Disclaimer: I don't own 'em.

A/N: …cue the dramatic music!

Yes, people, we've finally reached the conclusion! The one shot that got far too out of hand is almost at an end and, I must say that – despite my patchy updating and rather lousy, inconvenient bursts of inspiration – I really enjoyed writing this. I was actually going to write y'all a sequel. See! That's what you get when you encourage me with nice reviews and praise! A sequel to this bizarre, occasionally confusing, often tasteless hellspawn of the mind! I've already got a plot sketched out and everything. I'm not sure when I'll start posting it, if ever, but be warned…it's possible to start a-comin'. :) But I might just move on to a better project. If not, the sequel's called 'Irrelevant Convolution'.

Well…wasn't that a confusing passage to follow? So much 'maybe', 'perhaps' and 'I dunno'. I wish I could give you something more definite. I will tell you, though, that regardless as to whether or not I put up a sequel there will at least be a new fic staring this pairing that I so dearly love. So…yeah.

Anyway, we all know what's coming now – Rogue's decision. We've suffered the strange evolution of her relationship with Magneto; we've watched Gambit screw up a relationship with a woman he later and somewhat unwitting admits to loving; we've seen the X-Men buckle under the hideous threat of one of their own leaving them for their sworn enemy; we've listened to Magneto's internal monologues as he went through the most fun symptoms of the bi-polar syndrome we've all long suspected him to suffer under. Now…it's all coming to a close.

Once more and finally (for now)…love it or shove it.

Inappropriate Conduct

Chapter Twelve

It seemed like so very long ago, that first night, but she could remember it so vividly that it was hard to think of it as a past event.

Rogue closed her eyes against all external imagery, leaning back into the soft pillows at her head as she remembered every detail. She hadn't even been aware of how closely she'd been paying attention to the little things – the delicious flavors of the food; the warm scent of the burning candles; the clink of cutlery mingling with quiet conversation and the soft chords of a piano. Given her ability to reminisce on the smallest details, it was none too surprising that she also was able to recall him rather clearly. His charcoal grey suit and his steely eyes; the low, masculine tone of his voice and the genuine sympathy he offered her; the courteous invitation to wait with her for a taxi…

The heated glances he threw her every so often…

The way he'd watched her as though captivated…

She opened her eyes again and pressed a cool hand to her warming forehead. Good Lord, she was swooning and he wasn't even there. It was probably best he never heard about this, or she'd suffer under his ego for it 'til the end of days.

Assuming she was there with him to see the 'end of days', that was.

With a frustrated noise, she turned her head in her nest of pillows to look at the alarm clock on her bedside table. It blinked back at her – red on black – that it was only just past noon.

Magneto wouldn't be there to see her until nine forty-five – he'd given her the exact time to the minute.

Rogue smiled slightly and leaned back again, staring up at the immaculate white ceiling of what might not be her room any longer from this day forward. Nine forty-five, if she remembered correctly, would be the approximate time she had entered the restaurant on that fateful night. Magneto certainly had a flair for the dramatic. Rogue, on the other hand, had a knack for incessantly putting things off, it would seem.

She still didn't have a firm decision in mind.

It seemed that both sides was equally balanced. Power and comfort with Magneto, or familiar chaos and a place as a peacekeeper with the X-Men – either option had its merits and drawbacks. It was as if her reasons, her motives and her considerations were neatly piled into a pair of scales, but the only movement upwards or downwards on either side was only momentary and caused by a slight ripple in the atmosphere. She was still waiting for a little more information.

Namely, the information which only Magneto could give her.

She already knew what questions she would ask him. She'd had a month to figure them out, after all. Some of them were less pressing to her final decision than others – she felt that she could still make an informed choice without knowing how Avalon was kept in orbit, for one thing, but it would certainly assuage a little voice of paranoia that had watched too many sci-fi movies involving an exploding planet, a doomsday device or damaged spaceship. Still…she needed answers. If he expected her to join him – as his equal, as he so vehemently told her she would be – then he would have to expect to divulge a little sensitive information. If he hadn't expected it…well, tough bacon rinds. She wouldn't make her decision without all the information she needed.

Sure, she was irrational most of the time…but with something this important and drastic, she knew she couldn't just act spontaneously and without caution. This could probably alter the course of her very life. It would certainly determine her short-term future for a good while…

Exhaling, she looked at the clock on her bedside table again. Five past twelve. Why did time have to move so slowly when she only wanted it to race by? There was no possibility of making her decision now; she needed to talk to Magneto. And she wouldn't be able to do that until nine forty-five.

Another nine hours and forty minutes to waste…

"D-Day, huh?"

Xavier glanced up from the spreadsheets in front of him and cast a look at Wolverine, who was surprisingly calm. "When Rogue first had me impart the turn of circumstances to the X-Men," he said carefully, "I remember quite plainly that you seethed in ill-disguised anger for the entire twenty minutes it took for me to properly and carefully deliver the necessary facts." His expression turned somewhat disbelieving. "Dare I hope that at least one of the residents of the Institute, aside from Katherine and Kurt, didn't ignore my suggestion to talk to Rogue, and hear the events as told by her?"

"Sorta."

"Logan?"

"She found me."

Xavier smiled slightly and turned back to the mass of papers in front of him.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, dammit," Wolverine groused, sitting down in one of the armchairs opposite Xavier's desk and looking a little more irritable than before. "Besides…didn't do our case much good anyway, gettin' me to talk to her. Half-pint came to breakfast almost in tears tellin' the elf how Stripes has pulled a suitcase out this morning."

