Hello! It's been almost two months since I updated...I've been pretty lazy...and watching FMA brotherhood, Darker than BLACK (I have a fic for that one on this site so if you'd like to check it out that would be so awesome!) Thanks to all the reviewers on chapter 3.. :) Please review! :) Also, comment or PM if you've figured out who her dad is...dropped a few more hints in this chapter. I'll tell you if you're waaaayyyy off track. ;) If you know already (it should be pretty obvious if you pay close attention), soon there's gonna be a lovely (and comically angry scene where everyone meets up and lots of crap like that...always fun!)
-BeingWhoIWishIWas
"I think I know where we should head back to." I say to Allen. "I saw her come out of her house while I was running around the roofs just this morning."
Allen's face lights up, "Great! Lead the way, Kira." I nod and immediately attempt to set off at my normal pace. That doesn't work so well; my left leg it torn up pretty badly and my arm is throbbing as blood continues to pour from the wound. I rip off some of my coat sleeve and tie it tightly around my arm. Not much I can do about my leg at the moment. Guess we'll just have to walk through town looking like this; I can't exactly run on the roofs like I prefer.
About five minutes of walking pass silently before Allen asks, "Hey, are you doing OK?
"Yeah, I'm fine." I reply evenly. Allen raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything. I guess he's used to my dad being like this too. It's almost annoying how much like him I act. I huff and walk faster, despite my legs various (and quite painful) protests.
It's another ten minutes before we reach Miranda's house, and I knock on the door a few times before a shaking Miranda opens up the door looking more like a mouse than ever.
"Oh thank goodness, it's you two." She says in one breath. Her huge eyes look bruised from worry; for herself or us I'm not sure.
"Is Lenalee here?" Allen asks, concern seeping into his voice.
"Huh? Yeah, she's up stairs examining my clock." She says like that's the most normal thing in the world. I nod and she steps aside to let Allen and me inside.
Lenalee's head pops out at us just as we reach the top of the stairs, scaring Allen and Miranda right out of their skins. I continue walking, utterly unfazed. Dad taught me early on to never let anything rattle me, so when something does; all hell's about to break loose. Believe me; it's happened a few times before.
"Oh yeah, by the way, Miranda was really freaking out earlier so if she acts strange that's why, also don't...put your arms anywhere near her she's still a little wary of them because they transform when activated and stuff." Lenalee whispered to Allen and me.
Too late; Allen already tripped and fell and grabbed Miranda's arm with his regular one but it totally sent her over the edge. Allen straightened up and apologized repeatedly.
"Ahhhhh! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He looked almost as freaked as Miranda did. I stifled a laugh and took off my trench coat and gloves and put my arms out in front of me.
"Miranda. Look. Look at my arms, OK? They're just a little different but I can control them; Allen can control his power too. Besides, if we wanted to hurt you or anyone else don't you think we would have done it by now?"
She's like a little kid; she's fascinated and scared of them at the same time but at least she's not hysterical anymore.
"I'm going to change them now, OK?" I say slowly, giving her time to process it. It's the way my dad taught me. At first I was afraid of my own arms, I wanted to chop them off but he taught me slowly and calmly (if a little irritably.) so that I knew exactly what was happening at all times. "What should I change them into?"
She looked at me in disbelief. "Just a straight pole. Like just a regular cylinder."
"Ok." I reply, and shift them slower than I usually do into thin poles.
"See? No more dangerous than anything else if I don't want them to be." I reassure her. She sits down, dries the tear stains off her face and does her best to compose herself. Lenalee and Allen are looking at me like I'm utterly insane. Maybe I am, but us insane people can change everything for better or worse, right?
Miranda starts fiddling with a key around her neck, a clock key, I think.
"Hey, what is that around you neck?" I inquire, making my voice as kind as I can manage at the moment; I'm sleep deprived and hungry after that battle. I wonder if Miranda has any food around here.
