Hey guys, sorry this is so late. Studying was tough and as soon as I got home from exams it was one thing after another. Hope you like this chapter. I liked writing it; I thought it was a good mix of Anya and her friends as teenagers dealing with their problems. Sorry if it's depressing.

Let me know what you think.

Chapter Fifteen: Not Fair

Anya

"Hey can I crash at your place tonight?" I grouse at Annie, slamming my locker door shut harder than necessary. She laughs at me, dark eyes sparkling.

"Why, regretting trying to set your dad up?" she teases. I give her a look and she snorts. "Don't give me that look this is your fault."

"My fault?!" I squeak. Thankfully, the hallway is empty at the moment, so we can talk about this without having the police knocking down my door from an anonymous tip about my dad. "I locked them in a room together; I didn't hang a sign up saying 'make out all over the fucking house!'" I lean back against my locker and glare at my giggling friend.

"They might have progressed to that by now," she smirks at me. I roll my eyes and try to be disgusted - really, I do - but oddly enough, I just feel… sad. I'm not sure that that's even a possibility for my dad now, and while the thought of parental sex is yuck on so many different levels, at the same time, it's rather lonely, isn't it? Certainly not what I wish for the man who gave me literally everything. I scowl at Annie and banish the thoughts from my mind, shooting her a dirty look.

"I swear to God Annie, if you try to talk about that -"

"Would you prefer I talk about getting laid last night?" she inquires with a grin. I make a gagging noise and she chuckles. "Oh you poor little virgin."

"Virgin and proud," I say bluntly. She rolls her eyes at me.

"That's just because you haven't had sex yet," she points out. My scowl deepens.

"Nor do I intend to," I grumble, picking at a hole in my jeans. She smiles and punches my shoulder lightly.

"Yeah of course you can stay over. My mom's out of town and they're showing a replay of Dr. King's latest speech…" I grin back. My activist best friend has a finger in each of the civil rights protests. She idolizes King. This man is going to make it so everyone is free, she told me when I first saw one of her scrapbooks filled with newspaper clippings on him. Doesn't matter if you're black, white, or blue to him. I've gotten into the movement too - though something about the kind preacher reminds me less of a savior and more of my father. Maybe it's the everyone-is-equal-regardless-of-skin-color-or-genetics attitude he's got. Annie would love Dad.

"Lemme guess, you were in the front row?"

"Tried to, old fat lady pushed me out of the way. It was good, too. He started with the Movement but then got into how mutants are mistreated in society too." She opens her locker and misses my jaw going slack. "Something about mutants are human just like we are." She cuts a sly glance towards me. "Figured you'd be interested in that since you popped Henry Williams one for saying that thing about the girl who was on TV…"

"He's a prejudiced jackass who couldn't find his prick with a screwdriver and a flashlight, let alone his brain," I snap. "I'm surprised he can tell the difference between blue and black skin since it's not rich asshole white." Annie smirks at me.

"Oh he can tell the difference between 'rich asshole white' and 'city-girl I haven't screwed yet white.' He's only interested in the one." I snort a laugh and she nudges my shoulder before closing her locker. "Honestly the amount he keeps trying to get into my pants, makes me wonder if there's something about the sex I'm having that is…" she taps her chin and cocks her head, lips quirking on the side.

"Superior?" I suggest. She nods.

"Hell yeah. Jesus what is he hitting that is making him go after me?"

"Casey Rogers," I deadpan. She cackles and I twist my lips to the side. Fun as this is, it's not what I want to know. "So what'd you think of it?"

"Henry Williams getting into my pants? I thought that was obvious - un-fucking-likely."

"No, you idiot, Dr. King's speech about mutants." I chew my lip and hunch my shoulders under my thread-bare hand-me-down long sleeved shirt from Alex. Annie gives me a considering look. My shoulder practically touches my ears at that. "Well?"

She simply smiles. "I couldn't give a rat's ass if you had wings or could read my mind to be honest." I exhale rather loudly and feel my face flush. "You ever gonna tell me why this is such an interest of yours?"

"Probably not," I say honestly. She rolls her dark orbs and groans.

"Honestly you and your secrets. There ain't a damn thing about me you don't know, yet I barely know your last name."

"You know my dad isn't heterosexual. Outside of my family no one knows that," I remind her. She shrugs and does the detective-on-the-scent-of-a-mystery look that always makes a shudder crawl down my spine with how piercing it is. One look and she will have perps on their knees later. She scrutinizes me with that look while I duck my head and search for a water bottle in Hank's old backpack, rummaging for the clear bottle and dropping it on the ground when I find it. Annie's lips quirk slightly.

