Thanks again for the amazing reviews! Remember, dear readers, if you have comments, ANY comments, I'd love to hear them. Keep them coming! Sorry again for the quick update, but let me tell you, watching the Chess In Concert DVD is great incentive to write a story about Roger and Maureen. As for this chapter, the first two segments will be flashbacks (i.e. took place before the end of the last chapter) and then the rest will follow. It should be pretty clear, but this is just so you know. The first is a month after the end of Chapter 9 and the second is a month before the end of Chapter 10. Again, just so you know. Also, regarding the content of this chapter; first, I hope these last few chapters really get Maureen's twisted views of relationships across but I'd been willing to clarify if need by and apologise if I sound paranoid and, secondly, the reason Maureen doesn't really mention women is because I see Maureen being flippant about her attraction to women until she meets Joanne. For some reason, I think Joanne was her first serious girlfriend, haha! Anyway, enjoy!

Thicker Than Blood

March 1990

Maureen had not wanted to break her promise to herself. After what happened, she had told herself that nothing would change—that things would be better, even—and for a few weeks, they had not. Now that Roger was in a band, making progress, he was more cheerful, a light in the bleak confusion Maureen's days had become. In a way, he had kept her going, reassured her that what had happened did not have to change anything (even though she sometimes felt like a different person). Yet still, she had not told him.

Then, her world once again was turned on its head. At the end of March, as was tradition, Nathan arrived at the apartment, rent in hand and, this time, clear-headed and coherent. At first, his visit was as they usually were: Maureen bustled about making drinks and chattering carelessly while Roger and Nathan paid no heed to her babble and made small talk. It had got to the point when Maureen hoped he did not remember last month.

But that evening, as she sat on the couch absently thinking of the future and the past and what she was going to do, Nathan sat down heavily beside her and pulled her towards him. The move was so unexpected and forceful that Maureen's mind went blank and she could do nothing but respond to him. She hated how weak she was but something about Nathan's mouth and hands and moans ignited something deep within her and she allowed him to scoop her up, carry her to her bedroom and drop her onto the bed.

The next morning, things were not better.

December 1990

It was that awkward week between celebrations, when everybody was packing away Christmas decorations and preparing for the New Year. Roger had gone out that morning for band practise so Maureen had her day off to herself. She woke up late and, for a while, just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and pondering how quickly time flew. It had been eighteen months since she and Roger had graduated and relocated to the City; it had almost been a year since her whole sick relationship with Nathan had started; it was only a few days until Nathan was expected to return.

I should probably get Zach out of here.

With that thought, Maureen turned her head to peer at the young man still sleeping peacefully next to her. Zach was, by no means, a bad guy. He had a sweet baby face, with bright blonde hair and brown eyes. He was good-looking and kind and attentive and a young woman like Maureen should daydream about marrying and having children with a man like Zach. Maureen was aware of what she should feel and also what she did feel: that Zach, though lovely, was just the latest in a string of people who had failed to keep her mind off of Nathan.

It was absurd, when Maureen thought about it, but in the last nine months, she had tried to see other men—and occasionally, other women, though those liaisons mostly consisted of one night together and then jotting a fake number onto a slip of paper or the back of the other woman's hand—yet, every time, she felt as though she were cheating on Nathan. It was not guilt, because sex did make Maureen feel good and she did not have to apologise for feeling good, but every short-lived, flimsy relationship felt almost taboo and Maureen found herself more on edge than ever when Nathan was home, as if afraid he might find out…which, again, was ridiculous because she should not care what he thought. It was her life and her business. He was just messing with it.

Beside her, Zach stirred and blinked those big, lovely eyes. Maureen sighed.

Here we go again…

January 1991

"Look, Mo, I … I'm sorry. I was stupid and you have every right to tell me that. But you were wrong in thinking you can't trust me. You can trust me. And right now you need to. You can trust me. I need to know what he's done to you, even if it's something small or even if it's huge. Please, Mo? Tell me."

It was stupid. She was stupid. She did not even care that Roger was sleeping with that girl—the one with the boyfriend. It was like she always said: if it makes you feel good, what's the problem? There had not been a problem for her parents or even herself. She had not even cared much when the girl's boyfriend, Connor, started to bawl on her couch. She had felt sorry for him, of course, but anyone sending their young girlfriend off to college in a city like New York without a concern in the world must have had it coming. It's the city that never sleeps; the clue is right fucking there!

But when faced with Roger, Maureen found anger welling up inside her all of a sudden and desperately searched for a reason why. She honestly did not understand why she felt so mad, so … betrayed. So she said some things she did not mean—something about defending the honour of her father and people like him or some crap like that—and it had not occurred to her that she might provoke him.

