Title: Against All Expectations

Note: Response to Demented Allure challenge prompt 29. Someone warns Magneto that Rogue is dangerous, and not just because of her skin. This fic really turned into a mammoth, and I suppose it doesn't actually have all that much to do with the prompt, but my muse got going and I couldn't stop it. I hope you enjoy it; let me know!

Summary: After X3, Rogue and Bobby choose to leave the X-Men and go off on their own. An exploration of their relationships with each other, the Brotherhood, and Magneto. Begins Rogue/Bobby, ends Rogue/Magneto

Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with X-Men

No one would believe it, but leaving the mansion was all Bobby's idea. It was he, not Rogue, who first, tentatively, raised the idea of leaving the X-Men. It was he, not Wolverine, who first suggested that Xavier's wasn't quite as great a place as a lot of mutants made it out to be. It was he and no one else who argued, in the privacy of his bedroom, that now that human-mutant relations had improved he and Rogue might be better served by leaving Xavier's and taking a different role in society.

"I almost didn't beat John, Rogue," he confessed to her, taking her hand and delighting in the feel of her silky skin. He still wished she hadn't taken the cure, but that didn't keep him from enjoying the consequences. Being able to sit here with her, so close, with no danger was a heady feeling. "I'm stronger than him, that's the only reason I won -- I didn't win because of greater skill or devotion to a cause. We talk crap about him now that he's gone, but the truth is that he did a brave thing when he chose to follow his own ideals rather than staying somewhere he didn't really belong."

"What are you saying, Bobby?" Rogue asked, laying her hand on his arm and scooting closer to him on the bed so she could put her arm around his shoulders.

He hesitated. "It's just...ever since you got here, I've had second thoughts about whether we, you and I, really belong here."

"Bobby," she replied slowly, "if we don't fit in here, who does? I know that things are a little uncomfortable now that I'm cured and the Professor and Cyclops and Jean Grey are gone, but the X-Men aren't gone yet; there's still a place for us here."

"That's just it," he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up as he latched onto something she had said. "I know there's a place here for us if we want it, but I'm not so sure we should. I mean, everyone looks at you and I as the golden couple -- I've always done my best to be noble, and loyal to our cause, while you...you're beautiful, smart, passionate, compassionate; you've endured things few others have, and come out the more wonderful because of them. They think of us as the reincarnation of Professor Summers and Dr. Grey, and expect us to become the leaders of the X-Men someday soon. But, Rogue, I've seen what happened to them, the reward they got for staying loyal to a cause that doesn't even have a reason to exist any more, now that Magneto's powerless and the diplomacy tactic is working. I don't want us to end up like them." He looked away from her, ashamed by his own words.

She took his hand in hers, leaning against him both to offer and take comfort. "I understand, Bobby," she said quietly. "I have to admit that I've wondered about my place here more than once, even since before I took the cure, but I could never leave when I might be abandoning people who needed me, who once protected me. Now, though...maybe now it's time for us to think about ourselves."

He turned to face her again, and grabbed her forearms fiercely, pulling her close to him. "Are we really going to do this, then?" he asked in wonder. "Are we really going to leave?"

She hesitated. "We have to do it when the time is right," she said at last. When he was about to speak, she raised a hand to forestall him. "Bobby, think about it. Right now, we have no means to live, no plan for what to do once we leave. We have to take this one step at a time, get jobs or something, try to build up a little capital. We'll leave when we're ready."

His attractive face was pensive as he considered her words. At last, he nodded slowly. "You're right, of course. We'll leave when we're ready."

She smiled at him, and he smiled back as he leaned in to kiss her.

Their chance came only a few weeks later, through a stroke of bitter good fortune. Rogue was teaching a few of the younger students about electricity, a subject she knew quite well, when Storm poked her head in the door, her beautiful face troubled. "Rogue, may I speak with you?" she asked.

Rogue frowned in surprise. "Of course," she said. She gently ushered the children out the door. "What is it?"

Storm walked slowly into the classroom, perching on the table of one of the desks. "Rogue, there's no easy way to say this. I'm sorry, but I've just learned that your parents have both been killed in a car accident."

She must have murmured some more platitudes, but Rogue could not hear her through the roaring in her ears. Her vision seemed to tunnel as she stared ahead, and she was on the verge of hyperventilating when the words "leave you everything" caught her attention, and she forced herself to focus as she croaked, "What?"

