A/N: I generally don't do author notes, but I thought I'd give a little clarity to the story I'm trying to tell. This story is part of a trilogy, which begins 2 years after the events in The Last Stand, and is essentially a continuation. This fic is based solely on the three movies (I've been writing this story since high school, so I probably won't go back and try to include "First Class.") So please don't complain if this story doesn't fit the comics canon. And so, I hope you guys enjoy reading it as I do writing it! Thanks!

Chapter 1

The sun was hidden behind a blanket of clouds, only slightly dimming the light that lit up everything outside. Soon the sun, and the heat that came with it, would return in a vengeance. It was a day that was nice to look at from the comfort of an air-conditioned abode, the bright sunlight and colorful plant or animal life alive and vibrant and inviting. However, to step outside was to begin sweating and panting immediately, the air so humid that it seemed almost possible to drown by simply breathing.

Ororo Monroe sighed quietly as she looked out the window before turning back to the oak desk she sat at, boxes and papers scattered everywhere. She brushed a lock of white hair away from her beautifully shaped face, brown eyes saddened by her cleaning. This office hadn't been used in almost two years, as could be seen from the fine layer of dust on everything. The shelving of responsibility for the Academy and its students so suddenly on her had taken a while to get used to, and that was the excuse she gave others when they asked why it had taken almost two years to clear out the Professor's personal belongings.

However, that was her excuse. Truth be told, she didn't want to remove Xavier's belongings simply because doing so would really be the end. She knew that he was not coming back, that Jean and turned his old body into fine dust. Still, it seemed like such a final act, she had been dreading the task. But now, Ororo had no more excuses to offer, and decided to get this morbid task over with.

Charles Xavier had been a private man in his life but loved to teach. Being a mutant with the ability to read minds and sometimes even "control" a person made him a target of persecution from normal humans. To prevent future generations of children from having to suffer as he did, he started Xavier's Academy for Gifted Youngsters. It belied itself as a private school for the gifted, but was actually a safe haven for all sorts of children with all sorts of powers, ranging from the mundane to the extreme. And then the war began.

It some ways, it was both a war and not a war. To describe in full detail the series of events, the coming of Rogue, of Logan, of Magneto's rise and fall to power, of the cure guns, of Colonel Stryker, of everything, would take several novels in itself. The thing that angered her the most was the fact that Professor Xavier had been killed-no, murdered-by his own student! Jean Grey had lost control of her powers (perhaps given up her control was the more accurate phrase) and destroyed him with her overwhelming telekinetic abilities.

She thought bitterly of the small graveyard in the courtyard, of the three graves there. The largest stone for the Professor, the smaller two representing Jean, who had finally been stopped during the mutant war, and her husband and first unintentional victim, Scott Summers. It was when she realized she had killed the man she loved that sent poor Jean over the edge, to give into the "Phoenix Force" that controlled her powers and to become an evil to all mutants and humans alike.

As Ororo gathered together the papers from one of the drawers, her mind fluttered onto the man that had ended Jean's life. Logan was still at the school, although he was now something of a teacher. He taught several self-defense and martial arts classes to the students. He seemed to be contented in this new life, and the last two years had been quiet ones for all students and teachers.

She shuffled the papers she had gathered into a pile; she would sort them out later. It still bothered her to have to look through the Professor's personal papers, but it had to be done; luckily, most of it of was financial papers. Is it strange I feel so guilty? she thought to herself as she stood and stretched. The room was hot, and sweat was beginning to make her hair and clothes cling to her skin. It seems like any minute he's going to roll through the doorway and catch me like a child with a hand in the candy drawer.

She noticed a discrepancy in a series of bank statements from his personal accounts, dating back almost three years. It seemed as though, once a month, a total of $5,000 would be withdrawn from his checking account. There was no I.D. explaining to who or what Xavier was paying out the money, which only served to peak Ororo's curiosity even further. Was it charity donations? No, no he would have recorded that, for taxes if nothing else. Blackmail, perhaps, by a jilted lover, or some sort of child support? Despite shuffling through the rest of his bank statements and other financial records, there was no mention of where the money was constantly disappearing too.

