Meine Schwester
The Christmas holidays are swiftly approaching and the residents of Xavier's are finalizing their holiday plans. For some, this is a time of great joy, while for others its a reminder they have no where else to go. Siblings-by-adoption, Kurt and Rogue find themselves on opposite sides of the holiday preparations.
For go-haywire. You once told me that there ought to be more stories (and art) featuring the sibling relationship between Rogue and Kurt. And, I agreed. Since I can't draw, I present you a story featuring our favourite siblings. (It turned out to have a little more Romy than I initially intended...they just can't be separated. Hope you don't mind). Hyvää joulua, my friend.
Author's Note:
I probably spend too much time trying to figure out timelines for comic books and their associated shows. Since there are often contradictory and missing elements to figuring out how time passes in the show, I've taken the few elements which help set a timeframe and extrapolate a working timeline for the Evo world I'm writing in. Here's what you need to know:
As far as I can tell, the first three seasons of X-Men: Evolution cover about 2 years while season four is nearly a complete school year (if not a complete school year).
We know that Kitty joins the team (in season one) at 15 and is a freshman/9th grade (she must have a birthday early in the school year). Scott and Jean graduate from high school at the end of season three. So, if my supposition about the first three seasons covering two years is correct, when Kitty is in 9th grade, Scott and Jean are in 11th. When Jean and Scott graduate, Kitty would be in 10th.
Since nothing is said about what grade Rogue is in (and the only time we see her in class with another X-Men it's drama class—which in most U.S. high schools would be an elective and a mix of all grades), I decided to place her between Kitty and Scott. Which means, in the final season she'd be 12th grade, Kitty in 11th, and Scott and Jean are in college/teaching at Xavier's.
Since Kurt's grade is never mentioned, I decided to place him in the same year as Kitty. I chose this mostly because it served to further isolate Rogue (making her the only one in her grade).
So now, as far as this story goes...it takes place the December after the end of season four. Scott and Jean are in college. Rogue is graduated from high school and attending a local tech school, and Kitty and Kurt are in their last year of high school. Hope that helps.
Chapter One - New York
There was no one sign of the other's as Kurt 'bamf-ed' onto the front lawn of the Mansion. He missed the sidewalk by about half a meter and landed in a knee-deep snowbank. Snow seeped over the top of his boots and soaked his pants legs. Trudging forward, snow toppled from the precarious piles and across the sidewalk. Someone had clearly shoveled the walk since everyone had left for school in the morning, though they hadn't kept up with the thankless task. In about fifteen minutes, Kurt's and (apparently) a second set of footprints wouldn't be visible. He wondered who else was home.
Even with stopping for a double gut bomb on his way home, Kurt still managed to arrive before the others. Then again, Kitty was driving. She tended to have only two speeds when driving—either super fast or super slow and no in-between. Well, it served them right for leaving without him.
He only intended to stay behind for a few minutes to catch up with Amanda before she headed home for violin lessons. She had invited him to her Christmas recital. Since it was open to the public and they couldn't exactly protest if he happened to show up to enjoy some holiday music, her parents had given their reluctant permission for Amanda to invite Kurt to the recital and join them for dinner afterward. He couldn't wait.
The rapidly increasing flurry of snowflakes covered the sidewalks in a slippery layer of pristine white. Glancing up at the heavy snow-laden clouds and the darkening, grey sky, all he received for his efforts was a face full of snow. Maybe, if they were lucky, they'd have a snow day tomorrow. Though, he knew better than to mention the idea to Storm. If she suspected they were trying to cut class (especially with a semi-legitimate weather-related excuse), she'd make certain the weather cleared enough for them to attend school in the morning. Kurt groaned at the thought of walking to school in this cold. Despite growing up on Germany and being covered in fur, he still found New York's bitter winters unreasonably cold.
White curls of smoke escaped from the Mansion's chimneys. Wolverine must have been bored during the day since he didn't have any of the usual suspects (also known as 'the students') around to torture—erm, train—in the Danger Room while everyone had been at school. Well, avoiding extra Danger Room sessions was definitely a point in favor of not skipping school.
He brushed at the brilliant white snowflakes before they could melt and leave him even colder than he already was. The snow contrasted with the deep blue of his fur. Shivering as the snow snuck past the collar of his jacket and down his back, Kurt bemoaned forgetting his scarf when he left for school. What was he doing standing around outside when there was hot chocolate and several roaring fireplaces inside?