Storm smiled consolingly. "They left you everything in their will, according to the solicitor who called me to inform you of what happened. I know it's no consolation, but they must have been sincerely sorry for treating you as they did, considering the sizable fortune they bequeathed you."

Rogue laughed humorlessly. "Sorry for treating me badly? They were sorry for kicking me out of the house, for calling me a freak and devil's spawn? I think not."

"Rogue..." Storm said, helpless before the younger mutant's furious grief.

"No, you wanna know why they left me all that money? Because they were so glad that I decided to take the cure, to become a 'normal' human again. After all," she continued bitterly, "now that I was normal, I was their daughter again, wasn't I? Well..." She was about to say, they can take their money and shove it where the sun don't shine, when she was suddenly struck by the perfect timing of the incident. Her parents had hardly been poor, and after the way they had dealt with her mutancy, she could almost consider the bequest a kind of payment for harm done. "Well, at least they repented in the end," she finished lamely, glad when Storm's relived face told her that the other mutant had taken her reaction at face value. "If you'll excuse me," Rogue said slowly, "I'd like to be with my boyfriend right now."

Nobody would credit him with it, but it was Wolverine's idea to throw the couple a going away party the night before they left Xavier's. Everyone had been shocked by the news that they were going to leave, shocked and appalled, Wolverine included, and their first reaction had been to shun the happy couple for daring to be other than what they had thought them to be. Nevertheless, the week or so between the announcement of their decision and the actual carrying out of it was enough to allow tempers to cool, and sometime in that week Wolverine quietly suggested a party, a suggestion that was eagerly taken up and spread throughout the school; celebrations had been rare in recent months, so even a party for the departure of everyone's favorite couple was looked upon eagerly by all.

True to their usual image, Bobby and Rogue attended the party looking like the image of nobility, his handsome features and her lovely face and distinctive white streak of hair marking them as an unusual and superior couple. Faces blushing, they danced the first few dances together as everyone looked on appreciatively, but then they broke apart and insisted that everyone enjoy themselves. Rogue was watching Bobby danced with Kitty, a small smile on her face, when she felt a heavy hand land on her shoulder. She looked up at Logan, who was struck for the first time by the sweetness of her expression and the happy light in her eye.

"You sure this is what you want, kid?" he asked gruffly, forcing his conflicting feelings away.

She didn't hesitate. "I'm sure, Logan," she said quietly.

"I'd ask whether the boy was pressuring you into doing this, but you've made it clear that no one makes you do what you don't want to. I'm...I'm proud of you, Marie; you know that, right? You're a good kid." He swallowed around a lump in his throat.

She looked at him fondly. "You're talking as if we'll never see me again, Logan," she laughed, then sobered at his expression. She frowned for a moment, then smiled again as she reached out and grabbed him by the arm. "Come on, you big oaf; aren't you going to ask me to dance?"

He forced himself to glare at her. "You know I don't dance."

"Not even at my goodbye party?" she asked, making mock puppy dog eyes.

"Don't give me that look," he warned.

"Please?" she asked, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Could anyone resist that face?" he asked, his eyes rising heavenward in query. "C'mere, kid," he offered, whirling her out onto the floor.

Bobby stood to one side, watching the love of his life twirl in the arms of the man she once had a crush on. He was confident, though; he knew that Rogue's attraction to Wolverine had faded into a kind of sisterly love and affection. He let out a sigh as his gaze traveled over the collection of mutant students and teachers who had gathered to wish them goodbye, sparing a moment to feel nostalgic at leaving the place that had been his home for so long, before his gaze returned to Rogue and he contented himself with watching the pleasure on her face.

No one who knew Rogue would have expected her to be the one to suggest that they find John, or Pyro as he was now called. It was nearly a month into their newfound freedom, and Rogue and Bobby had established themselves in a decent little apartment near NYU, which they had both begun attending as transfer students. They slept in separate bedrooms, neither quite ready to take their relationship to the next level, but they spent most of their free time together and were quite happy with their situation.

For that reason, Bobby was quite surprised when one day, out of the blue, Rogue said, "I wonder what's become of John, now that Magneto's out of the picture."

Bobby frowned, then put down his cereal spoon. "Probably causing trouble somewhere," he replied.

"Yeah," she agreed pensively, staring down into her Frosted Flakes.

"Why do you care, anyways?" Bobby asked. "You were never really good friends with him."

