Saturday, eveningish

[x-polarisstar.livejournal.com]

Lorna and Miles bring Alison dinner then Lorna tells Alison about her recent email to Xavier. They talk about the future.



Lorna held the door to the suite open so that Miles could go through holding the tray firmly with both hands, a look of intense concentration on his face. Lorna balanced another tray on her left shoulder and followed him in. "She's in her room. Door's unlocked," Lorna murmured, after a moment of concentration. The small boy nodded and walked inside with exaggerated care.

The click of the door handle was a dead giveaway really, Alison turning her head instantly at the small sound before relaxing again. Somewhat. "Lorna?" she called out, knowing getting up from the bed wasn't happening, having already exerted herself enough to keep the soreness and pain in her leg way too active to her taste.

Lorna repeated the holding the door open manuever. "Hiya, roomie," she said brightly, as Miles passed her, "We brought you dinner!" Her tone was cheerfully, her smile the same. Her eyes warned Alison that she expected nothing less than gratitude and acceptance.

'Not really hungry' did come to mind, but bringing Miles along was cheating and Lorna clearly had planned it just so. With a wry look and a small smile for Miles, because there always had to be smiles for him, she tilted her head towards the free space on the bed, leaning back on the pile of pillows that had been set up for her earlier. "Then looks like dinner it is, mm?"

Lorna directed Miles to set his tray down then did the same with hers. "Yup. Plus we made all your favorites including," she inclined her head towards Miles who removed the cover on one plate with a flourish.

"Miles made sugar cookies!" he exclaimed in glee.

The obvious joy on his face brought a more genuine if still small reflection of this on Alison's own features. "Sugar cookies are the best," she murmured at him fondly, reaching out to rest the back of her hand on his cheek with her good arm for a moment, remembering her childhood addiction to the cookies only too well. "What did Lorna make?" she asked him, as he carefully set the tray on the night table and clambered on the bed.

“Cocoa van!” Miles replied instantly, snuggling up beside her. Lorna bit her lip against a laugh. “And potatoes au gratin!”

“Coq au vin,” Lorna corrected, as she uncovered the rest of the dishes, “Also some vegetables.”

The smell and look of the food barely raised any interest in Alison, although she hid that without much concern, one arm wrapped around Miles' shoulders easily. "My favorite," she stated agreeably, smiling down at Miles calmly.

Lorna wasn’t fooled but simply smiled and leaned against Alison’s dresser. Most of her devious plan to get Alison to eat was centered around the unstoppable force that was Miles. She was willing to wait while he wore his mother down. Miles beamed at Alison and scrambled out of bed to bring the tray back to rest on Alison’s lap.

The tray had un-foldable legs that rested easily on either side of her as Miles set it down and Alison waited obediently as his stern look while he transferred things into place to his taste, lips quirking a bit at the way he paused to give a near worshipful look at the main course. "Lorna cook good food for Alison," he said sternly, clearly expecting he didn't need to go further for her to understand what he meant.

Lorna bit back another grin and offered Alison a fork. “Eat up. No cookies until you’ve had proper food.” Plus she wanted to talk to her roomie and Miles couldn't be budged until after dinner was over.

A quiet look for Lorna indicated that the meal would be shared, most likely - and Alison could eat she knew and wasn't about to put a fight about it. Not being hungry didn't mean she was going to let herself waste away... just likely forget a few meals until she got done with thinking, mostly. Miles was easily coerced into sharing with her, that habit still firmly entrenched and not one Alison had at all tried to do away with, quite to the contrary and besides there was more than enough. Lorna has anticipated, no doubt.

Lorna just started up a steady stream of chatter while Alison and Miles ate. Mostly bits and pieces of daily life, silly little details that bore absolute no weight or trauma. “Jubilee wants our shoes. So I’ve been combing my shoe collection all day. I mean, really, what exactly is teacher-like? Should I look into orthopaedics? I don’t think the red heels I was going to give her first would work. They’re less teacher and more...hmm,” she glanced at Miles and edited her word choice, “entertainment professional. Still, I thought maybe the black heels with the laces would work.” As she chattered, she kept a close eye to see that Alison ate and didn't just play with her food. She, better than anyone in the mansion, could spot the difference.

The talk was nice, soothing but not quite denting the way Alison's thoughts kept turning inwards every now and then. The food was quietly eaten and shares with Miles reasonably, Alison electing to eat the cookie later however after giving the boy a solemn promise to do so before she went to bed. "Thank you," she smiled a bit at Lorna, focusing on her fully for a moment.

“My pleasure,” Lorna responded, meeting her gaze evenly. “Miles, my dear?” she said, transferring her attention briefly, “Why don’t you take the rest of the cookies to share with Artie? I don’t think he got any the last time we made them.”