"Tell me, how long do the students remain indignant once you assign them those monikers?"

"Jesus, Chuck…Stripes is gonna leave an' you're crackin' wiseass remarks at me. You don't want the kid to stay anymore, or what?"

Xavier looked up again. "Rogue is welcome here no matter which option she chooses. And I can assure you that she hasn't made up her mind regarding Magneto's offer just yet."

"Well, she ain't got much more time to figure it out."

"True." Xavier put down his pen. "But she's made the rather admirable decision to not let emotional attachment become too strong an argument regarding this matter. She has, so far, decided that both sides have their own merits and that these merits weigh equally. She is unable to reach a decision, logically, until she is given the information that will push her in one direction or another." He leaned back in his wheelchair, frowning slightly. "This information will come from Magneto."

"She's not gonna have a decision by the time he gets here." Wolverine nodded. "That's just what she told me."

"Then we have consistency," Xavier replied, nodding. "Her decision will be made once she has asked him a few questions – what he intends for her to do as a part of this utopian society, just what he supposed to mean by saying she would be his 'equal', et cetera. There are a few more personal questions that I didn't…"

"You read her mind, huh?"

"It wasn't my finest hour, Wolverine." Xavier picked up his pen again and looked down at the spreadsheets once more. "But I did request the information from her – she divulged it willingly, only hiding those personal matters from me and excluding me from any further details of the situation…a courtesy which I am grateful for, more than anything. One often stumbles upon things that should not be seen by anyone but the mind's beholder, in the memories and thoughts of an undisciplined mind."

"So that's why you had all the kids start meditation with Storm."

"Indeed. It assured them that their innermost secrets would remain so, should the need ever arise for me to see inside their minds."

"Also makes sure you don't see…"

"Please do not finish that sentence."

Wolverine made a disgusted face. "I wasn't gonna say anything like that, God dammit. You think I wanna talk about what your old buddy gets up to with Stripes? The girl's like a kid sister ta me."

"I'm aware. I trust, also, that you would have told her as much?"

"Sorta."

Xavier looked up again, frowning. "I would have thought that…"

"I don't do that heartfelt crap."

"Your pride took precedence over your want to keep Rogue in the Institute?"

"Jesus, Chuck…" Wolverine shook his head, but looked somewhat regretful. "She knows, alright? I told her I want her to stay. Why the hell is it so important fer you ta know what I told her, anyway?"

"Because you are one of the few people here that she has made an attachment to," Xavier explained as he returned his focus to the sheets of paper on his desk. "Hearing that from you would mean much more to her than to receive the same declaration from Jubilee or Storm. Just as you regard her as a younger sister, she looks up to you as she would an older brother. She puts a great deal of importance in your words – she cares quite strongly what you think of her. Why else would she make sure to speak with you before she made this decision?"

"Yeah, I know…"

"The problem here is that you don't believe your words had any effect at all." Xavier drew a heavy line under a figure in the spreadsheet he was studying. "But I can assure you, your input has helped. It will see that Rogue makes an informed decision, but it also strengthens the argument in the favor our team. And that may sound heartless – I'm aware – but in actuality I do value Rogue as both a student and a member of the X-Men. However, since she is approaching this decision logically – realizing that it is such an important, life-altering choice to make – our general outlook cannot remain entirely emotional either. It weakens the argument." He glanced up briefly at the other man, then looked back down at his work again. "Your conversation with her gave her objective information as well as a reminder of her emotional attachment to the Institute. Your input has helped."

"I wasn't 'objective', Goddamn it. I just talked to her. Asked what I wanted ta know. Gave her answers when she asked me questions."

"Rogue is used to looking beyond what she hears. Her powers give her a deeper understanding to the words spoken by the people she has absorbed. Though I can't imagine she would need to search for anything further in what you told her; you're not exactly the kind to hold back your opinion, are you?"

"Was that supposed to be funny, Chuck?"

Xavier smiled slightly, but didn't look up. "You're worrying needlessly. Even if she leaves the Institute, as long as you want to remain in contact with her she will not severe all ties, I can assure you. She certainly won't be forgetting Shadowcat and Nightcrawler…why would your case be different?"

Wolverine snorted. "You think he'd let her stay in contact with the X-Men?"

"As irrational as Erik can be, he would realize that forcing her to exclude the people she cares for from her life would be all it would take to convince her to remain here."

"Huh." There was a short silence between them. "Any way you could make him say that to her, then?"

"Erik would kill me."

"Bullshit."

"Actually, he would react quite violently, I imagine, if I did any such thing. As I have said, he is irrational. He was defensive enough with me when I told him that he was walking a dangerous path, that men in the autumn of their days are often prone to becoming infatuated with younger women. And Erik never did do anything in a half-way or incomplete manner. It is clear that my prying is something that could force his anger to the forefront in this matter." Xavier made a notation in a margin on the sheet in front of him. "He is a determined man, besides – that determination has destroyed the will of the strong before now…it has ended lives, on occasion. The only thing that would dissuade him in this endeavor is Rogue's own refusal of his offer. Any outside interference would lead to…less than desirable outcomes."

"Jesus…" Wolverine leaned back in his seat. "Ya really gotta wonder why Rogue's still goin' along with this."

"Love blinds us to all imperfections. She loves him."

"She wouldn't gut anyone who tried to keep her away from him, though."

"No…but I imagine that the offender wouldn't escape injury entirely."

"Probably not," Wolverine agreed, nodding as a reflective expression clouded his eyes for a moment. "She's nothin' like him, though. She's got determination, but…she's not gonna destroy anything ta get what she wants."