"No," she said, shaking her head. She paused. "Still, I understand where he was coming from. He hated me for stealing your attention from him. He couldn't stand that I'd come along and all of a sudden he wasn't the most important person in your life any more. Magneto was a way out of a life he had begun to find repulsive. And, in the end, didn't he make the same decision we did?"

"We didn't abandon our people when they needed us," Bobby said bitterly. "We didn't attack our friends while we were fighting for a stupid cause."

"Didn't we?" Rogue asked quietly. Bobby was silent as he began moodily consuming his breakfast. He didn't respond to her question, remembering his fight against Pyro, knowing that he had been as aggressive as his former friend, and she took his silence as an implicit agreement with an idea she hadn't quite dared to voice.

Later that day, when Bobby went off for an early class, Rogue dialed a number she remembered from both Pyro's and Bobby's memories.

"What?" a familiar, surly voice answered after several rings.

"John," she said quietly, knowing that he would recognize her voice.

"Rogue?" he asked in surprise. Then his voice hardened. "What do you want?"

She hesitated a moment as she wondered the same thing. "Bobby and I left the X-Men," she told him. "We were talking about you today, and I just...I just wanted to see how you're doing."

He laughed bitterly. "You deigned to call and see how I'm doing, did you? Just thought you'd lord your success over stupid Pyro, who fought for the losing side, huh?"

"It's not like that," she said. "We don't blame you for what you did, John. We left because we understood why you did it. It just took us a lot longer to figure out what you did, that's all."

He seemed slightly mollified by her tone. "We're surviving OK, me and a couple of other mutants from the Brotherhood. It's hard, you know, trying to fill Magneto's shoes, now that he's gone. I don't have access to any of his bank accounts, and let me tell you, it's hard trying to fix plumbing and the like in a fortress made almost entirely of metal doors with no handles. Hey, how's that cure working out for you, by the way?"

"It's good," she replied cautiously, knowing that he was disgusted by her choice.

"Well, congratulations," he said sarcastically. "Of course, you only proved yourself a coward and betrayed your fellow mutants, but it's good that you're happy. Goodbye Rogue."

"Wait!" she shouted, trying to keep him from hanging up. "Look, John, I'd really like to meet with you face-to-face, try to talk things over. Bobby misses you, you know? It'd really be good to see you, and maybe help you and your friends out if there's anything we can do."

He hesitated, and she could imagine the expression on his face as his fierce stubborn pride struggled with his genuine desire to reconnect with old friends. "Fine," he said at last in a surly voice.

They set a place and time and then he slammed down the phone headset to end the call. A week later, Rogue and Bobby started sharing a room as Pyro and three other members of the Brotherhood moved into their apartment with them. A disorganized, endless week later, and they all moved into a larger apartment, stretching their resources a little but immensely pleased with the new living arrangements. With things as they were now, the mutants were free to come and go as they needed without having to worry about bothering their hosts, and most of the friction over shared televisions and bathrooms dissipated.

Rogue moved back out of their shared bedroom into her own.

No one was surprised when Pyro suggested that they try to find Magneto, but everyone was shocked when he added that they ought to send Rogue to talk to him. Bobby especially was infuriated by the very idea, and the argument that followed was nearly enough to force the small band of young mutants to separate forever.

"Listen, John," Bobby snarled, "Magneto tried to kill Rogue once before, if you don't recall. Of all the people we could possibly send to talk to him, I'd think she'd be the least likely to succeed! I'm not entirely sure we even want to talk to him, anyways."

Pyro was unimpressed. "Look, Bobby," he sneered back, "whatever you might say about him, Magneto is a great man. He started out with a whole lot less than the Professor ever did, and tried to accomplish so much more. Don't you care about how he's dealing with everything that's happened, or is the well-being of your enemy too beneath your high-flung pride? Because if so, I have a newsflash for you: we've all been your enemies, too."

"Not like this," Bobby insisted. "Magneto's the leader, John, not just a minion. He's the one who thought up the evil things for you to do."

Pryo's eyes flashed, and he used his lighter to ignite a small flame that grew into a medium-sized ball in his palm.

"Stop!" Rogue shouted, stepping between the two teenagers with a furious look on her face. She turned to Pyro. "Stop antagonizing him; we know you were the enemy, Pyro, but we're willing to try starting over, so try working with us for once, will ya?" Bobby smirked at Pyro, but stopped when Rogue turned her glare on him. "And you! You know he wants to be called Pyro, so just do it, will ya? And stop getting so worked up -- we agreed to try looking at things from a fresher perspective, so stop being so quick to jump down Pyro's throat!"

