AN: Here we have the second-to-last chapter of Ideology!

Chapter 15

Pyro woke her the next morning, after what seemed like mere seconds that she'd been asleep. She'd been dreaming about swimming, feeling water cool and silky against her bare skin.

"Rogue! Get up. We're supposed be downstairs."

Rogue grumbled something and pulled the covers over her head, wanting to go back to sleep. It was not her turn to make breakfast, so she should be able to sleep for at least a little bit longer…

Pyro opened the door—Magneto had ceased locking her in quite a long time ago—and crossed the room to pull at the covers under which she was cocooned. "Up, lazy. Didn't you hear me? Magneto wants us downstairs, now."

Giving up, she pulled the covers away from her head and glared up at him. "Can I please get dressed first?"

"What, are you naked?" He looked at her doubtfully. "With gloves on? That's kinky, Rogue."

She reached for her pillow to throw it at him.

"Pyro! Rogue! Get down here!" Mystique shouted, and Rogue exchanged a look with Pyro and bounded out of bed, following him downstairs as she pulled her hair into a ponytail, securing it with the black elastic rubber band she wore around her wrist.

They ended up in the rec room, which was tuned to MSNBC. Magneto was standing, drinking a cup of coffee, his eyes trained on the screen. Gambit and Mesmero were on the couch, Mystique curled under a blanket on one of the chairs.

"Nice outfit, cherie," Gambit murmured. Rogue ignored him and his pointed comment about her pajamas, her eyes on the television.

A well-coiffed reporter stood in front of a smoldering pile of rubble, speaking in a serious voice about the overnight attack.

Officials are still searching through the debris for evidence after last night's attack at the Connecticut Detention Center--

"Mutant Detention Center," Pyro spoke up, and Magneto raised a hand to silence him.

Nine people were killed in the attack, in which all twenty-five prisoners escaped. Their whereabouts are currently unknown. The Brotherhood of Mutants has claimed responsibility for the incident.

"When did we do that?" Rogue asked, bewildered. It had been late when they'd returned. She was glad for the prisoners, who were on their way to Brotherhood safehouses out of the country.

"I took care of that," Magneto said quietly. Rogue had an image of him sending an e-mail, and then felt guilty when that made her smile. How could she be so flippant when faced with images of the very destruction she herself had helped to cause?

Nine people died.

A woman came on the screen, her face streaked by tears. A caption appeared, giving her name with the epithet wife of slain guard printed beneath. "I hope these people realize they're monsters," the woman sobbed, her eyes red. "My husband was only trying to keep people safe."

Rogue's feeling of disassociation grew worse as the woman continued speaking, and she wondered if her face was expressionless as everyone else's in the room. Who's keeping the mutants safe, lady?

The next scene showed a few pictures of the escaped prisoners, though the reporters focused mainly on the powers that the mutants had, and very little on why they were actually imprisoned in the first place.

The mutant community at large has condemned these attacks, the reporter said gravely, nodding as if in approval.

"Yeah," Rogue said under her breath, annoyed. "Until they're the ones locked up in a detainment center. Then they'll cheer for us, just like those prisoners did last night."

"Sing it, sister," Pyro muttered beside her, and Rogue didn't miss Magneto's satisfied expression as he turned to address them.

"That was an extremely well-executed mission. I'm very pleased with all of you." He switched off the television.

Mystique unfolded herself from the chair and stretched, taking Magneto's words as an obvious sign of dismissal. "My turn to make breakfast." She left the room with her usual graceful gait. Mesmero followed her.

"I'm going to shower while we still have hot water. Too tired last night to do it." Gambit stood up, yawning, raising his hands to the ceiling and arching his back. Rogue watched Pyro glace appreciatively at the play of muscles underneath Gambit's t-shirt as he stretched.

"Yeah. Sounds like a good idea." Pyro said blandly, following. He caught Rogue's eye and winked as left the room.

Rogue tried not to giggle at that. Pyro's crush on the older mutant was really very sweet. And kind of hot. Rogue pressed her hands to her face, which was suddenly very warm, at the inappropriateness of that thought.

