Disclaimer: I don't own 'em.

A/N: Yes…like a bad case of herpes, I'M BACK! Just when you thought it was safe, here I am again with this little monstrosity – the one-shot that got way out of hand. Sorry to those who are actually following this fic along, though…I do have a very reasonable excuse for my overdue update. You see, I've battled along for the past few months between enrollment procedures at my uni, and also was heaped with the single-handed task of finding a house within the price-range of three miserably poor students. That's all good now, however. Still don't have a job, though…but that just means more time for me to waste with this, right?

Take consolation in the fact that the Gambit Confrontation scene is only one chapter away. Yes, we're almost at the end. Now, love it or shove it.

Inappropriate Conduct

Chapter Ten

Two weeks passed fairly uneventfully after the secret was revealed.

That wasn't to say that the whole situation was forgotten, swept under the rug. Far from it. Tension was at a record height – every occupant of the Institute seemed wired and tense, watching Rogue with a myriad of emotions in their eyes. The youngest students would whisper amongst themselves if they were grouped together, or stare at her in unabashed horror if they found themselves alone with her. Storm treated the pariah no differently, though her voice seemed to be pitched slightly higher than usual when she spoke to Rogue. Beast couldn't talk to her – he stumbled over words whenever he addressed her, and always eventually gave up any attempts at conversation with her at all. These were all expected reactions, though. Rogue would have found it unnerving if they'd been looking at her any other way. And while those reactions hurt her on a number of levels, it was the reactions of the remaining few that hurt her most.

Kitty and Kurt, with their initial worries set aside, were the only ones who would talk to Rogue openly. The conversation, however, was always kept clear of the choice she faced. Initially she hadn't been sure whether or not that was a good thing or bad, but with the rest of the Institute staring at her as if she were a lab rat with an ear on its back she was beginning to value their friendship more than ever.

Of Gambit, there was neither hide nor hair to be seen – he'd left on the day of the announcement, but not before sticking a post-it to the fridge that cited a date of return; three weeks from the day. Rogue wasn't sure what to expect when he returned, but she felt remarkably uncomfortable every time she looked at the fridge. She couldn't help but notice the deep-pressed writing, the hasty scribble it formed on that note. He was angry – there was no question of that.

Cyclops and Jean…well, Rogue had expected something from them. She had braced herself for a lecture of some sorts – she'd received nothing. Jean, when alone, would stare at Rogue as if she were a book in small print and was hard to read. With Scott, Jean would keep her eyes anywhere but on the resident black sheep. Scott, on the other hand, made a point of watching Rogue no matter if he were alone or with a group of others. It was impossible to know what he was thinking, with his glasses or visor always obscuring his eyes. His mouth, though, was set in a thin line whenever she was in the room – that single gesture spoke volumes of disappointment and contempt. The rest of his face was kept unemotionally blank. Needless to say, he didn't believe that she and Magneto had refrained from discussing, in-depth, the X-Men's security protocols and their progress both on-field and in Danger Room sessions – he had already crossed her out of mind as a traitor.

Lastly…there was Wolverine, who wouldn't even look at her.

If she sat down in a room, he would get up and leave it; if they passed in a hallway, he would stare at the light fixtures on the wall and pretend not to notice her; if she opened her mouth to say something, he would find a way to immerse himself in some other activity and not listen; if she asked for the peas over the dinner table, he would pretend not to hear her and Kurt would end up passing them instead.

It was an understatement to say that his determined avoidance of her merely hurt. Rogue could stand the silent, furious stare of Cyclops; she could ignore the scrutinizing, slightly frightened look of Jean; she could handle the hasty whispers and outright horror of the younger students; she was even secretly relieved that Gambit had disappeared to some undisclosed location and pushed back their confrontation for another week…but she couldn't bear this. She felt as though she'd suddenly ceased to exist.

After her initial sadness had worn off, her natural reaction to Wolverine's determined evasion was indignation. After a while more, she was blindly, furiously angry. It came on her suddenly…in actual fact, she'd been in the bathroom, drying her hair when this raging fury had enveloped her, bubbling up out of her annoyance. It had built as she pulled a brush through her half-dried tangles. A pent-up scream was rising in her throat by the time she had knotted her hair back in a ponytail. She couldn't understand it…it made no sense! Wolverine didn't avoid things, for God's sakes! This wasn't like the ordeal they suffered with Apocalypse – it was no where near as detrimental or ominous – and he sure as hell hadn't tried to pretend that wasn't happening!

