Elsewhere, deep in his own private chambers, Cortez was pacing the length of his study, wearing out the carpet with his relentless back and forth. He was arguing with someone on a large phone, clearly something created for international calls.

"-an dead! Alright?! One way, or the other, just get it done!" He jammed the off button and took a moment to grumble something low and under his breath. His fingers shook a little as he scrolled through his saved contacts. There. AAA - a pseudonym. The phone rang once.

Twice.

The phone rang for a third time and Cortez nearly swore aloud. If they were trying to avoid him-

Click. "Andrea." the woman's voice was deep, resonant; the audial embodiment of rotting indulgence.

"And Andreas," a second voice picked up seamlessly, male similar in timbre, and countenance for the world. Harmonious, they chimed together with the unerring timing of twins, "Fenris International."

"Change of plans. We're speeding everything up by half." Cortez said in rapid French.

"Oui," the brother breathed as the woman rapped out a swift farewell. They hung up in unison.

Cortez wanted to fume. He wanted to rant, rave, and rail against the twist in fate that brought both the southern fried fool, and Magneto's failure of a son to his doorstep when he was so close to victory! Perhaps of those who would associate closest with Magneto those two are only exceeded by Charles Xavier himself.

He needed both of them neutralized. He was fortunate that Exodus was missing, it kept things easier to hide without needing to guard his thoughts so stringently. He wasn't too fond of needing to increase the timetable this much, but needs will always surpass wants. He was too smart to not expect this, and he was more than prepared to move out.

Because he was so smart, so adept, he had contingencies in place. It was time to send a carefully edited email to Dr. Alda Huxley. He needed her to see his information first, needing her to convince the United Nations to set a cordon around Genosha, to keep the island nation isolated. She needed to be put in a place so that the decision was forced, and Genosha was kept from any help, international, superhero, all.

It'd start soon. Once it did, and all his plans ran their course, Genosha would no longer be in Magneto's hands. Indeed, Magneto would be dead, and Cortez so rich that no one could ever touch him again. And he could live the life he deserved, the life that had so sorely been denied him too long.


Andreas von Strucker set his cordless extension down and began to type out the memo calling in all operatives with swift keystrokes. His sister was on the other side of the room, lounging in a chaise as she flipped through a business journal as one would a fashion magazine. She made a little snort as her brother sent the email.

"Once his money clears, we move." The impatience in her voice spoke volumes.

"Of course, my sweet sister. He nearly welched on his last debt; we must make certain to collect his fee as installments, lest he run once again." Andreas set his computer to power save mode and rose to join his sister for the night now that the work day was done.


Alone in the private hallways a frustrated Pietro had hoped to find his father before he went for his evening meal, but no such luck. It seemed that he and Rogue were having dinner together. Well, he supposed his father would want to know more why one of Charles' was here. Could he blame his father for not trusting the X-Men? Or…was this something more? And the last time Pietro and Rogue had appeared together when Magneto was gathering power, a series of…truly unfortunate… circumstances occurred.

Yes, that last time he had seen Rogue in his father's company they were fighting a frantic, chaotic battle high above the earth. Prior to the fight, Xavier told him at the time that Rogue evoked an emotional response in Magneto. At the time, there was too much need, and too little time to delve deeply, or ask further questions. At the time, he decided not to think about it unless or until there was an after.

That 'after' never came, due to the shocking events of the day, and it seemed best enough to let "sleeping dogs lie". But that 'after' was here now and he wasn't quite as prepared as he thought. He turned to look out a large window that overlooked the bay that gave the capital city its name. What did he think about this?

Even lost in his musing, he noticed as the air to his left began to shimmer and condense. Thus it was no surprise when it coalesced into a human form that seemed born of mists birthed from the exhalations of a distant god. Amelia Voght materialized before him and he refrained from shocked surprise at another person suddenly next to him.

