Magneto insisted he be left to interrogate Gambit on his own, something which Cyclops immediately opposed. Magneto reminded Cyclops that he was no longer a member of this household, no longer an X-Man, and he would get no say. Given that she had ousted Cyclops in a duel over leadership, it was surprising when Storm spoke up in Cyclops' defense.

"Our home is always open to our friends and former teammates," Storm said, her regal accent authoritative. "Warren is in our infirmary, even now struggling to survive. They are more than welcome to stay here, for as long as they wish, to see Warren through his traumatic injury. I hope they choose to stay, to reconnect with us. Our disagreements do not change the fact that we are friends, family."

"So yer giving Cyke a say?" Wolverine asked, not to question her judgement, but to press home the point that Magneto was not the sole decision maker.

"That is so," Storm said, and nodded at Cyclops. The expression Jean wore - or, not Phoenix, but Marvel Girl, Rogue supposed - was one of teary gratitude. She extended a hand in Ororo's direction. Ororo approached and instead of taking Jean's hand, drew her into an embrace.

"Ororo," Jean said, her chin resting on Ororo's shoulder as they wrapped their arms around one another. "I am so sorry. I've missed you so much. I wish-."

"I will not waste another moment on hurt or anger," Ororo responded, pulling away slightly to look into Jean's eyes. "I intend only to celebrate. The Goddess has returned you to us."

Rogue blinked as tears formed in her own eyes, she took a gloved finger and hastily wiped under her eye. When her vision cleared, it was to see the thief, Gambit, watching the two women with some interest. He might have been smiling, it was hard to tell. His mouth was permanently curved up at the corners. She scowled at him, hating him, the traitorous swamp rat.

Cyclops nodded to Storm, a slight indication of thanks. For Cyclops, this was an overwhelming display of emotion. While both Ororo and Scott were as even keel as anyone could get, their leadership styles were quite different. Cyclops' no-nonsense style demanded consensus and conformity, for a team to act as a concentrated unit. Military-esque, Rogue supposed. Ororo, while no less imperious in her decrees having been a former goddess, favored individualism and personal freedom and trusted her team to act accordingly. More of a leader of mercenaries to Cyclops' drill sergeant. She gained loyalty through compassion and empathy. Cyclops, by force of character and decisiveness. Rogue would be willing to follow either to the ends of the earth.

At the moment, however, Ororo was the X-Men's leader. Rogue was even more dedicated to Storm's guidance, especially after Ororo had trusted Rogue with her memories and mutant ability; she voluntarily offered herself to Rogue's touch, encouraging her to use her natural-born abilities, to enjoy them, maybe learn to begin to control them. Ororo's generosity had resulted in her later being shot by a power-neutralizing weapon, a blast that was intended for Rogue for what she had done. For attacking the Avenger, Ms. Marvel aka Carol Danvers, nearly killing her. Rogue realized then there would be no control, no pleasure taken from touching another person. Rogue was a menace to everyone around her, no matter how hard she tried.

Magneto was forced to concede, seeing as he was overruled, a fact that must have stuck in his craw. "If you wish to observe," he said in his deep baritone, "so be it."

"We shall begin again," Magneto turned to Gambit. "A simple question, one might think. What is your name?"

"Poor ole Michael Finnegan, begin again," Gambit sang back, then winced.

"What were you doing in my office?"

"Robbin' from de rich to give to de poor," he glibly answered. His grin dimmed somewhat as his jaw tightened.

"Who was the man accompanying you?" Magneto demanded. "The one I saw by your side in my office?"

"De bogeyman." Gambit grimaced, shook his head.

"What is the nature of your relationship to the murderers in the Morlock tunnels?"

"Terribly strained," Gambit said in mock sorrow. "We were on a break!" Then air hissed through his teeth as if he were in pain.

"Did you murder the Morlocks?" Magneto asked coldly.

"I certainly did not!" Gambit shouted. "I am not a murderer! I wouldn't try t'kill anyone, especially not kids!"

Magneto considered this response, the first given without a hint of flippancy or sarcasm.

"Perhaps not directly responsible. Then, in what way did you assist in perpetuating their deaths?"

Gambit stared at him blankly at first, then his gaze turned inwards. He shook his

head, as if having an argument with himself.

"No pithy response?" Magneto asked. "I will have to assume the worst. Was your intention of breaking into our home to facilitate their access to the school, to my students?"

"I already told you…" Gambit said slowly, darkly, "that I would never...harm...a...child."

Suddenly, Gambit said: "Okay, ow! You win! Y'hurt me. You can stop crushing my hand now! And that was my favorite finger you just broke, by de way. Now how am I gonna drive through Connecticut without the official state hand signal?"

"What is he-?" Cyclops asked, a hint of alarm in his voice.