"Does this have anything to do with your last name?" I unscrew the cap and raise my eyebrows.

"What about my last name?" I take a swig. Annie smirks at me, flashing perfectly straight and white teeth. Sometimes her questions should be met with warranted suspicion. I'm not sure if that's one of those prevalent times.

"Nothing. Did I say last name? I said your funny face. Want to watch Funny Face? Hey Elliot! Get offa that thing! You wanna watch Funny Face at my place tonight?" I whirl in time to keep from being run over by Elliot as he rides by on his skateboard. Annie throws out an arm and knocks him off of it, letting it glide gently down the hall and him to fall on his ass. He lets out a huff, pushing ashy hair off of his forehead and glaring at the brunette. I roll my eyes and extend a hand to help him up.

"Ow, Pryde!" he whines when he's on his feet.

"Fuck you not literally. You in?" she asks pointedly. He scowls and shakes his head quickly.

"I was going to go check out the new school counselor after school. Hot redhead. Prefer the older ones to dead-on-the-silver-screen." I shove his chest hard.

"You know that's illegal right?" I remind him. He shrugs and gives me a cocky smirk.

"There's no age limit on love, baby. Care for me to show you?"

"Care for me to hit you with a locker door again?"

"Alrighty children. Elliot get your board, you're not stalking teachers and getting caught… again." Annie says briskly. Elliot pouts absurdly, so ridiculous that I have to bite back laughter. Annie simply glares at him and crosses her arms over her ample bosom.

"It's not illegal if there's consent!"

"'Consent' is 'agree to it,' not 'get caught with your pants down and your hand full with your pe-"

"Yep okay conversation over," I shout, pushing at my best friend. She gives me an amused look and Elliot hides a chuckle.

"Aww poor little virgin Anya…"

"You're in the same boat as me, Elliot!" I squeak, shoving Annie at the front door. Elliot waggles his eyebrows at me.

"Well, the handicap bathroom is right over there… Can fix that in twenty minutes if you want."

"GAH!" I dive for Annie's beat up old Beemer. She slaps the blonde's chest and rolls her dark eyes in amusement.

"Twenty minutes Elliot? That's rather optimistic isn't it?" she enquires politely. Elliot scowls and I groan until Annie opens the door so I can clamber into the backseat. He gets into the front and immediately pulls out a joint and a lighter.

"Can you honestly say that your first time lasted longer?" he quips. She smirks at me in the rear-view mirror and pats Elliot's shoulder lightly.

"Well, actually, it was an hour plus…"

"Was the dude superhuman or something?" Elliot gasps in shock. Annie doesn't quite hide her wince fast enough, though Elliot is a bit preoccupied lighting his joint to notice it.

"Well -"

"MY POOR VIRGIN EARS!" I bellow. "Jesus can you two talk about this later?!" They both giggle, though Annie's is more relieved than she'd ever admit. "Elliot smoke that shit out a window it smells like a fucking skunk." He huffs and rolls down the window to blow a steady stream of white smoke from between his thin lips.

"Thought your brother smoked; you should be used to this," he complains mildly, taking another long inhale. Annie holds her hand out and he obligingly passes the joint over.

"Annie you're driving!" I say in exasperation. She shrugs and takes a drag.

"So? Shouldn't do this either." With that as my only warning she rolls down the window, lets go of the steering wheel and sits on the window. I let out a yell and roll my window down too so I can poke my head out and scream at her to get back in the damn car. Annie laughs but does. I however hang half out the window and peer in the car from my rather awkward perch on the edge of the door. "OH SO YOU CAN DO IT BUT I CAN'T?!" Annie screams out the window and over the wind. I grin and wave happily at her.

"DAMN RIGHT!" I holler back.

"YOU'RE BOTH GONNA DIE!" Elliot yells out his window. I just laugh and kick my feet at him experimentally. He grabs my foot to haul my ass back into the car. We're all laughing so hard that we can barely see.

Maybe that's why Annie has to brake so hard right in front of her house. I slide forward into the space between the back and front seats with a shriek and Elliot hits his arm on the dash. Over Elliot's and my cursing Annie is panting hard, breaths thundering in the tiny space. I can't see her face but I guess I just… know. I've got one arm up on the seat and the other pushing me off the floor when Annie mutters "Shit," and spins around in the street. The momentum has me spinning head over heels into the opposite door, effectively pinned against the frame with my arm jammed painfully between my back and the handle and my leg caught beneath Elliot's chair, the other sprawled over the headrest. Elliot is swearing after presumably - and ironically - hitting his head against the oh-shit bar. I catch sight of Annie's frantic eyes in the mirror before she takes another sharp turn and I'm painfully thrown again, my caught side forcing me into the chairs in front of me with painful force. My ribs are screaming and Elliot is yelling by the time she evens out on the highway.

