Uh...yeah.

I got knocked off the bandwagon. Got a nasty bruise. What knocked me off? College, writer's block, cough laziness cough...

Alright, hate me if you want. Just don't hate the story. At least know, though, that I couldn't bear to make you wait any longer, and have therefore only posted one chapter. It's extremely long, though - and pretty revealing. Hope you like.

Mrs.Scott323: Oooh, glad you liked the twist. :) And I was a little iffy about the chess game before, but now I feel better. Thanks!

A girl and boy sat silent in a park that lay behind a formerly chattery girl's house. The girl sat on the bench of a picnic table, the boy sitting on the table itself, his feet set firmly on the bench near the girl. They both gazed off in different directions, swimming in the churning waters of philosophy.

"I may have said this before." Luke commented. "But no matter, I'll say it again. Meghan, you never cease to amaze me."

Meghan just kept gazing off, fingering the picture of Henry and Libby together in her hands.

"I've been thinking." he said. "If Henry Dashwood is your cousin's father...doesn't that make him your uncle?"

She looked up at him.

"It would." she agreed. "If he had actually married my aunt. But he didn't. So...he isn't."

Meghan was surprised at how much it saddened her to say that.

"Didn't you say that they had some kind of ceremony, in Monaco or something?" Luke asked her.

She giggled.

"Morocco. Yes. But it wasn't legal, and obviously, it didn't count."

Luke still shook his head, deeming the situation just too stark, entirely.

"But you are related to someone who is related to him. I should think that would count for something, wouldn't it?"

Meghan smiled a bit at him, though vaguely.

"In a perfect world, it would." she told him. "But this is the real world, Luke."

Very disappointed at this, Luke held onto Meghan's gaze for a few seconds, before glancing up to see the distant flash of yet another camera, apparently hidden in the bushes. He sighed.

"Yeah?" he quipped. "Well, I hate the real world."

Then they got up, to wander off to who knows where. The photographer might've followed them, had he not at that moment been ambushed by a team of angry squirrels and a disgruntled raccoon, all sharing a strong distaste for flashy things.

After all of the events that took place that day, I didn't think I'd ever be able to focus on studying math. But I tried, anyway.

Luke dropped me off at the cottage, and I went inside, my mind still blown. I vaguely greeted Emma, who was bustling in the kitchen. I dodged a flying bowl that seemed to come from the direction of a certain high chair, and heard Great Uncle Wallace squawking as usual as I made my way to the stairs.

Entering the room I shared with Faye was downright depressing. Dare I say, morbid. Only the small lamp on her nightstand was on, and on its dimmest setting at that. I could just make out the shape of her body under the covers, and some tussles of blonde hair poking out at the top. I didn't, however, hear the rhythmic, even breathing of peaceful sleep - which meant that yet again, Faye was just lying awake, staring into the darkness.

I could only shudder at the thought of what it would be like if Faye had found out about her pending expulsion, if Daphne's grandma hadn't put a stop to it. It would be a morgue in here, literally.

Quickly, I grabbed my book bag and skittered out, shutting the door behind me. I wanted to talk to her, but I knew it wouldn't do any good. I'd already tried.

My usual study spot was the sitting room, with its cheery mint green walls. This is where I went. I sat down in one of the very comfortable chairs this room hosted, proceeding to open my bag and spread all of its contents out on the coffee table in front of me.

It was then that I noticed, among those contents, a manila folder. The manila folder that Ratbreath had given me, that held my "records".

I decided to look at it again. So my math homework would get postponed for a few minutes. Big deal! Wasn't that the purpose of math homework? To be postponed until there was absolutely nothing left in the world for a person to get their hands on that would distract them from it?

Anyway, I opened the folder, and started reading my information. Meaning, as if I didn't already know what it was.

But as it turns out, there was something contained in that folder that I didn't already know. And it suddenly came back to me - that I'd read it in the HM's office, and that I'd been confounded by it.

See, there was a little space on one of the papers that read "Nationality". Right next to the space for "Blood Type" (By the way, if you're Type B and ever need a transfusion, I'm your girl).

