LOG: Miles and Cain, Monday

[x-juggernaut.livejournal.com]

In which one very angry little boy has some pointed questions, and manages to humble the Big Guy



As he tended to do after his walk, Cain trudged back to the boathouse
to sit a spell on the front porch and wait for the day's maintenance
requests to filter in. It was as inevitable as the leaves falling from
the trees. Someone's shower didn't work, the lights in the hall
flickered every time someone plugged in their hair dryer. Someone's
nuclear flatulence blew out the bay window.

He rounded the corner and stopped. His oversized wicker-over-steel
rocking chair sat pointing at the lake, as always. Next to it,
however, was a smaller version he recognized as one of the old
carpentry projects he kept out in the shed from years back. And
sitting in it, staring out at the water and rocking, was a very
serious-looking green boy.

He'd heard Cain approach of course - that was hard to miss. But the
anger was a lot stronger now than it had been at any other time since
Sunday morning and Miles really wanted to be calm when he asked about
what had been bothering him for a while now. Since Saturday in fact.
He'd had a lot of time to think about it since, but there was no one
else he could ask about this but Cain himself.

When he noticed that Miles wasn't jumping up and running to him as was
his usual habit, Cain figured that discretion and patience were
probably the best course. Taking up a seat in his chair next to Miles,
the two sat and just rocked in silence for a while.

Finally, Cain looked down at the boy and asked, "Something on your
mind, little man?"

Miles took a deep breath, frowning at the lake because looking up at
Cain would mean being angry. A lot. And Miles wanted answers first.
"Miles would like to know something." That was a good, calm start, but
holding on to the chair's arms was still a good idea. "Miles would
like to understand." He stopped looking out towards the lake and
focused on Cain instead, having to crane his neck to look up. "Why was
Mr Cain disguised as him this Halloween?" There was a world of
meaning in that one sentence, everything showing through in the seven
year old's voice.

Cain closed his eyes and leaned back, mouthing a silent curse. What
could he say to the kid? Because I knew it'd piss off Chuck more
than anything else?

Shrugging his shoulders, Cain figured he'd take the honest road. "How
much you know about him, Miles?"

"Miles knows what he saw on Saturday." His voice choked over the words
and Miles turned to stare back at the lake again, hunkering down in
the chair as though to make a smaller target - something he'd stopped
doing within the first month of being at the mansion. "And Miles heard
what the others were saying." He knew he hadn't heard anything at all,
the whispers usually stopping when others noticed he was there. But
he'd seen more than enough.

Cain nodded. "So you know he's bad people." For a moment, Cain felt a
pang of guilt, then continued on. "Folks don't like him. He's done
some bad stuff." He folded his arms and looked out at the lake.

"I figured some folks around here needed a reminder that there's
people like him around." He stopped, then pivoted his chair around in
front of Miles to look down at him.

"I ain't gonna lie to you. I want the son of a bitch to hurt for what
he did to you, what he did to your momma. Ain't right for you to have
to live in a world where folks like him do things like that." Cain
looked down at the young boy that, in this one moment, wasn't being
afraid or playful or mischievous. The boy wanted an answer, so Cain
would give him one.

"World ain't always the way it should be, kid. Ain't right, but that's
how it is."

"Miles knows there are bad people out there." The anger was
easy to see by now, Miles clearly beyond the upset boy whose mother
was hurt and headed all the way to furious about everything that had
happened and every reason why. "Miles lived with bad people for
five, six years." He wasn't sure about the time, had never been really
and couldn't care less just now, fists balling tightly at his sides.
"Miles almost went back to living with bad people all over
again! Home isn't where Cain is supposed to remind others about the
bad people! Everywhere else reminds people of that!!"

"What am I supposed to do?" Cain spat back. "You want to talk about
home? This is my home too, Miles! Has been since I was your age. I
come back home, and what do I find here? People trying to mess it up.
The bad people."

"Then why can't Cain just be happy here and not do things that remind
everyone about the bad people?" His original answer wasn't good
enough. It just wasn't. "This is a good home! Miles feels safe here!
Miles knows he can't stop the bad people from doing what they
want but Miles tried anyway and it wasn't enough and Mama could die
even if they hope not. But Cain is big and strong and can keep the bad
people away..." Tears were streaming down his face - grief, fear that
Alison might die after all, that he might lose everything that
mattered which would turn his home into the same as the rest of the
world.