"Sorry, Rogue," Bobby said sheepishly.

"Yeah, sorry," Pyro chimed in. He paused. "It's just that I'm really worried about how Magneto's doing. I mean, you chose to have your powers removed, but you can't understand what it would be like to have them stolen from -- "

"I'll do it," Rogue said.

"Please, at least think about it, and -- " Pyro cut himself off, staring at her. "What did you say?"

"I said I'll do it," she said, a slight grin on her face at his flabbergasted expression. "You forget that I do know exactly how Magneto must feel right now," she reminded him, tapping the side of her head with one finger. "And whatever Bobby might say to you, we do feel compassion for our enemies, especially when they're suffering as much as Magneto must be. What I really don't understand, though, is why you think he'll want to talk to me, of all people."

Pyro shrugged. "He has some weird fascination for you. I think he really hoped that you'd join him when I did, and I know he was really mad when I told him that you were going to get the cure. He said something about 'wasting a magnificent gift.' I think you're one of the few people I know that he actually respects, too; he's always talking about how you were really brave on the Statue of Liberty and how it's too bad you had such an 'unfortunate introduction' to the Brotherhood."

"Rogue," Bobby warned, obviously not liking what he was hearing.

"Relax, Bobby," she replied. "He doesn't have powers anymore, remember? I'll just go and make sure he's doing OK, I dunno, maybe he's joined a curling club or something, and then I'll come back. He'll probably just sneer at me and send me away, and it'll make Pyro feel better, and it'll make me feel better. It's the best of both worlds."

He pursed his lips. "Fine," he said darkly. "But when something goes terribly wrong, don't say I didn't warn you."

Never in their wildest dreams would any of the mutants have supposed that Magneto would accompany Rogue back to their apartment, but he did. He was easy enough to locate, since Rogue knew him as well as she did. She staked out a little movie theater that she remembered him liking, spending her free time sitting on a nearby bench and doing her homework as she kept one eye on the theater, waiting for him to show up.

Of course, with her luck, he found her first. She was struggling over a difficult calculus problem when his cultured voice sounded right in her ear. "Rogue. What an unpleasant surprise."

She stood and turned to face him, hands on her hips. "Do you talk to everyone you just happen to run into like that?" she demanded.

He glared back at her, but his drawn, gaunt face lacked the menace it used to carry. He was more disheveled than she had ever seen him, and deep circles had formed under his eyes. He looked old. She was afraid that she had just seen proof of what Pyro was afraid of: Magneto was by no means all right.

"No," he said shortly. "But then, I hardly just happened to run into you, did I, Rogue?"

"Maybe not," she said grudgingly, "but you don't have to be so rude about it."

"What do you want, Rogue?" he demanded, his handsome features twisted with fatigue and anger and something else.

"I just want to talk to you," she said. She smiled a little sheepishly, then shrugged. "See how you were doing."

"How do you think I'm doing?" he snarled, staggering a little and then gripping the back of her bench so tightly that his knuckles turned white; the metal remained unmoved.

"Oh, I think you're pissed as hell at yourself and everyone else for what happened to you. I think you're probably having nightmares every night about Auschwitz and waking in terror at the feeling of helplessness returning. I think you're a mess." She watched him compassionately as he shuddered beneath her words as if they gave him physical blows.

"I see that the memories you had already absorbed did not disappear with the power you so callously gave away," he hissed, but he refused to meet her eyes. "If you know all that, why bother to come see for yourself? If you wish to mock me, I warn you that I have some strength in me yet."

She spread her palms helplessly. "I hoped I was wrong."

"Why do you care?" he asked. He tottered a little, unsteadily, then sat on the bench in front of her. She stared with wide eyes at him, knowing just how weak he would have to be to choose to sit in front of her, allowing her the position of power.

"Bobby and I left the mansion," she said slowly, watching him cautiously as if afraid he was going to faint. "We decided we didn't belong there any more."

"And this pertains to me how?"

"About half a month ago, we talked to Pyro, convinced him to bring a few other mutants and come live with us. They were trying to live in your fortress, but they couldn't get around, and don't get me started on their complete lack of funds...Anyway, Pyro was worried about you, and I have to admit that I was concerned as well."

He laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, that is rich," he said roughly. "Charles' golden students joining forces with the Brotherhood to take care of poor old Magneto."