I gingerly climb back into the seat and check on my shoulder while Elliot continues to berate Annie for nearly killing us. I stay quiet while she takes it in silence, letting him rant and rave about her driving and her insanity and the general question of what-the-fuck he has. My shoulder isn't dislocated thankfully, but it's going to bruise something fierce tomorrow morning. I wonder if I'll be able to hide this from Dad until it goes down… Elliot's simmering down now, and I cautiously poke my head forward. Annie is tense, knuckles white on the steering wheel. "You okay?" she asks calmly. More calmly than she feels.

"Nothing some sleep won't help," I tell her honestly. "Where are we going?" Elliot glares at her out of the corner of his eye and massages his jaw where a bright red splotch will be black tomorrow.

"The House." The Haunted House. The place we hang out frequently but Jesse wanted me to take an axe to, a blade that is currently rusting in a closet on the second floor. Not that my human friends are aware of that.

"Why the hell are we going there?" Elliot demands grumpily. His temper has cooled as fast as it flared and we're all grateful for that. "I thought we were going to have a classics night again." Annie's jaw flexes with the force that she's gritting her teeth.

"My mom doesn't exactly like it when we do that," she says quietly. "Sorry. I didn't know she was back from her trip yet."

Well, fuck. My heart beats hard in my chest and I wonder, yet again, if I should ask Dad if Annie can stay here for the time being. Her younger brother should be fine, but Annie… God damn it.

Annie pulls off the highway and down the grass infested driveway to the half-forgotten old Victorian house in the woods. We're so quiet and subdued, so far from the rowdy teens that left the school only half an hour earlier. Elliot is not so quietly frustrated in the front. The poor guy is always shut out, even more than I prevent Annie from knowing anything about my family. Half the time his temper flares because he knows there's something he's missing, but he's not quite sure what it is. And it hurts but it's not my secret to tell. Annie stops in front of the house and just sits there, keys in her hand. Elliot vaults from the car and into the house, quietly muttering. Annie follows, more slowly, and I exit with her. She takes my hand and I squeeze hers in reply.

The house is old and slightly decrepit, but still standing and functioning perfectly well. Well, besides some weak floorboards on the second floor that we have to be careful of, after a slight incident where a drunken tap-dancing Annie nearly fell through. Other than that the place is safe. With two stories, two spiral towers near the back, a wraparound porch and paint the color of crushed rose petals, it's a dream come true for us to hang out in and explore. The occupants who suddenly left or died (I can never remember which it is) about seven or eight years ago left most of their furniture and stuff here. Elliot has had way too much fun flouncing around in a big blue dress left by the wife and Annie thinks it's hilarious how I trip in her heels, especially down the stairs. I personally prefer the husband's dinner jacket and flannel shirts, a few of which have found their way back to my closet at home. We take turns trying on the different clothes left around the second floor and cooing at our reflections in the big floor-to-ceiling mirror in the master bedroom which hides the bathroom. I smile at the memory of when we got into the makeup last time too, and then grimace. The last time we came here was also because Annie couldn't go home. If that's the word for that hell hole.

I pull on Annie's hand and guide her into the house. Elliot's banging around the kitchen so I steer her towards the stairs, climbing them carefully so they don't creak under our combined weight. Without a word we walk down the hall into the master bedroom. The sheets are still fairly clean from the last time we were here and changed them. Unfortunately the comforter, a big stained silver thing that was probably shimmery once upon a time, is not so lucky. I let go of Annie's hand to pull it off before lying back down on the bed. Annie kneels down on the bed until I'm comfortable, before curling up next to me, head on my shoulder. I stroke my hand through her hair, and wait.

"It's not fair," she eventually murmurs into my collar. I reach my free hand over and squeeze her in a hug.

"I know, sweetie, I know." She doesn't cry, though that's certainly happened before. This time she's flat. Dead almost. That scares me more than the tears. "Do you want to come over until she leaves?" Annie exhales into my neck and shakes her head slowly.

"Can't intrude on your secret life like that," she mumbles. I shake my head in denial.

"My parents wouldn't mind if you did," I tell her. It's not exactly the truth. Erik might have a few choice words about a human spending the night, but Dad would welcome her with open arms. Jesse might be pissed but my brothers would be happy that she's okay… Though Hank would have to hide. Damn. Annie laughs into my shirt, but there's little mirth in the sound.

