The X-Men have made impossible choices in the past and would do so in the future. What sets them apart from others is that their choices are made for the betterment of Xavier's Dream. Taught to protect, to minimize pain, they knew that it was up to them to show the world what homo superior could do.

Rogue believed in these teachings, as much as anyone else on the team, and arguably, more than many. She would not make the easy choice that the small, selfish human part of her wanted to make. She took to the air and did what was right.

Readjusting her grip on Joseph, she managed to free one hand and grasp Remy's outstretched wrist in a rock-solid grip. She was one of the fastest fliers in the mansion, and often won their "Golden Glove" after a game of baseball. In truth, Golden Glove meant you didn't have to do a week of dish duty. Invulnerable skin did not mean you were invulnerable to dishpan hands. It saved her hands before, and this time by her hands and skill, it meant that today, no one was left behind.

Rogue darted through the shadow just as the ceiling collapsed on the entire fortress. However, it had been made, the mortar that held it together was no longer doing so. The cacophony of falling stones, metal, and marble was deafening - until Psylocke terminated the back end of the portal.

Remy, Rogue, and Joseph spilled through to safety tumbling into the barren walls of the mansion in a cloud of dust and debris. They were in the subterranean levels of Xavier's home, inside the cavernous Danger Room. Losing control, losing her orientation to the world, Rogue terminated her flight, but inertia continued its course. She stumbled awkwardly, and both men fell from her grasp.

Remy grunted as he turned his free-falling sprawl into an elegant three point crouch. Rogue exhaled roughly; she almost had the wind knocked out of her. She saw Joseph lying in a tangle of limbs a few feet away. He wasn't moving. As the rest of the X-Men were trying to get their bearings, looking around the room, remarking at the lack of automation they were used to on this level, Rogue stood up and went to tend to Joseph.

"Cher…" Gambit said as he saw her immediately turned to the white haired man, and carefully scooped him up after checking his vitals. His red and black gaze held only regret as he saw her body stiffen before she turned to look at him with Joseph in her arms. He suddenly lost everything he had planned to say to her.

"Rogue, ma cher…I didn't…I didn't want to do any o'dat…I didn't know, I-" he broke off as he saw her, really saw her eyes once again. This time, they weren't black and green, a melange of his and her eyes. They weren't pure white as they were when she had absorbed Exodus. Even her skin tone had returned to its normal hue instead of Bennet DuParis' brilliant magenta.

No, Rogue was completely in control of herself as her bright green eyes met his. And what he beheld in those eyes was a complete stranger.

"Y'didn't know what, Remy?" she asked, holding Joseph in her arms even as she held Gambit with her eyes. "You didn't know that what you were doin' was that bad? Or y'didn't know that you'd get caught?" The kinetic thief, the charming rogue, the one with so many answers, had no response for that. She wanted to say more, but she wasn't certain she could keep her calm. It was part of why she had gone to check on Joseph; she could use the convenient lie that she needed to continue playing the hero right now.

She could break down later.

"I…I didn't know any'a dis would happen…" he said in a low voice full of regret. "I never meant to hurt anyone, not with any of this. I thought…I could set it all behin' me…" It felt weak to say, even now.

"Ah'm sorry, Remy." Rogue said heavily. "You're honest with the people you love, otherwise it's a gamble." The rest of the group watched in silence as she turned away from him and started to carry Joseph out of the Danger Room.

"But…I love you…" Remy managed to get out. Finally, now, at the end of everything, he found it within him to say it. Rogue's back was to him, and he did not see her close her eyes, gathering her strength. "Please. I need you."

Rogue stopped in her tracks, and half-turned to look at him. He had thought she would have tears in her eyes, but they were only solemn and sad. "Piper needed me then…an' Ah failed him. I won't do that again." As she walked away, Rogue realized that the mutant massacre made her, one of the living walls of their team, bleed her soul out once more.

Psylocke rested Cerebro's helmet on her head. Jean was busy tending to Scott while he recuperated from an extremely rough field-surgery. It was highly likely that the two were planning on making a momentous announcement; they had that same look when they revealed their marriage plans only a short time ago. Betsy figured it was more than likely that they were going to leave. A bomb in the torso made a person want to slow down.

Besides, Betsy thought it may be for the best if she was the one who broke the news to the other members of their team.

'Once an X-Man…' Betsy thought to herself. 'How strangely cyclical…,' she ruminated. 'To have been injured so badly in the past, making me wish to be a hero, leading me to the X-Men, where I survived the Massacre with them, only to be injured by a Marauder, precipitating my need of this blasted machine, and attend another of that cohort's trial. It may perhaps be best for me to break it to the three…who are guesting in my homeland. They do not know me as well as Jean, and she is under enough stress as it is.' She reasoned, though there was a wry sense to her words. What a strange, fickle sense of humor the Fates had.

