It had taken a while, but now with the two of them alone, Loa finally managed to ask him a question she'd been dying to make for days now.

"Why?" The single word echoed around the room, a large glass dome once meant to observe the cosmos instead had to content itself with the majesty of the boundless Pacific.

"Why what?" The man known internationally as the master of Magnetism, an international terrorist, and a criminal mastermind didn't look up from where he was working on today's crossword and trivia sections from the Jerusalem Times. A daily occurrence, serviced to Utopia by the mayor of San Francisco. A gift? Or an appeasement? Magneto seemed to not really care, often letting them pile up. There were more important things to attend to.

But it was a hard and fast rule by Scott, that unless they were in dire straits anyone who saw action was put out of rotation for at least 96 hours, to allow for recuperation and refreshing any mental fatigue. And so, all the participants of the strange, if successfully accomplished trip to India were on enforced house rest.

He had a steaming cup of tea next to his paper while she was sipping a mug full of Snapple. Alani didn't care that the tea wasn't hot; she just enjoyed the therapeutic aspect of sipping from a mug. It helped to get over the sheer chaotic terror the supposed normal field trip ended up becoming. The ice cubes within jangled as she set it back down on her lap while she looked for better words to explain her question.

She understood nearly everything else that happened after the fact, there was one thing she still didn't get.

"Why were you so calm? Why were you able to keep your cool while the rest of us were…were…" she paused and looked around for the right words.

"Were reacting instead of acting?" Magneto supplied as he shook his head and set the paper down. He had finished the entire back of the newspaper in pen. A small, but telling move of someone who has full confidence in their every action.

"Loa, that is not the real question you wish to ask me." He said, correctly observing the root of the issue. "It's alright. I was once a teacher, and though it was years ago, I find it a profession I am eager to embrace once more."

"You do not need to ask it, you wish to know how I managed my 'righteous fury' at the homo novissima. That they dared to call themselves superior to me?" He ask, quirking a brow as Loa flushed. "That they tried to chain and use me as a battery?" Alright, there was a smoldering ember of rage at that, but he tempered himself, and kept it warmed and glowing, but not ready to ignite. Not just yet.

"Yes." Loa whispered, the clouds spelling the room into a dark twilight for a moment. It drew stiff contrasts over her tattoos, making her suddenly seem even younger than she was. She watched the older man with the rapt attention of a pupil fully attending their studies.

His hard blue eyes held her chestnut brown. "It is simple: I believed in the ingenuity and skill of your teacher, you, and your classmates. Rogue was leading by example, and I would never interrupt one educator in the middle of the lesson. Absolute trust, remaining highly observant at all times, Ms. Ryan, and the foresight to prepare beforehand." He added, smiling. "Cyclops utilizes basic low-notice signals that all are tasked with learning." Alani flushed, giving away his correct deduction. "I recommend you study the files, they are easily accessible on any connected device to the island's intranet."

Alani thanked him and took off to find the information he had so gently chided her to learn, as he set back in his chair to ponder the stormy evening's choppy waves alongside the day's events. 'Why?' she asked, and he provided her with a skillfully delivered lesson, as if he had planned every moment leading up to her query of the last four days. But no, he truly had reacted to the world around him, and the studies that he mentioned were utilized, but it wasn't that. He tried to assess his motives in those actions.

Yes, he had wanted to aggressively fight his way free of their enemies, but he was forced to play by new rules these days. The evolved humans had led him away from Rogue, and something near-bestial almost snapped free from his adamantine restraint. Strapped into the machine, he remained docile and compliant as Perra crowed his televised victory over Rogue, promising her an agonizing, ignominious death.

If he hadn't known that the Children would be deceived by who was in the Angelfire next to him…

Magneto did not see as others did. He was a master of magnetism, and that came with an ability to see along lines most humans required technology to assist them with. Long ago in the Savage Land he had imprinted Rogue's unique bio-electric signature into his memory. It was like a fingerprint, but was even more difficult to disguise. Hers, he knew as well as his own, as well as he knew his flesh and blood. He could find her at any time, anywhere amongst the planet with a moment's concentration. This close, he needed no extra effort, or the Children's technology to let him see what happened to her.