Her mind told her that he was disappointed with her, probably. Ordinarily, Rogue would have deflated quickly and conceded that she was in the wrong…but why should she feel guilty? This was the first selfish, spontaneous thing she'd ever done while in Xavier's Institute, and it made her happy! Wasn't she allowed to be happy?

With a grimace at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, Rogue stormed out into the hallway and made a beeline for the Danger Room. She had to face Wolverine sometime, sure…but she was irrational when she was angry; she knew that much. She had to work off some steam.

Rogue's confrontation with Wolverine managed to be put off halfway into the week; Gambit was due to come back in two days. She wanted to get through at least this one talk before she had to face Remy, but even as her anger stirred her into seeking out her mentor there was something else that held her back from putting a real effort into it.

Guilt.

Yes, it was still there and now with more force, gnawing away at her so that she couldn't escape it for even the slightest moment and find peace. No happy thought, no bright memory could pierce through the gloom that settled around her. Conversation with Kurt and Kitty was clouded – their carefully concealed tension was becoming all the more apparent to her as the days went by. And there was no one else to find comfort from – the inhabitants of the Institute had all but closed off from her, just waiting for her to break away from them and become a part of their enemy's ranks. Thoughts of her terrifying affection for Magneto didn't help her, either, and – though she hadn't doubted what she felt once since she had admitted it – she found it odd that there was very little to comfort herself with in that love.

Though, it wasn't so surprising considering it was that very emotion which had her in such a position in the first place…

Sitting on the workbench in the garage, she snorted – a most unladylike sound, but in a most unladylike place, surrounded by drill bits, metal shavings and motor oil as she was. This was yet another half-hearted attempt to corner Wolverine; she knew that he could often be found in the garage, tuning up this or that, but it was just as likely she'd find him in the Danger Room, or talking quietly with Xavier, or in a pool hall just outside of the town. She'd picked the garage today, and stayed there, in the hopes that he would make his way down at some point. He wouldn't see her, at first – she could surprise him, corner him. If he showed up. If not, then…she'd camp out at the Danger Room tomorrow.

She began to fidget uncomfortably on the bench, her feet dangling over the edge in their scuffed-up Docs and her knees beginning to tingle with the beginnings of a bad case of pins-and-needles. She didn't know what to say, or how to begin. But getting started – getting him to speak to her at all – was probably the most difficult part, she'd reasoned with herself. And she had to stop being a chicken and finding excuses; she had to do this. She had to talk to the man at some point. She couldn't make a decision like this without the input of someone she spent so much time listening and looking up to.

Still, the impulse to run was strong.

But if she left…she'd regret it if she never even said 'bye' to him.

She scowled down at a drill bit and began pushing it around the bench with a gloved finger. Yes, 'if' she left. She was still no closer to making that decision – her choice was just as clear as it had been when the suggestion to leave had first been heaped on her. It would have been nice to at least be able to tell her mentor what she thought of the whole situation, but it was…it was still so surreal. Every morning, now, she had to see the frightened faces of the younger students or the disappointed glare of Cyclops before she could believe that all that had transpired over the past weeks wasn't just some strange creation of her subconscious in her dreams.

When she was fully aware of it, though, she was caught in so many places. Guilt, of course, was predominant as long as she kept inside the Institute grounds. Despair hit her at odd times, as well – it was easy to see that the conflict would be far from over once she made her choice, whichever way she turned. If she remained with the X-Men, there would be hideous tension; they wouldn't trust her and she would more than likely wind up wishing she hadn't taken Magneto's offer. If she did leave with Magneto, to Avalon, she would more than likely lapse into a pit of loneliness and self-pity that the Master of Magnetism would quickly become impatient with.

"Damned if ya do…" she muttered to herself, flicking a screw over the bench so that it scuttled noisily before it clinked against a wrench.

Hopefully, that could all be avoided by carefully weighing her options. Rogue reasoned that if she could find a way to be one-hundred percent sure in her decision then there would be debilitating anxieties to plague her later. She just had to assess her situation; she just had to be wary. There would be regrets, certainly, but not on the same level as what could be.