The X-Men had decided to ultimately name Gambit a Marauder. His actions were undeniable, plain, and simple. Before she began the startup sequence, Psylocke took a moment and ruminated on how she wanted to phrase the activities of the last few days. The X-Men had wanted to notify the members of Excalibur sooner, but with Operation: Zero Tolerance and the sudden surgery, new recruits, and an upcoming honest-to-goodness audit by the state of New York's Department of Education, time had not been on their side in the last few days.

The machine powered up easily, as it always did. Shi'ar technology made all terran tech seem inelegant and wasteful. A view of the world flared to life in the vast space that was carved out of the Hudson Valley bedrock. It was easy enough, even with her current power inconsistency dilemma, to turn her thoughts to her home island, England. Zeroing in on Braddock Manor, she easily found Piotr and Kurt, and with a little searching, located Kitty as well.

'Betsy?' Kitty asked in surprise as she knuckled one eye. She had fallen asleep while studying some papers for an assignment she wanted to get ahead of. 'What's going on? Is everything ok? Is it Brian?!'

'No, Kitty, Brian is fine.' Betsy responded, fielding questions from Piotr and Kurt as well. No, it wasn't the X-Men, no, they got through Operation: Zero Tolerance with everyone alive. Yes, they should call later and get the full details once they'd finished debriefing after everything occurred.

Telepathic butterfly wings made out of fuchsia petals fluttered to each of the mutants she summoned. They alighted on each, bursting into a dozen different thoughts, emotions, and reactions. For them, the trial played out in rapid order; memories and dialogue easy to recount at the speed of thought. The emotions and feelings of those who had debriefed were shuffled through swiftly. The events were not broadcast; all in this conversation knew what occurred. What was important was the aftermath.

Kitty gasped, her hands going to her mouth. Kurt crossed himself and templed his hands as he began to pray silently while Piotr, the gentlest of them, his lips thinned into a grim, firm line. 'Good.' Was all the Russian-born man said in a tone that sounded deeply satisfied, and deeply disturbed by that satisfaction. Then again, this had been the place where Colossus had willingly murdered a man and promised death to another.

'I don't…I can't believe this…that Gambit…that he…' Kitty trailed off, her eyes wide with unshed tears. Kurt appeared next to her, as the nature of thought made it, and he enveloped her in a tight hug.

'Ah, kätzchen' he murmured, giving her a moment to collect herself. She held her dear friend tight, trying to find a semblance of peace. Yet he was also not surprised as Kitty pulled back, despite it being swifter than he anticipated. Though she was years their junior, she had seen plenty of hardship and strife. She was an intelligent, strong, resilient young woman.

Besides, Kurt could use some time to process this himself. Even Piotr, who had made such a declarative statement, seemed to be wrestling with some internal question. It took a moment, but eventually the three of them managed to contain their emotions enough to resume a conversation. Betsy waited them out; she had allowed a cascade of shocking events to wash over them, they deserved time to gather themselves.

'Betsy, thank you,' Kitty said warmly to her. 'We never got a chance to really talk before the…the Massacre, and then everything else kind of…spiraled out of control…' That was quite the understated comment. They all recalled the chaos of that time, with the X-Men thought dead, and Excalibur handling complex, metacosmic concerns. Certainly, through Excalibur's Betsy had returned occasionally to her ancestral home and participated in a few of their adventures, but they had not been X-Men with one another, and that lack of connection suddenly felt palpable. Kitty wondered to herself if that should be something fixed, soon.

Kitty loved to fix things.

'Betsy…are you alright? Is Storm alright? She brought Gambit to us, after all.' Piotr asked, quickly covering any other emotion he had. The memories had made something he repressed for a long time try to bubble to the surface. He focused his attention on the others. After all, he had worked with Psylocke for a brief time, he had sketched her in the Outback, what seemed like an age ago. Those quiet, contemplative hours sketching, studying her face had given him a deep insight into the pale English rose that joined them. But now he saw Elizabeth as she saw herself. Here on the Astral Plane she looked so radically different, but she must feel at home in that new body. The only way he initially knew it was her was by the touch and feel of her mind. The soul was the same, and though the flesh was different, he found that he could read her tension easily.