Trudging up to the front door, Kurt wondered who would be on snow duty tonight. Hopefully those with some variety of heat powers would be assigned to the chore. Those few were faster at the task than the rest of them combined who had to manage with nothing more than shovels. Bobby usually got a pass since his ice powers tended to exasperate the problem. That was so not fair. Kurt had already spent too many years shoveling paths through unyielding snow banks to want to do it more often than necessary.
With a shrug, he let himself into the Mansion. At least snow duty was better than cleaning and polishing the X-Jet. Shivering and dripping on the foyer rug, Kurt divested himself of his coat and hat and stomped his feet on the rug. Slushy clumps of snow and salt fell from his boots as he peeled out of them and left them to dry beside a vent. Damp footprints marked his progress as he headed to the kitchen for an after school snack.
"Hey Elf," Wolverine growled as he caught up with Kurt outside the dining room. "Mail call."
Before Kurt could dodge out of the way, Logan flung a letter at him. The letter sailed across the space between them like a frisbee and bounced off Kurt's chest before he could catch it. As he retrieved the letter from the floor, Kurt was recognized the distinctive international air mail striping around the edge of the envelope.
"Danke!" His snack forgotten, Kurt hurried down the hall to read his letter in private. He wanted to be long gone before Logan could think of assigning him to shovel the sidewalks.
Not waiting to reach his room, Kurt tore open the envelope. The Mansion was about as quiet and unoccupied as it ever was. Taking the stairs two at a time, he read his mother's letter.
Fröhliche Weihnachten mein Sohn!
Wir vermissen Dich. Wie geht's? Wir sind gut. Dein Vater ist sehr beschäftigt...
(Merry Christmas, my son.
We miss you. How are you? We're good. Your dad has been busy with work...)
Kurt smiled as he read his mother's greeting. While he loved his time here at Xavier's, he missed his parents. Outside of his family home, this was the first place he had been truly accepted for who he was—blue fur, tail, and all. Still, he missed the warm hugs and the freely given affection. He missed his father's laughter and jovial nature. He missed his mother's baking and her generous spirit. He missed carrying on a conversation in his native German. Each letter from his parents was like receiving a little piece of home.
As he reached the midpoint of the letter, Kurt's smile grew brighter. His parents had offered to cover the costs so one of his friends might join him for the holiday. He could invite Amanda. Though he had told them all about her, his parents hadn't met his girlfriend yet. His still-damp stocking feet slipped across the hardwood floor as he raced down the hallway and slid into his room. He couldn't wait to call Amanda and let her know the good news.
With the phone half lifted to his ear, Kurt hesitated. Maybe he better wait until she finished with her violin lessons. While Mr. and Mrs. Sefton weren't exactly thrilled about their daughter dating him, they were slowly becoming more receptive to the idea. It probably helped that Toad hadn't crashed any more of their dates. And other such incidents and remained relatively low. Unfortunately, dating one of the X-Men tended to mean courting disaster as well. He was doing his best to stay on their good side. And, in this case, his best meant waiting.
Still, this did nothing to diminish his joy. It was almost Christmas and he was going home. This was seriously the best Christmas ever!
This was seriously the worst Christmas ever.
Okay, technically it wasn't going to be all that different from the last couple of years, but what made this Christmas 'the worst' was that she almost had plans. All right, there was no need to push the issue, Rogue huffed at the naysayer psyches which delighted in reminding her she didn't deserve happiness after what she'd done to them. She already knew she'd been stupid when she allowed herself to hope that she'd be permitted something which made her happy. Even though she knew better, a small part of her couldn't help hoping. There were some days she hated the part of her which still believed in hope. When would she learn, good things didn't happen to her?
Rogue pressed her temple against the frigid window pane as she stared out into the snow covered lawn. The moment Kitty brought her SUV to a skidding halt, the others evacuated the vehicle like it was on fire. Their fright from Kitty's driving didn't last long. Before their backpacks could hit the ground, they were in the middle of a mutant-powers snowball fight. Even if they had thought to invite her, her powers wouldn't have helped her. Rogue sighed and closed her eyes, blocking out the joviality below. She shivered at the mere thought of going outside. It was too cold for any sane person to be outside. What she wouldn't give for a southern Christmas.
