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Author's Chapter Notes:
Right. Well. What can I say? Real life has kept me busy this past week. Starting with a bad evening, followed by adopting a 165 lb Great Dane, and ending today with my boss handing me a binder and the instructions to type up over 1200 (no, that’s not a typo) work orders and test certificates by tomorrow afternoon. After 3.5 hours I finished the first two hundred and low and behold, I somehow managed to delete them all and had to start all over. Grr. I’m ready for the weekend five days ago.

Anywho, excuses aside, I promised myself that I would write this chapter and post it by Friday. And even though I’m not completely happy with the results, if I don’t post it now, I’ll probably continue to delete and rehash for only god knows how long.

Also, I wanted to thank all of you for your patience and for your emails of subtle (and some not-so-subtle) reminders to get my butt in gear and work on SoA. Sandra, aka PhantomPhoenix, was all kinds of extra sweet when she sent me these amazing pics of Hugh that are quite reflective of the Logan in this story. Some of you may have seen them before, but I hadn’t. And I’m not even going to get started on all the embarrassing noises and gestures I made when I saw these for the first time.

Get your drool guards ready girls---

http://imagehost.vendio.com/bin/viewimage.x/00000000/jackensack/VFUKHUGHHH1.jpg?vvid=4789184&allow_track_link=1&track=027815603b-e657&sp=1&vsid=1&vgp=0&vimgs=VFUKHUGHHH1.jpg,VFUKHUGHHH2.jpg,VFUKHUGHHH3.jpg,VFUKHUGHHH4.jpg,VFUKFACINELLI.JPG
Rrr-hha-r.

Rrr-hha-r.

I peeked an eye open and glared at the alarm clock. What the hell? It was Saturday.

Rrr-hha-r.

Oh yeah. Jean’s birthday party. Mom wanted us there early to help out.

Rrr-hha-r.

I lifted a hand to whack it silent but, in a rare moment of lucidity, decided against it. I wasn’t sure the plastic I’d made and molded to repair the body would hold up to any more abuse.

Using the tip of one finger, I delicately pressed the button to turn the alarm off. Unfortunately, the bare amount of pressure was still too much for the clock. I heard the crisp snap of my pseudo-plastic and a ping when it hit the floor.

“Damn.” I covered my head with the comforter and wondered if anyone would notice if I stayed there all day. My parents would be all about seeing Jean; they wouldn’t notice if I danced naked around the birthday cake. And I had no one else that’d care one way or the other what happened to me. Except Scott. Maybe.

An image of a dark-haired Canadian stud came to mind and I forcibly pushed it out. I would not think about him. Not at all. If he was narrow-minded enough not to give me another chance, fine. I wasn’t about to waste my time weeping over him either.

“The bastard,” I mumbled into my pillow.

But then I inhaled and caught a whiff of his scent on my sheets from when he spent the night, and I realize how empty my bed was. I wondered if he was sniffing his sheets and missing me.

With a low groan I shoved the covers aside and got up. I needed coffee. A lot of it, if I was going to have any chance of making it through the day.

I picked my robe off the floor, put it on, and did a zombie stumble to the kitchen.

Jean was at the counter already. Of course. She had a mug in her hand. I looked around for evidence of that vile crap she called coffee, but didn’t find anything.

I ignored her presence and reached around her to fill the kettle with water. Slowly I started my press pot ritual, using it as a meditation to clear my mind.

It worked until Jean slammed her mug down on the counter. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

Startled by the uncharacteristic show of aggression, I glanced at her. She didn’t look too violent though, so I willed myself to find nirvana and returned to the rhythmic cleaning of my coffee grinder.

Hands on her hips, she huffed in frustration. “So we’re just going to ignore this.”

“There’s nothing to ignore.” I wound the cord of the grinder around the body and put it back in the cupboard. I caught a glimpse of a tin of General Foods International Coffee (I use that term loosely) in the very back corner, semi-hidden behind a can of cocoa. I was tempted to throw the tin away but I didn’t have the energy. She’d just buy more—what did it prove?

As I shut the cabinet and poured hot water over the grounds, I heard Jean murmur, “Why do I even bother?” and stomp out of the kitchen.

I shrugged. Whatever her deal was, she’d be gone once this damn party was over and then everything would go back to normal. Except for my heart, which would still be terminal.

Sigh.