Now…if only she could get people to talk to her so she could actually weight up those options with impartial judgment and input from all angles…

As if prompted by her silent pleas, the door at the opposite end of the garage creaked open, cautiously. Light spilled in from the hallway beyond, but it didn't reach Rogue's corner. She froze, waiting, as a figure became discernable through the light. A short, wide figure. A figure that was topped by what could only be a cowboy hat.

Wolverine.

Rogue allowed herself a wry, faint smile. Here was a tiny victory – she'd cornered him, more or less.

As he fumbled for the light switch on the wall, slamming the door closed against the light that poured from the hallways of the Institute, cursing all the while, Rogue held her breath. He couldn't sense her so far – it would have to be difficult to pick up her scent from the opposite end of the garage, especially considering the lingering odors of oil, smoldering metal and burnt rubber that filled the air. But once the lights came on he'd see her.

She could only hope that he wouldn't turn and leave, again.

The lights overhead flickered to life and the garage was cast into luminescence. Every detail – the oil spots, the grit on the floor, the splinters swept into the corner – was visible to even the most unobservant eye under that harsh glare. Rogue drew in a deep breath, waiting, as Wolverine turned around.

His head lifted, and he stopped dead in his tracks.

Sure, his eyes were fixed on the garage doors – tightly shut against the natural brightness outside – but his peripheral vision had discovered the unwelcome presence; the very person he'd spent so much time avoiding. Rogue dropped her head in a brief, unpreventable show of guilt, before sliding off of the bench to land with a dull thud on her well-worn boots.

"Hi, stranger."

Wolverine straightened; his eyes narrowed. Rogue steeled herself, knowing what was coming. Anger. It was his natural response. "Ain't that my line?" he returned. His face had quickly warped into a snarl. This wasn't going to be at all easy.

Rogue recognized her safe avenue – agreement. "Ya right," she said quietly, nodding. She averted her eyes, but she kept herself from showing her guilt. "Ah'm not…Ah haven't been entirely honest."

"Jesus…"

"Ah never lied, though." She looked up at him again. "Ah just didn't say anythin'." She paused, but he didn't say anything – he just continued to stare furiously at her. Her heart sank a little. So much for 'just' confronting him. This wasn't getting any easier at all. It was almost as if her every word had to be caught individually and released carefully. "Look…Ah…" She closed her eyes, trying to block out the sight of him. "Ah didn't think. Ah got mahself in way over mah head…"

"Yeah. Good luck with that," was the cold reply.

She leaned back against the counter, her arms wrapping around her middle as she did. "Ah don't expect ya help, or ya sympathies. Ah don't expect ya understandin'. Ah just wanna explain mahself, alright? Hold off on condemnin' me until Ah've said mah piece, won't ya?"

Patience and her strategy to take the blame entirely worked; there was a scraping sound and, when Rogue opened her eyes again, Wolverine had pulled a stool from the nearest workbench and had sat down, arms crossed over his chest. The snarl had faded from his face, but it was still apparent that he was far from accepting this turn of events as given. "Well, kid?" he snapped. "You gonna say something, already?"

Rogue flinched.

Magneto was the first to admit that he wasn't a patient man. Nor was he trusting, as anyone could easily observe.

Alone – again – he paced the length of his study. The numerous books that had once lined the walls in their shelves were neatly and meticulously packed away: boxes of them stood at odd corners here and there, taped and ready to be shipped away. The sofas that had once sat by the window, and the coffee table that had accompanied them, were already in storage. The odd bookmarks, his spare reading glasses, the various journals that were often scattered around here and there were all absent as well. The room was devoid of all personal touches – well-worn volumes and empty coffee mugs; his favorite pen and the random manila folders – leaving the place feeling remarkably cold and lonely. He'd never noticed before just how heartening personal effects could be in a room.

Most of the compound was cleared out – this room was one of seven that still remained half-inhabited by him and a sparse few Acolytes…those who insisted on remaining with him, such as that determined young man Cortez and the bizarre, zealous Senyaka. These few stubbornly loyal followers were adamant that they would only leave for Avalon when he did. Even so, since he wouldn't divulge just what detained him, they were beginning to fidget. Some were beginning to grow insolent, asking for his reasons.

They received no indication, no hint of what held him to terra firma; their answers were cold, blunt replies that his motives were his own.

He would say, if asked by someone who already knew his motives, that he preferred to keep his private life away from his occupation, as it were. His Acolytes didn't require any knowledge of what he did when he wasn't a cold, direct commander. However, the actual fact of the matter was that he could only find himself feeling weak at the idea of admitting – to anyone, himself included – that he was deliberately waiting for Rogue's answer.