"Pietro, it's a relief to see you in Genosha," she said by way of greeting. "How's the wife and kid?" Voght asked, a thin smile at her lips in a vain attempt at small talk. Despite himself, Pietro felt his body flinch. It was an innocent enough question, one that shouldn't invoke such ire, yet he felt his pulse pound just by asking.

Voght eyed him and appraised the silvery speedster with the eye of a nurse that was good at her job. He didn't like having an obvious tell like that. Why was he so easily unsettled? "I apologize if-"

"Not your problem," he cut in coldly. He wasn't here to air his dirty laundry. "But how about we abandon the idle talk about something a little less about my home life and more about the matters at hand," he replied.

"Like the dinner your father is sharing with Rogue?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Sure," he said, his fists clenching at his sides before he rose his hands to cross over his chest and turn his head away snidely. "We can talk about them," he said dryly.

His snarkiness was noted by Voght and discarded just as briskly. "Very well. Are you opposed?" she asked. Blunt and to the point, like a nurse recording data.

"To the U.N's foolish decision to give this county to my father? Yes, of course, I am," he said archly, turning to look at her. "But it's done. The world put my father in charge." He paused and dropped all artifice. "You all deserve to burn if he chooses it." he stated.

"Pietro!" she exclaimed in disbelief.

"They gave him the keys to the kingdom!" he exclaimed, before abruptly pausing, his blood pressure was- no no, he needed to calm down. "Ameila, look," he said and raked his hand through his silvery hair. He managed to take in a calming breath and found that his voice sounded far more level-headed now. "If he and Rogue want to trade longing looks of love at each other, and it keeps the country running, while mutants and humans stay safe, why should I care?" he asked. And he realized he meant it.

"Then I have your support?" she asked tentatively.

"Yes," he sighed. "Consider me on board," he said dryly.

"Excellent; we'll be in touch." Vought smiled much more naturally this time and in a puff of green mist that enveloped her, she departed from the area as quickly as she appeared.


Magneto sat feeling a sense of urgency across from Rogue. He wanted to tear the table apart with his powers, sweep her off her feet and devour her, subsume her, let her know the depths of his feelings in such a way as to leave no shadow of a doubt. He would carry her from the room - well, he may not make it that far - and every concern that had ever crossed their minds would blow away like leaves in an autumn gale. He wanted to throw everything away, and take her somewhere that none could ever find them, where they'd live quietly. He'd return if and when they chose.

Willing those urges back with steely will, Magnus set his fork down, taking another sip of the wine.

"Thank you, Saucier. That will be all." he said in dismissal to the witness of the evening. It was a song and dance as old as time. That Saucier will be interviewed, obliquely, obviously, and everything in between was as acknowledged by the culinary mutant as an understanding even as he knew he was to prepare a meal. And even if his suspicions were inaccurate, gossip was bound to be prevalent within the residences of the palace. Anything the talented cook saw would be passed along, one way or another. Best not to give the vultures who surrounded him any more ammo than necessary.

Finally, at last he departed, as Rogue's eyebrow raised a bit in amusement. "Letting him go 'fore coffee's served?"

"I was raised that offers of coffee meant that the activity is at an end." he responded, taking another sip of his wine.

"Oh…we're not done yet?" she asked with a bit of surprise, but if he wasn't mistaken, that was a blush gracing her cheeks. She wasn't as easily affected by libations like others were, due to her immense strength and invulnerabilities. It took a great deal to affect her either way, emotionally as well.

But then again, that was why he enjoyed, what he wanted - what he needed. This. Making her react. "Only if you wish it to be."

Rogue looked down at the table and then back up at him. Her gaze was direct, and a shade light-hearted, despite the circumstances.

"It's good to know that you don't want it to end." Her lip quivered into a small, somewhat hopeful smile, and he felt a pang in his chest. It was old, familiar, and something he felt only when he looked at family or those…

Those he loved. He couldn't deny it, not with her here, so present, so proudly, wholly, defiantly herself. In the past he had forced himself to refrain and stop. To savor, to take these times for them instead of for the world or some other more 'lofty' reason. It happened in the mansion. It happened once more when they were in the Savage Land, and it could so easily do so now.

