CHAPTER 11

Author's Note: Okay…. I'm gonna throw you all for a loop here, and I hope you don't hate me. Also, two thirds of this has been written for months, then I added some more in the beginning to make it flow a little better, but there's still a shift in the tone (I think, at least) but I just don't feel like reworking it right now. I just want to get this posted and out there. After a chapter like this, feedback would be AWESOME. Thank you, lovies! Oh, and thank you, my two darling reviewers on the last chapter.

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The same day Maureen had her realization that things were weird and things were going to stay weird until she talked to Roger alone and just dealt with things, Maureen and Joanne broke up.

To say it was simple. Split up- broke up- were no longer together.

They hadn't fought. Maureen had come home and found Joanne packing her things. The other woman stopped when Maureen entered the room, and stood and looked at her. Maureen waited in the doorway, and when she didn't say anything, Joanne just resumed packing. Finally Joanne said it- she'd had enough. She cared for Maureen deeply, and she would miss her, but she was done now. Maureen could stay at the apartment for three more weeks, but then the rent was out and Joanne wasn't going to pay for a place she wasn't living at. She would be staying somewhere else when she returned from her vacation.

A vacation.

Maureen was startled by that most of all, but nodded and wished Joanne relaxation and peace of mind on her vacation.

There wasn't anger- that was clear. There were no snippy, spiteful remarks or last jabs to get in- only a quiet understanding on both sides. Joanne hovered, wished her well, promised to call when she got back "in a few weeks" to see how things were, then embraced Maureen before she left.

Maureen first thought was to call Collins, but instead she unplugged her phone. She needed to learn to take care of herself.

Her second thought was to go out and hit the bars, but she immediately pushed that away and settled for a long bubble bath.

For the day and a half, Maureen didn't know what to do with herself. She wondered if she should feel better, now that she had more space, but she didn't. She wondered if she ought to feel sad, since there was one more failed relationship to add to her list, but she didn't feel that either. There was no regret, only a muted disappointment and acceptance.

She understood that the lawyer wasn't accustomed to such excitement in her life, and while the drama Maureen brought to her was fun and entertaining at first, Joanne had probably gotten sick of it. What had it been- one death, one near-death, a constant on/off relationship, plus an account of close-to homeless friends that had only been remedied once Joanne stepped in and helped Mark get a job? And now this? It was no wonder she was done with it. Maureen wished she could leave her own life as easily.

On the third morning after Joanne's leaving, Maureen broke down and got herself some fast food. She stood in front of the register and (pushing away the guilt for the factory-farmed cows) ordered herself a Double-Double. She ate self-consciously in her booth, looking around at all the empty-eyed, lonely people that filled the cheap place. It was really depressing. She finished her food quickly, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be far away from all those miserable-looking people. She had to get out of there.

Maureen could go back to her apartment but the thought of being there alone, blank walls accusing her, the silence of Joanne's absence pressing in on her, was unbearable. Instead, she headed toward the Loft, feeling herself guided there by nothing more than the simple wish for familiarity, and possibly comfort. She arrived just in time to catch Mark on his way out the door, cradling his camera.

"Hey." He said, raising his eyebrows at her appearance.

"Hi." She replied quietly. Mark shuffled around her, glancing from the door to Maureen, frowning.

"I was just heading out, but do you want to stay?" He spoke slowly, as if the offer was being dragged out of him. Mark hastened to add, "I mean, Roger's the only one here…"

She shrugged. "I'll be okay."

"Of course you'll be okay," He snapped, defensive. "He wouldn't- this whole time he hasn't- that was a long time ago!"

"I know that, I wasn't saying-" Maureen sighed, exasperated by his over-defensiveness. "Just go, Mark. Get some great footage, okay?"

Once Mark left, she began to question what she was doing there. There was no sign of Roger anywhere. She wandered over to the stove, thinking to make some tea, but remembered how Roger had fixed her tea that one time, so considerate, so uncharacteristically kind despite her constant cruelty towards him. And what had she done? Only reacted like a madwoman when he tried to comfort her- not without good reason, she reminded herself. You were totally unprepared to face him, especially after the nightmare you had been having.

Steering herself away from the teapot, Maureen opened a can of cola instead, then put it back in the fridge after realizing that it wasn't what she wanted at all. It'd go flat but oh well. She didn't need sugar or caffeine, she needed something to steady her nerves. Before she really thought about it, she had reached up for some of the liquor she knew was kept on top of the fridge. Drinking the vodka straight out of the bottle, she strolled back into the living room. She had settled herself down on the couch, only to realize that she was sharing the cushion with Roger's guitar. It was propped up against the pillows on the opposite end of the beaten-up couch, just watching her.

That damn guitar. Everything in the room only served to remind her of Roger. Well, what had you come over here for, if not to talk to him?

Looking for something else to concentrate on, she took another swig of burning Stoli and glanced around. Everything was so lonely, so empty, so silent…wait.

She listened a moment.

No, not silent after all…She got back up again, setting the bottle down on the low table as she walked towards the sound. Of course, it was Roger's room- where else would he be? Thinking twice, she went back and grabbed the vodka bottle. There was no way she'd be able to get through a one-on-one talk with Roger sober.

He was in his room, sitting on the edge of the bed furthest from her, head bowed. Maureen watched him for a moment, then realized that he wasn't as still as she had thought. Though the lights were out, she could see his shoulders shaking slightly. She stepped into the room quickly, closing the door behind her.