"True. Hopefully, her reluctance to choose violence over a diplomatic solution will wear down Erik's own overzealous convictions, should she leave with him. Perhaps she might instill a little more humanity into the man."

"That'll be the day."

Xavier shook his head and looked up. "He may have made himself an enemy of the X-Men, but he is not a monster."

Wolverine's expression twisted into a snarl. "Yeah? I remember my time with Weapon X…they thought Sabertooth could be humanized, too."

"There is a vast difference between those two men. The only common ground they have is their violent reaction to their previous, separate incarcerations." Xavier put down his pen and rubbed his forehead. "This is an unproductive argument. And it is besides the point, in any case."

"How's questionin' Stripes' safety with him 'besides the point'?"

"Because the point for the moment is whether or not Rogue will, in actual fact, be leaving at all."

"An' we don't know the answer to that."

"But we do have our assumptions."

Wolverine snorted. "The gut instinct, huh? Mine's tellin' me she's gonna leave."

"Very pessimistic. I personally believe that Magneto will be unable to answer her questions due to his afflicting pride and stubbornness, and she will decide to remain here."

"Optimist."

"You should know by now that I am capable of nothing less than eternal hope." (A/N: Direct quote from Uncanny X-Men #412! Whee!)

Wolverine rolled his eyes and got to his feet. "Right."

"Are you going to talk to Rogue again?"

"I'm gonna try calm down Half-pint and the elf. Regurgitate that shit you just spun me. They're optimists. An' they can talk to Stripes easier than I can."

Magneto watched the darkness settle over the well-kept greenery beyond his study window, as he stood rigid-backed and tense. The blackened room he stood in was empty, save for his helmet on the carpeted floor at his feet and the old clock on the wall. He was starting to loathe that clock, with it's incessant tick, tick, ticking; he was very much tempted to crush the thing with a gesture…but, for the moment, the noise was the only thing that kept him stationary and reasonably held together.

There he stood, his jaw set uncomfortably tight and his eyes notably bloodshot, cursing each slow minute as it passed him by in gloom and emptiness. There he would stand for the last time, tonight and hopefully forever – he never intended to return to that lonely hovel of a room. However…there he would stand until the clock on the wall struck nine. Then he would leave – leave the lonely hovel, the empty compound, the contemptible world as a whole. And, if there was a merciful force on his side that night…he wouldn't be leaving alone.

…It truly was a contemptible development.

He had hoped, by the final day of waiting, that he might have been able to pull himself together sufficiently. In the least, he could have appeared ready to finally hear Rogue's decision. Instead, he found himself wretchedly haggard and pathetically hesitant. As the day began to fade to dusk – as six o'clock rolled by with each second acting as an agonizing torture – he found that he was tempted to merely leave for Avalon, alone. It was defensiveness at it's more pure – to leave her before she had the chance to reject him. The idea became even more tempting as seven o'clock passed, and darkness settled well and truly over his lightless study.

The Acolytes were already preparing the aircraft in the hangar. He had informed Cortez, briefly, that he had matters to attend to – an appointment after nine that he had to keep. Once he returned, they would leave. He gave no definite time of return, since he couldn't say himself when that would be. But this was something the Acolytes were used to. It was fairly common that they would receive only half an hour's preparation before an attack; he made certain that the drills they ran were sporadic and unscheduled, as he was determined that his troops would be ready for anything, at any time. He could be mistaken as impulsive and indecisive by most – the truth was, however, that he rarely told anyone what was turning about in his mind. He liked to be an enigma. It served him well to remain vague.

…

By God, how he wished he hadn't given her an entire month to decide.

He could literally feel his skin hanging from him; he hadn't slept well in weeks. His mind was constantly darting from one thing to another. All manners of scenarios played in his head, and – thanks to his chronic paranoia – none of them seemed to be in his favor which only worsened his chances of sleeping. He couldn't find a moment's rest and was constantly twitching with nervous, exhausted energy. It was pathetic, deplorable. He felt weaker than he could ever remember – he truly felt his age when he stood and moved.

It didn't help that, through all this, he was still lusting after her as strongly as ever.

None of this should have ever happened. He should have taken his satisfaction of the girl on that first night and left it at that. She'd made it quite clear – while he was able to touch her and deliver to her experiences that she wasn't likely to see with any other man without intense, careful training – that the fate of their illicit affair had been in his hands. She had made no demands, promised nothing but availability and asked nothing in return…but he had pushed for so very much more, craving all that he could have. And now he was atoning for it. He was suffering an agonizing hell of his frayed patience while he waited for her, pathetically restraining himself from either leaving without her or storming her residence with demands for an answer.

Neither option was a possibility, however. He needed her answer – whatever it was – so that he could shake off this incessant paranoia, but at the same time he knew it would be against his interests to force an answer from her without regard for his promise. Only once he either had her or had lost her would he be able to find a moments peace again. Preferable – obviously – was the former situation, but even without her there would be some peace with her answer, given that situation would only replace nerve-wracking paranoia with miserable loneliness.

The clock on the wall was the last remaining piece of furniture, and the only one that he was determined would be exempted from packing; he wasn't going to watch that damned thing any longer, pining like a miserable little boy with a crush. It ticked by eight thirty, currently. In half an hour, he would leave to find her. He couldn't imagine the reception he would receive at Xavier's mansion. He couldn't imagine much, right at that moment. His mind was an incoherent mess, but with one goal rising above the torrent of thoughts and conflicting analyses. That goal could only know victory or failure at nine-thirty, however.

…An hour away.

It may as well have been another damned month.