But it was him that took it too far. He brought up the men and women she had seen over the last year. He brought up how she had used them. Then he brought up Nathan.

How he knew, Maureen had no idea. She knew Nathan would not have told him because they were not close and usually only interacted when she was around—and she had heard nothing. Had he seen something? Maureen was not surprised when the first emotion she felt was shame. How weak must he think she was, how pathetic? What if he thought she was a whore, as she feared?

Now he was close to her, his hands holding her in place and his eyes concerned and pleading. Maureen wanted to pour her heart out to him, bare her soul, tell him every last thing (even the shit he would not want to know) and let him comfort her and tell her that it was okay. But something made her hesitate—some brick wall of fear, or maybe perverse loyalty to Nathan, she was not sure.

"Maureen?" Roger said, his fingers flexing against her shoulders a little, "Come on, Johnson. Talk to me."

Suddenly, the man in front of her seemed so familiar. He was the boy shyly telling her that he liked her dress. He was straddling the line between youth and adulthood as an angry, grief-stricken teenager. He was the push she needed to come to terms with who she was and he was the man now offering to support her and take care of her if she needed it. He was all these things at once and she was what she had always been. A mess.

Afterwards, Roger and Maureen sat awkwardly on the couch, miles apart despite the fact that their shoulders were pressed together. Maureen could sense that Roger was barely controlling his rage; his neutral expression and trembling hands made that clear. She bit her lip and glanced away, towards the door, as though she intended to stand, stride to it and walk straight out of the apartment. Out of this whole predicament. She knew she should not have told him the truth—that even though Nathan, in a strange way, made her feel good, she had spent the last year or so in a very bad place; that she had thought she understood the world when, really, she was just beginning to learn.

Shouldn't have told him the truth.

"Roger?"

Roger's jaw tightened a little as his eyes flickered towards her, "…yeah?"

"I think I know why I was so angry about that girl."

Roger's lips twitched slightly, "Because of morality?"

"No," Maureen replied, as though it had been a serious question. She shut her eyes as she shifted around to face him and felt the burn of tears against her closed lids. "Because all along, I told myself that me not telling you was a fluke. One stupid thing that I was uncomfortable about and not a big deal. But when I found out about the smoking and the girl and all that, I was…" she made a few meaningless gestures with her hands and finally blinked her eyes open, "…I realized that it's nothing to do with me. It's us. I feel like we don't tell each other everything anymore," now her lip was wobbling dangerously and she sunk her teeth into it hard for a moment to control it before letting herself keep speaking in a shaky voice, "W-we're just not a-as c-close anymore, are we?"

There was a horrible moment when Roger was still silent and his face was still blank and his eyes were still fixed on the wall. There was a horrible moment when Maureen felt every single emotion she had felt in the past few months—her whole life, really—push down on her until she almost could not breathe and only then did Roger speak.

"God, Maureen, you're so fucking dumb."

What? Maureen's jaw dropped a little as Roger turned towards her, anger clashing with hurt and concern in his eyes.

"Do you really think I'd just let myself drift apart from the only thing going for me in my life other than my guitar? Don't you think I want you to talk to me? Don't you think I've spent the last four months fucking agonizing over telling you about her because I thought I could lose you over it? How do you think I feel knowing I missed this cos I was so fucking blind?" with a furious growl, he ran his hands through his hair, "It's not that we aren't close, it's that we've both been confused. And I don't want anything like this to happen again, okay? If you'll talk to me more—tell me if that scumbag tries anything on—then I'll do the same. You're my best friend, okay, Maureen?"

Maureen would later blame what happened next on hormones and emotions. She would tell herself that it did not happen because of how deeply she loved Roger and how clearly he loved her or because it was the first time since childhood that she had felt someone genuinely wanted to protect and take care of her. It was not a case of her going soft; but Roger would quickly be there to grin and point out again that, yes, at the point when he told her she was his best friend and swore to help her, Maureen did burst into tears.

A few days later, the day after Roger's twentieth birthday, Nathan returned. He entered the front room without a thought and had tossed the money onto the counter before he looked around to find the other occupants of the apartment. Roger and Maureen were sitting cross-legged on the couch; between them was an old chessboard that had been gathering dust in the back of Nathan's closet. (Between them, Roger and Maureen had only a vague understanding of the rules of chess, so instead went about making up their own rules, something that would be no stranger to them in future.)