Perhaps at a distance he could have left it be, remained resolved, kept her at arm's length. But he knew himself, and that was why he had asked her here. It forced his hand. Now, in front of her, he could not deny anything.

"If I haven't said it already, thank you for accepting my invitation," he said.

"Ya did," she said with a slight smile. "I think," she said, second guessing herself, as she brushed some of her hair behind her ear. "If we won't be moving on ta dessert, what are we doin'?" she asked.

"I didn't necessarily say-" he said before pausing. "Music?" he asked, the notion suddenly coming to mind as the song shifted to a waltz. "A dance perhaps, for old times sake?" he asked, with a smile that warmed his face. He was surprised when almost instantly rose to her feet. He quickly followed and all distance between them closed.

He drew her into his arms, and savored the moment. No matter what result, he wanted to remember this moment. The soft, familiar strength in her hands, the gentle pressure of her arms lying atop his. His right hand went to brace her back, the other to grasp her hand. It was an improper grasp, and she gasped as he hitched her closer than a proper waltz would conventionally approve of.

"The collar's back in the room y'all gave me," she said breathlessly, her cheeks as crimson as he'd ever seen. Magnus ignored the comment. He deliberately turned his head, keeping eye contact as he gently pressed a kiss to her knuckles. He knew they both felt it, the spark as she absorbed his powers and as he held contact even longer, a magnetic shield covered her skin as well as his, until-

She gasped, her eyes widened as those topical thoughts informed her of his thoughts. She understood how he used his mutant powers to allow their bare skin touch with no ill effect. She blinked back the tears of shock and surprise, her heart touched deeply. She had trusted him earlier, and that trust was proven here, now. There was a hungry, but amused look in his eye as he lowered her hand and readjusted his grip. Her pulse was racing, he could feel it as his bare skin caressed hers.

Magnus took a step back, to begin their dance, and Rogue threw herself back to him, pressing her whole body to him, floating up in the air high enough to catch his lips with hers in a sweet, chaste kiss. Magnus was surprised - and why was he always so surprised by her? Her very name meant the fact that she was unpredictable. He felt that lightness in his heart that she always brought to him, a balm for soul, a soothing of all tensions. She was so full of light, of wisdom, and the joy of life that it brought his iron-cold flesh new warmth.

The dance was eschewed as he held her to him and deepened the kiss. Her lips parted with an eager whimper and their tongues dueled as he drove her backwards, away from the table. A chair was abruptly toppled over in their haste as he held her up against the far wall, never breaking the kiss.

Rogue eagerly urged him on, going so far as to float to avoid impeding his path for them across the room. He took one hand and laced her fingers with his; he needed to touch her. He never feared her gifts, and he knew how to disrupt her power's siphoning abilities and he applied them in the past, and he applied them here. He never lied to her; he could never fear her powers. To fear them would be to deny them, and they were a part of her. She lived her life to the fullest and he would not withhold or reserve himself when he was with her. Nor should Rogue have to reduce herself to be accessible to another.

"Magnus-" she whispered as he pulled back. He couldn't refrain, he couldn't hold back. Hearing his name inflamed his ardor, and he dove in to capture her mouth once more. He had thought to give her a brief moment to gather herself, for him to do the same, but no, passion ruled and he could tarry any further.

"Rogue, I know that I have asked much of you of this day, but I will ask one more indulgence from you." he rasped as he pulled back. "Give me this night, please. Whatever tomorrow brings, let that be tomorrow's worry. Share this night with me."

"Ah swear Ah don't understand you sometimes," she said softly as pushed forward against him, not with all her strength, she let her bare hands remain in his grasp. But she pulled herself against him, feeling the hard planes of his body, and the harder lump that pressed against her aching core. She kissed him, deeply, hard and she ground her hips against him, chest flush against his. "Why else am Ah here?" she smiled, and that seemed to break the dam of passion in him.