"Thanks, but I think I can take another night with the bitch-face monster." She goes quiet and I sigh. Why must she be so difficult? I'm offering her help, why can't she just accept that she needs it? "So long as I keep my mouth shut and stay in my room she should leave me alone."

The silence that follows is eerie and pressing in on my eardrums. Should, not will. Once upon a time Annie said will. What changed since then? "Does she know?" I ask Annie, my pulse picking up with the question. That little word could have all changed with Annie's mother snooping into her room. Not that Annie is exactly stupid enough to write all of this down in a diary but still… There might be something that would give my feisty best friend away. Annie shakes her head, and then hesitates.

"No but… But I think my step-dad does." She swallows hard. "He caught me coming home last night." My breath catches in my throat.

"Annie you didn't -"

"I asked to be dropped off a block up like I always do, but he recognized the car when it drove past." I groan and she winces. This is really bad. "I'm not sure if he knew who was driving but he's getting pretty suspicious." I sit up, dislodging her and forcing her to sit up too. I wait until she meets my eyes before taking her hand and squeezing it reassuringly.

"If you ever feel like you're in danger in that house, you come to mine, okay?" I say. My tone leaves no room for argument. "I don't care if it's two in the morning, you come and get me." Annie wipes at her eyes and snorts, forcing a brave smile.

"I don't think it'll get that bad."

"So said every abused woman in history days before her husband knifed her and dumped her over a bridge," I say flatly. "I refuse to see you get killed Andrea Pryde, do you understand me?" I'd watched too many of my family members get killed in my life, I wasn't watching another. Given a choice I'd gladly stand in her place - in any of their places if anything were to happen to them. Them or me, and I choose them, I decide.

"She wouldn't kill me," Annie denies immediately, but there's that dark little flicker of doubt in her eyes when she says it. I shake my head and pull her arm towards me. I edge the sleeve of her shirt up over her wrist and she snatches it back almost immediately. Shame washes over her face and she wrenches the sleeve down over her fingers, refusing to meet my eyes. I watch with an ache in my heart. She's one of the strongest people I know, so to see this...

"No, but she might drive you to do it so she won't get her hands dirty," I mutter darkly. The scar is so shallow most people don't notice it. It was from the first time Annie truly debated giving up about a year ago. I wasn't there when she chose her own life instead of her mother's envisaged one, but I saw the bandage on her wrist the next day. She still refused to say what happened, but given that her mother was home at the time, I have a couple of guesses. I've been almost terrified to leave her alone with that woman ever since. "Annie, please promise me if it gets bad, you'll come stay with me for a while." Annie starts to shake her dark head and I grip her shoulder in an almost crushing grip. "Please." She relents with a slight eye roll but it's enough. I wrap my arms around her and she me, and we fall back until we're cuddled against the pillows.

The door creaks, and I raise my head to see Elliot in the doorway. Annie's eyes lift but she doesn't move from where she's resting against my collarbone. I wait for him to make some innuendo-fueled joke about us making out, but he just scuffles his feet and gives us a sheepish grimace. "Hey… Sorry about blowing up earlier," he says.

"Don't worry about it, Elle, it's not -" Annie starts. Elliot shakes his head and walks into the room.

"Yeah, it is a big deal, Annie," he interrupts brusquely. "I don't know what's going on and it's not right that I take it out on you guys. I know you can't tell me. It just…" He looks at a loss for words and I easily supply the ones he's missing.

"Hurts because they don't trust you enough." Like how no one will tell me why Erik hates humans. Or who shot Dad so he's in a wheelchair. Or why everyone avoids certain rooms in the house. Or what started those tell-tale flinches when I say certain things, like Cuba and government. Or where that haunted look they all carry come from. It hurts because I know, I know, that there's something I should know. And I don't, because they don't trust me enough. I can feel Annie watching me but I shrug it off and offer her a rather bland smile. "You should know about that," I tell her. Elliot looks confused but Annie just sighs and doesn't explain.

"Get up here Elliot," Annie says, gesturing for him to climb onto the bed with us. Elliot somberly does, resting his head on my hip and wrapping an arm around Annie as well.

We lie there… God I don't. Hours maybe. Not talking, just quietly reflecting. I look out the window, over Annie's head, to the rapidly darkening sky. Why is it that even though they don't tell us the shit they did, or want to justify it, it always feels like the younger generation is cleaning up the mistakes of the older one?

Annie's right. It's not fucking fair.

Yeah, ain't that right? So like? Don't like? Let me know.