The room was heavy with silence, the weight of recent events pressing down on everyone. Cecily sat quietly in her chair, her gaze distant, while Ororo perched on the armrest beside her, a steady presence offering unspoken support.

"So, what now? What do we do?" Bobby finally asked, his voice carrying the uncertainty that everyone felt.

Hank let out a deep, weary sigh. "Professor Xavier started this school. Perhaps it's best that it ends with him," he said, his tone filled with resignation. "We'll have to tell the students they're going home."

"Most of us don't have anywhere to go," Bobby replied, disbelief and frustration evident in his voice. "I can't believe this. I can't believe we're not going to fight for this school."

Cecily's attention shifted as she heard the door open, watching as someone new entered the room. "I'm sorry. I know this is a bad time. I was told that this was a safe place for mutants," the boy said.

"It was, son," Hank replied.

But Storm stood, her resolve hardening. "And it still is. We'll find you a room," she said firmly. Then, turning to Hank, she added, "Tell all the students the school stays open."

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"Where are you going?" Storm asked, stepping into Logan's room and seeing him packing.

"Where do you think?" he replied, not even glancing up.

"She's gone, Logan. She's not coming back," Storm said softly, trying to reach him.

"You don't know that," he shot back, his voice tense.

"She killed the Professor," Storm reminded him, her tone heavy with sorrow.

"It wasn't Jean. The Jean I know is still in there," Logan insisted, a stubborn edge in his voice.

"Listen—" Storm began, trying to stop him, but he cut her off.

"Get out of my way," he said, brushing past her.

"Why can't you see the truth, huh? Why can't you just let her go?" Storm pleaded, desperation creeping into her voice.

"Because—" Logan started, his voice faltering. "Because—"

"Because you love her," Storm finished for him, her eyes searching his.

Logan paused, then shook his head. "No. I care about her, but I'm doing this for her," he said, his gaze shifting behind Storm.

Storm turned to see Cecily crouched down, comforting a young child. The small smile on Cecily's face contrasted with the tear she wiped from the child's cheek. She pulled the kid into a gentle hug, patting their head as they nestled into her embrace.

Storm looked back at Logan. "Jean made her choice. Now it's time we make ours. So if you're with us, then be with us," she said firmly before walking out of the room.

Cecily watched out the window as the motorcycle sped away, the sound of the engine fading into the distance. He always left without saying goodbye.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The front door burst open, and Logan stormed in, his face filled with urgency. "Cecily? Storm?" he called out, his voice echoing through the hall.

Storm descended the stairs, Cecily close behind her. "What are you doing back here?" Storm asked, concern etched in her features.

"I need help," Logan replied, his tone clipped.

"You found her," Storm said, reading the urgency in his eyes.

"Yeah," Logan confirmed. "She's with Magneto."

"Where are they?" Storm pressed.

"They're on the move," Logan answered, his voice strained. "I know where they're going."

"You're saying you saw Magneto?" Hank asked, stepping into the room.

"Yeah," Logan said, already moving towards the door. "We've got to go now. They're headed to Alcatraz."

"There are troops stationed on that island," Hank noted, his brow furrowed.

"Not enough to stop him," Logan countered, his determination palpable.

"Let's suit up," Storm commanded, her voice firm as she led the charge.

"I can't believe this once fit me," Hank muttered, tugging at the snug seams of his old suit.

"If Magneto gets his hands on that cure, there'll be no stopping him," Logan said, his voice tight with urgency.

"Can you estimate how many he has?" Hank asked.

"An army. And Jean," Logan replied grimly.

"And his powers have limits," Hank noted, "Hers do not."

Bobby looked around at the small group, anxiety in his voice. "There's only seven of us, Logan."

Cecily stood silently by Storm, her fingers nervously picking at her skin. If anyone asked, she wouldn't be able to deny just how terrified she was.

"Yeah, we're outnumbered," Logan admitted, walking over to Bobby. "But we lost Scott. We lost the Professor. If we don't fight now, everything they stood for will die with them. I'm not gonna let that happen." He looked Bobby straight in the eyes. "Are you?"

Bobby shook his head, determination settling in. "Then we stand together, X-Men. All of us."

Logan turned, his gaze sweeping over the group. Bobby exchanged a look with Kitty and nodded. "We're in," he confirmed.

"Let's go," Logan said as the doors to the hangar opened, and everyone started heading toward the jet.

"They're ready," Logan remarked to Storm as she passed.

"Yeah, I know," Storm replied, her voice serious. "But are you ready to do what needs to be done when the time comes?" She didn't wait for his answer, turning to board the jet.

Cecily lingered behind for a moment, her fear evident. Logan turned back to her. "Are you ready?" he asked gently.