His lips pressed against hers, claiming her lips as she claimed him in return. She loved that about him, that he met her, strength for strength. He challenged her as much as she did for him. And she never wanted anything but that, she thought to herself, hitching one leg on his hip.

Emboldened, he wanted to rip her stockings off of her, but he knew she wouldn't appreciate it. She had come with so little, and while new items would be there in the mornin-

He snarled, giving in to his impulses. In this moment he concluded that restraint was for lesser men, and he would not deny himself any longer. He hooked his finger over the lip of her tights and undergarments. He didn't pause and ripped them down without care if they tore or broke. He truly couldn't care as he took her mouth with a similar sounding noise. Magnus wanted to care that this was gentler, more romantic. Perhaps another night. This night, however…

He couldn't wait another second and he entered her, and thrust madly, her back hitting the wall hard enough to hurt another woman. But she wasn't, she was nigh invulnerable, and if anything urged him on. Not that he wished to hurt her, but that ignited his passion further. He would never willingly hurt her again, he swore as his thrusts continued unabated. Rational thought was fleeing him. He couldn't hold himself back any longer.

Neither could she, from the slick confines of her wet cunt as he slid in and out of her. Erik couldn't stifle the groan of satisfaction as he repeatedly sank into her at a rapid pace. He broke from her lips as her hands scrabbled over his chest. She made a little whine at the loss of his lips, but that swiftly turned to moans of appreciation as his teeth sank into her neck, lips following slower on that soft skin as his hips never relented.

Hers met him as she continued to match his thrust, hands and body, her body, so soft and firm at the same time, stroked and coaxed, caressed him, and urged him to completion. He ground it out, as his jaw beat out the rhythm to her name over and over against her neck. He was almost mindless with the need to be completed, and the feel of trapping her between him and the wall, pert nipples pressed against his chest.

Why had he denied himself this? The question echoed over and over in his mind. He couldn't comprehend an answer as he came, spilling his seed into her as he thrust into and ground against her with teeth, hips, and lips repeatedly. He wasn't satisfied until she followed him a frantic staccato of heartbeats later, her legs tightening and her moaning his name. Despite the lassitude that was sweeping through him in waves, he felt even more gratified as she orgasmed so swiftly, and with him on her lips.

He took her mouth again as her repeated refrain of his name started to die down. The bliss of his climax did not abate and he continued to hold her up, unwilling to pull himself just yet. He pressed kiss after kiss, each one lighter than the last, until the final one, he ghosted over her chin, her cheek, and up to the lobe of her left ear.

Sucking on it ever so gently, his teeth pressed down with the same firmness, holding it in place.

In a puff of breath that stirred her disheveled hair, he managed to growl out a ravenous. "The night is young."


Hours later, in the waning night, Rogue stretched into wakefulness from the brief nap he allowed her after their first tryst. Their first on this bed, that is. Lying beside her with his hand was on her cheek, his other cupping one freed breast, and the request evident. After their first… entanglement…they hastily adjourned from their meal, dessert forgotten as they had not given the table another look. They had practically tripped over themselves in their haste to depart the room and continue their activities. Fortunately, his rooms were close by. Hers were a bit further than they could perhaps stand to wait.

Their night continued from there, slower moments punctuated by frantic bursts of lovemaking, before curling close to one another, whispering words that lovers do when the years stretch behind them, making conversations bridge those gaps without needing the expository words behind them. They knew. They knew one another.

At first, it was almost like two youths sneaking about the back of the house to avoid getting her in trouble with curfew. It made her giggle as he had practically thrown her onto the bed, and she had tugged him by his forearms to pin her to the soft comforter that lay across his enormous bed.

