Hiii! I am so glad to see Roseanne fanfic on here from some others, including Curlymonic1215, Shadow of a Halo, and Mman773! I read your stories and they're great; keep it up, all three of you; hope adds a category for Roseanne soon, esp. with the DVD of season one coming out soon! Soo, I've added one of my own. I have bits of Roseanne fanfic that I need to get organized...here's a small piece from when Jackie is 16 and Roseanne is 19; this first chapter is from Jackie's POV; Roseanne helps the newly emancipated minor Jackie move out on her own...

The usual disclaimers that none of these characters belong to me; they all belong to the swell Roseanne and Carsey-Warner productions. Enjoy!

Emancipation

By: CNJ

1: Jackie's New Lease

Jackie:

I'm not surprised, but I am still hurt that Mom and Dad didn't stay to say goodbye the day I moved out on my own. I was sixteen, had completed high school with a GED, acing the final exams. Roseanne, my older sister, who is nineteen, always tells me that I am brighter than I believe. But she does this because she's my beloved sister.

The house was nearly empty as Roseanne helped me carry the larger things out of the house and to my new apartment over a garage. I carried the lighter loads since I am very small. Mom always nagged me that I'm too skinny and need to gain weight. But who can really eat in this house I'm leaving? I know I haven't been able to lately; my stomach has been so tight that it hurts.

I'm glad to be escaping this madhouse, the loony bin that's been threatening my sanity lately. I shuddered involuntary as I suppressed so many frightening memories of Mom and Dad screaming at each other, the thrown things, and the beatings. Oh...stop, I leaned on a wall and fought with one ugly memory that threatened to choke me...Dad pulling my hair and holding that damned belt menacingly over me.

"You all right, sis?" Roseanne came over and put an arm around me. She will be moving in with her fiancée, Dan, in another month. Throat dry, I nodded, then willed myself to continue moving my things to the van. We've both been through this madness together.

"They didn't even stay to say goodbye…" My voice threatened to break as I got the last thing loaded and Roseanne got in and started the van. "Not that I'm surprised, but…" I fought back tears, not wanting to see that house again. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to blot out the image of the house and within it, sixteen years of painful memories…for Roseanne, it would be nineteen.

"They hate the idea of us being free of them…" Roseanne told me. "That's how twisted they are…act like we're a stain on their lives, then can't stand us movin' out either…is that sick reverse psychology or what?" Roseanne grinned as she drove toward the apartment. I tried to smile, but couldn't.

Oh, if only I could be as strong as my sister and see the funny side of things. But I'm different. I get bruised over things, then like the whiner I know that I am, usually cry about them, then brood over them forever. I don't understand why I don't just get over things and I have so much trouble healing.

I remember back when I was about twelve or so, something embarrassing happened, I don't even remember what and I became upset as I always do over stupid things and spent days feeling miserable. The teacher, Ms. Misner, could see it and I remember her telling me, Jackieget over it alreadyyou need a thicker skin than that and the other kids looking at me and snickering. I also remember feeling frustrated with myself because I could not take Ms. Misner's advice and just get over it.

I do hope that now that I am working and on my own, I can find a way to develop a thicker skin and not get upset so easily. Then maybe I won't have so many problems and won't have to cry in my sister's arms so much.

Roseanne was a great help that afternoon; she helped me unpack, so I treated her to a pizza, which we ate with a beer on the floor. Roseanne's fiancée, Dan, joined us and the three of us ate together and talked about our future hopes. Roseanne had a million suggestions on what I could do to spruce up the small, one-room apartment.

I looked over at my sister and her future husband and felt a small pang of envy, yet happiness for them at how happy they are with each other. Dan is becoming like a brother to me and is a great match for my sister. Both of them are funny, boisterous, and outgoing. I smiled softly as I remember convincing my sister to marry Dan, that she'd be passing up a great catch if she passed him over.

"So…welcome to adulthood, little sister," Dan smiled at me.

"Thanks…" I sipped my beer and looked around. It's a small, dusty place just over a garage, but it suits me fine. I don't have a lot of needs or stuff. My things mostly lay in small piles here and there and my few clothes lay in a pile on the cot I'd rummaged up from a scavenger hunt through old but good furniture people had thrown out. It's amazing how middle-income and rich people throw perfectly good stuff away. It's a waste, really. I guess because we've grown up mostly working-class, my sister and I only throw things out if it's really in pieces or no longer works and can't be fixed.

I saw my purse and checkbook by the cot and felt a surge of pride as I thought about the checking account I'd opened up a few months ago at Grey Rock Bank. I'm glad I have the bar job to keep up my bank account, since I'll need that money to really make it on my own because I've made this absolute promise to myself that I will never, never move back to that house with my parents. I needed this breakaway from Mom and dad to keep my sanity and to learn to "get over" things and get tougher and stronger. Even though I know Roseanne is already so strong, I'll be counting the days when she can move out of there and in with Dan.

"I'll be back tomorrow and I can help organize…" Roseanne told me as she and Dan got ready to head home.

"Thanks…" I reached out and impulsively hugged her." I'm counting the days when you can break out of that jail." All three of us laughed softly.

"Take care…" Dan added softly as he and Roseanne headed downstairs. I waved until they were out of sight. Then I closed the door and slept my first night in emancipation. It was also the first peaceful night I'd had in several years and I slept deeply and contentedly. My cot was thin, but it might as well have been a comfortable queen-style bed by the way I slept.