Ross replied, a hint of worry in his voice.

The archaeologist stopped and stared at his friend. "I definitely need sleep if I'm hearing voices."

"You don't want anyone to think you're crazy," Ross chuckled as he led the way out of the maze of corridors to the car park.

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Four Months Later

The multitude of voices that reverberated through his skull were both familiar and completely alien. English, French, and Hindi fought alongside hundreds of other languages scattered across the globe in their bid to be heard. Each person and their personal thoughts were revealed to him, some were experiencing the happiest moments of their lives, some their worst. And the billions of others just going about their daily lives. The most bizarre was hearing the undefined thoughts of babies literally just being born, their pain and fear radiating out.

With no small feat of skill he managed to filter out the mutants from the humans, and then slowly those individuals that could be potential recruits to their team. If he hadn't been focusing on searching for people to help them Charles would have happily lingered to bask in the glorious feeling that they weren't alone.

Erik, Raven, and Hank all hovered nearby, anxiously awaiting news. The scientist used most of his attention on focusing on his brain child Cerebro, making sure nothing was amiss. Erik and Raven watched the joyful features of their friend for any changes, both for safety and also out of curiosity. The sudden rattling of the typewriting component of Cerebro bursting into life startled them slightly, and Raven grinned ruefully.

"There's dozens of names and locations coming out," Hank said in surprise as the machine kept whirring and printing.

The last few days had been bizarre for all of them. For Hank, finding people who didn't judge him was liberating, but all of them were amazed at how many more of them there werearly out there. And, how diverse their mutations were. Erik still shuddered at the feeling of Charles having been in his head when they were underwater.

After half an hour Charles sighed and slumped a little in the Cerebro cradle to pull his head free. The brain scanner stopped flicking the needles, and the typewriter fell silent. Hank quickly flitted around and turned all the dials and switches to shut the machine down.

"Are you alright, Charles?" Erik asked as he offered an arm for support.

"I'm fine, just tired and a little overwhelmed," he replied.

"You found quite a few people," Hank tore the long sheet of paper from the roll and held it up.

"That's not even the start of the list," Charles smiled. "We are far from alone."

"So who are these?" Raven peered over Hank's shoulder at the list, not noticing the slight blush that crept up his cheeks. Charles didn't either, too lost was he in the elation of their discovery, but Erik did, and he hid his smirk at the sight.

"A few promising faces to start off with, we might want to come back and look for more at a later date," Charles explained. "I tried to narrow down the list to those that felt like they would help us with our cause, or would enjoy some help or company."

For the first few trips they stuck to the initial list Charles generated. Raven laughed as Erik and Charles argued the merits of approaching a stripper as a potential teammate, and Hank couldn't stop talking about the taxi driver who could change his skin. None of them could deny the benefits of the offensive capabilities the criminal brought, but they all agreed to keep an eye on him the most. And Erik personally didn't see why they needed someone who could scream.

But after a few rebuffs, most noticeably the Canadian man with a penchant for cigars, and a young homeless teen with incredible speed, they were forced back to Cerebro. Although they half wondered if they needed any more in their team, none of them argued about going back and exploring the diversity of their newly discovered species.

Without a pause Charles stepped into the cradle in the centre and Hank flicked the switches to bring Cerebro to life. The machine started to hum and tapped out lines of information without a pause like last time, as Charles was ready for the feeling. Raven made herself comfy in the corner, watching Hank as he kept an eye on all the various parts of the machine. Erik stood to one side, a bit of an impatient look on his face. They had been in there for half an hour last time, and there was little to do inside of the installation apart from watch Charles or Hank.

Suddenly the tranquillity was shattered as Charles let out a pained cry, his body seizing up and his face contorting into a pained grimace. It looked like he would have ripped Cerebro from his head, if his hands hadn't been gripping the rail so hard his knuckles turned white.

"Hank turn it off!" Raven shouted as she lunged towards Charles. Although she wanted to help, her hands came up short as she daren't touch her friend whilst his mind was in the machine.

The scientist didn't react quick enough to shut Cerebro down though. Sparks started to jump from where the cables joined the cap, smoke started to billow from the back of the monitors, and then a panel blew out from the bank of switches.

With the room dropped into pitch black no one could see what state Charles was in. After a lot of thumping, muffled cursing, and coughing on smoke someone finally reached the correct floor panels that lifted. As soon as the door was open the room was flooded with natural light, and three of them looked around in confusion.

Charles was slumped onto his knees, head bowed and hands still gripping tight to the rail. Raven tripped over to sit in front of him, and started to gently tap his face. Erik meanwhile pried his hands from the rail and heaved the man into his arms. With Charles safely held he heaved himself to his feet and gingerly walked through the gloom to the daylight outside.

Hank followed after first diverting to claim the much smaller piece of paper that only contained a dozen or so names. Once outside Hank grimaced at the discolouration caused by the smoke, which blurred some of the coordinates.

"What happened in there?" Raven asked Hank angrily. At first Hank shrank back and stammered out nonsense, until he realised she wasn't angry at him, just the situation. It was obvious she was worried for the unconscious man more and didn't actually blame him.

"It wasn't Cerebro, everything was working within safe parameters," Hank managed to say nervously. "Whatever went wrong it came from Charles. If I had to guess, it looked like some kind of energy surge."

"Charles, wake up," Erik laid the man down flat on the grass and repeated what Raven had been doing. However his attempts to rouse the man were a little more forceful than Raven's had been.

After a tense minute where the three of them couldn't peel their eyes from the telepath, they were rewarded with Charles suddenly convulsing and jolting awake. At first he seemed quite confused and unaware of where he was when he gazed around. All three of them breathed silent sighs of relief when the absent look in his eyes faded and recognition flashed as he made eye contact with them.

"What happened?" Erik asked.

"You broke Cerebro," Hank said in a half accusatory, half concerned tone. As he looked over to the installation the other three mimicked him, and Charles winced at the memory.

"We need to go," was all Charles said in reply as he struggled to sit up.

"Woah, you are in no fit state to go anywhere," Raven tried to push him back down.

"This is important," Charles fought back and managed to shrug Raven off to sit upright on his own.

"Is it Shaw?" Hank asked, worriedly looking back at Cerebro, which was still emitting smoke from the open doorway. Although he had not been at the encounter himself, he had heard from the others about the female telepath that accompanied their enemy. There might be more than the four of them in the world, but Hank wasn't sure that there would be more than two telepaths in the world. And if she could impact Cerebro from miles away then perhaps he shouldn't fix the machine, just in case.

"No, there's someone who needs our help," Charles explained as he finally gained his feet. The man quickly shook his head to clear his thoughts, and gingerly rubbed his fingers through his hair to make sure it hadn't been burnt off.

"We don't have time to take in strays, Charles," Erik said sadly but firmly.

It didn't take a mind reader to know that Erik wasn't being heartless, but for the greater good they couldn't waste time on helping a complete stranger. The threat of Shaw forced them to prioritise: help one of their own, or save the world and every mutant?

"This one is different, he can help but only if we help him," Charles insisted.

"Okay, group vote," Erik decided. "What do we do?"

"Charles is incredibly strong, if there's someone out there who can feel him searching, and overpower him, then they could be really useful," Raven surmised.

"Worst that happens is they don't join us, we can at least bring them here to safety and help them after," Hank tried to be diplomatic.

"You know my vote," Charles said, still pale and subdued from his encounter.

"So, where are we going?" Raven asked, already sold on the idea.

"Marshall College," Hank looked at the last line of information on the sheet. "Some student called Henry Jones, Junior."