Cecilia Reyes (takes place after issue 40)

"I'm most certainly glad that Warren and Hank had managed to finally get FDA approval on the mutant-friendly allergy medicine," said Jean Grey as she unpacked a large, cardboard box containing the special drugs.

"Imagine what reverse-engineered children's Claritin, or even Zyrtec could do for mutants everywhere," said Cecilia Reyes as she pulled out a bottle of mutant-friendly Claritin to place it inside the medical cabinet.

"We can change the world of medicine," Jean said, before looking down at the clock on her cell phone. "Oh, I forgot to say. Scott's taking me to a movie in about a half hour."

"Which one?" asked Cecilia.

"The one that supposedly everyone is wearing adult diapers to. It's going to test my bladder," Jean said, pulling her hair back.

"Alright, go have fun," Cecilia told her, smiling as she watched Jean exit the medical lab with a slight bounce to her step.

'I can only wonder when Jean and Scott are going to admit it to each other. After all, it has been a month since we've survived the Savage Land together,' Cecilia thought.

Never once did I think that this would end up being my life. I'd truly never thought that I would be putting on a spandex uniform, and being part of a team of superheroes.

However, what I can say that I am grateful for is my job position. But it was not like I'd had it handed over to me. It wasn't like it was a twist of faith for me.

It happened because from the time I was born, I had to push myself for a sense of achievement.

Being born in the Bronx, to first-generation to Puerto Rican immigrants, I knew from the moment I was three years old that I would have to live up to people's high expectations that were thrust upon me. I understood that I had to work every single day to have a different life than what my mother and father had. I'd been born the year after they arrived in the United States, and since then, they each worked several jobs to provide for me.

As one could expect, a decent portion of that money went towards my education. But that did not mean my parents put all their money towards my going to medical school. When I was in high school, from age fourteen, I'd worked several after-school jobs while also taking advanced placement and honors classes.

However, that did not mean I didn't face doubt from those who thought that I wouldn't make it out of the Bronx.

Where I grew up, I was one of the few people of color in a neighborhood where there were, for the most part, Caucasian men and women. It wasn't uncommon that my peers gave me more than one odd look, especially in high school. However, I concerned myself very little with my peers' judgement over me.

I still remember back when I was in my freshman year of high school, when I'd studied genetic mutation in biology class. It was during a time where mutants were very much an unknown. Nobody knew yet that an insertion or substitution of a particular protein along a DNA strand would grant individuals what I would call "gifts."

When one hears the word "gifted" these days, they associate it with meaning "crazy", "strange", or "abnormal". It's quite rare that you would find an individual who associates the word "gifted" with words like "special", "talented", or "wondrous". Oftentimes, I was looked upon as "abnormal" given my heritage, race, and my desires for a career in medicine.

Being faced with such adversity in my life meant two things. I could quit. Or I could work harder than my peers and prove myself to those around me. I remember the day my high school's principal approached me and told me that I had the opportunity to graduate a year early, since I was taking such advanced classes in my sophomore year of high school. I'd been rendered speechless by that, all things considering. The fact that my principal believed in what it was that I was capable of was nothing short of astonishing for me to hear at the age of sixteen years old. After I'd heard I had the potential to graduate in my junior year of high school, I took several advanced placement and honors science and mathematics courses. Once again, I'd found myself as one of the very few people of color in a classroom with fifteen other Caucasian classmates. Nonetheless, I'd made the commitment to myself that I was going to stand tall and work twice as hard as they did. It was that work ethic my parents ingrained into my mind that made my classmates respect me.

Before I knew it, I was being accepted into the pre-med program at Princeton University, where this time, I wasn't just one of the few people of color there, but I was also in a classroom with twenty other men. Walking into a learning environment such as that would be intimidating to most. Imagine being in that environment when you have got a mutation manifesting inside you. Under most circumstances, I wouldn't be intimidated. But having a mutation that I had to hide made it more intimidating.

I'd first concluded that I was a mutant when my powers had first hit me. I'd been getting headaches on and off throughout my third year at Princeton. At first, I'd chalked it up to an overt amount of stress due to the pressure I was placed under to succeed. Then, one night, the day spring break was supposed to start, I was out with a group of classmates. By that time, there were a few more women that were in my classes. Our ambition was what bound us. We'd just gotten through long, grueling hours of doing work in the health professions building on campus, going through paramedic training. When you are consistently on your feet for that many hours, in scrubs for that matter, you look for any kind of stress relief. And the medical and nursing students' ideas of "stress relief" included going to bars. For me, it's quite ironic that medical students would find stress relief in drinking alcohol, which was against everything we were ever taught in the classroom. One of the first things we were lectured about was how alcohol was purely unhealthy, and how we should stay away from it.

Truth being told, I hadn't even wanted to go to the bar. I'd went, because five of my friends had asked me to go. I hadn't even planned to drink that night, since I'd never once experienced alcohol up until that point in my life. But that night, I'd ended up having a beer. After that first drink, it went to a second one, and then a third. I'd been especially under the influence leaving the bar, especially as I'd waited on the curb for my cab to get me back to my dorm room.

Cecilia could hardly help it as she clutched the metal exam table in front of her, closing her eyes as she felt a shiver running down her spine. Thinking back to the moment her powers manifested was always unsettling. It always brought her back to the time where she was the most vulnerable. It was the night that changed her perception forever . . . a night that made her realize quickly that she should never allow anyone to take advantage of her again.

However, waiting outside that bar, I hadn't expected what was to come next. I was a twenty-year-old kid who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Never will I ever allow myself to be in the place again.