And in this space was printed the words "Dual-Citizenship".

This is why I was confused. Dual-Citizenship? What in the world does that mean? Was I born in the land of fencing or something? As far as I knew, in New York, people aren't that big on fencing. I mean, I'm sure some people in New York like to fence, but...

Okay. That's nonsense.

I realized that I'd just have to ask Mom or Aunt Libby about it, the next time I spoke to them.

And then the phone rang. And I heard an Irish voice call for me seconds later, saying that someone I knew was on the line.

Funny how that works, huh?

"Hello?"

"Hello, Meghan."

It was my aunt again.

"Hey, Auntie Libbs."

"Is there something you'd like to tell me, by any chance?"

Whoa. That's a broad spectrum.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, would you mind, Meg, explaining to me why you're picture is on the cover of People magazine, walking along and holding the hand of a British aristocrat named 'Lucas Brenshire'?"

Oh. That. Geez, it's even reached my country? Whatever happened to Britney Spears?

"Okay, what about it?"

"What about it, Meghan?! Do you even know what you're getting yourself into? Why have you been keeping this person from us?"

"I haven't entirely. I told Daphne."

"Oh, well, that's different then, isn't it? C'mon, Meghan! What is going on with you?!"

I was getting increasingly uncomfortable. Aunt Libby...she just doesn't get like this.

"Nothing's going on. Luke is a guy, and I like him. And he likes me."

"Really? Well, according to that article, it's a little more complicated then that."

Article? Suddenly an article is Aunt Libby's all-knowing source of wisdom and truth?

"It's...it's not that bad..."

"It says that this 'Luke' person is the son of some lord, and that he is the object of affections from a certain Clarissa Payne."

Halt! Rewind! Did she just say...

"Okay, maybe that part's bad."

"You think? I don't...I don't believe this, Meghan. Not only did you keep this boy from us, but you kept something bigger. About this girl. And I think you know what I mean."

Stinking article.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Libby..."

"And you kept this all to yourself. Oh wait, excuse me, I suppose you told Daphne about all this."

Uh, rude much? Who are you, and what have you done with my aunt?

"You promised me, Meghan. You promised me you'd be responsible. And then you turn around and go gallivanting with this boy."

Gallivanting...that sounded familiar...

" - gallivanting, shall we say, with young Lucas."

"I honestly don't know what you're thinking. How could you do this? How could you keep all these secrets?"

I could say that it was the straw that broke the camel's back. But I'm not a camel, and if I were, a straw would do nothing to me, because it is a flimsy piece of plastic. So it was more like the sledgehammer that fell on my toe. Because like a sledgehammer hitting my toe would do, Aunt Libby's words caused me to explode in tears.

"Me? ME?! What about you?! How can you say that to me, when you're the one with all the secrets?!"

I heard silence for a moment.

"Meghan, don't speak to me in that tone." she said, calm all of a sudden.

"Tone? Don't talk to me about my tone. You were so cold to me, just now. Why are you criticizing me for keeping things from you, when you're keeping things from Mom, and...from me? You...you hypocrite!"

By now, I was sobbing. I sunk to the floor, heaving breaths.

The other end was silence. Even at that moment, I regretted what I said. But I was just so hurt. By my aunt, of all people.

I had only been trying to protect her. I hadn't told her about Clarissa. Maybe I should've, but I didn't. Because I thought it would hurt her. I thought she was still in love with Henry Dashwood. But obviously, she wasn't, because she was criticizing me for being with Luke. Criticizing me, like so many others were.

I lowered the cordless phone, clutching it to my chest. I was leaning against the bathroom wall, where I'd gone to talk to Aunt Libby. I could only imagine what the Winthrops would've thought of me, had I stayed out in the kitchen.

Then, I heard a faint sound.

"Meghan?"

Slowly, I raised the phone back to my ear. I gave Aunt Libby no response, other than my spasmatic breathing.

"Meghan, I'm sorry."

I closed my eyes.

"I'm in love with him, Aunt Libby."