The woman was starting to get a headache, a combination of heat, stress, and a bit of guilt over having to pour through her old teacher's personal life. Allowing herself to rest for a moment, she laid her head down on the edge of the desk, and it was there that she saw an unopened drawer at the bottom of the desk. It was extremely small, only big enough to hold a few pieces of paper, and a very small keyhole was on the edge. She narrowed her eyes. "Speaking of drawers," she said to herself, bending down to get a better look at such a small drawer. The keyhole was smaller than her pinkie finger, and Ororo could not remember seeing a key that small anywhere on the desk. Maybe it's unlocked? she thought shrugging as she worked her thin fingers into the sides of the drawer (there was no handle on it) and tugged gently. Locked up tight.

Sitting back, Ororo couldn't help the curiosity that was now starting to worm its way through her mind. What could be so important, as deemed by Professor Xavier, to warrant being locked in a secret drawer? Secrets only led to trouble down the road, as he liked to say. What could it be?...

"Knock it off, Ro," she mumbled to herself. "You don't have any business poking and prodding." She pulled the chair up to desk, rifled through the pens in the cup on the desk until she found a black one, and started working on the loose ends of her student evaluations. Despite the lonesome air the office held, it also seemed to hold an air of wisdom, of sageness. It made Ororo sad, but it also made her want to get something done, too.

No point in wasting the time to walk back to my office, she thought. Besides, I have to get used to the office, anyway, so I'll just stay here.

For a while, the only sound heard was that of the pen scratching away on the papers. The formidable stack she had brought with her began to slowly decrease, as the ache in her hand and wrist increased in equal measure. With only five reports left, the pen finally died on her. Irritated, she shook it, and scribbled on a scrap paper, but to no avail. She dropped the pen and reached for another. She started writing, but no ink came out. This one was dead too.

So was the next one she tried.

And the next.

And the one after that.

"Argh!" she snapped, and smacked the cup off the desk. Pens and pencils went flying in all directions, but watching them scatter did not improve her mood. When the realization that she would have to pick up all the fallen writing utensils came to her, she held her head in her hands. It was not just the pens that were upsetting her, although they may have helped expedite the situation.

Ororo missed Professor Xavier. She missed his teachings and his infallible wisdom. He was like a father figure she never had, and the weight of both his death and the responsibility of having to run the school was well under way of unraveling her. Tears threatened to fall, but she refused to let them. Her eyesight blurred slightly, but after a moment of feeling pity for herself, Ororo straightened up, and wiped away the partial tears. She was not going to fall apart now because of a few dry pens.

A few deep breathes later, she felt much better. The momentary lapse of control only relieved her anxiety slightly, but little was better than none. Looking down on the desk, something interesting caught her eye.

On the desk was one of the pens, broken in half. She was beginning to wonder how the pen have gotten broken in the first place when she saw what was protruding out of one half. A key, no larger than her pinkie finger, silver and shining. It did not take a rocket scientist to realize what the key opened.

Ororo stayed on the edge of indecision for a moment, before reaching for the pen-key. She noticed her fingers trembling slightly as she did so. Grabbing the pen in a vice-grip, Ororo slipped out of the chair and kneeled in front of the drawer. She inserted the key into the lock-it slide in smooth as silk-and turned it quickly, the faster she worked the less time she would have to lose her nerve. The drawer popped open with an inaudible sigh.

The pen-key was dropped, forgotten already, as Ororo reached for the drawer. Pausing only for a moment to decide whether she should actually look inside the drawer, her indecision was finally quelled when she decided If it was anything dangerous, Xavier would have told someone. It may be nothing but old family pictures. I actually wonder if whatever is in here holds the key to that disappearing money? Either way, who's it going to hurt if I look? So why did it feel like her entire world was about to be turned upside-down?