As I was waiting, a group of men had crept up behind me and grabbed me by the back of my head, placing a hand over my mouth so that I wouldn't scream. However, even though I'd had a couple drinks that night, it did not mean that my awareness was off by any means. I'd bitten down on the man's hand. I remember having drawn blood as I'd let out a blood-curdling scream. However, it did not stop them from dragging me down to the ground and trying to tie my hands behind my back with duct tape. One of them had gone to shove a cloth into my mouth to gag me after having forced a kiss onto my mouth. The minute I'd felt one of the men unzipping my jeans, I'd kicked and did whatever I had to do to keep them off me. I still remember how they punched me in the face and held a knife against my neck, threatening to slit my throat. Two of them had worked together trying to unbutton my shirt. They'd probably gotten about three buttons undone by the time they began trying to get my bra off. I remember one of them trying to grab my neck and choke me. They were trying to get in between my legs so they could lower their pants down and rape me. It was in that moment that I remember my headache to have gotten worse just as one of them slid his hand in to squeeze my breast.

The pressure had built up all around my head. It felt as though my entire head had been pounding as these men attempted to brutalize me. It was a pain that threatened to split my brain into two. Before they could fully take off my pants or get my bra off completely, I just remember having let out a loud scream as I'd kicked them off and I'd felt an odd force pulsing from me. In hindsight, it looked as though an invisible force was forming its way around my body, keeping the men off my body. Apparently, it had scared them enough that they broke into a run. Fortunately, a passerby noticed me in trouble and helped untie me. After I was freed, I'd gone to the police reporting an attempt at a gang rape. However, I did not tell the police about the very thing that had ended up saving my life.

The next morning, I'd awoken in my dorm room. I still could hardly comprehend what had occurred that previous night. I'd ended up looking through my notes from my first year at Princeton, from when I'd taken Intro to Biology in my first semester. There, I came across an old research project that I had done during that semester on genetics and mutation.

I remember having read through my thesis I had written, and I remembered a source I'd used that stated something along the lines of, "A substitution or an insertion is believed to grant certain individuals with advanced abilities . . ."

I'd ended up running a test on my own blood in one of the science labs, and it was there that I saw a strand of my DNA had an extra of the Thymine protein.

It dawned on me that that was what I was.

My mutation had kicked in at that very moment and had saved my life. It had been my fear that had triggered it. However, I did not know in the least how to control it, so I'd began practicing how to. After graduating from Princeton, I went on to get my PhD in both human biology and chemistry. It was then that my career at Claremont Regional Hospital began, and it was there, that I'd learned it was a hospital that was safe for mutants to get medical treatment from.

Being employed at Claremont Regional Hospital brought forth a lot of fulfillment to my life. Knowing mutants were coming there because they simply had no place to go for medical treatment, I'd felt responsibility to take care of each patient. I gave every single person there my full attention, because they deserved that. The least I could do was give those who were as disadvantaged as I was the help that I wish I had gotten when my mutation manifested. When my mutation manifested, I had to do everything by myself. I had to handle everything on my own and put up a strong front just to survive. After the rape attempt that happened to me, I was determined to never allow something like that to happen to another girl, or boy. If I could help at least one person, I feel as though I help everyone.

It was there, I'd gotten one of my first patients in Charles Xavier.

Cecilia smiled slightly as she reminisced about her first encounter with Charles Xavier, who had been diagnosed with spinal cancer. He had truly been the very person who had helped support her in her career. And now, she had the best job position that the world could ever offer.

Charles continued to return many favors because of me helping him cure his cancer. Now, one of the biggest opportunities came after Tony Stark asked me to join X-Corporation as Hank McCoy's research assistant while he got promoted and employed by Stark Pharmaceuticals. For the most part, I'd thought that my role was just to simply be a doctor; to fill a role of mentorship for Jean. The spandex uniform was an add-on I hadn't expected to get. Nonetheless, being a member of the X-men wasn't something that I necessarily wanted. Maybe that's a big part of why I hadn't chosen a code-name for when we go out in the field.

However, in my short time of being part of the X-men, there were a few other things to come forth that I had not expected. Mentoring Jean gave me another sense of purpose. For the past few years, I hadn't given the idea of settling down and having children a thought. Now, suddenly, I became a "mom" towards Jean. I gave her somebody that she is able to call "mother." Considering everything that she'd suffered through until last fall, I take that into account whenever I spend the time with her that I spend. Each moment I spend with her, I am teaching her what it means to be an adult. She hadn't had that luxury for years. I remember how she'd told me about how she'd gotten her first menstrual cycle, and how she hadn't had anyone to turn to for advice. I'm determined to never allow her to go through that again. Anything that she needs or has questions on, I will always be there for her. But I do think, after the events that took place in the Savage Land, it forced all the X-men to get closer. Nonetheless, I cannot help but take notice to how close Jean and Scott are growing to be.

Cecilia smiled as she paused what she was doing, especially as she noticed Scott and Jean passing the medical labs to head out for their night off. The two were locked arms grinning at each other. Add to that, Cecilia's nose could pick up that Jean smelled like she was wearing perfume. She could also distinctively tell that Scott was wearing a collared shirt as opposed to a t-shirt and jeans – which was his typical attire when he hung out with Jean. Three weeks in the Savage Land had caused the two to develop something.

And Cecilia had a good idea of what it was.

It's been a while since I've been in high school, or even college. But I do remember what it was like to be a teenager. Given that Scott and Jean were stuck in the Savage Land together, they needed to rely on one another in ways they hadn't had to. I do not think I am the only one who has noticed how close they've grown to be. Not only that, being stuck in the Savage Land meant that all the X-men had to lean on one another for a sense of survival. It made us all realize who was truly going to stick out their neck for us in the end.

After years of needing to consistently look out for myself, I'd never thought I'd have a group of individuals looking out for me, and vice versa.

I guess that it takes on the meaning of, "When you're with the X-men, you're never alone."


Up next: Bobby Drake