"Aren't you cold?" Magneto put his coffee cup on the table next to the sofa and walked over to where she stood. "Gambit was right. An interesting choice of attire."

Startled, she turned to him, dropping her hands. She suddenly remembered what she was wearing—a tank top and a pair of boxer shorts—and that she was exposing a lot bare skin, save for the gloves. "My room gets hot at night. Stuffy."

"Does it?" Before she could answer, he continued speaking. "You showed initiative last night. I was proud of you."

"Thanks." She rubbed her arms with her hands, warming under his praise. She liked the slide of the fabric against her skin. It reminded her of her dream, of the water. I think I'm touch-starved.

As if he'd read her mind, he slowly reached out and placed his bare hand on her shoulder. She stilled at his touch, her breath strangled in her throat. His hand was very warm on her skin. "You have to be careful," she managed, her voice low.

His fingers moved over her inward, tracing her collarbone, lightly, though she felt his caress all the way to her toes. "Because you're dangerous," he murmured, lifting his hand almost immediately, before her power pulled at him. "I know."

"You're dangerous, too." She had no idea what was going on between them, or how they'd ended up standing so close to each other. She could feel the heat of his body, radiating outwards, and had a wild urge to lean in against him.

He smiled slowly, giving her a look she'd never seen on his face before. It did strange things to her equilibrium. "I suppose I am." He reached down, fingers caressing the metal encircling her upper arms.

"These are no longer necessary, are they?" His voice was hypnotic. "Tell me to take them off, Rogue, and I will."

She was breathing so fast she was about to hyperventilate, and her body felt liquid, boneless. It was strange—she felt as if he was touching her instead of the metal.

"Go on, then," he urged her, fingers moving back and forth over the cuffs. "Or do you like wearing them?"

Rogue took a deep breath, forcing her breathing to become even. There were darker answers to his question she didn't even want to contemplate—at least not now. "May I please take the boat out?"

Of all the things he'd been expecting her to say, it was clearly not that. He looked momentarily bewildered, an uncommon expression for him. "What?"

"The boat. I just need….an hour. Please." She'd not asked him for anything, not in the entire time she'd been here. If she didn't take a moment to think things through, she would ask him to take her cuffs off, but she was worried it wouldn't be for the right reasons.

He confused her when he was near her, too much for her to think straight.

"If you wish," he said slowly, backing away from her. "Do not go to the mainland. It would not be wise after last night."

She nodded, cold again as the chill air rushed over heated skin. "I won't. I just…I'll be back. I need to think, not run away."

Their eyes met again, his gaze predatory in a way that made her heart race. "I believe we need to have a…talk, sometime soon, Rogue."

"That's why I'm going to go out on the boat." She was moving towards the door, but slowly, as if she really didn't want to leave.

"That's not what I meant," he muttered, and abruptly turned away from her. "Go on. I'll tell Mystique where you are." The door opened, and she took it as the dismissal he intended, leaving without another word.

Rogue went upstairs to change into something warmer. Her skin still burned where he'd touched it.

ooooooooOOOOoooooooo

She didn't go out far, just out enough so that she could have a few moments to herself without any distractions. She idled the boat and pulled one of the blankets from under the seat, curled up on one of the vinyl seats at the prow of the boat. She stared out into the seemingly endless expanse of sea and thought about what had happened to her in the last six months.

The X-Men would know soon enough what she'd done, she was sure of it. She could never go back there again, but really, had she ever thought that she could? Besides, even if she could go back, she wouldn't.

She no longer agreed that the Professor's ideology was correct, and there was no one she could touch that would make her change her mind. She was certain of that as she was of the fact that humanity would never accept them.

Rogue thought of Lewiston, the injustice of all that had occurred there. She remembered Dottie firing her, accusing her of being a thief.

Threatening to call animal control, to lock her up like a dog.

In her mind, she saw the prison from last night, and she remembered the woman who had thanked her on the helicopter.

No wonder you helped us. You're just like us. The woman had been right, of course. Rogue was just like them. There was no place for her among Xavier's idealistic X-Men; she no longer believed humanity would ever accept her. She'd seen where humanity thought her place should be last night.

