Title: An Emotion Away
Author: Taylor
Rating: T, may go up in later chapters.
Summary: All Lilly can remember is the voice inside her head, the one telling her to hold on and believe because things will get better. Lilly/Miley (Formerly written for another show, now made Liley.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Hannah Montana, or any associated characters, etc. The plot is all mine, though, as far as I know. The title is a song by Alanis Morissette.



Chapter One

Clouded blue eyes concentrate on the ceiling above, a fruitless attempt to block the intruding voices out. They are everywhere, inside and outside and all around her. They are never-ending and uncaring and harsh. The hardest part has to be not knowing who or when they are, why they singled her out specifically. That is all she can remember of her life. That voice inside of her head telling her to hold on, to keep believing because things will get better.

"Do you remember?"

Teeth capture lips, bite down hard. "No."

"Your name is Lilly Truscott." This voice is smooth, deep, but obviously uncomfortable. "You were in an accident."

Lilly closes her eyes and squeezes them shut so tightly her face screws up. Behind her eyelids she can hear tires screeching and metal crunching, and she can see flashing blue and red lights dance behind her eyelids. While she knows now that she was in an accident she doesn't understand what she's seeing or hearing or why she can smell copper – a smell that makes her sick to her stomach – when nothing else is coming to her.

"What kind of accident?" Blank blue eyes meet concerned brown eyes. Do they know each other? She's not sure yet.

"A car accident," a dark-haired boy says gently. "You were hit by a man driving a truck… he was intoxicated."

"Is he alive?"

"No."

And she screams for a life lost.

What is this?

It's me, all of me.

Why are you doing this?

Because I can't live without you, and you need to know that.

The voices are in Lilly's head again. It has no tone, she can only hear words and completely unable to distinguish who is talking – if a boy or girl is talking, because it's only a low monotone. It's only a whisper, but it echoes throughout her whole body and she has a feeling one of them is her. If she were to hear the voice the words belonged to, she might be able to find some answers, but she feels like the chances are slim to none.

"How old am I?"

"You're eighteen. You turn nineteen next month."

"Who are you?"

Lilly feels pressure on her hand – the hand that is not broken and mangled. She looks down and sees a larger hand wrapped around her smaller one. "I'm Oliver Oken. I'm your best friend."

She's burning. Her eyes are burning, and Oliver swipes her cheeks gently. She realizes that her face has become wet, and the drops forming in her eyes won't go away anytime soon.

"What am I doing?" Lilly asks him, her voice low and weak. "What are these?"

Oliver runs a hand through his messy hair, before wiping some more tears from her cheeks. "Those are tears, Lilly. You're crying."

And then he is, too, and Lilly takes his hand and squeezes as hard as she can. The pain in her leg and her arm, spreading through her chest and her cheek do not compare to that constricting her heart rendering her unable to feel anything else. Lilly is broken and she wants to drown in these tears.

Can you take me as I am?

What are you?

I'm broken. I'm undeserving. I'm not like you. We're total opposites. You're a pain in the ass and I'm a bitch. I'm also in love. With you, you know.

Yeah, I know.

So can you? Can you take me as I am?

"Why can't I remember anything?" Lilly asks.

She's so confused, because there are some things she can remember. She knows how to use the restroom, and how to eat and swallow and breathe in and out. She knows how to write – quite well, in fact – but that's a surprise to her. She can sometimes get dressed, but other times she has trouble. She knows the name of certain foods, ones that she must have eaten quite frequently before the accident – she has no problem remembering fudgy buddies. Names are harder for her to remember. Only a few stick out, but Oliver tells her they're names of friends from ten or more years ago.

And then there's that whisper in her mind. It comes and goes, and she can't piece it together. The whispers don't make the slightest bit of sense. Is she remembering her life? Or is she remembering lines from a song or movie?

"Well, Miss Truscott," The doctor that has been with her for the past three days, Dr. Tony Adams, sits down across from her bed, a clipboard gripped tightly in his hand. "You hit your head."

Lilly could have laughed out loud at that statement – that simple, stupid statement that made all the sense in the world. Of course she hit her head, what a dumb thing to say. Maybe she hit it so hard that her memories fell out and mixed with the blood that had pooled around her broken body.

Dr. Adams frowns, and explains exactly what had happened to her, but Lilly was too focused on the image of her head splitting open and little people jumping out and onto the asphalt beneath her. Only when she feels Oliver's eyes boring into her does she blink and focus back onto the conversation.

"…Really don't know if you will ever recover them." Adams says slowly. "If you do, it could take a few months, minimum."

"And at most?" Lilly asks, looking at the cast on her left arm.

"It could take a year, or more." Adams answers. "But once you go home, you may find your memories coming back to you sooner rather than later."

"If ever, right?" Lilly tears her eyes away from her cast and looks down at her lap. Her hair falls around her face, and her shoulders shake. Inhaling sharply, she lets out a strangled sob.

Adams stands up and nods to Oliver. "I'm sorry, Oliver. Good luck."

And she's overwhelmed by the weight of it all.

Home is where the heart is.

I wish you could hear yourself.

I mean it, Lil. I could never leave you, or this. Not my home and never for good.

Then stay with me.

Lilly runs her fingers through her stringy blonde hair and stares at herself in the bathroom mirror. The fluorescents above make her look pale, deathly pale, and enhance the circles under her eyes. She looks away to change her clothes, to finally get out of the gown she's been wearing for the past week and a half. It's quite a task with the cast on her arm and hand, and the bruising on her entire body, but she refused any help.

She's so ready to be home, wherever that is. She's anxious to be with Oliver and learn about herself and those around her.

Most of all, she wants to know who is haunting her, and why. Is there something different about this person? Were they any more significant in her life than any other person? Was it a family member? A friend? A lover?

Oliver opens the door to the bathroom as Lilly shoves the hospital gown into the basket by the toilet. She sees his reflection in the mirror and turns around quickly. Before she can even think about it, she embraces him tightly.

"Lilly?" Oliver says quietly.

"Yeah?" Lilly's face is pressed against his chest, her good arm wrapped around his torso.

"Your shirt is inside out."

And she laughs at how ridiculous this is.

to be continued


I may or may not continue, it depends on what you guys think.