…Especially if she should choose to remain with the X-Men.

It would be one thing to deal with the pain of losing yet another love: it would be another entirely to suffer under pitying glances, hidden snickers and confused expressions. His followers wouldn't understand his reasons – they only knew him as an emotionless leader, seeking to carve out a real and comfortable place in the world for mutantkind. They more than likely hadn't considered that – old as he was – he wanted the companionship of a woman. They hadn't thought that he would have a heart, especially when considering how they knew he dispatched of traitors and enemies. They definitely wouldn't have begun assuming he would have found a companion in an enemy, and one so far from his own age. And, in the unlikely situation that they had figured out his motives for lingering, they would begin to postulate the reasons why he hadn't simply told the woman in question of his intent, and that he would expect an answer as to whether or not she would accompany him when he next sought her out, at his own leisure.

That was the Magneto they were used to, after all.

Other worries stemmed from here. Had Rogue realized how callous he could be? Had she heard of his more gruesome methods of extracting information and exacting punishment? Perhaps she had deduced his true motives for asking her to leave with him? Perhaps more falsified – and hopefully more undesirable – motives had been suggested to her by the X-Men; perhaps they had convinced her that he was using this ploy to recruit her as an Acolyte? Would she believe them, if that were the case? Or would she see the truth in his promises to her?

…Perhaps, worst of all, she had – in this time allocated to her for contemplation – found that what she felt for him wasn't strong enough to warrant leaving the X-Men?

Paranoia was forever grasping his mind; he knew, in some intrinsic way, that these worries were unfounded. He knew that Rogue, unabashedly honest when confused or angry as she was, would have told him quite plainly that she didn't care for him…should that be the case. Their last liaison – so very long ago, it seemed – held enough evidence of her affection; unfettered by their initial harsh restrictions, she had clung closer to him than ever and touched him more freely. She had laughed with him; she had panicked when he had insinuated that their relationship would begin to dwindle due to sparse, limited trysts and a long distance between them; she had reluctantly left his side only when the approaching dawn couldn't be ignored any longer.

However…if she truly intended on leaving with him, wouldn't she have found a way to seek him out by now…?

That was the only paranoid thought that couldn't be assuaged by Reason. He had no way of knowing whether it was a justifiable concept, save for arriving to demand an answer well before the assigned date and time. The only thing that kept him from doing so was the fear that perhaps his paranoid mind was correct. Perhaps she had weighted her options and found life with the X-Men was preferable – in its unchanging rigidity – to the unpredictable, uncertain future that she faced should she choose him and Avalon. After all, he had made no actual plans for her, as far as she was aware – could she turn her life over into his hands, and trust that he wouldn't misuse her or forget her? He had given her no assurances, either, so…

But surely, if she was as perceptive as her powers undoubtedly made her, she would have realized that he never made a decision that he didn't contemplate from every possibly angle, calculating every probable outcome. She had seen inside his mind – something that previously only Charles had done – and would be able to comprehend, if not understand and sympathize with, his logic. She would know his motives, his mode of operations. She would have to know that he wouldn't merely act on a whim…well, not entirely. He was a strategist; she knew this.

Magneto finally stopped pacing and sat down heavily in his desk chair, glaring at the empty bookcases in front of him. He had to find some other occupation. This incessant worrying was depriving him of much-needed vitality. He was beginning to look his full seventy-three years again, for God's sakes. He had to stop analyzing this situation so damn much.

The fact of the matter was that he had to wait. As much as it irked him, there was no other option. He refused to cut Rogue's deadline to two weeks, when he had promised her a month – it would only damage his chances of leaving with her should he begin to act the dictator out of pure impatience and (though he refused to admit it aloud) carefully checked fear. He had promised to remain apart from her so that she could pick through what her teammates told her, in a concise and careful manner – he would honor that promise, despite his own internal conflict. At a later date she would have to deal with his unreasonable, demanding side…when she could accept it. Now wasn't the time to present his irrational, mistrustful persona.

Yes, he would have to remain patient – that was all there was to it, despite that it went against his very nature. Even if she was blind to the oddly compelling affection that he felt for her…even if his argument regarding the obligation that the X-Men held her to hadn't struck the chord he expected it to in her, and even if she felt that he couldn't offer her security and the chance to 'make a difference' (even if only as a passive peacekeeper, as she was used to)…his offer of power would tempt her.

