Miles and Illyana, Monday afternoon

[x-snowflake.livejournal.com]

Miles tries to figure out whether Illyana is still the little girl he knew or not. Illyana tries to explain what happened without scaring him, and he comes to terms with her as she is now. Much cuteness is involved. (Sugar warning now in effect. ;)



It was surprisingly easy to follow someone when you were short and green. Well, short at least. And really good at being quiet when you had to - Miles repressed a small sigh and peered around the tree, still trying to reconcile the girl he saw now compared to the playmate he remembered for not so long ago.

Oblivious to her small shadow in the trees, Illyana ran her hands over her face, sitting with a thump at the base of a rather large tree and exhaling slowly. It was hot out -- one of the drawbacks of summer, so far as she was concerned -- but the trees provided enough shade that it was comfortable, provided one didn't move around a lot. More to the point, it was secluded and quiet, qualities she appreciated more than she tended to let on.

Miles settle down, leaning on his own tree - she didn't move like his 'Yana, didn't talk like his 'Yana. She looked a bit like his 'Yana, in an older version kind of thing, but even that was off. The walk was different and the way she spoke was different. Everything was different and it was as though his 'Yana had never come back, really. He heaved a little sigh, shoulders slumping a bit.

She was too caught up in herself to notice anything else; she'd come here before and hadn't been disturbed, so it seemed like a safe bet today -- although there were only a few people she was really trying to avoid. There was too much happening for her to disappear to much; that would look as suspicious as anything else she did, and she didn't need yet more reason to fight with people or explain herself. Here, she was sufficiently close to the mansion to avoid getting caught.

Miles peeked around the tree once more and decided that he'd skulked around her long enough. It was time to find out if his 'Yana was still there somewhere. At least he'd know... And suiting thoughts to action he took a deep breath and stepped away from the tree, just looking at her for a moment before taking a few steps closer.

She looked up abruptly, looking trapped for a moment before softening. She hadn't seen Miles much since coming back, something that was mostly her own
antisocial fault; but she remembered missing him and Artie desperately during those first few years in Limbo, before she'd learned to block everything that had happened before out and concentrate on survival, and she was glad to see him. "Hi," she said quietly, lifting her fingers in a wave.

He waggled his fingers back at her shyly, taking a few more steps closer, head tilting to the side as he looked at her. "Hi," was the quiet response, followed by the distance soon diminishing to only a few feet between them, Miles coming to a stop just close enough to touch.

He bit his lip and considered how to ask his question, and finally settled on the simplest way he could think of.

"Where is 'Yana?" he blurted out, edging close enough to just touch her cheek, searching her eyes for something - though what he wasn't certain yet.

She blinked at him, surprised by the gentle fingers on her cheek and bemused by the question. "I'm right here," she said as gently as she could, suddenly
remembering feeling the way Miles must have felt -- long ago, and with a very different person, but confused. "But I don't think that's what you're asking, is it?" If she didn't know what exactly the problem was, none of the explaining in the world could help, so she looked at him with steady blue eyes, ready to be patient. He'd been her friend, after all -- even if she couldn't explain things to anyone else, she owed it to Miles to try and help.

She wasn't cold or angry, as he'd seen her be with some of the others. Just waiting. That reassured him and he lifted his other hand, framing her face and peering at her intently. After a long moment he pulled back a little, his question still not entirely answered.

"Can Miles ask what happened to 'Yana?" He knew about wanting to tell and not wanting to tell and not knowing if one could ever tell, even if you wanted to. But something had happened, to change his laughing friend into this young woman.

She put a hand instinctively over one of his; he was distressed, and she was no good for kids, but maybe she could make him feel better. She -wanted- to;
the wanting surprised her. It had been a while since she'd really wanted something, especially something like this.

Piotr had asked the same question and she'd told him no, unequivocally. But -- Piotr had wanted details, and she thought that Miles wanted answers more. Maybe she could explain, although she didn't know if she could do it without scaring him. "Of course you can ask," she said, still quiet, keeping very still. "But I can't tell you everything. Is that okay?"

"Miles thinks that is fair." And sometimes it helped if you just jumped off the edge and trusted someone would catch you. "Miles has things he doesn't want to talk about too." He wrinkled his brow, trying to find the right way to express it. "Miles has not... forgotten them enough to start remembering them." He looked up at her tentatively, memories of how things were before coming here creating shadows in his normally happy face. And hoped what he was saying made sense. "Is there anything 'Yana would want to talk about? About... what happened?"

She looked at him with some kind of wonder, that someone so small could put into words what she'd been trying to say for such a long time. "That's a very good way to put it -- not having forgotten enough to remember." She pressed her lips together, trying to find a way to say things properly. Pausing, she looked at him, hoping that he could give her the right words if she looked close enough. "Remember when all the fuss happened in February -- when I came back the way I am now? Do you remember what happened?" She wanted to know where to start -- or where not to start, considering that day had been horrific, and she didn't want to scare him if he didn't remember the specifics.