She glared indignantly. "We are hardly joining forces with the Brotherhood," she told him. "First of all, the Brotherhood doesn't exist any more. Second...the only reason you're poor and old is because you're too caught up in your self-pity to take care of yourself. When was the last time you had a decent meal? When was the last time you slept? What on earth have you been doing with yourself?"

He stared at her, and the expression in his eyes was a little vacant. "I...play a great deal of chess in the park," he said slowly, his tongue stumbling over the words as if they were unfamiliar.

She forced herself not to look flummoxed by his weak admission. She struggled with her conscience for all of a second before reaching down and grabbing his hand in hers, gasping as a spark of electricity shocked her. She could tell by the suddenly-focused look on his face that he had felt it, too. It was the first time she had touched him since Liberty Island three years ago.

"Get up," she ordered. It was another mark of his weakness that he did not even question her before obeying. "Here -- put your arm around my shoulders." She aided him in doing so. They took several tottering steps forward with him leaning heavily on her before she sighed in frustration. "This isn't going to work," she muttered. She helped him to sit back down on the bench, where he collapsed, then flagged down the first cab that came near. She and the cab driver managed to maneuver the elderly gentleman into the car, and then she gave him directions to her apartment.

The look on the faces of the Brotherhood when she gently led Magneto into the apartment was almost comical, and would have been if not for the grimness of the situation.

"Well?" she snapped at them when she saw them simply standing and watching. "Help me!"

One of the other mutants stepped forward to pick him up, then stared around stupidly wondering where to put his ex-leader.

Rogue sighed. "This way," she ordered, gesturing towards a room.

Everyone expected Bobby's explosion over finding that Magneto was actually under their roof and, worse, in Rogue's room, and he did not disappoint.

"What do you mean he's going to stay here until we can be sure he's all right?" he demanded, his normally handsome features twisted in anger. "Rogue, I can understand that you needed to see him and make sure he was alive; I can understand that you're such a good person that you can have a shred of sympathy even for the man who tried to kill you. What I can't understand is why you would think that it was OK to bring said man into our home!"

"What did you expect me to do, Bobby?" she shouted in return. "He was practically passing out in front of me; would you have wanted me to just leave him there?"

He looked at her out of crazed eyes, then whispered, head bowed as if he knew that what he was about to say would destroy their relationship, "Yes."

She nodded slowly, her eyes closed. When she opened them, they held a new, firm resolve in them. "Then you're not the boy I thought you were, and I am most certainly not the girl you thought I was. Magneto will be staying here, Bobby, and if you don't like that...you can either stay out of his, our, way, or leave. It's up to you."

Suddenly Bobby's anger disappeared, and he looked at her with such a crushed expression that her heart seemed to break. "You're going to force me to choose?"

She shook her head. "No, Bobby, you forced me to choose -- and you know how little I like to be forced to do anything."

He hung his head, then said in a small voice, "I'll stay out of your way."

She pursed her lips, then nodded resolutely, forcing her own doubts away. "It'll be OK, Bobby, you'll see."

Magneto woke nearly a day later, blinking in disorientation as he looked around the unfamiliar, bare room. His gaze landed on the girl slumped in a chair next to the bed, her head fallen forward with that so distinctive shock of white hair telling him clearly who his bedside guardian was. He tried to sit up, and was appalled to find himself too weak to do so. He coughed a little, and watched as Rogue started violently in her chair. She lifted her tired-looking face, and, incomprehensibly, beamed at him when she saw that he was awake.

"We were starting to worry that you'd never wake up," she explained, holding a cup of water to his lips.

"Where am I?" he croaked after he'd taken a few sips. He rankled at being treated like an invalid, but...it appeared that he was an invalid, for the time being.

For some reason, she blushed. "Our apartment. I didn't know where else I could take you that would be safe."

"You consider your apartment safe?"

She shrugged. "We have four ex-members of the Brotherhood, one ice mutant, and me here, and nothing of value. You'd have to be stupid to attack us."

"I see," he said inanely, feeling incredibly awkward and uncomfortable.

"You must be starving," she said suddenly. "I have some lovely, healthy gruel here to help bring you back to full health."

She held a spoonful of the stuff to his face, and he was about to refuse when his stomach gave an almighty growl, forcing him to consider the last time he ate, and then he slowly accepted the sustenance she offered.