She'd killed for Magneto—not with her own hands, but her actions had led to the death of nine people. There was a sense of sadness within her for what she'd wrought, for the woman who had to hear the news her husband was dead. If Rogue had any lingering doubts about Magneto's sincerity in his apology for having tried to kill her, she didn't now. She understood that sometimes you had to do what was necessary for the greater good. She'd done so last night.

I'm sorry those men had to die, but we saved twenty-five mutants. If they hadn't have put them in that horrible prison in the first place, then we wouldn't have had to do that.

Rogue turned her face up to the sky, feeling the wind as it slid over her skin. The smell of salt was sharp; she could taste it on her tongue as she inhaled. The thought came to her, simply and succinctly, that the only place she'd ever really belonged—the only place she'd ever truly made a difference—was here.

Rogue stood up and stowed the blanket, then she piloted the boat back to the fortress, her mind clear. She knew what she had to do.

ooooooooOOOOoooooooo

Rogue had never been in Magneto's bedroom before, but she knew which door was his.

It was the only one without a doorknob.

She could have waited for him, could have returned to training and spoken with him after lunch, or waited until after dinner. But she didn't want to. She was ready, and there was no sense in putting off the inevitable. She knocked twice and waited.

"Who is it?" he called.

"Rogue."

There was a long moment of silence, and then the door swung open. Rogue stepped inside, her shoulders back, chin up. He was standing near the window, staring out, watching the clouds gathering on the horizon. They would have a storm, later, it seemed.

"Yes?"

"I want to tell you why I left Xavier's," she said simply. "I think it's time you knew."

She half-expected him to escort her out of there, downstairs maybe. He didn't, though. "All right."

Rogue sat on his bed, hands folded in her lap, looking out of the window. He had a nice view. She took a deep breath. "Earlier this summer, my roommate and a friend of ours thought we'd try and get a job at the mall." The ghost of a smile played across her lips. "It's funny to think all this started with me trying to earn some spending money."

He watched her carefully, but didn't speak.

Rogue continued, leaving nothing out, telling him everything that had happened from the job interviews to the rejections she'd accumulated. He rarely interjected anything, except when he couldn't seem to help himself—"You actually applied at Hot Topic?"—and listened to her without much expression.

When she got to the part about her ill-fated attempt to eradicate her doubts by touching her classmates, however, he stopped her. "Why did you think that would work?" he asked, curious.

She looked down at her hands. "Because…when I touched you, it worked. Or rather, when you touched me. At Liberty Island. Remember what I told you? That I thought what you were trying to do was right? I just wanted to believe," she said, feeling a bit foolish when she thought about it now.

"You realize, of course, that you can't force yourself to believe in things with which don't actually agree?"

She raised her head at that. "I realize that now," she said, sheepish. "I just wanted to belong, to be like everyone else."

"So you attempted to take that certainty from your friends."

She nodded. "Yes. Only, it—didn't work. You see, they all had doubts, too. And now I realize, of course, that their doubts weren't enough to make them stop believing what we were doing was right."

"And so you left?"

Rogue winced. "Not exactly. After my fellow students didn't really have anything for me, I thought about the one person whom I knew would have to check yes on that box. And was as committed to the Professor's dream as he was, despite that."

"Cyclops," Magneto guessed, and she nodded.

"Yeah. But, um, you're not really supposed to go rushing into your teacher's room trying to use your powers on them."

"I'm surprised Charles let you get as far as you did."

"He stopped me right when I was going for Mr. Sum—Cyclops," she corrected herself. He gave a small smile at that.

"Never say my old friend kicked you out of his precious school?" Magneto raised an eyebrow. "I don't know that I'd believe it."

"No," Rogue whispered, looking away. "He—I heard him talking to Cyclops. I'd inadvertently hurt someone, a little girl, when I had Colossus' super strength. I pushed her out of the way on my way to Cyclops' room." She swallowed. "The Professor said if Rahne was seriously hurt, he'd have to—to erase my memories and send me away."

There was silence between them for a long moment, until Magneto said carefully, "I see. Was she hurt that badly?"

