The situation was dire. Jean Grey sighed, shutting her eyes. Her head rested heavily on one hand, as she went over the piece of paper containing the law one last time. The mutants didn't have a hope.

The bill had been passed in Congress just this morning, an answer to the ever increasing mutant 'problem'. Here it all was in black and white. Naming mutants as something other than human, and therefore… not entitled to the rights entitled humans. They were being round up like cattle…like the Japanese, during World War II. The same mistakes being made all over again.

The only people safe were the ones in hiding, and those who could hide what they were. The inhabitants of the School for Gifted Youngsters in Westchester, NY were not some of the lucky ones. After William Striker had exposed the X-Men and their students to the world by attacking them at home, they could no longer claim to be an innocent boarding school. Striker may have died at Alkali Lake, but the damage he'd done, remained.

For a time the President had been on their side. Either too frightened at the prospect of being assassinated, or actually touched by the words of Professor Xavior, they didn't know. But his term had ended, and a madman named Michael Branson was elected in his stead. President Branson's take on the Mutant Phenomena was that it was an offense to God. A highly religious man, bordering on obsessive, he considered it his duty as President to rid the world of this evil.

Jean dropped the paper, standing up resignedly. She had a job to do. Over thirty students here looked to her for guidance. And moping over a bill she no longer had the power to change wasn't helping any of them.

"Jean?" Ororo Monroe stuck her head in the door, meeting her friends gaze, "It's happening. It's on the news. They're sending out the army to round everyone up and put them in 'safe zones'."

Jean clenched her fist in anger.

"Does Scott know?"

"He's getting everyone ready as we speak. We have to leave here."

"I know. Give me a minute…I'll be there."

Ororo nodded, her white hair shorn shorter than usual. Jean guessed it had something to do with anxiety. Never one to pry into a friends thoughts, Jean couldn't help but feel the need for change radiating off the African goddess in waves.

Once again Jean chided herself for procrastinating so long, but it was heart wrenching to think of leaving this place maybe never to return. It had been her home for so long. The only place in the world she'd ever really felt safe.

"Screw it," she muttered to herself. It wasn't safe anymore, and no amount of wishing could change that. She headed for the door, determination written on every feature. It would be a hard winter.