Everyone had known Wolverine to be the first X-Man to visit Bobby and Rogue, and they were right. He showed up at their apartment one day out of the blue, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jean jacket. He shifted uncomfortably as he knocked, then narrowed his eyes when a strangely familiar, but unrecognized, face opened the door.

"Where's Rogue?" he demanded, shoving the door open and hurrying in. He froze in horror at the sight that greeted his eyes. There -- sitting on the couch were Pyro and another member of the Brotherhood, casually watching television as if they lived there. There -- the mutant who had opened the door had tried to attack him on Alcatraz. And there -- there was Magneto, sitting at the dinner table and laboriously consuming a bowl of cereal, dressed in simple pajamas. "Good God," he sputtered. "The Brotherhood!" He shot his claws out of his hands, barely noticing the agonizing pain that accompanied that action as he watched the mutants warily, watching for the first attack.

"Oh, do settle down, Wolverine," Magneto said tiredly, and for the first time Logan noticed how fragile the other man looked. "The evil Brotherhood is no threat to you at the moment."

Both men looked up when a door down the hallway opened and Rogue hurried out wearing only her robe. "What's going on?" she asked frantically, then stopped when she saw who had come. A slow smile slid across her face. "Logan!" she exclaimed, rushing forward to give him a hug, and watching in shock as he stepped back from her, his face hard.

He glanced from Rogue to Magneto and then back again, clearly misunderstanding their respective states of undress and the situation in its entirety. "Rogue," he said roughly, "what's going on here?"

She frowned. "What...? Logan, I haven't joined the Brotherhood," she reassured him. "Everyone who's here, they're no danger to you right now."

"You could say the Brotherhood's joined Rogue," Pyro piped up from his seat.

"Where's Bobby?" he asked, not understanding the situation. He followed Rogue's gaze to his still-extended claws, and slowly retracted them, noting as he did so how the entire room seemed to relax when they disappeared.

"Bobby...he's spending most of his time elsewhere now," Rogue said slowly, her liquid brown eyes begging him to understand. "We had an argument."

"I should hope so!" he replied. "I should hope that one of you at least would have the sense to have a problem with whatever arrangement you have going here. I mean, really, Rogue: Magneto?"

Her lips tightened. "He needed help, Logan," she said, her voice tired and patient, as if she'd given this speech many times. "He's a part of me, don't you remember? I couldn't just leave him to starve himself to death."

Logan let out a long breath, trying to calm himself. "Rogue, he's dangerous, and psychotic. You can't trust him."

"I can take care of myself, Logan," she said evenly, her attractive face glaring at him. "I've been doing that since before you came into my life and every time you've left it to go on some quest to find yourself. Now, if you can't say anything reasonable or productive, you clearly know where the door is." She turned to go.

However angry he was at what he had found, Logan couldn't let things end like that, and he strode forward to grab her arm. "Ro -- " he began, but that was as far as he got before he felt his life force being sucked from his body. He let out a gasp of betrayal as he felt himself begin to weaken, and barely heard her exclamation of shock as she tore her arm out of his grasp. She reached out to help him, then remembered her ungloved state and hurriedly pulled her hands back to her, agony visible in her expression as she watched him stagger back against a wall, leaning against it for support as his strength slowly returned to him. "If you have your power back," he gasped for breath, "then..."

They turned as one to look at Magneto, who looked more alive than he had for weeks, the gleam in his eye apparent as he concentrated. A stainless steel pen levitated precariously in the air before him. Then Magneto's gaze slid to Logan, who suddenly stiffened as the control of his body was stolen from him. He was lifted slowly from the ground, his entire body spread-eagled, and slowly moved towards the door. He grunted as that control was suddenly lost and he fell to the ground, lifting his head to see that Rogue had her hand lightly pressed against Magneto's extended arm, letting go only when the older mutant lapsed into unconsciousness.

She looked at him with mournful eyes. "I think it's time for you to go, Logan," she said. "I can only fix one of you at a time."

"I never wanted you to fix me," Logan said, his own voice sad as he thought of all of the lost chances he had had with her.

"But you did," she said with a sorrowful smile. "You know you did, Logan."

He nodded slowly. "Maybe I did, at that." He slowly closed the distance to the door and opened it. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, then turned back to her. "You gonna be OK, kid?" he asked quietly.

"I always am," she replied. "You will be too."

He nodded again. "Goodbye, Rogue." He walked from the apartment and closed the door softly behind him.

"Goodbye, Logan," she said to the closed door, then strode hurriedly back to the bathroom to cry in privacy.