If nothing else, there was always power.

There was a sharp knock at the door. Magneto looked away from the bookshelves, glad to be interrupted for once – anything that kept his mind out of his paranoia was welcome, these days. "Enter," he told this diversion.

The door opened and there stood Cortez. "Lord Magneto," the redheaded man began, inclining his head in respect, "contact has finally been established between this base and Avalon. The command there awaits your orders for the week."

Magneto rose from his seat. "Very well." Cortez inclined his head once again, then turned back into the hallway beyond the door and strode away. Magneto moved around the desk, in no particular hurry, as his thoughts came back to where they had left off much to his disgust and dismay – he could assure himself from morning until night, but his paranoia was always there and it would continue to be so until he saw Rogue again.

"Ah'm not gonna explain how or why it happened, 'cause Ah don't understand 'how' mahself, an' the reason 'why' keeps changin'…"

"How the hell is that supposed to make sense?"

"It doesn't, Ah guess. But that's just what happens. There's just somethin' that…"

"Christ."

"What?"

"Do I wanna hear this part?"

Rogue closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She forgot how quickly her patience wore down when she talked with equally impatient people…even Wolverine. "Ah'm not gonna divulge any sordid details, if that's ya problem," she said with visible persistence. "Ah'm tryin' ta explain why Ah've done what Ah've done…an' why leavin' the Institute is somethin' Ah'm actually considerin'."

"You think I wanna hear that, either?"

Smack. She slammed her gloved hand down on the workbench behind her. "Dammit, Wolverine! If ya don't give a crap then why did ya sit ta listen? Ah'm tryin' ta work out a cornerstone decision in mah life here! If ya don't want a part in that, then we're both wastin' our time here!"

Wolverine rose from the workbench stool he sat on, slowly. His infamous rage was evident on his face. "Sounds like you already made up your mind," he told her as his jaw set.

Rogue snorted humorlessly. "Everyone's makin' that decision for me, actually. Ah'm not really gettin' a say." She narrowed her eyes at the man. "Cyclops already has me crossed off as a teammate. Jean looks at me like Ah'm incomprehensible. Beast won't even look at me. Xavier makes me feel like Ah'm walkin' on eggshells. Kitty an' Kurt look like they're gettin' ready ta say 'bye'. An' now you…" She pointed a long, gloved finger at him. "You're tellin' me quite clearly what the others just won't say – as ya do. Ah'm a traitor, aren't Ah? Ah'm scum. Ah'm gonna leave whether Ah want ta stay or not. No one wants ta hear mah reasons for considerin' this – no one wants ta try understand, 'cause it makes them uncomfortable. It makes them question their own position – what they'd do if they were me. It makes them wonder just what it means ta have mah power, mah screwed-up background. It makes them feel weird, so they avoid it!

"Everyone just assumes, too, that it's 'cause he can touch me." Rogue crossed her arms over her chest, looking disgusted. "As if Ah were that superficial. They don't even know why he asked – they don't know why Ah listened ta him. They don't know what's between us, but they think they've got all the damn facts. Well, it ain't like that! The ability ta touch wouldn't have me wantin' ta leave with him – even Ah know that that alone isn't enough ta give up ya hopes and dreams for. There's more to it, but who cares! They know there's more an' they avoid knowin'. It's just easier if Ah'm wrong an' they're right, isn't it? This way, Ah'm shallow an' stupid, Magneto's a manipulative villain an' the X-Men are still the righteous heroes. It's all black an' white, with no messy shades of grey. They don't have ta wonder just what it would take for them ta leave; they don't have ta start rethinkin' themselves, second-guessin' what they thought they knew…"

"So that's what you think yer doin'?" Wolverine cut in. "Re-evaluating yourself? Questionin' your motives?" He grimaced and shook his head, but his furious expression began to ease slightly. "What about him? His motives? He ain't a good person."

"That ain't strictly true," Rogue said, but she was calming down significantly. "He's not a monster."

Wolverine scrubbed a hand over his face and dropped back to his seat. "He's a killer."

"Pot, kettle?" Rogue raised an eyebrow, but made sure to keep any judgmental feeling out of her expression and tone.

"Yeah, but I live with that. Does he?"