After my coffee was ready, I doctored a mug and took it to my room to wallow in self-pity. Unfortunately, Scott called and interrupted my pity fest.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

Just my life in shambles around me. “Nothing.”

Pause. “What’s wrong?”

I scowled. “Why do you have to be so astute?”

“It’s my fatal flaw. So what’s wrong?”

What wasn’t wrong? I had no desire to list everything for him. He’d just tell me he said so. And he’d be right.

“Rogue? Come on. Tell me.”

“Why can’t I just have my coffee in peace?”

“This doesn’t have to be difficult. Just tell me what happened and I’ll help you fix it.”

I scrunched my nose in an effort to stem the tingly feeling that signaled the onslaught of tears. “You’ll tell me I deserve what I got.”

“Probably, but I’d still help you fix it.”

I laughed, though it sounded hollow and weak even to my ears.

“Is this about Logan?”

My heart constricted at the mention of his name. “Do you ever wish you were any only child, Scott?”

He ignored my question. “You know what you need to do?”

“What?”

“Resign yourself to the fact that you have a sister and built a relationship with her.”

I frowned at the phone. “That’s the brilliant advice you’ve got for me today?”

There was a shrug in his tone of voice. “It’s the best I can offer you. Except for a ride to your parents.”

“I’ve got to go over there early.”

“That’s alright. I told your mom I’d help too.”

What a relief. At least I wouldn’t have to ride over there with Jean.

“Jean can come along too.” Why did he sound so eager to have her along?

“She said she was going to walk because she needs the exercise.”

“Rogue. It’s over fifty miles.”

Shrug. I tried. At least I wouldn’t have to ride with Jean alone, I amended. “Fine. Pick me up at eleven.”

“See you in an hour.”

He hung up before I could ask him to call back and tell Jean he’d pick her up too. Which meant I had to talk to her myself.

Blech.

I downed my now lukewarm coffee and went to the kitchen for a refill. The door of her room was still closed. I debated posting a note for her on it, but quickly vetoed that idea. If she didn’t see it and missed Scott’s ride, she’d blame me. No, I had to tell her in person.

Hell.

I took a deep breath, strode to the door, and knocked on it once. “Jean, Scott’s picking us up in an hour.”

Before she could open the door and initiate conversation, I scurried back to my room and enclosed myself in its safety. No, I wasn’t a coward--- I just wasn’t interested in striking up a conversation similar to last night’s right before going to our parents’. Remember, Mom had Spidey sense where we were concerned and I didn’t fee like hashing everything out as guests were arriving to celebrate Jean’s birth.

Speaking of which, I needed to figure out what to wear. Black seemed appropriate. In terms of celebrating Jeans’ birth, in any case.

Opening my closet, I scanned the contents to see what I could find. Now that I knew Jean had been raiding my stuff, I noticed the signs of intrusion; clothes hanging funny and in general disorder. Some (Jean) might argue that my clothes were already disorderly, but I maintained that I had a system.

I didn’t know how long I stood there pushing hangers back and forth, but it had to be a long time because I heard Jean start and finish her shower and I still hadn’t picked something to wear.

“As if it matters,” I mumbled. Closing my eyes, I grabbed a hanger and pulled it out. I shrugged when I saw it was a black long-sleeved dress I didn’t particularly like. Who’d care? It wasn’t like I had anyone to impress. If Logan were coming with me—

“Bah!” I scowled and threw the dress onto my bed. He wasn’t going to be there. He was never going to be there. I blew it.

I swiped at my eyes—I wasn’t crying; it was just excessive moisture—and tried to work up the energy to go take a shower when all I wanted to do was huddle in my bed.

But Scott was coming and my mom wouldn’t have let me out of the party. Not unless I were in ICU almost dying, and even then it was a toss-up. So I bucked up and got ready. Halfheartedly, but at least I was dressed. I skipped makeup—too much effort—and put my hair in a tight bun a la Jean.

As I slipped on a pair of black pumps, I thought I heard voices so I left the sanctuary of my room to investigate. Sure enough, Scott and Jean were in the kitchen talking.

They looked up when I walked in. While their jaws didn’t quite fall to the floor, they looked a little puzzled.

“Are you going to a funeral after Jean’s party?” Scott finally asked.

I shot him a dark look. “Are we going or what?”