Everyone predicted that Rogue would retreat back into herself after the shocking resurgence of her powers, and that prediction held true in the coming weeks. Even as Magneto regained strength with each passing day, revitalized by the return of his gift, Rogue seemed to lose strength. The younger mutants all tried to console her, even Bobby, but none of them could understand what she was going through, since none of them understood in the first place how someone could want to get rid of their powers.

Finally, Magneto got fed up with her moping and confronted her one afternoon when they were alone in the apartment.

"You refused to put up with my self-pity, and now I refuse to put up with it from you," he declared, cornering her in the kitchen as she fixed herself a sandwich. "You mope about as if the return of your powers means the end of your life, which is ridiculous."

"Leave me alone," she muttered, crossing her arms defensively across her chest. She wore long pants and a long-sleeve shirt and gloves despite the spring warmth in the apartment. "What do you care, anyways?"

He frowned in annoyance. "I care for the same reasons you did," he said. "I am not a bad man, Rogue, and such feelings as gratitude and respect are not beyond me; I feel both for you. It takes a stronger person than myself to forgive one's would-be murderer, to nurse said person back to health, and then to allow that person to stay after regaining strength. It disgusts me to see someone with your strength and gift wasting both."

He noticed that she was wringing her hands anxiously, and he took a step towards her, entering her personal space and using his greater height to loom over her. He reached up one hand and rested it gently on hers, then used both of his hands to grasp one of hers loosely, gently drawing the glove off as she stared up at him, entranced.

"Your power," he murmured, his voice and expression mesmerizing, "does not preclude human contact." So saying, he entwined his fingers with hers briefly, absurdly enjoying the slight tugging sensation before breaking contact. "It does not make you any less of a person." He brushed his hand across her cheek, enjoying the way she closed her eyes blissfully at the touch. "It does not make you any less attractive." He leaned forward and pressed his lips lightly against hers, pulling back moments after the pull began and looking intently into her dilated eyes. He gasped for air and realized that she was not the only one trembling with desire.

"Why -- why did you do that?" she asked weakly, brushing her bare hand across her lips.

"You know me," he said, refusing to let her lie to herself. "You know why."

"I know you want me," she said slowly, blushing slightly at her own words. "I don't know why."

He grasped her other, gloved hand, and oh-so-slowly pulled the glove off of her skin. Grasping her arm around her sleeve, he raised her wrist to his lips and laid a gently kiss on it. "I want you..." he began, slowly pulling her sleeve up and inwardly marveling that the simple act was one of the most erotic he had ever performed, "because you are beautiful -- strong -- powerful -- " he punctuated each word with another butterfly kiss " -- and one of the most infuriatingly confusing women I have ever met. Of course," he paused, thoughtful, "you probably only want me because I am the first man who has been willing to touch you despite of -- nay, because of your powers."

"Yes," she hissed, clearly steeling herself before raising his hand and pressing her own kiss upon it. "The fact that you are willing, even want to do so, means everything."

"My dear," he murmured, unable to stop himself as he leaned forward to smell her hair, pressing their bodies together, "this is wrong on so many levels."

She gazed up into his slate blue eyes, taking a split second to appreciate his handsome face flushed with desire. "For some reason, I don't seem to care," she announced, then leaned up to kiss him.

No one who saw what Pyro saw when he cheerfully entered the apartment could have blamed him for the expression on his face when he saw Rogue and Magneto, of all people, kissing passionately, their bodies pressed tightly together.

"Oh my god," he said, his voice coming out with a bit of a squeak. At the sound of his voice, both contestants in the contest for most embarrassing PDA sprang apart in shock, turning to face the intruder. Rogue blushed to the roots of her hair, muttered something incomprehensible, then ran to the bathroom, which had become her safe haven since she had given up her room to Magneto and begun sleeping on the couch. Both men watched her go, then turned to face each other, Magneto's face calm and Pyro's not-so-calm. "You -- she -- what?" he stuttered.

"Really, Pyro," Magneto said patronizingly, "do try to form complete sentences."

"All right," Pyro said slowly. "What the hell is going on here?"

"If you have to ask, my young friend, then I'm afraid you are too young to know," Magneto replied, a rare note of humor in his voice.

"Look, Magneto, I'm sorry if you think my reaction is offensive or something, but...you have to see how weird this is. I mean, you and her? She's what, fifty years younger than you?"

