Author's Note: I finally finished the rest of the story. As always, I'd like to thank my Beta readers Jen and Amy for keeping my verbs and prepositions in line. All errors are mine.

Standard disclaimer: I don't own them; I'm just borrowing them for our entertainment.

X-Men 3.1 Resurrection

Chapter 2 – Rising from the Ashes

One year later

Storm sat at her desk and sighed. In spite of being headmistress for a year now, she had never really felt comfortable in the role. Leading the X-Men, yes, running the school, no. But she did her best and was rewarded by the love and respect of her students. It was more than enough to make up for the chaos in the office.

She moved one stack of forms from one part of the desk to another and continued with the discussion at hand. "I've had five former students who took the "Cure" call me in as many days in a total panic," she said. "They've got their powers back, or they've got some of their powers back, or they've got powers they've never had before."

She stopped and looked at the other woman across the desk. "You haven't noticed anything, have you?"

"I wouldn't still be a brunette if I had," came the caustic reply. "I much prefer being a blond." It was Raven Darkholme, or as she defiantly insisted on being called – Mystique.

After being abandoned by Magneto, Mystique had turned on the entire Brotherhood, telling the authorities everything she knew about the organization. She was given complete amnesty by the government, but was left with nowhere to go. She literally showed up on the doorstep of the Xavier School.

"This place was founded as a refuge for mutants," she declared on her arrival. "They may have taken my powers from me, but I'm still a mutant."

Storm had been impressed and desperate for teachers, so she was willing to have Mystique as an instructor. She looked on it as being on parole – Mystique never told her how she looked on it. But she quickly settled in and took over the PE, self defense, and computer classes.

Surprisingly, the students took to their new teacher. Of course, they had a whole slew of new teachers to get used to. Hank McCoy had used all his contacts to find new teachers to replace Scott, Jean, and Charles Xavier. They were a mixed bag, Mutants and non-Mutants, but they were all behind the philosophy of the school. Everything had been going so well; Storm, ever the pessimist, had been waiting for the other shoe to drop and it finally had.

The major newscasts had picked up the story about a month ago. Many of those who had taken Worthington's Industries "Cure" for mutations (actually a serum derived from a young mutant whose gift was suppressing the mutations of others) had gotten their mutations back. Some only slightly, some to where they were before, and others had their mutations go into overdrive, with stronger and even new powers.

Those who had been against "The Cure" from the start, cheerfully chanted "I told you so". If anything, it showed that mutations were truly part of an individual's genetic makeup, that couldn't be eradicated so easily. On the positive side, the news coverage was mostly compassionate and showed those who had taken the serum and were now anguished, terrified – and angry.

Storm understood the anger well. While she had definitely been on the anti-Cure side, she let it be known that anyone who wanted to come to the Xavier School for help was welcome. Charles Xavier's legacy would continue.

Storm glanced over the desk again. Every part of the surface was covered in paper. "I don't know what to do with half this stuff," she confessed.

"Burn it?" suggested Mystique.

"I'm tempted," she replied. "A nice, well-placed lightning strike – but there's probably something important there. I think the stuff breeds overnight. It never got this bad when Scott was in charge."

"I thought Xavier ran the place?"

"Scott handled the day-to-day stuff," Storm explained. "Charles always intended for the school to go to him, but after Jean ..."

"One of the many things that happened 'After Jean'," Mystique declared tartly.

Storm sighed. That was all too true.

X X X

Three thousand miles away, Eric Lensherr, formerly known as Magneto, was ruminating on much the same topic. In the year since he had attempted to spark a Mutant Revolution, Eric had been keeping a very low profile. He stayed in San Francisco, using the old technique of hiding in plain sight. No one spotted him. He got a job as a night watchman near the docks and had a tiny apartment nearby. It was a quiet life.

His favorite pastime was to go to the park and play chess, usually against himself, but occasionally with others. Today, he was at his regular spot and by himself.

He loved to sense the metal around him. That part of his power returned very soon after he was struck by the X-Men with "The Cure". He knew from the news many were getting their powers back and rejoiced. If only Charles were there to see it ...

With that thought came an unexpected sensation, of one mind reaching out to another. It was something he hadn't felt in years, but recognized instantly.

"Charles."

X X X

There was only one person Eric could call, and he called collect. Just for the fun of it.

"Good evening, Moira," he said. "How are you this evening?"

The call didn't last long, but left Eric very worried. Feeling Charles' mind was a shock enough; but there was also a sense of something else, something not quite right. The phone call confirmed it. He wasn't stupid enough to come out with "Is Charles alive?" – he already sensed that. What was disturbing was Moira. She was terrified; there was no way she could hide it. She was frightened for herself -- and that only confirmed what he felt. There was no doubt Charles' conscientiousness was still in existence and probably had a body to go with it.