Nathan, to tell the truth, was a little put out to find Roger there. It was not that he did not like the aspiring musician, but more that he liked his more feminine roommate a little more and had hoped to catch her alone. Instead, he faked a grin and received two grimaces in return.

The day passed as usual, with the three chatting idly as Maureen won the chess game with sixty-eight points (how that happened, Nathan would never know) and the sky outside began to darken. Just after eleven that night, Maureen stretched and declared that she was going to hit the hay. Nathan merely smiled and bid her goodnight, watching her make her way to her room and shut the door. A tipsy Roger lay back on the couch and smiled sleepily at him.

"Getting tired, Rog?"

"Nah. I could stay up all night," the younger boasted, but his statement was punctuated by a yawn. Nathan smirked a little.

"Alright, you win," he grinned, "I'm gonna go to bed now. Have fun."

Roger rolled her eyes and fell sideways on the sofa, pulling his legs up as his eyes drooped. Already drunk and not even legal yet. What's he gonna be like when he's twenty-one?

"Hey, Nathan."

"Yeah?"

"You're going to bed?"

"Yup."

"Your bed?"

Nathan stared at him, clearly taken aback. What the hell did that mean? Where else was he planning to go? Other than Maureen's room, that was, and there was no way Roger knew about that. Maureen as good as swore she was not planning on saying a word, which could have been either a way to keep things interesting and kinky, or an insult to Nathan.

"Yeah, man."

"Okay, good," Roger said, and then closed his eyes. Nathan frowned at his half-asleep form for a minute, at least until Roger snapped, "Dude, are you gonna watch me all night?", and then shuffled into his own room.

Nathan was blissfully unaware that what Roger had been doing was stalling. He had no idea that while Roger happily talked about staying up all night and asked questions about where Nathan was sleeping, Maureen had taken some of Roger's advice and used the time to push her bed until it was against the door, barring anyone from entering or leaving. Some time later, when Nathan snuck across the dark living room to Maureen's door, he was perturbed to find that something was blocking it from opening. His increasingly forceful attempts were the only thing that kept Maureen from an otherwise sound night of dreamless sleep.

The next night, even with the bed in its usual position, he did not come to her room.

March 1991

"Hey, Mo."

Maureen looked up from the table she was wiping down and stared at Roger, "What are you doing here? You know I'm working, right?"

Roger wrinkled his nose and looked around the diner. The only other person there was an old client nursing a cup of tea he was surreptitiously adding clear liquid from a silver hipflask to.

"Uh-huh, I can see you're swamped. Listen, it's important."

Maureen arched an eyebrow and folded her arms, "How important?"

Roger grinned a little uncomfortably, "My buddy Finn—the drummer in my band, remember?—he just got his own place and has a spare room. Asked if I was interested and…well, I said yes."

Maureen felt her heart plummet past the bottom of her stomach and straight through the floor. Her hands unconsciously clenched around her elbows. She was not exactly someone who kept her emotions bottled up and her feelings must have shown on her face because Roger looked extremely worried.

"Maureen—"

"What? You're just gonna ditch me? After everything?" she exclaimed loudly. The drunk in the corner raised his head curiously and the manager poked his head out of the office door, scowling in disapproval.

"No, I'm—"

"All that crap about being my best friend was just bullshit then, was it? Did you ever give a damn about me or were you just waiting till the next best thing—!"

"Maureen!" Roger cried, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her a little, "Shut up, okay? I want you to come with me."

"…huh?"

Roger sighed impatiently and rolled his eyes, "I already talked to Finn about it. He's fine with you coming if you help with rent. I trust him and I know he won't try anything like Nathan did," his face darkened a little just at the mention of their roommate and Maureen felt comforting warmth spread across her body, "I figured it would be good to get out of there and in with someone we can rely on more. What do you say?"

Maureen blinked a little in surprise. Obviously, she was relieved that Roger was not abandoning her—more than relieved, overjoyed—but the idea of leaving the place that had just started to feel like home was quite daunting. She trusted Roger and his judgment with her life but how could she be sure that this new twist would not take them somewhere worse?

(Of course, in later life, she would be glad that she listened to Roger. The next few years would be some of the best of her life and, after they passed, it would be a long time before she could again trust Roger's judgment.)

"Earth to Maureen? What do you think?"

Maureen bit her lip and thought back to two years earlier, when she had convinced him to run away with her to New York. It had been a plan full of holes and with plenty of potential to break them, but he had agreed to it anyway because he knew that it could end up being one of the best decisions of their lives.

(And, in a strange way, it was.)

"Okay. What the hell. Let's do it."