'And Rogue, oh, poor Rogue…' Kitty murmured worriedly. The southern X-Man was older than her, but from Kitty's perspective, she was the more veteran of the two, and she had far more experience in affairs of the heart than Rogue did. But how could one empathize with this? A cheating boyfriend was one thing…

'Thank you Piotr, I am well, though the entire trial was harrowing.' She responded to her former teammate. 'Storm is…well, I'd recommend you call and ask her yourself. She may wish to share her feelings with you firsthand.'

'Kitty, Rogue is understandably upset right now, and has not said much since Remy's departure-'

'Where did he go?' Kurt asked, his face drawn into solemn lines. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, but in an x-shaped holster appeared two long sabers. Belatedly, Betsy recalled that Kurt and Rogue were related. She had seen that look on Brian's face when he caught the boy she'd dated a few times snogging another girl. That young blade of a lord was never in line of sight of Brian again.

She didn't envy Remy in the slightest for what he was racking in debt to Rogue's brother, but she almost wished she could see it. If Kurt was fast, he might even beat out-

'Wait…Betsy…what's really happened? Did this break the team?' Kitty's eyes widened in shock. Her other two teammates looked at her in concern. Kurt in particular seemed to come to a decision, his jaw setting. Piotr noticed Kurt's introspection, but before he could say something, he was pulled back to the current conversation.

'No, I don't think it has,' Betsy responded, but she gave them all a good look. 'I recommend calling Jean. She and Scott have been through it.'

'But what about Warren?' Kurt asked. 'We saw him in the memories, but you haven't mentioned his reaction.'

Betsy paused. She wasn't certain what to say. 'He is…conflicted.'

Another butterfly alighted on each, and they saw the memories. Thanks to the speed at which thought is processed, Marrow, Maggott and Dr. Cecilia Reyes were introduced rapidly, explained even faster, and their powers embedded in the explanation. Piotr gasped, he remembered seeing the small girl, then called Sarah, on their first adventure into the sewers.

Now grown, she was introduced and inducted to the team, but her first stint lasted mere hours. The teams were reunited, and after the initial emergency of bodies with implanted exploding bombs was resolved, the mansion's inhabitants turned their full attention to Remy.

The trio experienced the memory from a multitude of perspectives, allowing for a three-dimensional, omnipresent point of view. They observed the action and more; they felt it.

In Psylocke's recreation, events played out, a mélange of different perspectives melding to make truth reality by giving it to so many points of view. Marrow was furious after the teams rejoined. Well, more furious than her normal state, which always seemed angry. During the debriefing, the group with Gambit's news elected to go last. Perhaps that was for the best, since it had the most shocking news that everything else that came before it could not have waited.

Their minds saw it all: as understanding from so many perspectives, tone, pitch, and words filtered through perspectives. Emotions bled together like crowded watercolor streaks on dry paper. Marrow was obviously cursing as she gesticulated wildly, a cover, launching a bony assault at the Cajun. He flipped back with ease and deflected the projectiles.

None made a move to defend him, beyond Storm raising one hand, commanding respect. Marrow stopped long enough to hear Storm's words, her judgment. And then she exploded at the regal Wind Rider. In her diatribe the Cajun had the good enough sense to make an exit. Marrow saw through his strategy and was on him, until the small deck of cards he left on the floor exploded.

In the chaos of the moment, he had a good head start. Marrow went after him, and within a few minutes Warren had left as well, Logan also followed after exchanging sharp words with Storm, and a sharper look at her. The room was left obviously silent and uncomfortable full of somber faces, as a thin haze of smoke filled the room.

The memory-experience folded upon itself in a kaleidoscope of fanning petal blossoms closed, leaving the four on the Astral Plane. They were still connected, but not as deeply. Kitty looked pensive. 'The girl, Sar-...Marrow. is she going after Gambit?' she asked, feeling a chill in her, despite the Astral Plane having no temperature.

'She is,' Betsy affirmed, her demeanor serious, and a bit angry. She didn't like talking about this part. 'When Gambit left, Marrow followed, intent on righting this great wrong the X-Men made in first allying themselves with a Marauder, then letting him go. Logan and Warren went after them both, I think it will work out.'

Betsy could chase after three of the four easily with her telepathy. Marrow in particular; her thoughts were angry, brash, uncontrolled, and most of all, loud. Logan and Warren were X-Men. She could always contact them. But Gambit? Gambit's was suddenly shielded, and Betsy could not understand why. She planned to talk with Jean in one of their many conversations Betsy had avoided with the redheaded psion. For now, she could track most of them, and that was enough.

To be honest with herself, though, she knew she was avoiding the search, as well as answers for Gambit, because she was not wholly certain what she herself would choose. And she was not wholly certain how Warren felt about her. She sensed his feelings of betrayal at the trial, and they've remained ever since. Was their relationship stable? And if it wasn't…was it worth saving?