He saw the pain physically and in the symphony of nerves that coursed through her body as the gravity-powered flatscan - and flatscan he was - tried to murder her for a people's entertainment. Disgusting, barbaric, completely going against the enlightened perspective they tried to espouse. Further, despite the immense power they had, it was not a birthright given by Providence, but by technology, a more cruel and utilitarian lord than evolution itself. It's own hubris was embedded into their very existence.

Before the torture could get truly underway, other events occurred. Though indeed, seeing her in any pain almost blinded him to action once again, if the Angelfire wasn't already sucking his life force, his very self. Had he remained passive for too long? Had the window of opportunity slipped away from him?

A half-moment of animal panic before logic and reason reasserted itself. And as it did, reality made its presence known. Luz was not here. As soon as the Angelfire was turned on so too the Children realized such, and their vaunted technology began to fail. Magneto was now free to do as he wished with plenty of justifiable reason, incarnate in the injured human before him, a captive mutant deep within their cursed city, and Mumbai itself under siege. Most importantly, Magneto had the outlet to let his anger fuel his strength.

During the escape he tracked Rogue's movements, timing them with his own so that their paths would cross. He wished he could express the words in his heart as she came into view, manipulating gravity as if she had that power her entire life. The endless hordes came at her, and from the look on her face, she was more concerned about anything other than losing as her enemies fell en masse.

To be a mutant was to be endlessly adaptable, Erik Magnus, the master of magnetism, and the man of many names reflected as he picked up his personal journal. He flipped back to his entry from yesterday that ended with "...permanently harmed her in any capacity, I would have torn their Babel down to its foundations."

Brave words, boldly said, sincerely promised. He could have delivered it, he wanted to, but upon reflection it was better the Children would struggle to return to our reality. More than likely they would sometime long after he was dead, and he was glad for it. He had solved enough of mutants' woes. Tonight, and perhaps tomorrow, he could attend to the ones that troubled his shadowed heart.

He withdrew from the large informal room, as twilight fell completely across the raised asteroid. Yes, to be endlessly adaptable, Rogue had proven that she had a name that lived to her reputation, not just her birthright. She was able to manipulate the situation in ways her enemies couldn't expect. Her balance of action and inactivity, punctuated with incisive decisions kept her enemies unable to track her methods. A maverick, a planner of tactics, and an executor of strategy, his Rogue was -

His Rogue? No, thinking like that was a foolish assumption that only callow youths tried to rationalize. He had never claimed her, never tried to own her, nor sought to. He did not seek a follower in a companion. He wanted, needed someone like Rogue who was strong, independent, resourceful and could stand alongside him. He ought to have acted on what the fates had clearly wound together for them to exploit. The one clear chance he had years ago, he rejected. Satiating his bloodlust by executing Zaladane - no matter how deserved it was, had shown Rogue his weakness, and the realization of that shame being his motivator for his actions then chilled him to his marrow.

He knew now why he was so carefully cautious around her. His need, his love, his hunger for her was enough to chase off even an ardent lover. He couldn't let her see such an unrestrained side of him, ever again.

Well, perhaps not completely restrained. He reflected, as he stepped outside to a small terraced area to look again at the tossing surf. She will never again see me out of control, a raving lunatic. Rogue tried then to show me the right path. Now I will prove to her I have learned what she strived to teach then.

I will show her a man worthy of that trust.

The pounding surf roared in his ears as he sculpted the metal terrace into a fine filigree befitting a king's palace. Utilitarian was the way of the Children of the Vault. The Children of the Atom created things of beauty.

"Whatchya thinkin', Erik?" Rogue asked as she strolled up to look out over the bay with him. The sun was setting over the flat line of the horizon.

"I believe you and I make a good team," he stated honestly. Utterly true, yet devoid of any extremes she may feel the need to read into.

"We did alright," Rogue said cheekily before returning her gaze to the sunset. He followed suit and was content to enjoy the setting sun.