Before he knew it, Cain had plucked the little boy out of his chair
and was holding him close to his chest. "Your momma's going to be
okay, I promise," he said. "And I'm gonna tell you what I told her -
so long as I'm here, there won't be any more bad people hurting you.
Home is safe," he swore. "Home is safe."

There was a small whimpering sound in answer to that, and then Miles
was shaking in his grasp, anger taking over, the boy's emotions all
given release at once. "Miles could not get away! Miles tried
and it was not good enough and the bad people hurt mama! Miles
hates them!" Small fists hammered against Cain's chest until
Miles finally slumped against him crying fitfully, sorrow overwhelming
every else.

Cain stroked the boy's head with a surprising gentleness. "I tell you
what," Cain offered, lifting Miles' chin with a finger to look the
child in the face. "I'll make you a deal. You keep taking care of your
mom until she gets better, because she's going to need you there for
her. It ain't gonna be easy, and it's going to take a while - but you
make sure you're there for her, okay?"

With a slight smile, Cain rubbed his palm over Miles' head, in what
would have been a hair-ruffling gesture if the little green boy had
any. "You do that, and I promise that if anyone like that comes around
here again - well, they won't be hurting anyone. Ever." Cain paused,
then frowned. "And yeah, that means anyone dressed up like them too.
Miss Ororo already got mad at me for that." He recalled the
surprisingly accurate lightning bolt that had come out of nowhere
shortly after Ororo had brought a group of children down to the
boathouse.

Miles hadn't been about to ask for a promise - he knew better than
that. But one had been offered and he wasn't about to say no, not when
he wanted desperately to know that everything would be all
right, and let himself believe it even if it was just for a while. And
the fact that Cain was making that promise made it far easier to have
faith in than most.

"Okay," was the uneven response, Miles swiping at his cheeks with his
sleeve awkwardly, before remembering that Alison always gave him a
Look at that - and so he hunted through his pockets, finding a
crumpled Kleenex in his coat and making good use of it as he blew his
nose. "Miles will take care of Mama." When she was let out of the
isolation room, when Miles could help somehow. And in the
meantime, there were others he could keep an eye on for her - so he'd
do that too. With a heavy sigh he leaned back though, looking a touch
forlorn still. "Miles is tired now though."

Cain wondered to himself just how long the kid had been sitting down
in the medlab. He knew that Haroun had been holding a sort of vigil -
said a lot about the guy. He'd have been down himself, but given that
he knew less about doctoring than he did about flying the jet, Cain
figured all he'd have been was an overprotective roadblock.

"C'mon, little man," he cajoled, hoisting Miles up to sit on his
shoulder as he made his way off the porch. "We'll get you over to your
room and you can rest a spell. And hit the showers." Cain pantomimed
waving a cloud of stench away from his nose. "You smell like tired
frog butt."

"Miles does not," was the deeply offended response, Miles settling on
his shoulder easily. Immediately followed by the only retort possible.
"Cain smells like fish butt." Everyone knew fish stank - frogs on the
other hand did not. Miles knew that for a fact. Especially not the
ones living near the side of the lake or in the rivers leading to it.

"You're a fish butt," Cain teased right back, striding off the path to
take the direct route through the woods to the mansion. "And when it
gets warmer, I'm gonna toss you and your momma both in the lake with
the other fish butts."

The kid was resilient, Cain thought as he ducked low to avoid a tree
branch, then stepped over a fallen oak. Resilient, but still a seven
year old kid. Trust the child to be the one to deliver the sucker
punch right to Cain. He'd needed stuff that day, and should have gone
off with the group - but he hadn't wanted to deal with the bickering
between Sean and his daughter, or the standard annoying kids at the
mall thing. But if he'd BEEN there...

No use thinking of what ifs, Marko chided himself. Only thing
to do now was to make sure Alison pulled through, and to keep Miles
safe.

Might as well keep everyone safe while he was at it.

Comments

[x-dazzler.livejournal.com]

Ha! That was a scary amount of fun. Just saying!

[xp_daytripper]

Oh that last line.... *melts* Love this one to death. Great work, guys. :)

[x-foliate.livejournal.com]

You're awesome. That is all.