'I think it will work out…' Betsy said before rousing herself to bid the trio goodnight and to agree to meet up one more time before Betsy left the mansion in a few weeks to join them at her brother's wedding.

'If only all those lost could be here too,' she thought to herself sadly as she removed Cerebro from her head, and set it on its gleaming metal stand. She looked upward, where she sensed Rogue was. Her friend was hurting, and Psylocke wanted to help soothe her. Before she could do more than decide to head to what was most likely the roof, a favorite place of Rogue's, Betsy realized that the other woman wasn't alone.

Reversing her course, she decided instead to find Jean. She ought to at least have one civil conversation with Ms. I-Am-Fire-And-Life-Incarnate. She could handle it.

Probably.

Exodus lounged in an abandoned Roman Catholic church he found deep in Basque country. He sipped one of the few unsoured bottles of wine he found in the long-forgotten keep from a goblet he conjured of his own telekinetic power. The entire village was abandoned, so long ago that only the buildings made from stone remained. Exodus felt a connection to this place, as in the ashes of the Dark Ages, where the holy church protected documents ushering in a golden age, this place too was where the light of salvation would cultivate once more.

In his mind's eye, his chalice was as lovely as what he imagined the Holy Grail would have been fashioned into if this was a more perfect world. Then again, perhaps that could be arranged. Providence had sent him a chance to judge one of those most complicit in one of the greatest sins against mutantdom in this modern age. It was cause for celebration, and the earthy bottle of red wine made the gravity of his actions feel even more weighty.

Having completed his trial, his only regret was not seeing to the actual execution of sentencing. The entire affair had been hastily arranged. It was only through the High Evolutionary's intercession that he and Colossus had saved Magneto months before. Ah, Piotr Rasputin, the last faithful, yet even he had ultimately turned away.

It wasn't too onerous a task that the High Evolutionary had required of them. Piotr was required to retrieve the genetic data that Russia had stored of its people for the last seventy years. Exodus was fairly certain that no life was lost in the theft - and it was a copy really - and so there was no reason for him to have turned away in disgust to their glorious plan. They had saved Lord Magneto at the result of it, did they not?

Though his original body could not be repaired, Piotr's suggestion of creating a new body for Lord Magneto's mind to be transplanted into made an elegant sense. It seemed that Charles Xavier had done a similar action years before, with his consort, the Empress Lilandra. That body, through so much pain and torture, deserved to rest. The High Evolutionary created a perfect copy of the Master of Magnetism's body and working with Exodus - Bennet duParis was more careful with his lord's mind than anything in his life before - they successfully carried his mind, in a ways shepherded his very soul to its new home.

If it wasn't for events out of their control, something, no someone teleported in from what was thin air before. It a strange creature that somehow entered the inner sanctum of the High Evolutionary defenses and the battle was joined as the delicate surgery ended. In the chaos of the teleporting battle, they had all been lost across the globe.

How lucky Exodus was to see that his lord still lived! Certain of Magneto's death, he was despondent, uninterested in exacting revenge on any of the fallen Acolytes. Instead he had wallowed in dogmatic self-pity and flagellation until Onslaught's battles were broadcast far and wide. Seeing Magneto fight his enemy in that new, strong body embolded Bennet to rouse from his despairing torpor. And then, to have Lord Magneto return to him, to save him once more, and allow him to return to his fullest form! Exodus let himself chuckle in amusement. His was a storied life standing next to so many great figures; it was the honor of his life that he was to experience such interesting times. The amnesiac block had been easy to remove, and Exodus wondered, as he sipped the Red wine in triumph, how he would enact his next steps.

He needed to make the lands ready to receive Lord Magneto.

Rogue sat on the rooftop of the stripped bare Xavier Institute for Higher Learning, tossing rocks from the roof into Breakstone Lake every few minutes. Needless to say, the distance was well beyond normal human throwing range. As they landed, the rocks made soft, muted plopping noises before they sank to the bottom of the water. She hadn't yet cried, not for any of what occurred. In honesty, she was too angry at herself to cry.

She didn't know what she was doing. Why had she been so willing to trust Gambit; to even listen to him over her own judgment? Especially after the kiss they shared when reality crumbled, her own mind, her own abilities were kept in check by Remy's self-determination, and perhaps his own powers. Betsy had suggested that, and Jean also agreed; who was Rogue to argue with well-trained psychics over matters of telepathy?