It was a rare occurrence that the Institute was silent on a Friday night.

However, it wasn't as impossible as it had once seemed – at that moment, the only sound that could be heard through the gaping corridors was an eerie whispering behind a sparse few doors. Occasionally, there was a creak and groan as the mansion settled in the cold, quiet night. A gentle but chilly breeze stirred outside, and scattering leaves could be heard despite the windows being closed. There was no audible movement in any quarter; there was no commonplace loud, excited laughter emanating from the Recreation Room or the often full kitchen; not one stereo, television or computer was turned on; there were no feet running between dormitories in the students' wing. It was almost as if there was no life whatsoever in the Institute.

Of course, there was life. However, each and every one of the residents seemed to have secluded themselves in some room or other behind a closed door, speaking only in hushed voices and being careful not to be heard over the sounds of the night outside. Every ear was straining to hear, listening for the telltale creak of the front gates. Every eye was darting to whatever window was nearest every so often, somewhat fearful of what they might see beyond the glass panes. Every muscle was tense, waiting…

The clock in the foyer played a half-tune, signaling the middle of the ninth hour of the evening. It's deep, brassy notes carried around the wide, cavernous room and beyond, to the ears of the anxious inhabitants of the house. Mouths suddenly went dry and pulses picked up in pace at the sound of the tune. All whispering, all movement ceased as they waited for what noise would come next.

Waiting is always counterproductive. A person is often stationary, wasting precious seconds, minutes or hours as they wait for a designated place in time. It seems that – in a show of pure spite – time lags all the more when a person waits for it to pass. Time should never be wasted waiting. There's always something else that can be done. For example, rather than waiting for whatever it is approaching you…

…You can approach it, instead.

Rogue opened her bedroom door, cringing as the hinges squeaked loudly in the cavernous silence of the hallway. She left the door open and squared her shoulders, moving towards the stairs with deliberate, steady strides.

The floorboards groaned under her feet as she walked. Undoubtedly, the quiet residents of the Institute would know it was her. Inevitably, they would soon be peering around the threshold of their rooms and watching her descend the stairs. Certainly, they would watch her from the windows of the corridors that overlooked the gardens. Perhaps some would follow her as far as the foyer.

Though, she knew they wouldn't dare move any closer than that.

They probably didn't even know what they were so afraid of. At least Rogue knew why her heart was palpitating wildly, why her breathing had become shallow so suddenly, why every step forward felt labored. Yes, she was afraid just as a good few of the Institute's residents would have to be, but for an entirely different reason. Rogue wasn't afraid of Magneto. She respected his power, she knew what he was capable of, and she had discovered personally what it meant to be on the receiving end of his wrath, but she didn't fear him for any of those things.

She only feared what he would tell her.

No matter what he told her, something was going to have been finished with by the end of the night. It only remained to be seen just what would be finished – her time with the X-Men, or her relationship with him? Despite all her careful deliberation and assessing, she still couldn't determine which situation would be worse to bear. Only the truthful answers from him could seal her decision, and even then…

Rogue was determined, however. She would be making her decision tonight – there would be no more delays. There couldn't be, in any case. Tonight, he was leaving…either with or without her.

But she was prepared.

She'd expected, at the beginning of the months with all that time stretching ahead of her, that she would have come up with an arsenal of questions to barrage him with at this point. In reality, she only had one thing that she wanted to ask him – one thing that should hopefully cover it all. It felt inadequate in it's simplicity…but it was all she needed to know.

At the top of the stairs, she paused. Carefully, she smoothed down her green skirt at the waist and tugged the cuffs of her white fitted shirt into place properly. She wore her old, everyday gloves still – she was sure there was some significance in doing so, but she couldn't think what. In any case, she'd put herself together in the way that he liked her to be – feminine and soft; high heels, opaque stockings and her hair swept up in an artfully-messy knot. Probably, there was some significance in all this too, but she was too nervous now to pay much attention to hidden details.

The stairs creaked and clicked under her shoes as she descended. Sure enough, as she'd expected, doors began to open behind her and undoubtedly there was a few people peering around to watch her as she disappeared into the dark gloom of the foyer. Whispers broke out furiously as her heels began to click, click, click across the marble tiles.

Rogue paid it all no attention. Through her nervousness – through her rapid heartbeat and shallow breathing – she was listening, feeling for something else.

She wasn't searching for it for very long.

The wind seemed to die down entirely outside as she approached the door. For a brief moment, there was complete stillness aside from the constant rhythm of her shoes on the marble tiles of the foyer floor and the sharp tick, tick of the grand clock at the left of the room. A strange, eerie feeling came over her in the sudden silence. She recognized it well, though – it was accompanied by a distortion of sound; a hum of power. The sound was familiar, and so was the surreal feeling that accompanied it. There was a loud gasp from the floor above, a muffled exclamation. Rogue took a deep breath and opened the front doors with a decidedly determined force.

And there he was.

He wore his shrouding uniform – the cape and the helmet included. It leant a rather intimidating edge to him even now, but she should have expected this. He was far too cautious and probably far too paranoid to come into Xavier's presence willingly without his anti-psionic precautions. Still, it felt a little confronting to be face to face with a figure that personified everything she remembered to be Magneto – nothing of this man in front of her reminded her of the fierce, passionate and admittedly dangerous love she'd found in Eric. Here, standing at the threshold of the Institute, was a man who crushed his enemies and tore down civil structure – here was the man she was supposed to be leaving with.