They exchanged a look but, wisely, neither one said anything. Jean gathered a wrap—not mine, but I did notice she had on one of my cute Betsey Johnson dresses. She looked like she might pop out of the low neckline, but it showed off her longer legs nicely, as loath as I was to admit it. The scarlet print flattered her too, but then our colorings were similar so that wasn’t a surprise.

I locked the front door and followed them to the car. Because I wasn’t in a social mood, I climbed into the back seat. The better to avoid conversation.

I was aware of the random glances they both gave me. Scott’s were puzzled, like he was trying to figure out how he could help me. Jean’s were pissed, like I had no reason to be angry with her. Or maybe she was trying to gauge when to start yelling at me again about how I ruined her life by being born.

We got to our parents’ house forty-five minutes later. I could tell Scott was relieved to arrive. I couldn’t have cared less, and who cared what Jean was thinking?

Usually, I loved coming home. My parents lived in the same big house that we grew up in. It was located on over a hundred acres of woods, gardens, and rolling hills that are so popular for vineyards these days. This time of year was my favorite too—all the fruit trees loaded, you could walk out to the orchard and eat whatever you wanted. There wasn’t anything like it.

Today I got out of the car and silently walked into the cool darkness of the house, not checking out the bushes next to the driveway for blackberries or considering climbing a tree to grab an apple. I barely even paid attention to Scott and Jean’s low voices behind me.

I set my purse and sweater down on the chair in the foyer.

“Jean, is that you, sweetheart?” Mom called from the kitchen.

I made a face as I walked into the kitchen. “It’s me.”

“Where’s Bobby? And Jeans’ with you, isn’t she?”

Sigh. It was going to be a long afternoon. I ignored the first question and answered the second. “She’s here.”

Mom craned her head to look behind me.

When Jean walked in, I swear the room brightened. “Hi, Mom.”

Mom dried her hands on the apron she wore and gave Jean a tight hug. “Oh, Jean, it’s so good to see you.”

I needed a drink. Opening the fridge, I pulled out a couple of beers, uncapped one, and took a swig.

“Is that for me, Rogue?” Scott gestured at the other beer in my hand.

Actually, I’d gotten them both for myself, but I handed him a bottle.

“Thanks.” He flipped the top off and pulled straight from the bottle too.

“Marie Elizabeth, get Scott a glass,” my mom chided with a frown in that tone of voice that implied I had the manners of a barnyard animal.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Xavier.” Scott gave my mom a lazy smile. “I prefer it this way.”

Mom turned her frown on him. “Have you lost weight, Scott?”

He grinned. “I am a little hungry.”

“Come here and I’ll fix you a plate.”

He happily went over and put his arm around her shoulders while she dished him some food. He always could play her like a fiddle.

“What time are people due to arrive?” Jean asked.

“At one.” Mom handed Scott a plate overflowing with food and did a double-take as she actually noticed me. “What are you wearing Marie?”

“A dress.” I looked down to see if it’d morphed into pants or something when I wasn’t paying attention.

“You look—“ she frowned “—somber.”

I heard Scott chortle and shot him a dirty look before I turned to my mother. “I like this dress.”

“It’s rather formal for you, isn’t it?”

“I bet if Jean had worn it, it would have been perfect,” I muttered, wondering if I should trade my beer for a couple of fingers of vodka, straight up.

“You should have worn something with color, like your sister. Doesn’t she look nice in her red dress?”

Instead of pointing out it was my red dress, I shrugged and picked up a platter of vegetables. “I’ll put these on the table.”

But Mom was already fawning over Jean so I slipped out. I went to the dining room and set the plate down just like I said I would. I heard my dad’s voice greeting Jean in the kitchen and knew I couldn’t go back there and watch them exclaim how great my sister was, so I went out back to our old tree house.

Dad had it built when Jean was eight and I was three. Because Jean had reigned supreme even back then, it was kind of girly. At the time it’d been red—her favorite color—but the years had eroded the paint to a sickly pink and no one had bothered to redo it.

My sister had grown out of it by the time she was twelve, but I still visited it whenever I came home. Last year Scott and I had even refurbished a few of the wooden boards that were rotting.

Now, I kicked off my shoes at the base of the tree and slowly ascended the ladder, so I wouldn’t spill my beer. I pushed open the trapdoor and waved an arm around to break any spider webs before climbing into the house.

Because the shutters were closed, it was dark inside. Just as well. It suited my mood.