Gambit had some measure of psychic powers, it could be that he was using them constantly, within her mind, and without against the whole team. They had accepted him whole cloth, after all. And in those first years, he seemed like a team-player, willing

The result was the same; Rogue was calling herself every gullible name in the book, and giving in to her own self-pity. Wasn't she allowed to do so, especially after all that transpired? She tossed another rock with her whole strength, and she realized the throw went wide; a cracking noise as a part of a tree somewhere out on the property shattered, the pieces raining down.

Oops…

"Rogue? If you care to be alone, I will leave. But if you are willing, would you speak with me for a moment?" a voice behind her said.

"Oh!" She turned a bit, looking up and over her shoulder as the white haired man alighted onto the rooftop. He was in casual clothing, black slacks, shiny black shoes, and a thick purple turtleneck to protect him from the late winter – their space adventure took longer than they realized. "Sure, um…ah." She floundered, at a loss of what to call him. "Have a seat,"

"My thanks," as the man once known as Magneto settled in next to her, keeping a respectful distance, but still as close as the two had ever been. In whatever capacity, be it Magneto or the man known as Joseph, he did not fear her. Nor had he ever. Quite the opposite, really.

The pair sat in contemplative silence, seemingly studying the small pile of rocks in front of them. Eventually, one was lifted without either lifting a hand. The rock jetted away, landing with a sound plunk in the lake. "I had hoped to find you, Rogue. There are some things I wanted to say to you before I spoke with the others."

"With me?" she echoed, surprised.

"Yes. I wanted first and foremost to thank you." Thank her? She blinked in surprise, unable to look at him just yet. He continued without pause. "Of all who met me since my strange return to earth, you were the only one who held out an open hand-"

"After I gave you a closed fist." She said ruefully. She jolted as she felt his hand come and grip hers tightly. Still so touch-starved, especially now since their return from wherever Exodus has them. Touch was dangerous, and she had distanced herself since returning; she was as ever again apart, and once more wholly unfamiliar with others reaching out to her.

"Despite initial misgivings," he said firmly, catching her guilt-filled green eyes with his piercing blue. "You persisted in defending me, helping me, staying with me." She looked down and he released her hand. "You fought for me, without knowing who I was. You refused to let others' opinions sway you, and remained faithful through it all."

"You didn't know either, sugah." She said, landing on her reliable pet name for her friends and the rare fool who tried to irritate her. (It was all in the delivery)

"I did not, but now I do," he agreed. Since his return, his voice had returned to its former timbre, as if knowledge had unlocked those portions of him. Gone were the slightly accented vowels of Latin America, where he first landed during the tumultuous events of his return to earth. Instead, he now returned the accent she knew from him up until the man known as Joseph's arrival. Soft inflected words with a German flair. The man she once fought alongside had returned at Exodus' mental assault. She mourned Joseph in a way, he was so sweet, and kind and earnest. But Magneto was back, and -

'What did he want to be called?' she asked herself while failing to see the mirroring humor of that sentiment. But yes, Magneto was back, and she felt like now, in an oddly tragic way the man Joseph sought to become was fully realized, and it was perhaps in the way he feared the most.

"Thank you, Rogue."

Rogue's cheeks reddened at the compliment. His eyes softened seeing her become flustered, and he almost smiled. She cursed her inability to easily control her emotions. Why was it that whenever he said her name, she felt so warm, so complete?

"I find myself in a unique position that I think few save you could understand. Exodus unlocked the memories that were hidden from me, and I am considering all of what I know, from more than one perspective. I am Erik Magnus Lehnsherr. I am Joseph. Now that I know, now that I remember who I am, I am tasked with something new," he continued. "I must determine what I will do next." He paused, holding her gaze with his. "Erik, Magneto cast our time away, excusing his actions for mercy. Joseph wasn't too proud to accept help and guidance. I know where my heart is happiest. No matter what else I decide, I know this to be true: whatever comes next, I want to experience it with you."

Rogue looked at him for a long silent moment as she considered his request, as she considered him. Yes, he was Magneto once again, but he was also still Joseph. He had the memories of both lives within him now, dual experiences allowing one man to view his life, his actions, his consequences from a unique perspective. But ultimately, he was still the man she fought for and alongside. Still the man she trusted. Even as she had spent the last few hours haranguing herself over her easy trust of Gambit, looking at Joseph, and considering if she trusted him, she knew it didn't feel the same. She didn't feel the same. There were no hang ups or ambiguity. She did trust him. Implicitly.

Neither moved, neither spoke for the as the sun pulled out from a low cloud, bathing the area in a warm golden glow that occurs just before the sun sets. Their hands remained together, clasping the other tightly. Slowly a soft, small sad smile broke across her face as she whispered her answer.

"Yes."