"Ladies and gentlemen, we are witnessing the dawn of a new stage in human evolution. These mutations typically manifest during puberty, often triggered by heightened emotional stress."

Cecily stood beside the Professor, listening to Jean's speech to the Senate.

"Thank you, Ms. Grey. That was quite informative. However, it doesn't address the central concern of this hearing. Three words: are mutants dangerous?"

Impatient old man, Cecily thought, suppressing an eye roll.

"Cecily," the Professor's voice gently interrupted her thoughts. She turned to him, realizing he had picked up on her irritation.

"Sorry, Professor, that was beneath me." She flashed an innocent smile.

Jean responded to the Senator's question with calm reasoning, "I'm afraid that's an unfair question, Senator Kelly. After all, the wrong person behind the wheel of a car can be dangerous."

"Well, we do license people to drive," the Senator countered.

"Yes, but not to live. Senator, the fact is that mutants who have come forward and revealed themselves publicly have been met with fear, hostility, even violence. This is why I urge the Senate to vote against mutant registration."

Cecily admired Jean's poise but couldn't help but wonder how she managed to keep going without missing a beat. She couldn't imagine speaking in front of so many old, judgmental faces.

"To force mutants to expose themselves will only further—"

"Expose themselves?" the Senator interrupted. "What is it the mutant community has to hide, I wonder, that makes them so afraid to identify themselves?"

Cecily's thoughts darkened. She could kill him right now, she mused. No one would ever know it was her—just a quick snap, and he'd be quiet for good.

"Cecily," Charles' voice came again, this time more stern.

She pouted slightly, "I wasn't actually going to do it, just thinking about it. And stop reading my mind, it's weird. You know I don't like it."

Jean continued, unfazed, "I didn't say they were hiding."

"Let me show you what is being hidden, Ms. Grey," Senator Kelly announced, pulling out a list. "I have here a list of names of identified mutants living right here in the United States."

Cecily zoned out as the Senator droned on, only snapping back to reality when applause erupted around her. She glanced around, momentarily confused, debating whether she should join in.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the truth is that mutants are very real, and they are among us. We must know who they are. And, above all, we must know what they can do." The applause grew louder.

Cecily's eyes met Jean's, and at that moment, her expression silently conveyed her apology.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"Erik," the Professor said, his voice carrying a weight of familiarity. Cecily, clueless about what was going on and with no answers from the Professor, did the only thing she could—she followed him, and he allowed it.

"What are you doing here?" Charles pressed.

"Why ask questions to which you already know the answers?" Eric replied calmly.

"Don't give up on them, Erik," Charles urged his tone almost pleading. Cecily was already regretting her decision to tag along. This was boring.

"What would you have me do, Charles? I've heard these arguments before," Eric said, weary.

"It was a long time ago. Mankind has evolved since then," Charles said, still holding onto hope.

Cecily had completely zoned out again, her mind drifting to thoughts of Scott. She'd seen him earlier, but it didn't stop her from worrying. She also worried about Jean, wondering how she was holding up after everything. All Cecily wanted was for this conversation to end so she could finally go home.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Cecily stood in the infirmary with Jean, both of them gazing down at the unconscious man on the table.

"Why are you here, Cecily?" Jean asked as she prepared her tools.

"Storm said he was good-looking, so I had to see for myself," Cecily replied with a grin, though there was more to it. Something about him seemed oddly familiar like she'd met him before, but the memory was just out of reach.

She walked to the head of the table, her hand hovering above his arm before she let it brush lightly against his skin. Where had she met him before?

Noticing Cecily's actions, Jean sighed, "Cecily, please stop touching him."

Cecily threw her hands up in mock offense. "I'm not—Jean, you make me sound like such a pervert," she complained, backing away from the table.

While Jean continued her work, Cecily couldn't shake the nagging feeling of familiarity. She turned her back to Jean, lost in thought, trying to remember where she'd encountered this man before.

So deep in thought, Cecily didn't notice the loud crash behind her. Where had she met him? The answer was right on the tip of her tongue. Then it hit her. "Oh, I remember now! It was back in nineteen eighty—"

She turned around mid-sentence, only to see Jean on the ground and the man gone. "Did I miss something?" she asked, feigning innocence.