I closed my eyes and sat there in silence, taking occasional sips of beer. Logan would have liked it up here. It was peaceful. I imaged him climbing up the ladder—after me, so he could peek up my dress. And then when we got to the top, he’d pretend to be interested in the view for a minute before he pressed me against the floor boards and kissed the breath out of me.

I scowled and tried not to think, but somehow that’s impossible when you’re in a dark room by yourself. Especially when you miss someone as much as I missed Logan.

There was a knock on the trapdoor. “Rogue?”

Because I knew he wouldn’t leave me alone, I scooted over and opened the door.

Scott eased his body through the opening and looked around. “Hasn’t changed much, has it?”

“Nope.”

Slouching because of his height, he walked over to the window and stared out. “It has a great view of the orchards and tree lines, though.

I frowned at him. “You came up here to look at the view?”

“No, I came to see what was wrong.” He crossed over, sat down next to me, and took my hand. “Are you going to tell me?”

I pouted. “What good will it do?”

“I’ll help you fix it.”

He couldn’t this time, but it was awfully sweet of him to offer. Tears clogged my throat so I just shook my head.

“Marie!” Jean called from below. “What are you doing up there? People are going to start arriving soon.”

I scowled down at her. She returned it with a scowl of her own, her hands fisted on her hips. I crossed my eyes, stuck my tongue out, and slammed the door shut.

“Mature,” Scott commented.

Before either one of us could say anything else, the door banged open and a livid Jean crawled through. “You little brat!”

Scott took her arm and helped her into the tree house. He even took the time to help brush off the lingering dust from the backside of her dress. The traitor.

He shrugged. “I couldn’t let her fall. I’d have to answer to your mom.”

Small point.

“And this is an excellent opportunity to straighten things out between the two of you,” he continued. “You’re sisters. You should be best friends.”

Both Jean and I snorted at that.

“Jean! Marie Elizabeth! Are you up there?”

Great. Mom.

I scooted over to give her room as she entered the tree house. Scott gave her a hand too.

I wondered about the weight capacity of the old boards, but if Scott was helping Mom inside he figured it was safe, and that was good enough for me.

Mom looked around. “It’s rather dusty up here, isn’t it?” When no one answered, she said, “You could use some curtains too.”

I grimaced and said, “No way” as Jean nodded and simultaneously said “I always thought so.” Then we glared at each other.

Mom sat down cross-legged, facing us. “How about you two tell me what’s going on?”

Scott started to get up. “Maybe I should give you some privacy.”

“No, sit, Scott.” Mom waved him back. “I might need a witness.”

He grinned. “Your daughters are fairly fierce.”

“And determined.” She eyed the two of us. “Though other adjectives might be more appropriate.”

I snorted. Jean didn’t do anything but look miserable. Which set me off. “What’s your deal? You have no right to look like that. You’re the one who ruined my life.”

She sneered—at least as much of a sneer as she could manage. “Grow up, Marie.”

“Enough,” Mom said in her stern listen-to-me-or-else voice. “Tell me what’s going on right now.”

Might as well kick off the discussion. “Jean’s ruined my life.”

Mom frowned. “What did she do?”

“She was born.” I gave her an evil glare.

Jean rolled her eyes. “Like I said, Marie. Real adult.”

“It’s true.” I turned to my mom. “You and Dad always paid more attention to her than you did to me. Don’t try to deny it,” I said when she opened her mouth. “You guys never include me. It’s always Jean-this and Jean-that. Well, I’m sick of it.”

Just thinking about it was working me up. I got up and paced. Sure, I was hunched over, but you work with what you’ve got. “All I ever wanted was for you guys to acknowledge that I’m just as valuable as Jean. But I’ve never done anything right. Until I dated Bobby. How frickin’ screwed up is that?”

“Language,” Mom said with a frown as Jean said, “Don’t curse, Marie.”

Frickin’ is not a curse word, if you ask me. But I chose to ignore them. “With Bobby, suddenly, I was the example. Do you know what kind of rush that was?”

Guess I said it a little bit too forcibly, because they just gawked at me with wide eyes.

My laugh didn’t have an ounce of humor in it. “It’s too bad I didn’t know how you and Dad felt before I broke up with Bobby.”

Mom gasped. “What?”

I nodded grimly. “Bobby and I weren’t right together. So I broke up with him. Then when I tried to get him back, I fell in love with his friend, an ex-military boxer who drives a gas-guzzler.”