And Charles wasn't happy. In fact, he was very angry.

Which left Eric concerned enough to ponder his next move. He found his old helmet and put it on – just to be safe.

X X X

Back in his apartment, Eric considered his options. They were few. If Charles had survived but was mentally damaged – he didn't want to think what that would mean. It would be so much easier if Phoenix were still alive too ...

Eric drew himself up sharply. If Charles was alive, Phoenix could also be alive. Somehow, he had always doubted her meeting her end as simply as being skewered by the Wolverine. But how to find her?

He cast his mind over to all the mutants he had come across during his long life. Calisto, who could sense mutations, would have been very useful, but then again, she wasn't the only one with talents. There were many mutants still in existence, it was just a matter of finding the right one to help him.

X X X

He rented a car the next day and drove to Merced, in the San Joaquin valley. The tiny rambler was like all the others in the neighborhood and hid the very powerful mutant who lived within.

The door was opened by a middle aged woman, wearing an apron and carrying a jam bedecked spoon.

"Good evening, Oracle," Eric said politely.

"Magneto. I can't find her for you," she said suddenly. "She's too strong and would block any attempts."

"It's not the Phoenix I want you to find," he explained.

"Ah," she replied. Then she smiled broadly. "So many more futures now," she said. "Come in and let's see which ones are closest to us."

X X X

They sat in Oracle's kitchen, pouring over an atlas while the jam cooked on the stove. It reminded Eric of his long-dead grandmother's house.

"The boy's family came from Alaska," Eric told Oracle. "Start there and see if you can find him." One thing Eric was sure of – if Jean and Charles had survived, so had Scott. And if Scott was alive, Jean would probably be with him. Even if she wasn't, the boy would be a good bargaining chip. Only by finding them both would they all have a fighting chance.

X X X

It didn't surprise Eric that he had to go to Alaska on his quest. It was the most logical place. Oracle had actually seen a complete location (for once). He would start there.

The small town was a gateway for hunters and fisherman going into the Alaskan wild. It didn't take him long to find the business office of "Alaskan Wildlife Tours" – a tiny place with a small fleet of planes on the lake behind the building. Eric went in and began his story of wanting to go camping in the wilderness. He finished up with an apparent afterthought.

"I was wondering if Scott Summers is available to take me up there? A friend of mine used your company once, and spoke very highly of him."

"Scott's one of the best pilots I've ever seen," the manager agreed. "He's here today. Since you're headed up near where he lives, I'm sure he'll be happy to take you there. I'll even let him go home early," she laughed.

"How nice," Eric agreed.

X X X

Eric walked down the docks to the plane the woman indicated.

"Good afternoon, my boy," he said.

Scott turned, but seemed remarkably unsurprised by his visitor. "I have to admit, I expected to see someone eventually," he said. "But I didn't expect it to be you."

"We have a problem," Eric explained. "Charles."

Scott took off his sunglasses then and Eric instinctively stepped aside – and found himself being regarded by a pair of beautiful blue eyes.

"The Cure?" Eric asked contemptuously.

"No," Scott replied. "A different kind of cure."

"Ah," the older man said. "That's who I need to see."

Scott sighed. "Then we better get going."

X X X

"Aren't you going to call her?" Eric asked once they were airborne.

"Already have," Scott replied.

"Or course," Eric acknowledged. "I imagine your link is even stronger now. Charles was furious when he found out about that."

"Lucky for all of us that he didn't interfere," came the terse reply.

"How is she?"

"Better." Silence reigned between them before Scott broke it. "How much of your powers do you have back?"

"Some," Eric admitted. "I'm surprised you knew about that."

"This is Alaska, not outer Mongolia," Scott said dryly. "We have a satellite dish. We know what's going on."

The rest of the flight was in silence. Eric admired the view. The area was simply gorgeous, there was no doubt about that.

He spotted the cabin and the dock as Scott begin his decent. There was a figure waiting on the dock. It was Jean. In spite of what had happened between them last, Eric was inwardly overjoyed to see her. They would have a fighting chance after all.

Jean stood impassively, waiting as they got out of the plane.

"I had hoped I'd never see you again," she announced and then looked up at the darkening sky. "However, you'll have to stay for dinner, and you'll definitely have to stay the night." She suddenly smiled. "Good thing I made a pie for dessert." With that, she led the way back to the cabin.

"Yummy," Scott said. To Eric's quizzical glance he explained, "She's gotten really good at making pies."

With a shake of his head, Eric followed them up the path to the cabin.

X X X