A pause.

"What?"

"Luke. I'm in love with him."

Again, Aunt Libby was quiet. But after a few seconds, she spoke.

"Okay."

And I sat there, holding the phone up as I wiped my eyes, just sat there sniveling until Aunt Libby said:

"Meghan?"

"Yeah?"

"What is it I'm keeping from you?"

Meghan was wide awake that night, as she lay in bed a few feet from mopey Faye. So, so much had happened.

She'd had tea with Daphne's grandma, played chess with her father, and earned a universal welcome into their home.

She'd bonded with Luke like never before.

And finally, she'd gotten the truth, the FULL truth, from Aunt Libby.

This time, it was different, though. This time, what Libby had told her hardly concerned Daphne. It concerned Meghan, and her mother.

Meghan had asked her aunt about what was written in her records. Libby's answer had been a deep, resigned breath, similar to the ones she'd taken before, any time she decided to come clean about something. And then...

"Meghan, do you know what 'dual-citizenship' means?"

"Something about fencing?"

"Uh...no. It sorta means...that you're a citizen of two countries."

Meghan had been quiet for a moment, very confused.

"Um...okay. What countries?"

"Well, you're a citizen of the United States, because both of your parents were American. But there's another country."

"Where? Canada?"

"No. Look out the window."

She did.

"Uh...I'm a citizen of old Johnson's house?"

"Who's...never mind. No, Meghan, I mean England."

Meghan was practically speechless.

"I...what...how...that doesn't make sense!"

"I know, but it will. See, there are some things about your mother that you don't know, because they are things that your mother has felt too pained to discuss with you. But there's no getting around them now, and I think it's time you knew."

Meghan waited.

"A long, long, long time ago, back in the 80's, when I was a free-spirited nomadic gypsy traveling the world, my brother (your father), was already in the army, and was stationed in the country you're residing in now. Meanwhile, your mother was attending a fashion school there, not too far away. And don't ask me how, but somewhere along the line, they met each other."

Libby paused.

"They began spending time together whenever both of them had the chance, and they fell deeper and deeper in love. Your dad would write me letters about this wonderful woman he'd found, that her name was Catherine, that she was sweet and beautiful and talented. And then after about, oh, a year or so, I received a letter that your mom and dad had married, and were already expecting their first (and only) child. I was sad that I hadn't seen their wedding, but made a promise to myself that I'd invite them to mine, if I ever had one. And it was right around this time that I drifted into a little country called Morocco."

Meghan kept staring at old Johnson's house.

"Consequently, within a month of that, I was in England. Your father had no knowledge of my being there, but I wanted to get in touch with him, so that I could meet your mother - and you, though you weren't even close to being born yet. Unfortunately, that got pushed way off to the side, due to the chaos that later ensued. And so I ended up not only leaving Henry, but the three of you as well."

She sat listening on the edge of the bathtub.

"I went into hiding, bunking with a friend in New York, who eventually moved to a condo in Florida, leaving me in the apartment we live in now. By then, Daphne was born, and I had a job that paid for the rent and the food and the sitter. Meanwhile, your mother and father remained where they were, and it was there that you were born - which earned you the dual-citizenship."

Meghan was now so shocked, she thought she'd stare a hole right through the window. An increasing uneasiness was taking over.

"You were all there for four years - it's amazing that you don't remember anything. You lived in a little white cottage - your parents even called it the "Meghan House", because you loved it there. Your grandparents Shore bought the house for your mother, and had been paying her tuition at the fashion school, though she'd taken a break from it to take care of you. She'd make dozens of clothing sketches, your father said, and she'd had every intention of going back to school. The three of you were all very happy - until one night. The night your mother came home to find that little white cottage engulfed in flames, along with two other houses. Everything she and your father owned, photographs, heirlooms, and all of those sketches, burned in that fire. Everything was lost."

Meghan's throat grew tight. She felt the tears coming again.