Heh. Maybe she was setting her hopes too high. What she wouldn't give for a Christmas away from the Mansion. Yeah. Like either one was likely to happen. She should have known better than to hope this year would be any different. The one person who actually wanted her company wasn't allowed to have her.
The playing card flitted smoothly between her fingers. Up and down, over and across. She didn't recall ever learning how to do this, but she was certain when she picked up the tic. Ever since Blood Moon Bayou, whenever she came across a single card, she'd unconsciously thread the card through her fingers. Unlike most tics she picked up from her psyches, she usually found this one comforting—especially since it reminded her of him. Except this time, the comfort wasn't coming.
After her impromptu trip to New Orleans with Gambit and she had time to think things through, her initial pique of anger had mellowed into understanding. Longing to connect with the one person capable of understanding her, the one person who didn't judge her for what she could not control, Rogue was overjoyed when she discovered Gambit's e-mail address in the recesses of her mind. It was his real e-mail address—the one he only gave to the people he trusted the most, the one he was certain to answer. A flurry of e-mails had passed back and forth between them. Over the course of their correspondence, their unspoken attraction developed into an intimate friendship. He was her best friend. She could tell him anything.
Neither of them had been accustomed to having someone they could be completely honest with. Finding each other had been like finding a missing part of their whole. They talked about everything—from their crazy adventures which had long ago become normal to the mundanities of daily tasks which felt strange, from the dark shadows of their pasts to their dreams of brighter tomorrows. The more they talked, the more their friendship grew into something deeper. Their shared trust, blossoming into love. A wistful smile flitted across her lips at the thought of him, before she forced her expression back into the sullen scowl the others expected. It wouldn't do for the others to suspect.
She hesitated to call Gambit her boyfriend since she hadn't seen him in person since that ill-fated Mardi Gras in New Orleans, but she liked the idea. More than that, she wanted him to be her boyfriend. Like her, he hadn't said it outright, but over the course of their e-mailing, he'd expressed a similar desire. It was one of the myriad of reasons Gambit had proposed the idea of spending her Christmas break together in New Orleans. Not only did they desperately want to see each other again, they wanted to see how their relationship might develop. While she hadn't meant for it to happen, the idea of a Southern Christmas had taken root.
Then, he declared things in New Orleans had gotten far too dangerous. The conniving schemes of his father and the machinations of the assassins had intensified. There was a mole somewhere in one, if not both, of the Guilds and he couldn't guarantee his communications weren't being hacked. He couldn't risk being caught talking to her. For her sake, for his sake, for the sake of his family, and for the sake of hers. She wanted to be mad at him for that—but she couldn't. She understood all too well what it meant to sacrifice her owns desires for the safety of her family. It was one of the myriad of reasons their communications covert and their burgeoning romance secret.
With her fingernail, she absently scratched a spade into the lacy patterns of frost working its way up from the bottom and along the sides of the window. A club followed, then a diamond. Though no hearts. Where her head rested against the window, the warmth of her skin melted the crystalline frost. She shivered as the cold seeped into her. If only it could numb the hurt inside like the cold numbed her skin. Even when their communications had ceased and conventional wisdom said she should give up hope, she persisted in dreaming of spending Christmas with him. He'd never been afraid to touch her. Would he hold her? Would he risk a kiss? At the thought, a quiver of longing ran up her spine. Of course he would risk a kiss and, what's more, she knew she would let him.
Ever resourceful, Gambit had found a way to stay in touch—he anonymous letters sent when he was on out-of-state jobs. Each letter consisted of nothing more than a single playing card. Though the message would be cryptic to anyone else, Rogue had absorbed the cypher with the rest of Gambit's memories and was able to recognize the coded meanings represented in each suit and number. On a the few occasions when he was feeling hopeful (read—safe), the back of the souvenir playing cards served as a postcard of his travels. Though most of time, the cards didn't vary from the gold and purple-striped cards he preferred using in a fight. Even though she had no way of replying to his messages, it was comforting to know that he was okay.
But, today had been the last straw and her fragile hope could no longer bear the strain. Her classes at the local technical college had gotten out early, so she'd arrived at the Mansion before the others had even finished school for the day. Before she managed to strip out of her cold weather gear, Logan had found her. With an uncustomary apologetic tone to his gruffness, Logan handed her a letter. "Sorry, Stripes."