Perhaps he was making a point in it, appearing like this. Perhaps this was a warning, of sorts, of just what she could expect of him if she chose to leave the X-Men and take to Avalon. The man she loved wasn't gone, she was sure, but perhaps for the most part she would be subject to this persona – the cold, calculating strategist, who had previously set out to kill her more than once. The idea made her feel unpleasantly lightheaded.

The two stared at each other for a moment that could have been mere seconds or long, silent minutes. Finally – in a gesture that was probably heavily loaded with underlying meaning – Magneto hesitantly, carefully removed his helmet and guided it to sit on the balustrade beside the door with a gesture. He was still as shrouded in darkness as before, but at least now she could make out the tense line of his clenched jaw, the rigidity of the thin line of his mouth and the uncharacteristic and almost unperceivable nervous shift of his eyes.

Rogue released a breath she wasn't even aware of holding in.

Silence resumed once again, broken only by the rustling of the leaves in the garden as – once again – the wind began to stir through the trees and bushes. The constant tick, tick of the grand clock in the foyer was less pronounced now that the doors were open and the sound was allowed to flow beyond the confining walls of the wide room. The whispers from the window above had died down; creeping footsteps indicated that the spies had now shifted to the top of the stairs. Neither Rogue nor Magneto paid any of these distractions attention, focusing instead on each other with identical, somewhat hypnotized stares.

But at long last, Magneto spoke up.

"This welcome is making me somewhat reminiscent," he said, sounding both reflective and indifferent in a way that was unique to him. "You make no move to say anything, but you haven't sealed away in fear. The moment I removed my helmet you seemed to be more at ease but you still make no gesture to indicate anything other than unemotional surprise and distant memories of shared moments playing in your mind. That is the expression you used to regard me with in the quiet moments before we parted ways after a night's tryst, my dear."

Rogue smiled slightly, recognizing a familiar tone in his voice. "An' that's got ya worried that Ah'm only here ta say 'bye', hasn't it?"

He straightened – the movement would be unnoticeable to anyone who wasn't watching for such a reaction, but she had expected that. "Is that the message you bear for me?"

"Ah don't know yet."

"What?" He couldn't have looked more surprised if she'd spat at his feet and slammed the door in his face.

Rogue bit her bottom lip. "Ah need ta ask ya somethin' first, Erik. Ah can't give an answer without it."

He relaxed slightly, though remained as tense as ever. "Then ask what you will."

"An' Ah can expect an honest answer?"

"I haven't lied to you once, Anna-Marie. I am not an upright man, but I am an honest one."

Rogue nodded in agreement and straightened out a little, preparing herself for whatever came next. Her question was deceptively short and rather lacking on the surface. She knew that. It felt overly simplified, that it was the only question she felt she had to ask to make an informed judgment on this decision – a momentous decision that would shake up her life at the foundations. She knew that, too. She also knew that he might think it irrelevant, but an honest answer to this one question would honestly make all the difference for her.

Because she honestly didn't know exactly what he thought, and she had to.

"Erik…" She took in a deep breath. "Ah need ta know what ya see when ya look at me."

Magneto frowned – she was right; he'd been expecting far more probing questions with more depth and meaning. It was obvious that he had no idea what his answer to that would accomplish, and he told her so. "How can that help you make this decision?"

"Please," she pressed. She looked away from him and those steely, questioning eyes of his to look at his helmet on the stone balustrade beside them. "Ah just need ta know."

There was a slight pause. For a moment, she worried that he wouldn't say anything at all. But then there was a slight pressure at her jaw – he was turning her face back to his; he'd stepped closer to her, realizing her distress. "I'm not exactly certain how you intend me to answer that question. There are many facets to it; it is ambiguous."

"Ah wanna know what kind of a person ya think Ah am. Ah wanna know what ya think of me."

The pressure in his jaw increased slightly. "Surely that is obvious…"

"You've never said anythin'. Ah'm insecure like that." She smiled just slightly, nervously. "Humor me?"

He secured her right hand in his free left one and kissed her fingertips, frowning slightly when he noticed the gloves on her hands. "It feels clichéd to say aloud what I feel, my dear. The same words are spoken every day by countless masses, often without thought and more than occasionally without true feeling. The words are inadequate. Useless." He began to gently tug her glove away. "What we share defies verbalization. It transcends the boundaries of the languages; it can only be experience internally."

"Please, Erik."

Magneto expression became exasperated, but as he finally pulled her glove from her hand he kissed her fingertips again with tenderness and his demeanor softened significantly. "I love you, Anna-Marie. Do you believe me?"

Rogue nodded and grasped the gentle hand at her jaw with her free one. "An' the other thing?"

"What kind of person do I think you are?" His expression became somewhat amused as he let the glove he held drop to the ground. "I couldn't love a callous, mean-spirited woman if that is what you're worried about."

"Not that…" She shook her head. "Just…Ah wanna know why…why me?"

He rankled slightly. "Would you rather I took my affection elsewhere?" he asked, his voice turning cold.

Rogue shook her head again and drew her right hand back to join her left, clasping his hand at her jaw and running her fingers along his gloved palm in a soothing gesture. "Ah wanna know what kind of person ya think Ah am, like Ah said. What makes me worth all that you've given me?"

