Two days later, having returned and safely ensconced within the citadel, Magneto was once again trying to calibrate the machinery within. Nothing was built to his typical standards, and it was difficult to determine if the instruments were working correctly.

One of the few that were operational were the sensors that had been placed around various locations within the Savage Land. They allowed Magneto a chance to ascertain a general idea of his rival's plans.

Zaladane has raised six towers, each located over a primary nexus of the earth's magnetic field. I suspect they are amplifiers, to increase whatever skill she has over the magnetosphere, and alter the earth irreparably. He reflected as he continued to calculate projections. Every scenario he tried to create ended the same way, with the total global annihilation of life. How poetic, the last time this had occurred, he was on the opposite side of the fight. It is a goal I had once sought myself; in days where my anger was stoked to levels of maniacal wrath. What a fool I was then.

Life had taught Magneto, endlessly, that some paths to the prize one sought were paths not to be taken. The manipulation of raw energy on such a level would have done catastrophic - possibly irreparable - harm to the biosphere. Not only would humanity be put in peril, but so too every life form on the planet. It was a heady rush; to hold the fates of a planet in one's hands. It had tempted him in the past with its siren's song. Yet to bow to it was to accept a fate worse than death. His actions have always had consequences. Rejected by the remains of his family and loved ones, rebuked by the charges under his care. His own grasps at power have left him a pauper in all ways that truly count.

As he powered that machine down and began the next series of technical executions for the next device, he considered his motives once more. My life's ambition has been to safeguard my fellow mutants. Zaladane has no such compunction. I can hear the ghosts of the past; the wails of the innocent who had died by dint of birth, "failure" of character, flawed concepts, beliefs, and ideologies. There's so many…

They howl in agony, of their deaths and their memories…it is good I wear red to honor their lives lost; I am painted in the failure of man, and my own actions. He reached the balcony of the large aerie, as he had come to call it, for it seemed more of a place to roost than an area of scientific discovery. Then again, knowing the educated chaos Sauron enjoyed, this may be his idea of a perfect abode.

Magneto reflected on the past as he looked out at the grounds around the citadel.

Two days prior, the denizens that had survived the assault on the United Tribes were working feverishly to build the palisade walls under Shanna's direction when the three and Zabu returned. The villagers had felled a small score of trees since they had arrived and were already using the equipment those who had been pressed to service under Sauron's rule wielded recently to set them against the older logs used before.

Painted red? Or stained? The harder I try to cast it aside, to walk the gentler paths…the more irresistibly I am drawn back.

Stained. Stained by blood; and no matter what I do, I seem to only spread it with my touch, bring to others the death that passed me by.

His gaze drifted downward and unerringly found Rogue, as if she were a lodestone. It has happened far too many times.

Rogue's recovery proceeds far more slowly than I anticipated. Indeed, she was again setting herself to the task at hand, more than likely unasked, but also not rejected. All hands were needed, and Rogue didn't shirk any difficult work. Amongst the others, she labored, shoulder to shoulder, and made herself useful wherever she went. Digging ditches, fetching water, watching children, Rogue understood how to work in a whole with others.

She lives, but only as a shadow of her former self. Laughingly she took a swig from a proffered waterskin, but after returning it, when she thought no one was looking, she sagged against a wall to take an evidently much needed break. She tires too easily. As do I.

Perhaps his gaze was affecting her as well. She shoved away from the wall, looking upwards at him. Their eyes met across that vast distance, and there was no mistake; they saw one another.

Rogue looked away first, pushing away from the wall, and walking off into the milling throngs of people. She seemed to do so with haste, was she trying to avoid him? That was unacceptable and he set out to find her. He needed to check on the integrity of his machine's readings, and she was proving strangely recalcitrant.

"Rogue," he said, having finally stalked through over half of the citadel to find her. She was avoiding him, having obfuscated her whereabouts. Shanna said Rogue told her she was checking the storehouses' barely bolstered supplies. When there, he was told by a town elder that survived the assault that she told others she went to find a safe place for the injured, elderly, and young, perhaps Ka-Zar knew? But as he met up with Ka-Zar, who seemed to come with a question designed to distract him further, he finally caught a sight of brown and white hair in the distance.

Leaving Ka-Zar behind to handle the crisis with his authority, if not his presence, he managed to draw Rogue from where she was overseeing those old enough to be trusted with simple tasks to wind fabric into spools for packing and wound binding later. "I trust you have completed the tasks that have so absorbed you. It has been hours since our return."