She didn't need to open the letter to know it was bad news. The letter bore an Australian postmark and carried the scent of stale smoke. Things had gotten worse, he couldn't even send the message himself, instead he'd gotten a proxy to act as go-between.
Unwilling to let anyone see the tears beginning to well in the corner of her eyes, she stormed off in a pretense of rage and escaped into the seldom used study. It would be another lonely Christmas. She ought to be used to that by now.
Growing up, Christmas had never been a big deal. Momma—no, Mystique, Rogue sniffed with bitterness at the reminder that her Momma had only adopted her to use her—had always been too busy with the 'big picture' to care about anything as frivolous as the holidays. Irene would usually manage a small celebration of sorts, though there had been as many years they celebrated in July as they did in December because she'd been too wrapped up in her vision of the future to remember what was happening in the here and now.
It wasn't until Rogue joined the institute that she'd experienced her first glimpse at what an elaborate holiday gathering could be. And sure, two years ago hadn't been too bad. But, that was the only time she'd celebrated with another student. Last year it had been her, the Professor, and Hank. This year, Hank had decided to visit his parents in Nebraska, which left her and the Professor. And even he wanted to be elsewhere.
Settled in her discontent and stewing in her bitter mood, Rogue frowned as Kurt waltzed into the study humming a Christmas carol. Well, bah humbug to him. Did her oh- so-perfect brother have to rub it in? Everybody loved Kurt, while they simply tolerated her.
"Scram furball," Rogue grumped.
"Oh, Rogue, Entschuldigung. I didn't see you." Kurt started. His tail flicked behind him. Their relationship had improved since the team had defeated Apocalypse, but there were still times when the old tension rose between them. His fingers curled around an envelope. The blue and red stripes around the edge proclaimed without a word whom the letter was from—his parents. Mystique—his birthmother and her adopted mother—had treated them both like garbage, but at least the couple who adopted Kurt loved him. They wanted him, and not just for what he could do for them. Rogue supposed her biological parents loved her for her, but they had died when she was almost too young to remember them. The only family she really knew was Mystique and Irene. Despite the fact that she adopted Rogue, Mystique was only ever present in Rogue's life when she needed something from her adopted daughter. Irene was nice enough—but even then, Irene was privy to Mystique's plans and went along with every scheme to keep Rogue isolated.
"Yeah, sure whatever. Go away. Ah was here first."
Kurt's eyes narrowed on the playing card threading between her fingers. "Oh, you received a letter too…"
Rogue growled and stilled the card between her fingers. In a blink, she secreted the card away and out of sight. While Kurt didn't exactly like Gambit, he had stopped trying to convince Rogue that the thief only wanted to take advantage of her.
"None of your business," she snapped.
"Sorry. Sorry." Kurt held up his hands and almost took a step back and out of the room, but held his ground.
Rogue exhaled a long slow breath, blowing the white fringe out of her eyes. It wasn't his fault she was in a bad mood. She forced a brittle smile and hoped he'd get the clue to leave her the hell alone. "Sorry sugar. Long day."
"Ja." Kurt nodded. He glanced down at his hands, finally remembering his letter and all it signified. Without the same smooth, flickering disappearance Rogue had done with the card, he stuffed the letter in his pocket and out of sight. "I was going to make some hot chocolate. Would you care to join me?"
Casting one last long look out the window at the others having their carefree fun, Rogue shrugged and hopped off the windowseat. "Sure, Ah guess."
Kurt smiled that bright genuine smile of his. The one Rogue could never find any fakeness in. "Good. It's always better to share."
In the kitchen, Kurt slowly heated milk on the stovetop the way is mother taught him. His real mother—Helene Wagner. Mystique might have given birth to him, but she had never been a mother. Keeping an eye on the milk while he continuously stirred the simmering liquid to keep it from scalding kept Kurt busy and his focus off of Rogue. It wasn't unusual for her to be prickly and restless, but there was something off about her present irritation. Unfortunately he couldn't quite put his finger on what was bothering her and that worried him.
She sat on the countertop, her heels thrummed arhythmically against the cabinets. The lone card was back, threading through her fingers. He wondered if she even noticed that she did that anymore. Even under the heavy layer of makeup, he noticed her face was drawn. Her shoulders slumped, like the effort it took to sit upright cost more than she had in her. That's when it struck him. She was bordering on despair if not three steps beyond it already.