"How many people is this bed s'posed ta fit?" she asked in between her laughter. Seeing her mirth made him respond in kind, and Lord…when was the last time she had heard him laugh? When was the last time his eyes had turned in that way, when had a smile last come through in those eyes? She couldn't stop staring at this rare sight, of Erik Magnus Lehnsherr, happy.

"There is only one person I can imagine I need between these sheets," he avowed with a lingering smile as he drew down and kissed her, long, deep. Since the hasty conclusion of their meal, he seemed more impulsive, more committed to action with her instead of carefully waiting like a seasoned general on the battlefield. She felt a moment cross over her, when she was in the Savage Land waking him the night before battle. Or when they were nearly in space with all those missiles around them. She felt like this was some crucial moment in their relationship, and the severity of that feeling came upon her. Magneto paused from his loving attention to draw back enough to search her eyes.

She hadn't realized she was drifting. It helped her snap back to reality, pull her back to the now. Of her friends and allies, he was among the few that took her fugue moments in stride with the most calm. Her heart beat a pang harder.

"No…not that. Ah-Ah'm here." she assured him. "I was just thinking…" she paused as she lifted a hand to brush his hair. "Was just thinking how happy Ah am to see you - y'know…happy."

Was that the wrong thing to say? Rogue's mouth closed as his eyes closed off for a long moment and he searched her eyes. Then he suddenly softened. She was confused, but his head dipped and pressed to the hollow at the base of her throat.

"What have I done to deserve such devotion?" he mused between languid kisses up her neck. "What have I given you that you deliver unto me such trust?" his lips pressed another kiss to the corner of her mouth. "You save me only weeks ago, and now deliver yourself here. Why?" His voice was firm. Not angry. But firm. His eyes caught and held her as his powers over metal had done so many times before.

Rogue was unable to look away from him after he made that question plain, finally speaking out what they had danced around since her arrival. Rogue's throat was tightening in anticipation of this question. She hadn't expected him to be so…so…

Oh who was she kidding? This was Erik Magnus Lehnsherr, the Master of Magnetism, Lord of the Realm, and roughly thirty other titles. Of course he would be this direct, this forward. He had too much to protect, and she was a fool for thinking otherwise. Rogue managed to gulp around the sudden lump in her throat. She knew he was waiting for her answer, and she knew the answer she wanted to give.

The truth.

"I came because I wanted to. Because you offered." she blinked and said the truth. "Because I care."

She felt a daring impulse take her over, and she wouldn't be herself if she didn't act on them. Craning her head up, extending the long line of it, she pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, mirroring his movements in reverse.

"I care, Erik." she whispered, as she continued to slide down his chest, rolling with her hip to show him how badly she wanted to be astride him.

Wonder of wonders, he complied. She sighed in relief as continued to alight down his body, slowly increasing the pressure as she traveled down his naked chest, hearing his heart pound near his sternum while she continued her path down him, taking his stiffening cock in her hands and guiding it to her mouth.

Before she could, her bright green eyes, filled with dreaming wonder, desire, and possessive satisfaction met and locked with his blue. That blue seemed to gleam with steely resolve melting into fiery passion as her fingers gently gripped his shaft, her other drifting along, up his body. He caught her hand and kissed the center of her palm in a grateful, worshipful gesture.

"I care. Oh, let me show you, Erik. Please…"

Their night continued.


The Zealot looked down at the wireless cellular phone in his hand. From its tinny speaker he could hear the dial tone. Call terminated.

The Zealot turned, regarding his brethren with a critical eye. His countrymen were disillusioned with a protracted war. To keep the population from going out of control, it was necessary to make certain this strike was with precision, timing, and strong enough to topple the Master of Magnetism before he turned himself into the central pillar of the nation. Once they had control, they'd create the stability and safety mutants needed in their homeland nation. At whatever cost.

Magneto was not their king; The Zealot refused to acknowledge him. He would test this king's mettle and either successfully expose the man for his weakness that The Zealot knew was within him. Or, if somehow he was wrong, then he would die for Genosha, and Genosha would be reborn, stronger under their king.