"Miles did not see anything." He concentrated, because the day itself was still etched in his memory, every moment until 'Yana had changed, so much and all in the blink of an eye. "Miles remembers some screaming and a lot of noise. And then 'Yana being old and away for a while and then-" He paused, then gave her a sheepish look. "Older." And he nearly went on about how she'd just been gone even if she'd come back but he didn't because she was here now. Talking to him. So he waited, letting her chose what to say next.

She nodded, imagining how confusing it must have been for her old playmates to have her show up old one day. "Well," she said carefully, "what happened
that day was that a -- I suppose you could call him a man -- took me away to a place where time went slower than it does here." Explaining Limbo time was
never easy, especially when she was watching what she said anyway. "I was there for eight years or so, because the time works so differently there, and while I was there -- "

She paused, took a breath that was not entirely unshaky. "He hurt me pretty badly, and he hurt some people I met there who took care of me." It was not any different from the story she'd given Amanda the night of her arrival, nothing which could get her in trouble, but gods, she hated saying any of it. "But I survived, and after a while I managed to get out." She looked at him, hoping she'd explained in a way that wasn't awful. "Was that what you wanted to know?"

There was a long silence, desolation slowly spreading over Miles' face. What she described sounded like something he knew far too well. The details didn't matter overmuch, when you had been locked in a cage... and discovered your friend had been as well.

So he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her neck, head resting on her shoulder. "Miles wishes 'Yana would not be able to understand, when Miles forgets enough to remember." It was a small, woeful sort of whisper, but there was strength in his small arms and he didn't intend to let go.

She swallowed and, after an awkward moment of not knowing what to do, patted his back tentatively. "Hey," she said, still trying to be gentle, even if she didn't feel like there was anything gentle left in her. "What happened -- it happened, and it was terrible, but the thing is that it's over, right?" She paused, then continued, trying to say something she wasn't sure she believed herself. "When somebody is back from it, and safe, with people who -- who care about them, then even though they might have been through something awful, after they've forgotten enough to remember, there's a way they can heal from it, right?" She couldn't say everything was okay, or that what had happened -- either to herself or to Miles -- didn't matter, but maybe she could make him see the hope people kept trying to show her. She continued, "After a while, when it's far enough away, they can have good lives, and do all the things they didn't get to because they were hurting. And even though they remember the bad things, there are enough good things then to help them be happy."

"Miles is happy here," was the simple answer. And he smiled at her, even though his cheeks were still wet from the tears meant for her. "Miles just wishes 'Yana could be too, like Miles is. And not always... away so much." He shifted and sat down next to her, leaning against her without a second thought. "Miles has nightmares sometimes but Jamie or Doug or Artie wake him up and sometimes," well, more often than not, "they get Alison to sing all the nightmares away so
Miles can sleep again. And Miles has food all the time now, as much as he wants, and he can share it too. And Miles has friends." He smiled at that, a little boy smile. "And Miles is safer now than he's ever been before." He knew there was no perfect safety, never would be. But this was as close as one could get.

She smiled through the shock of having someone touch her so casually -- something no one had done in as long as she could remember -- and looked at him, reaching briefly to wipe the tears out from under his eyes. Someone had done that for her, once, when she was his age and afraid; it was the least she could think to do. "It's good that you're happy, you should be," she said, meaning it, seeing in him something she could have been if things had gone differently. "It is safe here -- much safer than anywhere else I can think of, really. There are a lot of really good, brave people who live here, and who care a lot that you feel safe. That you are safe." It was probably the nicest thing she'd said about anyone in the mansion thus far, but she gambled on this not being spread to the whole school. Her of all people, telling someone he was safe? Wouldn't they love it. "It's a good place," she whispered, after a silence where she couldn't find the words to say what she meant, maybe wishing she didn't make it untrue.

He pondered her words, knowing the way children do that there were many things she was leaving unsaid. But she had told him some and that's all he could ask for, really. So he just snuggled up closer, smiling up at her a bit, hoping she could find her own 'good place' again one day, be it here at the mansion or elsewhere - or with someone.

"Alison says 'Home is where the heart is'," he offered, a bit more solemn than any seven year old ought to be. ""Yana is still Miles' friend." Two seperate statements. Or perhaps, not.

"She's right," Illyana said, wishing it was easy to know where your heart was -- or to want the answer if you did. "She's very smart, your Alison. And of course you're still my friend, too," she added, forcing herself to relax -- there was no threat here, nothing she had to protect herself against.

"Miles is very glad to hear that," was the soft reply, accompanied by a simple yet happy smile. A moment passed, Miles quite content to just spend time in her company, although being a little boy he had his limits. He eventually scrambled up to his feet and took her hand, wanting to tug her along and follow him but thinking that asking first might be good.

"Would 'yana like to see what Miles found yesterday?!"

She allowed herself to be pulled up, rising in a fluid motion to her feet from the ground. Sometimes a little peace was necessary to counteract the rest of the world. "I would like that very much," she said, smiling.

Miles grinned and tugged her along, slowly at first but then with increasing impatience. "Miles found something on Sunday! And Miles thinks 'Yana might like it a lot!" And so on went the chatter, until they reached their destination.