"Enh, you think dis is the first time someone tried t'torture me?" Gambit announced. "Experience is de teacher of fools, and I'm no fool by now. So, à plus tard, Wet Blanket. I'm off to my happy place!"

Gambit then closed his eyes and his expression stilled.

"Magneto, what is the meaning of this?" Storm demanded. "We do not torture our adversaries!"

"But you would perhaps, consider stabbing one in their sleep?" Magneto rebutted. Storm's jaw hardened.

Cyclops marched over to the stool where Gambit was seated, approached him from behind but stood several feet away and out of the influence of the inhibitor field Gambit wore. With two bursts of light from his visor and with laser-precision, he blasted the manacles from Gambit's wrists. Gambit did not move, he remained in some kind of meditative state. His bare heel tapped on the rung between the stool's legs, as if he were keeping time to music.

"Are you a fool?" Magneto asked. "Freeing him? After what you witnessed in the Alley, you would allow him to reduce our home to ashes?"

"The inhibitor field is still operational," Cyclops told him. Looking down at Gambit's hands, he added: "You've crushed his fingers."

"I believed if I were to threaten his livelihood of pickpocketing, he might become more cooperative. Perhaps I should have instead removed his hand to the wrist?"

Storm looked mad enough to chew nails and spit rivets. "I will retrieve the first aid kit," she said in a steely voice that conveyed her fury. "I trust you will not continue your particular line of questioning."

"So it comes to this?" Cyclops asked, looking at Wolverine and Rogue for affirmation. "Is this the kind of stewardship Xavier's school deserves?"

Rogue was chewing the inside of her lip, her stomach was in a knot.

"I will again remind you that Xavier chose me to lead the school," Magneto said. "And not you."

Cyclops' visor flashed. "As far as Xavier's decision is concerned, well, nobody's perfect," he said slowly and clearly.

"I have a responsibility to the New Mutants. I will do anything to protect them. You may disagree with my methods, but not my integrity or loyalty to them," Magneto told him.

"He's barely older than any of your students, Magneto," Marvel Girl said, gesturing to Gambit.

"None of my students have infiltrated the school with the intent of bringing a pack of murderers to our doorstep!"

"You're making assumptions," Cyclops said. "We need facts."

"Which I am trying to procure," Magneto said. "Telepathy is ineffective, Rogue is unable to pull the information from him. What do you suggest? A discussion over cold beers?"

Oh dear, Magneto was using sarcasm. He'd spent too long in the company of teenagers, it seemed.

Magneto continued: "Or do you somehow believe his being here at the same time the Morlocks were being massacred was some absurd irony?"

Gambit's eyes suddenly popped open and he declared: "It's NOT ironic! It's coincidental! Alanis Morrisette has ruined the word for everyone!"

Rogue thought perhaps Magneto might be right and Gambit was, in fact, deranged. In that case, he should be pitied and not a prisoner.

"Like you have any room to criticize other people's use of the English language," Wolverine remarked.

Gambit paused for a moment, and then actually laughed merrily at this statement. This confirmed in Rogue's mind that he really was as crazy as an outhouse rat.

"I may play fast and loose with de pronunciation, but not de meaning," Gambit responded, grinning. "Hard enough for people to understand me."

Wolverine almost smiled back, but his expression was more confused than anything. Why was he joking around with a confirmed criminal and potential murderer?

Storm then returned, not with a medical kit, but Hank McCoy. He was carrying his medical bag. The poor man looked positively stressed. Rogue was thankful he'd been given a chance to shower and a change of clothes. He had enough to worry about with both Angel and Nightcrawler being so grievously injured. Rogue was a little annoyed that due to Magnus' actions, Hank was taken away from her friends' bedsides.

"Good evening," Hank said tiredly. "Or should I say 'good morning'?"

"Ah, zut," Gambit said to himself. "Hey you guys, I got to get to Mass, it's a day of holy obligation. Better let me go, it's my soul and all."

"Well, my Cajun compatriot, I'm afraid you'll have to repent your sins at a later date. Now, can you show me your injury?" Hank said.

Gambit tentatively extended his right hand in Hank's direction. Rogue gave him some credit that the appearance of a large, blue-furred mutant did not seem to phase him in the least.

"Hey," Gambit said abruptly to Hank, "you know Captain America, right? Can you get me his autograph?"

Hank took the thief's hand in his big clawed mitt, expression conveying he did not believe in Gambit's sincerity. "Let's put a pin in that, shall we? We'll have to perform some x-rays, but for now, I will splint your fingers for some support. Can you move any of them?"

Gambit wiggled his index and thumb. "Looks like Pointer and Thumbkin got away," Gambit remarked.

Hank regarded him from over his spectacles with some amusement. "Yes, they are very well this morning." Hank turned to his medical bag. "First an injection of local anesthetic, I think."