"Physically, perhaps," Magneto said, "but mentally she is much nearer my age. Don't forget what she has endured, as well as what she has unwittingly absorbed from other people, yourself included."

"Fine," Pyro conceded grudgingly. "That still doesn't excuse the fact that you tried to kill her once, and were her enemy after that."

Magneto dismissed that argument. "If she has forgiven me for trying to kill her, then who am I to question her generosity? As to the issue of our previous enmity, that argument is hypocritical coming from you, who were the first to agree to renew and rebuild the friendship you shared before you became her enemy. Besides, the Brotherhood has changed, mutated from what it once was. I see now that my previous attempts at mutant supremacy were overly ambitious; force alone does not seem to be enough to win our cause, so perhaps the addition of diplomacy is required. Either way, our previous...friction...is a thing of the past, and no concern of yours."

"I'm just trying to look out for both of you," the young fire mutant said, flicking his lighter open in frustration. "You -- you might break her heart. And Rogue -- Rogue is dangerous, Magneto, and not just because of her skin. You should have seen how she crushed Bobby when she chose your well-being over their relationship."

"Bobby," Magneto began, saying the name mockingly, "is a foolish boy who doesn't deserve her. I might break her heart? Rogue knows me better than I know myself, just as she knows you better than you know yourself. Do you truly believe that youthful, naïve exterior she shows to the world? Never forget that she has lived as many lifetimes as people she has touched, and that all of we whom she has touched are a part of her. There is little I could do that Rogue would not have already anticipated before I did it. As to Rogue's dangerousness, both in her skin and her character...well, that is simply part of the attraction. Have you any other objections?"

Pyro sputtered helplessly. "It's just gross," he said at last.

Magneto smiled slightly and patted him on the cheek indulgently. "Do grow up, Pyro." He left the young man sputtering behind him in search of the young woman who held so much more interest for him.

No one would have thought that Magneto would be a gentle and caring lover, but he was, and proved himself to be so many times that night. The strange couple, the older man and younger woman, didn't discuss the repercussions of their relationship during the night, but by some unspoken agreement they went to the kitchen for breakfast the next morning and sat unusually close to each other. Bobby sat stiffly at the end of the table, as far away from them as he could get, for most of breakfast. When Magneto leaned forward to press a kiss against Rogue's lips, he couldn't take it any more and forcibly tore himself away from the table with a strangled cry. Rogue watched him go with sad but unrelenting eyes.

The members of what was formerly the Brotherhood and Rogue moved back to the fortress that day, finding that the plumbing was much easier to deal with when one had Magneto with one. They left the apartment and its contents for Bobby.

That night, Magneto and Rogue resumed their explorations of each other's bodies, to the immense satisfaction of each. As they lay together, exhausted, Rogue carefully keeping from touching him skin-to-skin, she murmured, "Where are we going with this relationship, anyways?"

"Does it matter?" he asked in reply.

"Not really," she said lazily. "I can't help wondering, though."

"Well then, if you are amenable, my dear, I plan to keep you with me as long as you'll stay, and together you and I can begin reforming and redirecting the Brotherhood in the way we deem best."

"I don't know how much help I'll be," she said uncertainly, fidgeting a little where she lay.

He kissed her. "You'll be plenty of help," he informed her. "After all, you're quite dangerous."

"You're dangerous, too," she told him, her eyes darkening as his gloved hand began caressing her breast and he rolled them over so that his mostly-clothed form and condom-clad erection were pressed against her half-dressed, lithe body.

"Then we have more in common than I realized," Magneto smile, pushing himself slowly into her tight warmth and gasping as her inner muscles squeezed him.

She gasped as he shifted inside her. "Still," she breathed, then moaned as he began thrusting against her, brushing that spot over and over again, "who'd have expected us to end up together?" Each word was followed by a gasp or moan of pleasure.

He didn't answer for a long moment, too breathless as he sped up his thrusts and she began to rise to meet him, both becoming more and more frantic until they simultaneously exploded, groaning in ecstasy at the sensation and then slowly coming down from the high.

"My dear Rogue," he panted as he held himself over her with his elbows, still buried deep inside her, "I think ours is a relationship quite against all expectations."

She smiled, pleased, then pushed herself up to kiss him. "Good."

He kissed her back, hard, until the pull became too strong and he was forced to retreat. "Good," he repeated, smiling happily back at her.

Then, as they contentedly drifted off to sleep next to each other, there were no more words.