"My affections could wind up to be a burden on you, my dear. And, more than likely, there will be some who cite you out for harm because of it. That is no gift, and aside from that I've given you nothing…save for the sporadic, so far limited experience of touch." He pressed a finger to her lips when she moved to say something here, and he stepped in closer to her so that mere inches separated them. "Anna, do you remember the first night we spent together? Before we parted ways, you promised me everything. Not for the mere, shallow reward of physical gratification, either – I know that wasn't what compelled you to allow me to extend our time together, to give control of the situation to me entirely, as you did. The woman I found myself with in that room was very much different from the one I had assumed her to be – she wasn't angry; she was passionate. She was vivacious but deliberately patient with me; she was honest from the very beginning and she trusted me. She had seen me at my very worst before, but she still could look at me openly and without judgment. She accepted my control without challenge and gave me everything I demanded of her. I…I couldn't have broken away from her after that night. I should have realized just what would happen, but I didn't. She clouded my mind in such a way that I couldn't think of anything else but her, nor did I want to. She had me ensnared from the beginning, but I could only blame myself for it."

He paused for a moment, frowning slightly as he searched her face for a reaction. "My dear…when I look at you I can't see anything past you. I can only hopelessly stare at the vision before me…the beautiful, miraculous gift that you are. I feel remarkably redeemed for all my past misconducts when you smile for me. You…with your liveliness, your born grace, your utterly open honesty…I couldn't tell you in a day just what I see when I look at you, or what I feel."

Rogue felt her knees buckling. "Ah…Erik, Ah…dunno what ta say…"

"Then you don't need to say anything, my dear." He extracted his hands from hers and secured her in his arms, moving her face up to his. "Good God, I've missed you this long month." He bent down and kissed her deeply, hungrily.

Her eyes fluttered closed and her shaky arms came up and threaded around his neck. Her fingers tangled in his hair. She moaned against his mouth and became boneless in his arms. "Ah missed you too," she whispered as he moved away from her, still holding her tightly. She moved her arms so that her hands pressed against his chest, and she smiled slightly, looking somewhat dazed. "Sugah, it's amazin' that ya always know just what Ah wanna hear."

"It seems that we operate on the same wavelength, then. What I told you was the truth."

She rested her head against his chest. "It'd better be."

Magneto pulled her back from him to regard her with a quizzical though – oddly enough – admittedly humorous gleam in his eyes. "Was that a threat?"

"Hardly." Rogue raised herself up on her tiptoes and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his jaw. "Ah just don't wanna make a decision on half-truths and shaky facts, that's all."

"So I can suppose to demand an answer from you now?"

"Absolutely."

"Well…?" His arms tightened around her when she hesitated. "For the love of God…don't tease me, woman. I've been waiting on this moment for well over a month." He shook his head as she looked up at him with a question in her eyes. "Yes, I intended to bring you to Avalon long before I told you about it. I needed to think on the idea myself; I'm not a man to act on sheer impulse, ordinarily. Now, in the name of all things holy and merciful, would you please give me your answer?"

Rogue bit her bottom lip, looking more than a little apprehensive. Yes, she knew her answer – she'd known it from the instant Magneto had begun to tell her just what kind of person he thought her to be. Possibly, she'd known it since she'd talked to the Professor at the beginning of this tense, month-long wait but it had taken this long to reach the decision consciously. She glanced over her shoulder, back towards the top of the stairs where she knew the nosier residents of the Institute were camped. More than likely, none of the people she was deeply attached to were in that crowd. But she was still nervous of those watching, hidden eyes. She turned back to Magneto, trying to ignore them. He was staring down at her with tension growing in his jaw and temples, compounded by his apprehension by the second. He was just as determined to hear her reply as the students behind her. She had to give an answer.

Now.

"You," she whispered, looking up at Magneto. "Ah wanna stay with you."

For a heartbeat there was no movement between them, nor around them. They remained staring at each other and – in that short heartbeat – Rogue began to worry that perhaps he was having second thoughts about taking her with him. Perhaps he'd decided that it wasn't worth the hostility that would inevitably now open up from the X-Men. Perhaps he'd only just realized how convenient it was to have her just to one side, not in his personal space or taking up more time than he was willing to allot her.

Then, he tightened his arms around her and pulled her in closely, holding onto her like a dying man holds onto life. "Thank God," he muttered into the crook of her neck. "Anna-Marie, you won't regret this, I promise you. I'm going to ensure that your life with me will be happier than anything you've known before. You won't be wanting for anything…"

Rogue threw her arms around his neck and clung to him tightly. She sighed contentedly, her momentary fears lifting quickly as if they'd never been plaguing her. Her heart, which had been pounding wildly all this time, finally began to slow down and the thunderous sound of it faded away. There was no doubt in her mind that she'd made the right decision – there would be regrets, yes, but it was unrealistic to think otherwise. She believed him when he promised he would make her happy; that would assuage her regrets over time, she knew it. Being with him would be more than enough. It would be right.

"You…you really love him, don't you?"

Rogue stopped her quick scan of her now vacated room, and turned to look at Kitty who was sat on one of the two suitcases that stood by the door – they contained all that she was taking. The younger girl was biting her lip and obviously on the verge of tears. Rogue felt a heavy stab of guilt…something that was somewhat assuaged as she crouched slightly and carefully hugged her former roommate tightly. "Ah'm sorry, Kit," she said sincerely as tears well up in her own eyes. "Ah love him, an' Ah can't imagine not goin' with him."

"What was it that…made you decide? To leave?" Kitty shivered and began to shake with silent crying.

"Ah asked him one last question…Ah wanted ta know what he saw when he looked at me."

"And he said the right thing?"

Rogue laughed shakily as she began crying as well. "Everyone at the Institute thinks Ah'm all closed up an' miserable. He…doesn't see that. He sees the girl Ah used ta be…the girl Ah wanna be again. He sees me as Anna-Marie, not Rogue."

Kitty pulled away and gaped despite her tears and obvious misery. "Anna-Marie?" she repeated, looking surprised. "That's your real name?"