Rogue shook her head. "I don't know. If she wasn't, he was still going to erase my memories of what happened. So I left. I ran away." She bit her lip. "I don't know if Rahne was okay or not."

"It doesn't matter, does it?" His gaze was sharp. "You decided to leave, rather wait around and see if he intended to erase your memories." To her surprise, he sat next to her on the bed.

"Well, yeah. I mean, it would have been more merciful just to kill me, wouldn't it, rather than take away my memory and lock me up somewhere?" She shuddered.

"Undoubtedly," he said, his voice suddenly hard. "That must have been frightening, to leave with nothing."

"Yeah. It was scary. I had no idea what to do. I just know I didn't want my memories to be erased, didn't want to end up in some asylum somewhere." The thought was still terrifying.

"If it matters, I do not think he would have done it, regardless."

"Then why did he say it?" Rogue twisted her hands together. "I think he would have."

"I suppose it is possible. However, it should be noted that you ran away and didn't use your powers in your fear that he would find you, which also may be what he intended."

Rogue hadn't thought of that. "You mean, he suggested it knowing I'd take off and hide from him?"

"Perhaps. It is hard to say. I do not think it is out of the realm of possibility, though." He stood up and looked down at her. "Thank you for telling me. I suppose it goes without saying that if you try something that foolish here, we'll just kill you."

She gave him a half-smile. "That is a deal. But I won't."

"You understand what I will ask of you?" he asked, and she'd rarely seen him look so serious. "What you will do, in the name of our cause?"

"I understand." There was no hesitation in her answer.

"Stand up," he ordered her, and she obeyed, rising slowly to her feet. "Ask me to take your cuffs off, Rogue."

"Please take my cuffs off." Her voice was firm. The metal cuffs fell to the floor, landing soundlessly on the rug. She gave them a momentary glance, then squared her shoulders and looked back at him, suddenly shy.

"Um…what do I do now?" She winced at how silly that sounded, but he was still staring at her as if he expected her to do something else.

"Perhaps have lunch?" The corner of his mouth quirked up. "I believe it is lunchtime. Then you have a session to make up with Mystique, do you not?"

"I do, yeah. Which means I better eat since I missed breakfast." Luckily, it was Saturday, which meant they'd have a good meal for dinner as well. She turned to go, then remembered what he'd said that morning. "Magneto?"

To Rogue's knowledge, it was the first time she'd ever addressed him by his name.

"Yes?"

For half a second, she'd intended to remind him he'd said they had to talk about something. However, she wasn't sure she wanted to have the conversation to which he was alluding, so instead, she just said, "Thank you."

He came towards her, and she stood rooted the floor, watching him approach her with a combination of dread and excitement. When he was right in front of her, he reached his hand out to catch at the white lock of her hair. "You're welcome. I imagine the others will be pleased to see you've finally come to your senses." He smiled briefly and tugged her hair before removing his hand and stepping back.

The door opened behind her, and she blinked owlishly up at him. He laughed. "Go on."

Dazed, she stepped through the open doorway and went downstairs. She found everyone in the kitchen, as they usually just fixed their own lunch. Quietly, she made herself a sandwich, happy she could actually do so without her gloves on for once.

At the table she was mostly silent, letting the conversation ebb and flow around her. None of them appeared to pay any attention to the fact she was eating bare-handed, and Rogue didn't point it out. They'd notice it sooner or later.

Pyro did, when he asked for the salt. "Hey! You're not wearing your gloves. What's up with that?"

"I don't like to eat with them," she said simply, nibbling on her sandwich.

"Your cuffs are gone," Gambit said, stating the obvious. He leaned back in his chair and grinned at her. "Guess we know what that means."

"Guess so." Rogue reached over and nonchalantly stole a potato chip from Pyro's plate.

She started blushing, though, because they all clapped for her.

Though she hated to be the center of attention, Rogue stood up and gave a brief bow. Pyro whistled for her, and that was the end of it. She sat back down and went back to her lunch, listening to Mesmero's story about gypsy curses and vampires, feeling perfectly at home.