Thanks to:

Brit-Babe191 - I'm fast because I have no life, LOL. No, I'm kidding. I'm chuffed you like the story :) And more bad ass Rogue in this chapter! More caring Logan? Well you'll just have to read and make up your own mind.

darkfantasy16 - I love drama and angst, so there will be more of that coming.

noro - Here's the update :)

And NyahLi1 - That's a hell of a long review, LOL! You just had to mention that song, didn't you? Now its in my head again! I say it's a Queen song for arguments sake :P The main problem with the Jagger/Bowie video was the 'Dad dancing', never let those two near a dance floor. And don't apologise, I enjoyed reading it :)

The next chapter is named after a cool Beatles track. Looooove The Beatles.

Yer Blues

Please don't belittle me or downplay what I'm about to say, this is an announcement of biblical proportions. Okay, I might be slightly overdoing it there but you can kiss my ass, I'm a teenager, every situation is a jumble of dramatic life or death choices. Make the wrong one and 'BAM' your peers will ignore your existence for a freakin' long time.

Here I go, and listen carefully its not everyday you hear an honest remark fall from these lips; I have come to the conclusion that my life is a piece of utter horse shit. There I said it and I stand by my statement, yes, this is me standing proudly on my soapbox for all to hear.

Now go get yourself a stiff drink, kick back, relax and listen to my tale of woe, even I'd admit that I'm in a slightly pessimistic and cynical mood and you had better get used to it because my current frame of mind is still taking a serious nose dive. What can I say, I'm a product of my lousy environment.

So, let me start off by telling you that I have had a fucking God awful, crappy and all round unpleasant week, filled with several alcohol binges and various Marijuana highs. In the immortal words of Jon Bon Jovi 'Every body's got their cross to bare these days' and I sure as hell have mine.

Yes a damn week has dragged by since the train wreck I have now dubbed 'Doug Gate' blew up in my face and knocked my world on its ass once again. Before you ask, I did find a bar eventually, although I had to patiently wait a few hours for it to open its doors to us faithful patrons eagerly awaiting our first drink of the day. Apparently craving a drink at nine thirty in the morning is not commonplace among seventeen year old girls, I say that's just a crock of shit.

I had the strangest feeling of being watched while I nursed drink after drink, to the point where the hair on the back of my neck was standing on end regularly. To my annoyance every curious scan of the bar resulted in me seeing nothing out of the ordinary, just your run of the mill scuzzy drunks. But when my drinking partner went to the restroom and didn't return, the never ending drinks stopped flowing, so I was forced to call it a day and stagger home in a fairly nonchalant manner.

Which brings me to the present day and time has crawled passed at a snails pace. I've surprisingly been given a wide berth to sulk, cry and twiddle my thumbs as I please and I'm extremely mind numbingly bored. So bored in fact that I actually sat down pen and paper in hand and pooled all my effort into working out exactly how long its been since I last saw Doug, right down to the seconds. Well no one can ever accuse me of not being thorough.

Trust me when I say that I have never been driven to the brink of using math equations to satisfy my boredom before and lets hope it never happens again. Using mathematics to pass the time is a scary concept and one I'd rather not repeat anytime soon.

Check this out; A hundred and sixty eight hours in a week, ten thousand and eighty minutes in seven days and believe it or not there are six hundred and four thousand eight hundred seconds in a god damn week. Its been a week since my own 'Doug Gate' scandal and I've been plotting ever since.

All this free time on my hands and I've driven myself undoubtedly crazy. That's it, I'm a certifiable nut job, maybe I always have been. Hell, I'm sure the guys in white coats are on their way around here for a house call. I'll be in a straight jacket and padded cell before I can hide under my bed and beg for forgiveness.

I have lost count of the amount of times I've called Doug and left millions, billions and fucking zillions of answer phone messages and you've guessed it he never fucking replies.

What is wrong with me? Do I disgust him too such an extent that he has to elude my every visit and screen my calls. He's a dealer for fuck sake and I know for a fact that he always has his phone with him. I think I'm one step away from becoming a professional unpaid stalker and I'm maybe unintentionally displaying tendencies of a bunny boiler nature. It's not a road I'd like to travel down but he's fucking frustrating me!

So you would be right in saying that I have had little else to do then watch time literally slip through my fingers, that and stomp religiously throughout the mansion searching for a place of solitude. After trying my bedroom, the kitchen, rec-room, lounge, Ro's flower garden, the med bay, the lab, the war room and even the damn jet hanger. I finally found the perfect place; The library and do you want to know the best part, there's no one in sight. Apparently these ancient dust covered books act as a repellent to all other teens in a ten mile radius and I can even hear myself think... Hallelujah!

You'll currently find me dressed in sweats curled up with my knees drawn to my chest resting on the window seat beside a crackling open fire. I love sitting beside a roaring fire during the winter months, there is something so poetic, maybe romantic about that image. I just wish that I had someone to share this moment with.

I'm racking my brain for an easy solution to my problems but I don't like what I'm hearing. There is no solution, my boyfriend was a fucking bigot, a rather attractive bigot, damn him, and I can't force him to change. Well I could hold a gun to his head but there's that whole illegal can of worms to contend with and of course a leopard never changes its spots...Ugh...Shit!

Fuck it, day dreaming and nosing out of the window, now that's more up my street. I'll give my brain a rest and think of something later, it always happens, doesn't it. You spend hours struggling to think of a specific word or item and then when you least expect it 'wham' you've remembered it.