She shook her head, a dry laugh escaping her. "No."

Logan walked over, placing a reassuring arm around her shoulders. "We'll be fine," he promised.

Cecily nodded, managing a small smile. Together, they walked into the hangar, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The jet ride was quiet, each person lost in their own thoughts, the weight of what lay ahead heavy on their minds. As they neared their destination, the chaos on the ground became visible. Cecily leaned forward, her eyes widening at the scene unfolding below.

"Oh, my stars and garters," Hank muttered in disbelief, causing Cecily to shoot him a confused look.

"Goin' to stealth mode," Storm announced, her voice steady.

As the jet descended, Cecily watched as the others landed with practiced ease, each in their own precise, calculated way. For a moment, she hesitated, wondering if she had missed some crucial part of the briefing on how to land gracefully.

Logan's voice snapped her back to reality. "You men, cover the doors!" he shouted as he ran past the soldiers. "Everybody, get together! And hold this line!"

They all formed a line, bracing themselves for the imminent battle. Cecily could feel the nerves coursing through her, but she steeled herself. She knew what she had to do. She had to get to Jean first.

As the battle erupted around them, chaos reigned on all sides. The air was filled with the sounds of clashing metal, energy blasts, and the shouts of combatants. Cecily kept her focus, moving swiftly through the melee, her mind set on reaching Jean before it was too late.

She fought with fierce determination, using her abilities to neutralize every enemy that crossed her path. The knives she kept concealed in her suit became extensions of her will, striking with precision and deadly efficiency. Each movement was calculated, every attack purposeful, as she navigated the chaos around her, a whirlwind of power and steel.

Cecily's frustration grew with each new opponent she encountered. Every obstacle was an unwelcome distraction from her true objective. Her focus was razor-sharp, and every interruption only fueled her irritation. She had one mission, one target in mind, and none of these adversaries were it. The more they came at her, the more relentless she became, cutting through them with increasing impatience, her resolve hardening with each step closer to her goal.

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the area, and the watchtower was hit. "Take cover!" Logan yelled as debris rained down. Cecily ducked behind a pile of rubble, her heart racing as she watched flaming cars being hurled toward them. She quickly made her way to where the others were hiding behind a car with Hank.

Their eyes all flickered to a small object on the ground—it was "the cure." They exchanged a glance, a silent understanding passing between them. "We work as a team," Logan said firmly.

"The best defense is a good offense," Storm added, her voice steady.

"Bobby! Think you can handle your old friend?" Logan asked, his gaze locking onto Bobby's.

Bobby nodded resolutely and sprinted off toward his target.

"Storm, we're going to need some cover," Logan called out.

"Right," she replied, her eyes clouding over as she summoned a thick fog that began to form around them, masking their movements.

Cecily wasn't far behind as she watched Hank strike Magneto with the cure. Her attention wasn't on him, though; if Magneto was down, he was no longer her concern. Her focus was entirely on Jean. She moved forward slowly but steadily, trying to reach her.

"It's over, Jean," Cecily said, attempting to break through the chaos in Jean's mind. She inched closer, her voice soft and persistent. "It's over. Come home, Jean."

To her surprise, Cecily managed to penetrate Jean's mind, and what she found was a maelstrom of darkness and pain, even worse than her own. "I'm not giving up on you, Jean," she whispered, her resolve strengthening. "We grew up together, you and me.

Now face to face with Jean, Cecily slowly reached up, discreetly pulling the last knife from her sleeve. She managed to draw it out unnoticed, but just as she was about to act, soldiers appeared over the pile of rubble.

"No! Don't shoot!" Logan yelled out, but it was too late. The soldiers fired, and Jean's powers flared in response, stopping the bullets mid-air. The sudden shock caused Cecily to jolt, and she dropped the knife, revealing her intentions. The blade fell between them.

In an instant, both of them used their telekinesis to seize control of the knife, each trying to turn it on the other. They stared each other down—hero against villain, friend against friend, sister against sister.

Both women concentrated their telepathy, and in an instant, Cecily found herself transported to a place she hadn't seen in ages—a memory she had desperately tried to forget. She looked around the pyramid, its dark, foreboding walls closing in on her, breathing heavily. "No," she whispered, the weight of the past pressing down on her.

Before she could catch her breath, she was thrust into another moment, her body morphing back into that of a frightened girl. She felt the cold metal of a table against her back as she was dragged, helpless and terrified, struggling against the hands that held her down. Panic surged through her as her abilities flared in response to the overwhelming threat, fighting to break free from the restraints of her own mind.

"Stop!" she cried out, her voice echoing in the empty chamber, but her pleas went unheard. Shadows loomed above her, and she could see figures moving with sinister intent, the face obscured as they prepared to strip away the very essence of who she was.