“Miles likes to share!” Miles nodded and flung his arms around Alison in a huge hug. He clung to her for a moment, knowing that her silence and quiet wasn’t normal but trusting that Lorna would talk her out of it. He bounced out of bed and zipped around to give Lorna a hug as well, pleased when she knelt to meet him and even more pleased by her kiss on the cheek.

"He's still soaking up affection like a sponge," Alison remarked after he'd left the room, the sound of his footsteps fading rapidly down the hallway. She considered lifting the tray and setting it aside but decided to let Lorna do that, having no compunction about letting others help her just now, the twinges in her arm over the past moments reminding her that not only her leg had been injured.

Lorna nodded as she reached over and took the tray away, folding the legs back under so she could set it onto the bedside table. “He’s come a long way. Hard to believe he’s only been here seven months.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to jar Alison. “Seems like forever.”

"Yeah," she whispered, eyes growing unfocused once more. Remembering, still far too clearly, how she'd found Miles. "How can he still trust? After all of that, how can he still have faith?" She sighed, looking down and shaking her head in bemusement.

Lorna sighed, weighing her next words carefully, hoping they would come out as she intended, not maudlin or cliché or overly idealistic, “He’s an amazing kid. And he’s got an amazing mom. You brought him here and this place...it’s hope.”

The choice of words didn't escape Alison's notice at all, not in her current frame of mind. "What's going on, roomie?" she asked calmly, if bluntly, giving Lorna a piercing look. "You're up to something."

“It’s possible that I’ve made a mistake,” Lorna paused, staring at her hands. “I’ve never wanted to be anything but normal. Heck, I want the house with the white picket fence and two cats in the yard and the two point five kids. I want to worry about when my car needs an oil change or what to make for dinner. So it’s possible that I made a mistake.” Lorna met Alison’s eyes, “Why are you Dazzler?”

"Because I can be." Once she'd peeled every layer, it had ultimately come down to that. She could run and hide, if she wanted to. She had the resources and the money, so that both she and Miles could live hidden away forever. But she hadn't chosen that, even when telling herself she had no choice. "Because Miles deserves everything." That too, had been inescapable. "That's why I'm going to keep being Dazzler."

Lorna nodded, considered that for a moment. “Maybe it wasn’t a mistake then,” she said softly, almost to herself before offering Alison a weak smile, “I asked Xavier to let me join the X-men.” From her pocket, she pulled the email response and held it out. “He said yes.”

Alison simply reached out, accepting the email and reading it over, smiling a bit as she did. Remembering the green haired woman dead in the tunnels, and fearing as well. There was nothing but gentle teasing in her eyes as she looked up however, lips quirking a bit. "The leather will look good on you. And wait 'till you see the training schedule."

“Please don’t remind me about the outfits. I have body image issues,” Lorna smiled weakly. “I...I couldn’t not do anything anymore. All I want is to be normal but...we’re not. This last year has made that clear. So the white picketing fencing has to wait.”

"White picketing fence might have better odds of lasting," she offered, smiling wistfully. She wasn't sure it would be for them however, not for some time - but hoped it might for Miles. One day.

“God, I hope so.” Lorna tugged her hands through her hair with a sigh. “And it has to be worth it—that hope of a normal life. Because it’s the only thing that makes me think I’m not making a mistake. And it’s the only thing that makes how scared I am right now okay.”

"I'm terrified." Alison offered the words flatly, an echo of her fear in the tunnels still haunting her during the day, invading her dreams at night. "I'm still going to go back out there. Just... no going around it. Hiding won't work. It can't help. And while we do this - kids like Jamie and the others? They can try another way, that's not spoiled for them." And she nearly said yet, sighing a bit at the realization.

Lorna heard it anyway. “If we can keep them safe long enough to succeed... Christ, wouldn’t it be great if Jamie put us out of a job?” She pulled one leg up to her chest, wrapping her arms around it.

She couldn't help it, a smile that welled deep from within. "If anyone can do that so soon..." She chuckled, shaking her head, shivering a bit. "Better not to tell him we count on him for that. Stage fright is a bitch."

“I’ll take your word for it. I was only ever an audience member.” Lorna smiled back, “Though if it’s anything like facing Chef Marcel at the exhibition cooking shows, yeah, maybe we’d better not tell him. Because I don’t know how long skin tight leather remains flattering and I’d rather not find out.”

"Well, I'm already set up with the cane, aren't I? When we get that old, betcha Hank will have figured out how to make auto-guided missile dentures or something," she offered solemnly, feeling something ease inside of her. Not alone, though the knowing and tangible proof were too different things. And hope, somewhere, not only for Miles' future, but for her own as well.