What must it like to have so many psyches trapped in your head? He wondered, though he didn't dare speak it aloud.
She always looked so lonely. Whether intentional or not, most residents of the Mansion gave her a wide berth. It struck him with an odd sort of irony—his sister was never alone while, at the same time, always being alone. He knew he was just as guilty as the others of abandoning her when she need them the most. Since the two of them confronted the not dead Mystique, he'd tried to make up for his own poor treatment of his sister, but he really hadn't a good job of it. In his heart, he knew he should have done more.
Particularly now that she had graduated high school, she was even more alone than ever before. She'd been the only resident of Xavier's in her year at school and Scott and Jean were the only other graduates living at the Mansion. Between college classes, leading the team, and teaching the younger X-Men, Scott and Jean were too busy to spend much time with Rogue outside of scheduled training. Besides Kurt had the impression Jean and Rogue had never truly gotten along.
With the milk hot and the chocolate melted, Kurt poured the steaming liquid into twin mugs and handed one to Rogue.
"Thanks sugar," she said absently as she blew across the surface of the cocoa. The card was once again gone.
"You heard from Gambit?" Kurt ventured cautiously. He couldn't keep the curiosity from his voice. Everyone knew that Rogue received mysterious letters which contained single a playing card, but no one ever asked her about them. Sometimes Wolverine would sniff derisively when the letters arrived, but he didn't comment either. They all pretty much assumed Gambit had something to do with the letters—because of the playing cards—though no one knew what the missives meant or why she suddenly started receiving them a months after the Cajun thief had kidnapped her. But, they did know the letters were important to Rogue. Her mercurial moods would often shift when she received a new letter. Sometimes for the better, though more often than not, for the worst.
Instead of answering, she sipped at the cocoa and hissed as she burnt her tongue.
"Kitty mentioned you were hoping to go south…"
"Kitty should mind her own business." Rogue slammed the mug too forcefully on the counter. The scalding chocolate sloshed over the sides and over her hand. Grumbling Rogue hopped off her perch and grabbed the dish cloth to clean up the mess.
"Sorry." Kurt ran a hand through his hear. He wanted to help but all he seemed to do was make things worse. "So, um, what are you doing for Christmas?"
The awkward silence which followed told Kurt he'd probably chosen the wrong subject—again. When it stretched beyond reasonable, he fumbled for a new topic to distract from his last failed attempt. Before he could ask her thoughts on the weather, Rogue answered. "Same thing as last year, and the year before."
"Oh, good. You have plans." Knowing she had plans, he felt less guilty about looking forward to his own Christmas plans.
Although try as he might, Kurt couldn't remember what her plans had been since joining the X-Men. Last year they barely talked to each other—he had been too angry about what she had done to Mystique. And the year before—he remembered chasing Kitty around the Mansion at the holiday party the night before they all left….He just couldn't remember where Rogue had gone….
"Yeah some plans," she scoffed. "This year I might get to re-calibrated the Danger Room all by myself. Or, maybe I should polish the X-Jet. Ya think Ah should hang one of those cardboard air freshens in the cockpit? Ya know, the ones that come in the shape of a pine tree. Ah think they have a peppermint one. Or, should Ah stick with the classic pine? Which would be more festive?"
"What?" Kurt spluttered. He coughed as he swallowed the too hot cocoa down the wrong pipe. His eyes watered as he tried to catch his breath.
Rogue patted him on the back until he stopped coughing. As soon as he could gulp lungfuls of air, Rogue backed away, leaving plenty of space between them. "Ya gonna live?"
He nodded. The letter burned in his pocket and guilt pricked as his conscience. In all this time, he had never considered his sister. He had a family to return to. She had no one. When she joined the X-Men, she'd cut off all ties with her adopted family. With as rotten as she'd been treated growing up, most of the X-Men thought she was better off without them, but they had been her family. And it wasn't like the X-Men had really treated her all that much better. Being orphaned twice over had to hurt, no matter what kind of I-don't-care facade she wrapped around her.
Kurt had a family. One who loved him. Wanted him. Chose him. What had he done to extend that love and acceptance to his sister? Nothing.
Slipping his hand into his pocket, he curled his fingers around the letter. He knew what he needed to do.
"Uh, Rogue?"