"They didn't know what to do. After that tragedy, your mother was devastated. She needed to be near her family. So, as much as they loved England, your mother and father decided to go back to New York. Your father requested that he be stationed there, and his wish was granted. And that's when you came here, and you met your aunt and cousin for the first time. And me and my brother were finally reunited. It was incredible."

There was a pause as Libby recalled this.

"And your father loved his niece from the minute he saw her. He'd spoil my daughter almost as much as he spoiled you. They got that house outside of Chinatown together, and things were pretty good. But your mother never got around to going back to fashion school, in any country, because something about her sketches burning had seemed to kill her ambitions. Besides, she really wanted to stop depending on your grandparents for everything. She felt like a leech, and she took the fire as a sign that she needed to break away from them money wise."

So that's why she's that way...

"But I thought that was a shame. I had given up on what I loved, and I didn't want to watch her do the same. So, when I went back to singing, at the same time I started making payments...on a house, much like that cottage, in England. I knew me and Daphne would have to crunch, but I got an excellent deal on it, and figured I'd have it paid off in about ten years or so. Then I would tell your mom about it, and hopefully the three of you would all move back and she'd go back to her old fashion school. I did it to make up for all the time I wasn't there. My timing was right on the payments, it turned out, and legally, that house now belongs to me. I decided to let Daphne in on this shortly after her birthday - that was her 'blood test', remember? She was mad at me, though, for keeping this from her aunt, and especially for keeping it all from her cousin."

Meghan closed her eyes.

"Why did you keep it from us? And why did Mom keep all of this from me?"

"The same reason goes for both - your mom was so devastated. That fire, and later your father's disappearance, made her want nothing to do with England. She didn't remember those good times, because the loss was too painful. And she didn't want you to know your birthplace, because she was afraid you'd choose full English citizenship...which you can actually do, without naturalization or anything, because of your status. That's why she was scared to let you go on this thing, too."

Despite the fact that Meghan didn't think she could handle any more shock, she just had to ask one more question.

"What about Daphne?" she breathed. "Why have you never told Mom about Daphne?"

Libby sighed.

"I've been asking myself that, along with many other questions, for years, Meghan. I didn't tell anyone at first who Daphne's father was - not even that friend of mine, who thankfully understood how much it hurt me to talk about it. But after she was born, I did realize that I had to tell my dad - your Grandpa Reynolds - why I had a child all of a sudden. But to your mother and her parents, I lied, and told them her father had just run off somewhere. I will always regret that. I guess I was trying to erase Henry as much as I possibly could. It didn't work very well."

Meghan pondered this, and started to realize there was someone left that Aunt Libby hadn't mentioned.

"Dad." she stammered. "Did he know?"

Aunt Libby's immediate surge of silence gave her the answer. But not completely.

"I didn't think he did." Libby replied.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I didn't have to tell him anything, because he already knew. Remember how I told you that I never got around to contacting your dad while I was in England? Well, despite that, he still knew I was there, because he'd seen me - with Henry."

Meghan's breath caught in her throat.

"When you three moved back to the States, he told me what he'd seen. But he never said anything to your mom."

The brown-haired girl, who was about to go into a coma with all the shock she was being continually presented with, was now resigned. She took a deep breath.

"I want you to tell her." she shakily murmured into the phone.

"What?"

"I want you to tell her, Auntie Libbs. Tell Mom. About Daphne, about that house, about the fact that I know about it all. No more secrets, Aunt Libby. Please."

There was no reply. But Meghan could still hear the exhausted blonde woman breathing hard, still holding the phone to her ear on the other side of the Earth. Meghan squeezed her eyes shut, a tear rolling down her face.

She did the same thing now, laying in bed, in that dark room.

Please.

Not sure I liked how that one turned out, but I had to tell the story somehow...this is the best I could think of. Kinda afraid I made Libby a rambler in this one, but oh well.

And don't get after me for getting something wrong about the dual-citizenship thingy. I don't know anything about immigration. I just know that there is such a thing as dual-citizenship - I don't know exactly how it works. I'm just winging it. Sorry.

As payment for your wait, I give you all free Coco Puffs. And some orange chicken. But not together. Ew.

-rf-