In another moment, Cecily found herself transported to a vast, sunlit field, the air alive with laughter. She looked ahead to see a little girl playing joyfully with a group of other children, their carefree shouts echoing around her. The sight tugged at something deep within her—a fleeting sense of nostalgia. But as she observed the scene, unease crept in. The little girl, once full of joy, suddenly stopped, her hands clutching her head as if trying to block out a cacophony of voices that invaded her mind.

Panic washed over Cecily as the memory surged back to her—the moment she first discovered her abilities. The joy had quickly turned to confusion and fear, as the whispers of her powers became an unbearable burden.

"No," Cecily whispered, shutting her eyes tightly, trying to push away the overwhelming rush of emotions. She felt a surge of anger rise within her. She was the one who trapped others in her mind, not the other way around.

As powerful as Cecily was, she struggled against the overwhelming force of Jean's Phoenix power. In a moment, she felt the blade plunge into her chest, piercing her heart and yanking her back to the present.

The aftermath was chaotic. Jean unleashed another wave of energy, hurling Cecily backward until she crashed violently onto the ground below.

Cecily's consciousness flickered like a dying candle, slipping in and out as pain radiated through her body. The world around her blurred, colors melding together in a haze of agony that made it nearly impossible to focus on anything else.

Amidst the chaos, Logan's voice broke through the noise—raw and desperate. "Jean, I know you're still in there!" he shouted, his determination echoing in the tumult. He fought his way closer, only to be pushed back repeatedly by Jean's relentless powers. But he pressed on, fueled by the urgency to reach her until, at last, he stood face to face with Jean.

"You would die for them?" Jean asked, her voice a strange mixture of power and vulnerability that struck a chord deep within him.

"No. Not for them. For her," Logan replied, his voice steady yet laced with emotion. He held her gaze, his determination unwavering. "For her," he repeated, his eyes locked on Jean's with a fierce intensity.

For a fleeting moment, Jean's fierce demeanor softened, and the Phoenix Force receded, revealing a glimmer of her humanity. Pain clouded her eyes as she whispered, "Save me."

Logan's heart shattered at her plea. "I'm sorry," he whispered back, the words heavy with regret and sorrow. With a final, anguished decision, he unsheathed his claws and struck, piercing her stomach. As Jean fell, a small, peaceful smile touched her lips, as if she had finally found the release she sought—a final escape from the chaos within.

Gently, Logan lowered Jean to the ground, the weight of his actions pressing down on him like a mountain. But there was no time to dwell on his grief; he quickly turned and rushed over to where Cecily lay, her life slipping away with each passing moment. Desperation clawed at him as he reached her side, determined to save the one he loved most.

He knelt beside her, cradling her fragile body in his arms, his hands trembling as he held her head gently. Cecily's eyes fluttered open, half-lidded and filled with pain. "Logan?" she whispered, her voice weak and strained, like a whisper of wind through the trees.

"I'm here," he assured her, his voice thick with emotion, a lump forming in his throat. "It's okay, I'm here."

"I—" Cecily attempted to speak, but a sharp gasp interrupted her. "I can't catch my breath," she murmured, a small, broken laugh escaping her lips despite the pain.

"You're gonna be fine," Logan insisted, desperation creeping into his tone. His voice cracked as he tried to reassure her, even though he knew the truth was far grimmer.

"No," she breathed, her voice barely a whisper. "My body won't heal fast enough."

"Shh," he soothed, desperate to save her strength, but Cecily pressed on, her voice growing fainter, slipping through his fingers like sand.

"The snakes represented us," she said, each word a struggle, emerging in soft gasps that echoed her fading vitality.

Her breathing became more labored, each inhale shallower than the last, each second stretching painfully. "I love you," Logan choked out, his voice breaking as tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision.

Cecily looked up at him, a faint, fragile smile forming on her lips, a light in the dark. "I love you," she managed to whisper, her voice barely above a breath.

Then, before anything else could be said, her breathing stilled.

She was gone.

"No!" Logan cried out, his voice thick with anguish as he cradled her lifeless body against him. He stroked her hair back gently, his fingers trembling as he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, trying to imprint that moment in his memory forever.

He loved her—he would always love her. That was a truth etched deep within his heart, an unchanging constant amidst the chaos of loss. In that instant, the weight of grief crashed over him, a tidal wave of despair that left him gasping for breath.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

If you looked out a window at the X-Mansion and gazed into the backyard, you'd see four graves lined closely together. The headstones marked the final resting places of Jean Grey, Scott Summers, Cecily Hill, and Charles Xavier. Four of the original X-Men reduced to memories and stone.