"It's just a key to that grandfather clock over there." She says gesturing to the huge, old clock that the room seems to be based around. She refers to it with a certain fondness, like one would a favorite uncle or aunt, maybe even a sibling; someone trusted. Miranda goes on to explain why the kids all call her "bad luck Miranda" It's actually rather...pitiable. I sit on the floor once I realize that this might take a while; anything to get off of my leg. I straighten it out and begin tearing up my coat as makeshift bandages while she tells her story. I really do feel sorry for Mouse-uh, Miranda. I shake my head a little to try to clear my jumbled thoughts. Between thoughts of the escaping akuma, my dad and the Order in addition to processing Miranda's backstory, the rational part of my brain is in a race against my racing thoughts that it simply can't win right now; lost too much blood to think clearly. Guess I'm not as good a fighter as I thought, I think fuzzily.
I curse under my breath and Miranda stops talking abruptly. "I-uh, are you alright, Miss?" She asks warily.
I wave my hands, "Yes, yes. I'm fine. Do you have any food? I'm hungry." I glance at my leg and add thoughtfully, "Also maybe some alcohol?"
Everyone in the room freezes at that and slowly turns to face me. I realize how that must have sounded and fight the urge to wave my hands around and explain. That might get my heart-rate up and that'll make the wound bleed more.
"Uh...not like that. I just need to put some on my wounds so they don't get infected; I'm not drinking alcohol at fifteen-I swear." I say, a little embarrassed, well, at least enough my make my face a lovely shade of red.
"Ooooohh." Miranda says, oddly the first to come out of total shock. "Yes, everything is in the next room over."
I nod and brace my arms against the floor and start to push myself up, but Lenalee puts her hand on my shoulder, immediately making me bristle uncomfortably. I relax a little when I remember that she means well.
"You shouldn't do that, Allen can get you that stuff, OK?" She reassures me kindly.
The white-haired boy nods, not at all bothered by being volunteered for a quick chore. I mumble a thanks as he leaves the room.
He returns a moment later carrying a small snack and a bottle of beer. I raise an eyebrow at Miranda, half teasingly. She flushes and proclaims that there's nothing wrong with having beer in the house. I smile wryly and nod. She sends Allen back into the kitchen to get the medicinal kind. I remember dad always kept alcohol in the house. Not for drinking of course, it's not a good idea for an exorcist to wander around drunk so we just had the medicinal kind. Just for wounds, which were plentiful when I was learning to fight and dad had to save me. That's shouldn't be the case anymore, and yet here I am, wounded again. Frustration bubbles up inside of me in protest to needing others to help me. I wolf down the food before rolling my left pant leg up to my knee and putting a towel under it. The cuts are still bleeding furiously and the blood is only now beginning to clot. I take the alcohol and without hesitating, pour it all over the wound. A hiss of pain escapes my lips before I grit my teeth and glare viciously at the wound. Yet again, the stared at me in total shock. I roll my eyes after I finish pouring it all over my wound.
"That should be OK for now." I say, and then turn hesitantly to Lenalee. "Can you get my arm, It'll be hard for me to get without spilling it all over the place."
Lenalee smiles widely, and I think she understands that it's hard for me to ask for help from anyone. I think, if I had joined the Order, Lenalee would have basically been my sister. I laugh a little at the thought; I can't imagine having a best friend or and friends for that matter.
She pours the medicine down my arm and I grimace as the seeming liquid fire spills all over my wound painfully. I let myself laugh when she finishes cleaning my wound.
"Thanks." I have to remind myself to say it.
A face-splitting grin plasters itself on her face and she nods, "No problem."
Allen smiles at me out of the blue and I give him a questioning look. He shrugs and looks a little amused. I look back at Miranda and nod and she continues her story. I listen carefully and the more I listen, I almost begin to feel lighter. I look around and find that, from what I can tell of us four; we're a rather broken little group, aren't we? And yet the we still manage to present a problem to the Millennium Earl. Can you imagine our power when we finally figure out ourselves enough to reach our full potential? Akuma and Earl, beware. I laugh again, and realize that I've laughed more in this one day that I have in the last two months combined. I think I've decided that I don't mind being on someone's team. It means that no one has to shoulder everything on their own.
