Kitty doesn't see she has much choice. Too many people back home know she's a mutant, not just her parents but neighbors and teachers and friends. Too many people know she's been at Xavier's for three years, and now everybody knows just what kind of school Xavier's is.

It's just a formality, the professor says, and it probably is. Just her name on a piece of paper somewhere, her name on a list. Just a little card she's advised to carry at all times. Nothing sewn to her clothes or written on her skin.

She wonders how long that'll last.

Charles is one of the first to register. He doesn't take the children with him, because although he's fairly sure he won't be detained, he's not sure enough to risk them. Scott insists on accompanying him. Scott keeps his hand on Charles's shoulder while they're in line, and he's not sure who it's meant to be comfort for.

He fills out the forms, as deceptively as he can; the word telepathy is frightening enough without explaining exactly how much he can do. All around him people are frightened, on both sides of the desk. He wonders who'll lash out first.

Scott's spending a lot of time working on the cars. It's something to do with his hands, and he can see the results. It's a change from watching the news.

He's grown up with these cars. It's stupid thing to think about how he'll miss them if they have to leave Westchester; they're luxuries. People are more important.

He's not the only one who's thinking it, though; lines furrow Ororo's forehead as she tends her plants, and Charles takes down books in the library just to hold them in his hands.

They're all pretty sure what they're going to lose.

Ororo keeps her shoulders back and her head high. Too many of the mutants here to register slink in, huddled in their coats, heads bent. She's not afraid, and she's proud of what she is.

She signs the forms and takes her little card and goes out into the sun where Kurt is waiting. People are staring. They don't see blue men every day.

"You could have waited in the car," she says.

He shakes his head.

"They are only curious," he says. "I am not afraid of being looked at."

"Neither am I," Ororo says, and meets their eyes.

Rogue sits in Professor Xavier's office, and they look at his computer screen together.

"Are you sure?" he asks her. "Your college applications . . ."

"We both know I'm not really going to college," Rogue says. "Go on and do it."

He taps at the keys, and two years of Marie's high school grades evaporate. A little more typing, and he turns over his hands and forces a smile.

"All right," he says. "There's no record now that you ever attended school here. No record of you at all."

"No record of Marie at all," she says. "I'm Rogue."

Logan's not going to register, but he doesn't see that it's going to make much difference to his life. It's not as if the government believes he exists to start with. He doesn't even have a driver's license.

The big thing that's changed is that people keep looking at him like they think he's going to leave, and maybe they know something he doesn't. Xavier's isn't a real healthy place to be right now. He could pick up stakes and leave saving the world to them.

Or maybe he'll be the good guy this time, the one who sticks around.