"Actually, I still gotta -"

"Excellent," Magneto said as he drew her from the room. An adolescent who had a toddler literally tied to her apron strings giggled as the door swung shut. She had picked up on the overtones of the conversation, or at the least, watching the capable Rogue overridden so confidently.

"Magneto, what do you need? I've been takin' care of a lotta stuff and can give you a full report first thing in the morni-"

"You are avoiding me, Rogue." He felt no need to make a further statement of the obvious.

"No…not you," she admitted stubbornly. "No, really!" she said as she protested, overriding his statement. A group of warriors stomped past them, either returning from a search, or about to set off on one. She fell silent and neither spoke as they traveled through the halls until they were far from the rest, amongst the quarters Magneto had set aside for himself, and now for her as well. The solitude felt secure in its enveloping coat; the citadel was so large that the distance was enough to ensconce them in silence.

Finally, in the hall between the two rooms they shared, she turned to address him. "Magneto, there's so much to do, it's not avoiding you, Ah just can't stop until we manage to create some sorta defense that folks can trust in."

"Rogue; you know your truest strength lies in your powers. To ignore my commands, and deny the need to ascertain your health will - "

"But if they're gone, then they're gone, and at least I can do this!" she said, interrupting him with an agitated look that did nothing to hide the fear in her eyes. He was nonplussed at her outburst and surprised at her vehemence. This wasn't being upset about disobeying an order. This was something else. "You don't understand." her eyes were shadowed as she looked away from him. She wanted to leave, now. "Ah lived a whole life before 'em and can do it again."

He understood as a leader would; she needed reassurances that she was safe. "Barbarus will never touch you again, Rogue - " he started to promise, but she immediately shook her head.

"No, it's not him, it's what he reminded me of." And then without really meaning to, everything spilled out of her like an undammed cataract. Genosha, the Genengineer, and the indignities they all suffered without their powers, the Genoshan soldiers who…who…

Rogue managed to maintain her composure as she described the assault she endured, but the more she spoke the more she saw his face begin to contort in disgust and rage. His head swung toward the large, arching windows, his eyes glowing with barely restrained power. Her stomach pitched wildly; what was he doing, what was he planning? Why was he so inflamed by this? Was he intending to go? And what? Raze Genosha to ashes? Dig the mutates up from their exile underground to rend Barbarus limb from limb?

"Nothing so kind," he managed past gritted teeth, and she jolted; she spoke that aloud?

"Magneto!" Rogue said as he started to pull away and reached out to grab his shoulder before he could take his leave. She felt absurd in this instant; what in the world did he think he could possibly do? What could she?

"Ah get that you're insulted," she paused, unsure if that was the right word to capture the situation or feeling, but really, how well was he listening now? She had to find some way to get him to see past his anger. "It's alright now, really." What a terrible sentence to express, particularly when she didn't really believe it herself. It wasn't alright, and it wouldn't ever be alright.

"Okay, fine. Not gonna lie; it was horrible. I got through it then, an' I'm getting through something similar like it right now. And I'm doing it on my terms, my way, even without powers. Again. You don't need to go off an' deliver justice on my behalf. As best I remember; you can understand how important it is sometimes to keep movin'." She stressed those last words as she reached up with one gloved hand and turned his head back towards hers. It was a bold move after avoiding him like the plague, but he seemed to need the contact more than she ever had. How could she explain to him the mixed joy, despair and fear she felt? "Besides, ain't I in enough hot water here?" she paused and grimaced, forcing that hayseed speech back to the swamps. "Aren't we all?"

Yes. She had done it again. She had quelled his anger enough for him to hear her words and the truth behind them. He wanted to vent his fury at hers, theirs, their many people's exploitation, and a righteous cause of another was an excellent sword and shield to hide behind. It galled that she had so easily winnowed out his motives. Was he so easily read, always? No, he knew how to maintain composure; yet why for her did he feel such…strong emotion?

Somehow, he managed to walk himself back from the edge of a rage that he would use to burn a country to ash. If not on her behalf solely, but for all the mutants suffering because of human fear. Human hate. But duty to a scattered people meant this tragedy occurs endlessly. He was one man, what else could he do now, in this moment? Particularly right now, when the whole world is imperiled? When will I be free of the cleft sticks that bind me? They had not separated as he released his powers, his eyes returning to flinty blue. Were they coming…closer to one another?

"And what's happenin' in Genosha is obscene," she said stoutly, her eyes becoming hooded at the memory. "But there's nothing you can do about it right here, right now. Later, we'll -" she broke off as they heard someone shouting their names. Shanna had arrived that moment, she and Zabu looking for the two of them. Duty called, and the two broke apart at that point, dual responsibilities dueling for their time and attention. Duty always won.