"What?" she spat the word out sharp and biting. He didn't know it was possible to infuse a single word with so much sarcasm. Why did she make it so hard to do anything nice for her?
"Meine Eltern—my parents—they said I could invite a friend to join me for the holidays. They offered to pay for the flight." Nervously, his tail flicked back and forth.
"That's nice." Rogue picked up her mug and stared into the depths of her remaining cocoa to avoid meeting his eyes. As her hair fell forward blocking her face from view with a curtain of white and brown, Kurt caught a glimpse of her worrying at her bottom lip. When she spoke, the sarcasm was gone, replaced by a resigned acceptance. "Ah suppose you're gonna invite Amanda to meet your folks."
Kurt bit his lip. Yes, that had been his initial thought, but, no, this was better. He was certain of it now. "Nein. I want you to come."
The cocoa mug slipped from her fingers and tumbled to the ground. It shattered into a million pieces. The sticky mixture coated the floor in a growing puddle. "Ah think the voices in my head are acting up again. Ah must have misheard that. Ya want me to go to Germany with you? To meet your parents?"
"Ja. You." Kurt reached across the gap between them to touch Rogue's arm, but she jerked away before he made contact.
"Why?" She wrapped her arms across her stomach and her shoulders slouched as if she were folding into herself.
No, he corrected himself, as if she were protecting her vitals—her heart—from another blow.
"I want my parents to meet my sister," Kurt said with all honesty. Until this moment, he didn't realize how true those words were. After learning about their crazy mixed up familial connection, Kurt wanted to pursue a sibling relationship with her, but had allowed her prickly exterior to push him away. Only now did he comprehend she was trying to protect herself from being hurt again. She's already been hurt so many times in the same way, how long would it before these blows became a mortal injury to her heart? By dropping the ball, Kurt had proven her correct in the belief that people didn't stick around when things got hard. That they abandoned you once you no longer proved useful, or when you disappointed them. Kurt was going to change that. He wouldn't be fooled again. "I've told them all about you. They would love to meet you."
Rogue grabbed the broom and began sweeping up the ceramic shards in a neat, albeit soggy pile. She refused to meet his eyes. "Well, um…Ah don't know. Gotta see if Ah can get the time off work."
He grabbed the dust pan before she could turn her back on him again and dismiss the offer as a fluke. It was clear that she very much wished to accept, but wouldn't allow herself the possibility of hope. Working together they cleaned up the remaining shards of the broken mug and Kurt disposed of them in the trash bin.
"Thanks, sugah," she said as they finished tidying up the kitchen. Soon there were no signs of the accident except for another faint stain added to the collection spattered across the pale tiles of the kitchen floor.
"Please, Rogue, I would very much like for you to join me."
Rogue hesitated. The moment stretched until Kurt feared he might have pushed too hard. Slowly a smile spread across her face. A real smile. One they rarely saw around the Mansion—or anywhere else for that matter. "Yeah, Ah...Ah'll come. Ya sure Ah won't be an imposition?"
"Of course not, you're family." He looped his arm around her shoulder in an awkward half-hug. This time, she didn't pull away.
Family. Rogue silently mouthed the word like it was one she had heard before, but was unfamiliar with the concept. Her grey eyes lit up with a newfound joy which matched her smile.
Heavy footsteps were heard echoing down the hallway. Only one resident of the Mansion possessed a gait like that. Rogue and Kurt exchanged furtive, knowing glances.
"Logan," Rogue whispered and tugged Kurt's arm. "Let's get out of here before he makes us shovel."
"Ja!" Kurt agreed.
With stifled giggles, the siblings raced out of the kitchen through the doors on the far side of the room. They didn't stop until they were certain they had managed to evade Logan and the dreaded snow duty.
The German I used is a mix of what I could remember from high school German class and looking up vocabulary (and spelling on-line). As is the case with relying on internet translators (and old memories), there are probably errors in the translations. I am sorry about that. I do hope the following translations help.
Meine Schwester - my sister
Fröhliche Weihnachten mein Sohn. - Merry Christmas, my son.
Wir vermissen Dich. - We miss you.
Wie geht's? Wir sind gut. - How are you? We're good.
Dein Vater ist sehr beschäftigt... - Your father is very busy….
Entschuldigung - sorry/excuse me
Meine Eltern – my parents