"Rog-Roger?" She whispered, moving to stand near him, hovering uncertain. Roger turned slightly towards Maureen, looking a bit surprised at her being there.

"What…Maureen? What do you want?" He rasped, tears still caught in his throat. Maureen felt stupid- what was she doing there? To avoid the question, she held the bottle out to him

"Have some." Was she stupid? Offering him alcohol? He wordlessly accepted the vodka and took a long drink from it.

"What are you doing here?" He asked a bit roughly. "I thought you wouldn't want to even see me ever again."

"Don't be an idiot," She replied, though she had thought the same thing. "Anyway, why are you crying?"

She slowly eased herself onto the mattress beside him, fighting her uncontrollable inner scream- No don't do it, what are you doing? A bed?! With him? Run run run now! But she found it was a lot easier to ignore her panicked inner voice when she had Stoli in her system, subduing it.

"Mimi's gone. She's left, she just left…" A muffled, choking sort of gasp came from him, and she realized it was a sob. He turned to her, eyes fierce. "Because of you. Because of those things you said- because you went and told everyone! And she can't anymore- she doesn't love- because of you!"

The words exploded out of him, and he suddenly leaned towards her, angry and wounded and not realizing what he was doing. He grabbed hold of her and pushed her, unintentionally pinning her to the bed.

"Don't!" It was a piercing wail. "Roger, stop!!"

Before she could fight in earnest, she was quickly released. The moment she had cried out, he let go as if she had burned him.

He stared at his hands, wide-eyed and horrified, then he looked at her. "I am so- Maureen, that wasn't-"

He reached out, and she flinched away, frightened and wild and hating herself. You stupid stupid idiot- why did you get yourself in this situation?? You knew what would happen, just like before!

"You raped me Roger." She said in a cutting low voice. He cringed at the word, his head hanging down. "You fucking touched me and hurt me and screwed me up and that's sick. I know you're sorry now, but don't you ever try to blame me for what happened."

He didn't say anything, and she began babbling, though if it was a result of the alcohol or just her own nervousness, she couldn't say.

"Yeah, I told everyone. What was I supposed to do?" A desperate note of self-justification entered her voice. "I had been dealing with this on my own for long enough, don't you think? I had to come clean about it, and I'm sorry about how this turned out. Maybe if I had just kept my mouth shut things would be better off, but Roger-"

"No." He spoke quietly, but he looked up at her now. "You had every right to come forward about all that. I still can't believe you didn't say anything earlier…I don't know how you could live with me after…"

He looked sick.

"It wasn't easy." She let out a harsh laugh, and he cringed again. She grabbed her bottle and took another good drink, then wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. She bent over to set it back down on the ground, then closed her eyes and took a moment to steady herself from the rush she got from moving. Jesus, she was really feeling that alcohol now.

She leaned slightly towards him, grabbing his arms for balance. He smiled weakly at that. "How wasted are you?"

"Fuck you," she said, still unsteady. He righted her, his hands on her shoulders, but immediately let go once she was stable. Maureen didn't seem to notice his reluctance to touch her. She scooted closer to him and leaned her head against his shoulder, suddenly quiet. Roger didn't move either.

"I'm sorry." He said it so softly that she paused a moment before she looked at him. Maureen was shocked to see tears beginning to fall silently back down his face. "I'm so sorry Maureen. I'm a fucking monster, all this shit I put you through." His voice broke. "I'm sorry."

Forgetting herself, she leaned in towards him.

"Roger, stop- I didn't mean to make you cry. Come on, Roger-"

He turned his green eyes on her, and they were clear. Startlingly clear, not the hazy, frighteningly out-of-it green from before, and suddenly Maureen realized something. A few somethings, in fact. This Roger wasn't the same Roger that had hurt her before. He was different- and he was sincerely sorry for what had been done. She watched his tears with renewed wonder, realizing that he was crying because of her, because of his guilt over the wrong he had done her.

Knowing that he needed her forgiveness, knowing that she alone could provide relieve from his self-disgust and self-hatred gave Maureen a huge power rush. Only she could make that guilty look in his eyes go away, only she could absolve him and let him off the hook, only Maureen.

"Roger…"

He looked at her, startled by the purr in her voice.

"It's okay, don't cry anymore. I'm alright." On impulse she closed her eyes and put her mouth on his.

He allowed the kiss for a moment, before he pushed her away, looking aghast. "Oh god Maureen, I'm so sorry! I try to apologize and instead I screw it up, I didn't mean to-"

"Nothing to apologize for." She whispered, moving forward, onto his lap. "That was all me." She kissed him again, but was rebuffed a second time.

"Maureen, what are you thinking? I can't- not after I-"

She pushed him back on the bed, somehow confident that this was the solution.

"But- Mimi!" He said wildly.

"This is between you and me. Nothing to do with her."

"No!" He was desperate, crumbling under her touch. "Just like before..."

"It won't be like last time. Because I want this. I know what I'm doing, I'm perfectly aware-"

"You're drunk." He protested softly as she pulled her top off over her head.

"And?" She leaned over him, whispering in his ear as she undid the buttons of his jeans. "This is it, Roger. We can right all the wrongs, we can make this what it was supposed to be. This is our chance."

Maureen had decided. She would make him hers this night. She would undo all the harm he had done her by asserting herself now, taking back what he had stolen.

He didn't argue.


Um....

-runs and hides, waiting for a response-