He would make the monarch bleed, sacrifice what he held dear, prove to this nation that the strength of his will outweighed the strength of his fist. Magneto was going to sacrifice someone for the good of the nation. The Zealot was a simple man, and he had heard of the Trolley Problem long ago. Their leader was going to prove his strength. He would have to make a choice, and prove his dedication to his new people, by separating him from an old encumbrance, for all to see.

A fair trade. More than fair.

"Countrymen. More than that; my flock, my family." he intoned formally. Some looked towards him, his emaciated form, ravaged by the wars of this country with adoration reserved for the holy.

Somewhere, they had found a tattered piece of fabric, which he had wound around his body. It was half death-shroud, half bandage as his skinsuit slowly, so slowly, lost its bonding. The pain of its separation helped to reinforce the look of constant suffering. He had the reminiscent look of a martyr on their final path, and it helped to reinforce the belief of the faithful, sway those on the fence, and allow the cynical to think he could be used to take the country back. It leant his words weight.

But whatever the reason, they were here, and they would listen to him. It would be enough.

The Zealot smiled. "I have good news."


The next day, a satisfied and contemplative Rogue was walking the halls, trying to get a feel for the enormous building. Why did it need this much interior, and rooms to fill it? She had walked for the last hour or so, and she figured she had a good idea about the eastern hallway. She was using it to distract herself, to look busy while she waited for the morning meeting to convene, and allow herself some time to keep her mind off other realizations.

One such was that last night's - the tangle of sheets, breath catching as he whispered promises of what he would do to her, for her, her own burning need to make him feel a release, to let off that terrible pressure within him that threatened his carefully kept balance - 'activities' of the night before had helped her to sleep. In fact, she slept more soundly than she had expected to in this country.

What was she to do now? Rogue felt herself in a real quandary; she had so many opposing sides at war within her that even last night's satisfaction was forced repeatedly to the back of her mind. Couldn't she take the moment to feel?

'Evidently not.' Rogue sighed, and leaned against an open windowsill to look out over the harbor to think about the consequences of her actions for a moment. She cared about Magn-Erik Magnus Lehnsherr. Since she arrived she had made the decision to make this country work. It wasn't for a desire to be a part of this nation, just in traveling to the palatial residence, she saw too many innocent lives that were desperate to find normalcy once again.

Cortez wasn't going to work towards that, Rogue knew for certain. And yet, Magneto let him stay around. Rogue didn't think Magneto was that cruel, that cold to let innocents die, but he was thinking on a global scale and would have to be more nuanced in how he checked any authority that Cortez tried to demand. And so, she meant it. She came because he asked, but with less than 24 hours on this soil, she found herself wanting to stay. Even it randomly made her limbs feel leaden and her stomach feel queasy.

And that was something she couldn't decide about. Was it her feelings for Erik, for Remy, for this country? She wanted to admit that she was fine, she knew exactly what she was feeling. She wanted to admit that she was over her first experience in this country, but she couldn't lie to herself too well. She never could. Even though other events would interrupt her train of thought, those dark memories kept pushing forward, causing her to shove that dull, throbbing fear to the back of her mind once again.

Maybe it wasn't over, and she'd have to face it some tim-

"Really, Rogue…how could you?"

Rogue sent mental thanks towards Logan in her mind; his hard-drilled lessons after the Morlock Massacre taught her to refrain from leaping aside in fear like a startled rabbit by a voice from behind. She was proud of maintaining her cool, particularly since her mind had been preoccupied with thoughts of the day prior.

"Jeez, Pietro!" she said, her voice a little breathier than she liked. Alright, maybe she wasn't as completely centered as she wished. Maybe she had thought too deeply on the night before, on Magneto. She hadn't been acting mindfully, and that allowed Quicksilver to get the drop on her. But how could she help it when Magnus had that firm grip, that stabling touch? It always found a way to cut through fog, anchoring her to the moment, the here and now, making her feel like..