My hot breath leaves a coat of condensation on the glass and with my finger I draw an unhappy, frowning face for my own amusement , until a movement captures my attention on the lawn. A man strides across the immaculately kept lawns heading in the direction of the woods and I'll give you three guesses. Yep, you've it in one, it's Logan.

Biting the inside of my cheek and narrowing my eyes, I watch him stop in his tracks and fumble with a lighter. We haven't spoken a word to each other since 'Doug Gate'.

Of course we can't avoid each other for ever, even in a mansion. We have bumped into each other from time to time but he treats me like any other annoyance with a sharp look and a heartfelt growl and if the truth be told its killing me inside. I'm not his 'Kid', I've changed, I'm not the idealistic little girl he met and its pissing the both of us off. But I don't know how to go back, too much has happened in the space of four months and that 'Marie' is truly dead, she probably died the day Bobby ripped out her heart and tossed it in the food processor.

I miss Logan, I miss his warm paternal hugs, the motorcycle rides. Heck, I even miss him yelling at me, at least I knew then that he still gave a damn about. No, that's not true, I know he still cares. Twice this week I've passed out drunk in the boathouse and only to have miraculously woken up tucked in my own bed with the lingering smell of cigar smoke for comfort.

I need to apologise to him, he's a good friend and I probably need all the help I can get at the moment. Anyway I'm scarce on the friends front, so I'll suck it up and act like the adult, I'll say sorry and that I do need him in my life; but first things first I've got an ex-boyfriend to snare.

I know I should be in an English Lit class but some things are more important, matters of the heart being one. I think I've found my true calling, I'm back to being a stalker again and this is the plan so pay close attention.

I wait hidden out of sight outside Doug's apartment, then I can follow him, corner him somewhere and make him talk. See, isn't it brilliant, no its genius and absolutely nothing can go wrong. I knew my X-men training would come in handy again someday, who needs depraved bad guys when you can practice on your asshole of an ex.

Remember when I said I have 'Standards', the whole jazz about not dressing like a hooker, well I have had a rather drastic change of heart. I look like a cross between a burlesque dancer, a stripper and a ten dollar a night hooker. I suppose the fish net stockings don't help matters, the barely there black mini skirt, that skimpy top I found under my bed and the sky scraper heels are just creating a stereotypical image I thought I'd rather not associate myself with but hell, has it been fun.

Guys are slowing their cars to an almost standstill and honking their horns at me, wait until I tell Jubes that I've been honked at and more than once!

I even styled my hair into long flowing waves and raided Jubilee's makeup bag. Thick black eyeliner, bucket loads of mascara and ruby red lipstick complete my new look. Let's see Doug turn my ass down now, Ha, he wouldn't dare.

To deal with a guy like him, I need to wet his appetite and what better way to do it then get in his pants, he won't know what hit him.

This will all go to plan as long as I don't fall ass over tit in front of him, these shoes are a bitch to walk in.

I've arrived at my destination but there's no chance in me actually finding Doug among all this, well this... I have no idea how to describe what the hell's going on.

The apartment block has been cordoned off, there must be five police cars parked out front with two officers guarding the front entrance. Oh God, I make my way through the gathering crowd earning my fair share of lust filled looks, until I have the perfect advantage point, I've got the best view in the...

"Miss Pryde?" Huh, I turn to the nearest cop car and to my horror walking over in my direction is Officer...Um... Oh, to hell with it. Its Officer What's-His-Face.

Scrunching up my face in pure annoyance, I reply, "Hey, uh, Officer." With a fake smile and slight wave.

Ugh, now this perv is checking me out, so I clear my throat to gain his full attention. That's right, buddy, eyes up here. "So, um, what's going on in there?" I query pointing to the building where a cop has just emerged carrying a clear plastic zip up bag with white pills... Fuck!

"Well I really shouldn't be divulging that kind of information, but as its you, Katherine." He sighs with a lecherous grin. Yuck, this fossil is old enough to be my Grandpa. "We received an anonymous tip off, seems that a notorious drug dealer lived on these premises. To think we would have never caught Douglas O'Donnell if it hadn't been for the quick thinking of a member of the public, I'd like to shake his hand, a real Samaritan..."

"He?" I probe with an absolute scowl.

"Oh, yeah, the caller was male. We traced the call to a pay phone outside of that store of yours, Joe's Smoke Shop. Sure we went in and asked Joe if he'd seen anyone. He said there was a guy, tall, unruly hair with a bike. He couldn't make anything else out, too dark and his eye sight wasn't what it used to be..."

Oh. No. He. Didn't.

Officer What's-His-Face is interrupted by a collection of furious bellows coming from the entrance of the apartment block as Doug is led out in handcuffs. He almost stumbles as he sees me standing here but he fixates his glare purely on my face. The left side of his own face looks pretty banged up, covered with bruises and cuts. I receive one more vicious glare as he's shut in the cop car and driven away.

"What the hell happened to his face? Have you ever heard of cop brutality?" I demand through clenched teeth.

"Good God, Katherine, our commissioner runs a tight ship and we're certainly not common thugs!"

They might not be but I know someone who is. How could he do this to me? I told him to stay out my life and this is what he does? Fucking hell, I was going to apologise to the, the...I can't even think of a word bad enough to describe him.

I've had it, why do I even bother?... Ugh, I'll kill him but I need a drink, I really, really, positively need a drink. Yeah, a drink first and then... Oh, who cares.

I push my way through the crowds once again, ignoring the calls of Officer What's-His-Face, I've just got to get my hands on a bottle of Vodka. The alcohol is the only thing that will make the pain go away.