"He doesn't beat himself up over it, if that's what ya mean. He has ta justify the death before he kills a person." Rogue began to absently twist a lock of her hair between her fingers. "He doesn't get a sick thrill out of it, if that's what ya wanna know."

"You sure?"

She tapped the side of her head. "Real sure."

Wolverine grunted. A silence fell between them for a moment. "They say Magneto's in love with you, kid."

"The Professor told me the same thing."

"An' what's ol' Buckethead say?"

"Ah've never asked; he's never told." She started tugging at the strand of hair she was twisting. "It's on mah list of things ta ask him, before Ah make mah decision."

"When do ya plan on askin', then?"

"When he comes ta hear mah choice."

"So you're leavin' it to the last minute?"

Rogue smiled wanly. "Just like how Ah always did mah homework." She shook her head, becoming serious again. "Ah'll have everythin' Ah need ta know ta make a good decision, once Ah've asked a few things of him."

"An' then?"

"Well…that's still undecided, isn't it?"

Wolverine nodded, seeming to accept this if nothing else. He was silent for a moment, looking uncomfortable. When he finally looked at her again, he just looked tired. "I want you ta stay, Stripes. I like havin' you around."

Rogue couldn't help but smile genuinely. "Ya know, no one else was that direct."

"You know me…I don't do that bullshit hundred-questions stuff." He rose up again and made his way over to her, leaning against the workbench as well. "Look, kid…I know you don't give a crap one way or the other what Cyke or Red think about you. You prob'ly mind a little that Beast can't even remember what a verb is in your presence, but I know you're waitin' for Gambit ta get back. You're waitin' ta hear what he thinks of all this." When she nodded, he snorted. "Whatever he says, don't listen to him."

She looked up at him in surprise. "What if he says ta stay?"

"I didn't mean do the opposite of what he says, kid. Just don't take him into account, alright?" He levered himself off of the workbench, picking up a wrench as he went. "You shoulda never given that guy the time of day."

Light dawned and Rogue's eyebrows almost disappeared into her hairline. "You think he's ta blame for…this?"

"I get the feelin' it sure as hell wouldn't have happened if he'd just stayed in the goddamn Bayou."

Rogue blinked. "Prob'ly not, actually." She smiled slightly as Wolverine grunted again and popped the hood on one of the vans. "He's not ta blame, Mr. Logan. Ah'm the guilty party here."

"Don't think so." He disappeared from sight behind the upright hood of the van. "I know you, kid. You didn't come onto Magneto. It was the other way 'round."

She couldn't help but blush slightly, as her memories brought her back to that first night in verification. "True," she admitted. "But Ah could've said 'no'."

There was a noise of frustration and Wolverine glared at her around the car hood. "Y'see, this is the shit I don't wanna hear. I'm better off not knowin' where he got the idea you'd say 'yes'."

Rogue made a face. "Thank ya. Ah love havin' matters of mah personal life reduced ta some sordid…"

"Kid…"

"Alright, alright…" She sighed restlessly, but smiled. "So ya…don't hate me?"

"Havin' a heart just makes ya human." He disappeared around the hood again.

"Right." She bit her bottom lip, feeling a dam of relief break over her. Limbs that she hadn't even been aware held tension abruptly relaxed. Her smile widened. "Thank ya, Mr. Logan."

"Don't thank me, Stripes. I'm still gonna gut that sonofabitch if I can get close enough."

"Who? Magneto or Gambit?"

"Pick one."

A/N: Ha! X-Movie reference! Anyway, it's now REVIEW TIME!

N.M.C.L: I think Gambit could've stood to be angrier. Still, taking off for three weeks without any prior notice pretty much gives highlight to just how pissed off he is, no:) Hope you enjoyed the Wolverine/Rogue convo. I'm trying to give her a few allies here. She needs them, after all. I can't see Logan getting irreversibly, permanently mad with one of his favorites, so…yes. He's not happy, per se, but he doesn't hate her. Hope you enjoyed the update and thankies for the review.