'Get it together, girl.' she thought to herself firmly as Pietro tried to get her attention. He seemed to be speaking to her, and she really ought to try and keep in the moment, especially for someone who lived in it so firmly as the heroic mutant before her.

"Rogue," the speedster said, apparently for the third time as he guided them briskly along the halls, until they were alone in a very long hallway, allowing them plenty of room to keep an eye out. She allowed him to lead her along, if only to get answers faster. She let her feet drift above the ground so she could scoot along without tripping.

To be honest; Rogue was swiftly getting mightily tired of these clandestine whiskings in enormous walkways. It reminded her of those boring primetime shows that Hank and Cecilia would hog the TV every Thursday night. He'd call them 'walk and talks'. How silly.

But it was necessary to keep privacy and secrecy. So she'd suffer the silly little dance, and avoid making a comment. There were limited ways one could keep too many secrets in a nation full of super powered individuals…for long at least.

"Alright, Pietro, what's wrong? Spill it."

"At least you're not wearing it now." he scoffed impatiently. Of course he said it impatiently. He did everything impati-

No, that wasn't fair. Rogue knew from her friendship with Jean Paul, a mutant whose life experience was similar to Pietro's. Everything was done faster than normal for them. And Pietro here had waited so long to speak to her. The whole night! Hours, really, but for someone who lived life so quickly, it must have felt like a formal request requiring 7 to 10 business days for completion. He must be chomping at the bit for answers.

"The collar? Yeah, Ah don't like it either bu-"

"Rogue, it's an abomination and an insult to us all."

His hands were on her upper arms, as if he wanted to shake her. Shake some sense into her? She wanted to grind her teeth. "Ah know that, Pietro." A shadow of fear twitched across her face, as she remembered the last time someone in Genosha gripped her by her upper arms. Lost in memory in that second, she didn't catch that he noticed it, and hid his curious reaction much swiftly. "Wasn't mah plan. It's Cortez's great idea an-"

"So why go through it?"

He was lucky she was such a patient, understanding individual. She didn't like being cut off any more than the next person, but Pietro was a special case, and she'd give him a little more leeway than others may. She marshaled her own impatience - she was getting good at that today - and continued on.

"Because, no matter how Cortez tries to play this game, he ain't gonna win. It's not like your father needs me-" she broke off as a pang of fear and uncertainty lanced through her at saying those words, but continuing on. "It's not like your father needs me and my powers to clean Fabian's clock. An' really, I don't need them to do it either."

It went without saying she wanted to beat the toady to a pulp on any given day. But that anger masked her fear and avoided answering the real questions that Pietro had for her. However, to call their situation precipitous was to understand and over embellish at the same time. They both knew, even though neither were seasoned diplomats, how dangerously explosive the situation was.

Pietro removed his hands and for a brief, sick moment she regretted their loss even as the fear finally subsided. To say touch-starved was an understatement. Too often, Rogue felt more touch-dead than anything. At this point of her life, even Pietro's hands on her arms set her pulse racing. It was an automatic reaction, and these days, she now had to guard against making sudden movements in reaction to someone else's touch.

She had to make certain that no one got too close to her while at the same time when people who do remain unaware of how bad off she was. She didn't want pity, didn't need pity. She'd rather die first. But at the same time, it was enough to make her feel like she had taken twenty steps back. If it wasn't for her powers' harsh training, she wouldn't be able to wade through her mind's spinning chaos and inconsistencies without being able to seem as normal and well-balanced to her friends. Even her psychic friends and allies were unaware, thanks to the natural mental chaff her mind put out naturally as a consequence of her powers.

But to walk through the world like a ghost, to be acknowledged in word and look, and never in touch made her feel like she was fading away. She knew the others knew how badly she wanted a hug, a hand shake, the casualness that friends gave one another. But those who knew of her and her powers respected her personal bubble so much that it felt sometimes like she was enshrined in waves of thick cotton. The world was at arm's length.