"S'right."

"Why'd you never tell me?"

"No one here ever asked." Rogue shrugged and scrubbed at her reddening eyes. "Ah know it's petty, but Ah always figured that if y'all wanted ta know ya would've asked me outright. Ah was bitter…an' besides, Ah never thought Ah'd get ta be the girl Ah was before mah 'skin condition' again. Ah tried ta forget how happy Ah used ta be…"

Kitty broke into louder sobs. "I would've helped!"

"Ah know…an' ya did anyway, without even knowin'." Rogue stood upright again and sighed. "Ah'm really sorry, Kitty. If anyone told me a couple months ago that this would've happened…"

"…You'd have laughed." Kitty sniffed and wiped away the trails of tears on her cheeks. "We'd all have laughed. I don't mean anything by that, but…" She sniffed again and gave Rogue a watery smile. "This is Magneto we're talking about here. No one here would've guessed, a couple of months ago, that he'd have a heart at all."

Rogue nodded, agreeing. "Ah certainly wouldn't have figured Ah'd ever be the object of his affections, that's for sure."

Kitty fished a tissue from the drawer of her nightstand nearby and blew her nose. "He'd better make you happy," she said warningly, fixing Rogue with a level stare. "Or I'll phase him out of his stupid asteroid and into space."

The door opened a crack behind the red-eyed Kitty. "And I vill teleport him into a black hole," offered Kurt as he peered into the room. "It is quite chaotic at zhe end of zhe hall. Most of zhe students don't know vhat to think, but Cyclops for one is taking it rather personally. Wolverine is threatening to eviscerate Magneto on the front steps." He shrugged and smiled slightly at Rogue. "But ve all know how far he'd get vith zhat. He might manage to disturb zhe air in front of Magneto before he'd be twisted into a Moebius spiral."

"Ew," Kitty said, frowning at Kurt over the top of her tissue and wrinkling her nose.

Kurt slipped into the room and shut the door behind him. "I'm going to miss you, Rogue," he said bluntly.

"You too, Kurt," Rogue told him. She stepped around her suitcases and Kitty, enveloping him in a careful but strong hug. "Ah won't be outta ya lives forever, ya know. Ah'll try come back down ta see y'all."

"We'll make sure a bedroom's kept ready for you," Kitty offered, getting off of the suitcases and joining in the hug. "It won't be in the guest wing, either. That place smells like a hippy commune with all the incense Storm burns in the conservatory…"

"Ve'll make sure ve find a way to contact you," Kurt promised.

"Ah'll do the same," Rogue told them.

A moment or two passed in silence, before the younger mutants extracted their arms from around Rogue. She sighed and grasped her suitcases, one in either hand. "Thanks. For…toleratin' it. For all this. For understandin'."

"What kind of friends would we be if we didn't?" Kitty asked, smiling despite the fact that new tears were gathering in her eyes.

Rogue looked at the two of them for a long moment, trying to ignore that her own tears were flowing freely again. Her heart felt restricted but it was swelling in her chest, bursting at her ribs. She really felt their forgiveness, their acceptance. They knew it was going to be hard, for her and for them, but they were accepting her choice anyway. They knew it wouldn't be the last they saw of her – they knew that parting for now didn't mean parting forever. They were so…so noble. Rogue knew she'd never find anyone like them again, and was so thankful that she wouldn't have to begin fruitlessly looking for others even now, even after all that had happened.

She sniffed and quickly rubbed her eyes dry. "Ah'll see y'all," she said quietly, then slipped out of the room with her luggage.

The door clicked shut behind her and she began to quietly move down the hallway. At the far end, in the shadows by the window that overlooked the front gardens, a handful of figures stood whispering and shifting nervously. Rogue paid them no attention and kept moving towards the staircase.

Something creaked at her right. Rogue stopped in mid-step to see what it was, and found Gambit there. He was staring at the bags in her hands, his face impassive. He looked up at her. "Leavin'?" he asked, his voice both casual and scratchy at the same time.

She nodded wordlessly.

"Righ'." He scrubbed a hand over his face and looked at her bags again. "Righ'."

"Ah am sorry, Gambit."

He nodded, but didn't say anything. Instead, he turned and retreated into his room, slowly closing the door behind him as he reached into his trenchcoat for – undoubtedly – yet another cigarette. The door creaked on it's hinges and snapped shut with a soft click, just as a lighter snapped open and ignited. Rogue stared at the brass handle of the door for a moment, frowning, but moved on.

She descended the stairs quietly, still ignoring the whispers from the end of the hallway. At the bottom of the stairs, in the foyer, she encountered another figure – Wolverine. He noted her suitcases, but didn't say anything. Instead, he put a remarkably comforting hand on her shoulder and stopped her. "Kid…"

Rogue let her suitcases fall and turned, hugging him around his middle and catching them both by surprise. "Ah'm gonna miss ya, Wolvie."

"You too, Stripes." Wolverine told her gruffly, hugging her back. After a moment, they pulled back and he shook his head at her, looking bemused. "What the hell'd you just call me?"

She smiled at him and picked up her suitcases again.

At the front doors, which were still wide open to the dark night outside, Magneto had begun pacing the length of the terrace. His helmet still rested on the stone balustrade by the entrance. Rogue took a deep breath as she approached him, willing away the tears that still hung in her eyes. She knew that if he saw them he would assume she was having second thoughts. If he thought she was having second thoughts, it would start to worry him. She didn't want to do that. This was her choice – there were regrets, but she just couldn't imagine not being with him now. She wanted to start this new life with as few hindrances as possible. So she couldn't have him worrying about the tears in her eyes.