"Uh-unh," Gambit said, and attempted to retrieve his hand.

Hank's grip remained firm. "There's no need for alarm. It's just to help with the pain."

"No, no way." The color seemed to drain from Gambit's face.

Hank attempted to rummage in his bag one-handed while Gambit protested. Hank began: "I don't want to manipulate (no) your fingers without (nope, no) first numbing (nein, nyet, non)...Would you please stop? (get that thing away from me!) You're only making it worse!" Hank turned and pinned Gambit's arm under his armpit while Gambit struggled to pull away.

"Ah! Don't you stick me!" Gambit cried.

"There, it's already done!" Hank said triumphantly holding the empty syringe aloft. "Don't you feel-?"

But Gambit's eyes had rolled back in his head and he was falling like a ragdoll to the floor. Hank's grip on him was the only thing preventing him from striking his head on the ground. Rogue gasped.

"Did he just faint?" Cyclops asked.

"Is he faking it?" Wolverine asked.

"Maybe it was an allergic reaction?" Marvel Girl suggested.

Hank was lifting one of Gambit's eyelids. He lightly tapped the thief on the face with a flat palm. "No, apparently is he quite phobic."

"We found him in a room full of unrecognizable corpses," Wolverine said. "And a needle makes him pass out?"

"The nature of phobia is that it does not make rational sense. It's an overreaction of the fight or flight response," Hank said looking down at the now-silent Gambit. "Perhaps we can take advantage of the situation and bring him to the infirmary?"

"I think not," Magneto said, disgusted at the display of Gambit's mental weakness. "A holding cell, until he revives and we can further question him."

Hank looked at Cyclops and raised an eyebrow. Cyclops decided to choose the path of least resistance. "Do you think you can perform some basic first aid on him in a cell?" he asked Hank.

Hank sighed. "Very well," and he picked up the lanky thief to remove him from the Danger Room.

"In the meantime," Storm said. "We should all get some rest. We can approach this with clearer thinking later."

Rogue agreed. She moved to follow the rest of her friends as they exited. She was stopped by Magneto, a hand on her upper arm. She shied away, not welcoming unexpected contact, but he held firm. He drew her back and she reluctantly turned to face him.

"This young man," Magneto began. "This is the boy who called Sunday last?"

Rogue swallowed. "Yup."

"Am I to understand you met with this person? Logan seems to be under the impression that you were...on a date."

Rogue nodded, feeling heat creep into her face. She did not meet Magneto's disapproving gaze.

"What did you tell him, about us...exactly?"

Rogue could feel her bottom lip trembling. She struggled to rein in her emotions. "Nothing...nothing specific. He'd asked who mah friends were, is all."

"And you informed on us?" Magneto asked. "To a stranger?"

She shook her head a little. "Ah mean, I just said...that Logan was mah friend, and who all else. Ah didn't even say the New Mutants' names, not yours either."

"No, likely he did not care about the names, only the number of people in the house. What he would be contending with," Magneto said and made Rogue feel stupid.

Magneto put his other hand under Rogue's chin, forcing her to look at him. "You will not likely forget your mistake," he told her, not unkindly. "You should know now, not to trust those outside of our circle. To trust only...your friends. Me." He shook his head in self-admonishment. "I partly blame myself. I knew, somehow, that there was something...off...about that phone call. I should have forbidden you to answer."

Rogue didn't have any response for that, feeling shamed and chastised like a child. "Ah'm sorry," she said quietly, her voice tight.

"You are forgiven. You are still so young. You don't have the benefit of experience...To have been molded by it. This will not happen again, will it."

Rogue shook her head, unwilling to vocally respond lest her emotions come pouring out. Magneto released her arm and strode from the room. When the door swished closed, Rogue gave in to what she was feeling. She marched over to the metal stool. With an angry scream, she kicked it and it tore from the ground to fly across the room with a clang. She was shaking in fury. How dare he make her feel like a stupid child? Speak down to her for wanting one night of normalcy, to be treated like a woman and not a pariah? How dare he patronize her?

Forbid me? You forbid me!? she screamed inside her head.

screw that guy! screw his patriarchal bullshit! For once, Carol agreed with her. Carol was on a tear in feminist solidarity and together they were on the same team, if only for a moment.

Rogue admitted to some responsibility, but it was not as if she'd given Remy the passcode to the back door. So, she would help, in some small way, to straighten this mess out. She'd go talk with him, as it seemed he liked to talk (and talk). Rogue would find out the truth, one way or another.

Poor Old Michael Finnegan - Silly children's song

Robbing from the rich - Robin Hood

We're on a break - Ross from Friends

Pointer and Thumbkin - children's song "where is thumbkin, here I am!"

Next time: You scratch my back...