She couldn't ask them to imperil themselves just because of her selfishness, and she couldn't freak out every time someone touched her like a startled foal fresh from their mother. Rogue did her best to ignore them, act as if their touch were nothing, flex her other foot. Anything to keep anyone from seeing or realizing her panic. It set her teeth on edge, keeping so normal, so calm all the time.

Rogue cast her mind back to the memory of his gaze on her, his hand so firmly on her arm. It was like that for him…and for Remy. That hold seemed to solidify her in a world that was swiftly growing more and more thin the less she felt anyone else touch her. They were the one of the few who dared to regularly keep her from drifting away, wraithlike, impermanent. Not a single mark on the world, no one to remember, no one that made the whole lonely life bearable, have meant something, because she matters to someone, something outside of herself.

Being utterly insignificant…

"Pietro, yer askin' me about the collar, but I don't think that's the real question. Y'wanna know why I'm here?" she asked and his chin thrust out in an abrupt nod. "Ah'd love t'tell ya, but to be honest, it was just instinct, and an' invite."

"If we base our decisions on - "

"Look, Pietro, aren't you glad Ah'm here? One more set of eyes an' all? And considerin' I've answered all of yer questions, I've got some of mah own.'' She settled one hand on a hip and gestured to him. "Why are you here?"

Pietro paused for an actual heartbeat before he honest to goodness blushed. "Instinct…and an invite." That sounded more truthful than he wanted to give. Rogue reckoned her was upset about something, but her Momma - all of them, raised her well. She'd ask, but maybe some other time than a hallway near anyone could show up. They were mutants in a mutant country - anything could happen.

"Well, ain't that a peach?" Rogue smiled, before she paused, remembering her foster mother, Irene Adler, Destiny, and some of her gentler wisdom. "I really don't know how that mighta turned out. 'Reenie always said that we shouldn't look to her for signs or portents; most everything can be seen if we pay attention, and trust. So, yeah…instinct, and an invite. Ah think it's enough for me to go on. And really, thanks. I'm glad you were there, and you're here now." She extended her free, gloved, hand.

He gripped her hand tight and grinned back at her. "Of course. Cortez is nothing but filth." Pietro's face lost the humor and he looked at Rogue seriously. "I had hoped…after our last time…" he shook his head, unable to say anything further about the failure of a mission. Perhaps the less said about the raid on Avalon was the best option. "I had hoped you found a way free from my father's sphere of influence. Or perhaps that he had found a way to let you go, to release you from his orbit. But it's impossible, isn't it? It's an inexorable, undeniable force of nature. Those of us caught in it…well, let us be caught together."

At a loss for words she nodded agreement, and in response he swiftly pulled her into a tight hug. Yelping in surprise, her hands flew to his chest and were caught between them in the crush. She started to push away, but he shook his head fiercely and she subsided. Content that she was willing to accept the embrace, he bent his head and whispered in her ear. "If he hurts you in any way, I will take and smear him along every wall from here to the harbor."

Rogue smiled, feeling the warmth grow between them. She liked Pietro before, but now, she really liked the prickly speedster. "Thanks Pietro, but since we've all got our eye on Cortez-"

"Not him, Rogue. My father."

Tears suddenly sprang to her eyes, and her hands moved, to wrap around him in the hug he instigated. Rogue pressed her forehead against his shoulder, finding that she was glad their secretive meeting occurred. She hadn't expected this, in fact, she feared what might happen if Magneto's children discovered that she and Magneto potentially were…that she and Magneto were potentially…well…whatever it was they were. Most importantly this talk and the hug meant the world to her that Pietro…understood.

Eventually they pulled apart once she managed to control herself. "Got it. Yes. Ah think that'd be just fine by me too. C'mon, let's go figure out how we can help solve some of the problems 'round here."