She stepped through the threshold into the night's air, and he caught sight of her. Was it just her imagination or did he relax slightly with relief? She smiled up at him as he approached her. Her bags were dropped once more as he gathered her to him – she snaked her arms around his neck as she did and pressed a kiss to his jaw. He caught the nape of her neck with a gentle hand and held her, leaning in to tenderly, thoroughly kiss her. The wind whipped around them, so that his heavy, cumbersome cape lapped at her bare legs as it enveloped them both. Rogue sighed against his mouth and shivered, though her goose-bumps had nothing to do with the cold air.

He pulled away after a long moment, though kept a firm hold on her to keep her eyes on him. "You haven't changed your mind, then? You will still leave with me?" he asked her quietly, searching her expression for any apprehension.

She kissed him again. "Let's go."

A/N: …and, that's it. We're done! Well, until the sequel, that is. In the interim, it's REVIEW TIME!

ishandahalf: Holy I think I owe you a lot in damages regarding your inner-Romy lover's injuries, Batman! Ha…oh, those openings were fun, weren't they? Seriously, what's the medical bills? I think I was more than a little responsible for some serious damage suffered by your inner Romy lover. It seemed every review you sent mentioned grievances towards that unfortunate party. Please don't sue:) You mentioned incompatibility between Remy and Rogue, but that's probably one of the selling points on the whole thing, isn't it? I know the tension certainly drew me in, while I was still a diehard Romy-shipper. It's what distinguishes them from more button-down, vanilla-flavored pairings such as Jean and Scott. Anyway…glad you think I'm still on the right track with the internal monologue. It's quickly becoming a signature piece, isn't it? I'm also glad that you liked that chain-smoking bit. It felt right…so I added in a little more of it here, too. That boy's gonna have lung cancer by the age of thirty, if he keeps up like this. :P Anyhoo, thank you for reviewing from the early development of this story – your input was fantastic. Hope to hear from you when the sequel or my next fic is up. Thanks again!

willowaus: Everyone's so bloody betrayed, aren't they? I didn't dwell on that too much here, though; the end needed to have a nice big helping of smaltzy on it, or otherwise it'd look like she'd done the wrong thing and…well, I was setting out to make it look like this was the best option. Funny you should mention her doing some good with Magneto, because that's actually going to be a major point in the sequel. Well, one of the major points. There's a few dominant plotlines in that one, but meh. You get what I'm saying. Anyway, thanks for sticking around and providing feedback for as long as you did – if I don't hear from you again in the sequel or my next project, it was great to have you along for the ride for this long regardless. Many, many thanks!

Elle Mooreside: Squealing with glee and Comic Book Guy references? I must say, I love your reviews. Hey, a bit off topic here, but did you know that apparently Comic Book Guy's real name is Louis Lane? Ha! It'd be funny if it were true, but I'm not sure. I could Google for confirmation, but I'm lazy. :D Glad you liked the Confrontation (I was a bit worried about it, but I'm getting positive feedback so far, so all's well I guess) and thank you for the expressed excitement over the sequel. Thanks also for the input over the course of your reviewing this story – muchly appreciated. Everyone likes positive reinforcement. Anyway, thanks again and I hope to hear from you at least once more, if not in the sequel or next fic I put up!

GWFreak315: You know, it's surprising but no one has requested that Rogue goes back to Remy for…for at least five chapters! Whether that's because I've made him out to be too much of a bad guy or what, it just doesn't look like Remy's got anyone in his corner. Oh well. Nuts to him, I guess. Well, nuts to him after this chapter, especially. I can't wait to see your story, by the way – there just aren't enough Magneto/Rogue stories out there! Could you tell me what it's going to be called? Anyway, I'm glad you liked my story – I hope to catch a line from you in my next fic or the sequel to this one, when I start posting it.

Sionnain: I was so freaking surprised to find reviews by you – I love your stuff, with the rather disturbing Magneto and the confused, naïve Rogue that you write, and you write it so very well! The Rogue accent here is an icky one, though. The way I write it was introduced to me in the Evo fics about two years ago and…well, old habits die hard. I'm trying to clean it up a little – it has been clearing slightly as the story progresses. By the sequel, I'll hopefully have a consistent accent scripted. Anyway…thanks for the compliments re: my writing style. That actually seems to be one of the hooks that gets me readers. Lots of people have commented on how they like it. So I keep doing it. By the way, I'm afraid I don't have an LJ account – I used to have a GJ account, but that petered out. I might swing by your LJ community and have a peek, regardless. If I could get the name of it…:) Say…swinging to another topic, it's also funny how you mentioned the brooding Magneto. I always liked that about him in the comics – he reflected, rather than just acted. It's going to change somewhat in the sequel, if that ever gets posted. There are going to be a few factors that prompt a more irrational, unthinking side of him into action…but I can't say much. Half the plotline is in that! Thank you for saying that I do the pairing justice, too. That means quite a bit coming from someone who does the same. :) Anyhoo, thanks for the reviewing-ness and I hope to hear from you again – whether you post your own new stuff or review mine.

thriller: The sorting out was half the problem – it's what Rogue gleaned from the conversation that makes all the difference here. Well, not all the difference…but some kind of difference. Anyway. As you can see now, it made just enough difference so that Rogue left with Magneto. I guess spending her days with a group who doesn't trust her anymore would probably look slightly less appealing next to the idea of a whole new life with someone to love, huh:D Well, as requested, here is the last chapter of this story and there should be a sequel or similar fic arriving soon at a site near you. Hope to hear from you again!