Mom shook her head. “Marie Elizabeth, only you’d be able to turn life into a soap opera.”

Of course she’d criticize me. I plopped down on the floor, away from their cluster.

“You should be thanking me,” Jean said, her nose righteously in the air. “You found Logan because of all this.”

“I lost Logan because of all this.” I dropped my head to my knees and tried to breathe through the pain.

“What?” Everyone gasped at once.

“He found out I started going out with him just to make Bobby jealous.” I looked up defensively. “But that was only part of the reason I went out with him that first time, and it wasn’t even in my mind after. I really, really liked him,” I said miserably.

Silence.

Then Jean sniffed indignantly. “Well, you ruined my life too, if it’s any consolation.”

I snorted. “Right.”

“You did. Do you know how much I hated having to be the good example for you?” Two red spots colored her cheeks. “I’m sick of it, too.”

Mom frowned at her. “What are you talking about?”

She gazed at Mom and said evenly, “I never wanted to go to all those science camps growing up. I never wanted to be a research scientist.”

That was news. Even I thought she loved science. She was always such a geek. It didn’t occur to me until then that we had that in common. Different fields, but basically the same outcome.

“I’m sick of it,” she said tentatively, as if she were afraid of what Mom would say. “I decided to go on sabbatical until I figure out what to do.”

“What?” Mom exclaimed.

“Is that why you’ve been camping out with me the past two weeks?” I asked.

Oops. I mentally slapped my forehead at the look Jean gave me. I glanced at Mom. I didn’t mean to spill the beans. Really.

Mom frowned. “You’ve been here the past two weeks?”

My sister scowled at me before answering. “I didn’t tell you because I needed some time to think.”

Mom rubbed her forehead. “I could use a gin and tonic.”

I considered offering to go get her one, but the look she flashed me warned me to stay put.

“You girls have impeccable timing. The guests are due to arrive any moment. But we’re going to sort this out right now. Marie Elizabeth.”

I started at the way she barked my name. She could have gone into the army—she’d make an excellent commander. “Yes, Mom?”

“Come here.”

She wouldn’t spank me, would she? I got up hesitantly and crawled to where she sat.

She took my hand. “I’m sorry you felt like you weren’t loved enough.” She pushed back a strand of my hair that had escaped from the tight bun. “You were such an independent thing, right from the time you were born. So capable. So we gave you the space you needed. We gave Jean more attention because she was more delicate than you.”

Jean blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Huh?” I frowned. Jean? The women who was on the verge of finding a cure for childhood diabetes? Delicate? Ha!

Mom took Jean’s hand in her free one. “You were always so unsure of yourself as a little girl. That’s why we pushed you. To accomplish what we saw in you.”

Jean opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before she finally said, “How horribly unfair!”

Ouch. I winced.

Mom’s spine stiffened and her chin jutted higher. I prepared for an onslaught, but was surprised when she only nodded. “We did the best we could. Neither of you can deny you’ve turned out well. You’re successful, beautiful women. Both your father and I are proud of you.”

She let go of our hands and started to ease up to her feet. Scott immediately jumped to help her up. Patting his hand, she smiled at him before turning back to us. “Don’t hide up here too long. We have guests.”

We watched her negotiate the ladder in silence. When she was out of view, Jean and I stared at each other. For the first time I saw her not as the invincible, perfect older sister, but someone who was more messed up than I was.

I cleared my throat. “Sorry I let it slip that you’ve been here.”

“It’s okay.” She frowned. “Were you telling the truth about Logan?”

I nodded. Tears filled my eyes again. “Damn allergies,” I said with a sniff.

“Oh, Marie.” She took my hand and squeezed it as Scott came to my side and put his arm around my shoulders. “Did you try apologizing?”

“I tried everything. He won’t listen. The bastard.” I rubbed my nose, wiling the tears back. “He couldn’t have loved me like he said if he won’t give me another chance, right? We should go down,” I said, wiping my eyes.

Jean grimaced. “This is one birthday I’m never going to forget.”

“Look at the bright side,” Scott said after we were all on the ground and walking back to the house.

“What?” Jean and I both asked at once.

He put his arms around us and squeezed my shoulder as he shot Jean a wink. “You just lost an enemy and gained a sister.”

Jean and I looked at each other around Scott. Maybe he was right.
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