ishandahalf: Holy further revelations, Batman! You liked the tension in the last one, you said – so how 'bout these apples? Just when you think he's going to hate her eternally, BAM! Semi-happies! As for the Gambit Confrontation (TM!)…it's a-comin'. Next chapter, actually…and I'm out of my writer's block bit, so it shouldn't be too far away. There are so many possibilities for it – him driving her away, him invoking deeper feelings for him in her, etc, etc. I'm twitchy with all the possibilities! But I know what I'm going to write…and, yes, it will pretty much cinch the whole decision for her. His opinion matters, I believe, because she feels so guilty – and it was her relationship with Gambit that first inspired that guilt. So she's attached some importance to what he says. Anyway, that'll probably be discussed next chapter. Well, since I fell short of giving you a preview for the last two chapters, here's one rather long one now (note: this passage is subject to editing): "It's your decision, chère," he said, leaning against the doorframe casually but staring at her intently in a way that conveyed no expression at all. His hand clenched around the unlit cigarette, ruining it, but he didn't notice. "If I start tellin' y' what t' do, Ah'll loose y'. Can't do that."

thriller: I could probably pull together a sequel without Rogue leaving. Of course, Magneto would feature again and all these issues would arise much more…just in a more stressful environment – WAR! With the blood and the dieing and the hey-hey. Anyway…enough of that. The sequel probably will arrive, now that this is coming to a close and I have my creative streak back. Seriously, how long as my writer's block been going on? A month? More? Well, enough of that. P.S: regarding your name, I like it just the way it is. Don't know why; I just do. There's my two cents. So, thank you for the review and I hope you enjoyed this latest installment!

willowaus: The moment of truth nears! Rogue's decision is two chapters away (I've already made up my mind on the outcome…but I'm not telling!). Next up, however, we have the Gambit Confrontation. There's a reaction we're all waiting for… Hopefully, I haven't lost you as a reader with my sub-par updating powers, so you'll be around to read it. :) I can also almost guarantee you a sequel, too (hopefully I can update it more regularly…bleh). Anyway, thankies for the input – please feel free to review again!

Elle Mooreside: Soap opera, eh? I can see it. Rogue would then announce she is pregnant (despite the fact that I have her using birth control pills…), and that – somehow – Gambit is the father. Either Magneto or Gambit would then die, in some bizarre manner, only to reappear later down the track with some ridiculously circuitous story explaining his absence. Anyway…as you have just read, Wolvie is preparing to rip something to shreds – he's not particularly picky about the subject of this shredding, either – and Gambit is absent, blowing off some steam somehow, somewhere. But, I regret to inform…Bobby will continue to wear pants from now on. Thank you for the cinnamon buns, by the way – they were internetily delicious. :)

jdehn: Thank you! I'm particularly proud of my Xavier and Magneto portraying. The trick is to think like an old man. That's all there is to it. :) Tee hee! Anyway, thanks for the review. I hope you continue to read on…yes, come to the Dark Side. It's fun over here. There's a secret handshake and everything.

RogueBHS: I love the comics-Scott, but I just have something against this particular animated incarnate. I even liked the rod-up-the-butt Cyke from the 90's animated series more. There won't be any yelling from Scott to Rogue…but he might take it out on Magneto. Hm…that sounds like a good idea, actually. It makes some sense, too, because it's more likely that – even if a teammate 'betrayed' the X-Men – he'd still be more ready to vent his frustration and anger on the one who coaxed the aforementioned teammate to the Dark Side. Hm. Anyway, thanks for the feedback. Hope I haven't lost you as a reader with my lousy updating skills!

Pakkrat: You have one awesome name, I have to say. Anyway, back on topic. Yes, I'm familiar with the Age of Apocalypse – best alternative timeline ever, as far as I'm concerned! Marvel's attempting to revive it, too. Nice. Thank you for the compliments re: my writing abilities and thank you especially for calling me an artist! No one's ever called me that before! …I don't think. Well, my memory's like that of a goldfish, so they may very well have…but I don't think so. What was I say again:) Anyway, thanks for the review and I think I may just go and have a peek at your stories – if not all, than at least the Mague one!

Christina: Mm, I hope she goes with him too. :) Sorry for the lousy update-waiting period – I cite stress as my reason. Well, the update's here now, and I'm out of my writer's block funk. There's probably even going to be a sequel, if I can keep my happy creative thoughts flowing. Anyway, thankies for the review and feedback!

Green Envy: Yes, I did take my sweet ol' time updating, didn't I:) I'm dieing to see the conclusion up and posted, personally. So I can get to the sequel. Also, just so I can read it and either make myself sad if she doesn't go with him, or make myself happy if she does. I've made up my mind which choice she's making…but I can't tell! Must remain vague! Mwa ha ha ha ha ha! (Again, sorry for the gap between updates…)