Disclaimer: I don't own.
A/N: I'M UPDATING. =D We should all have a celebration. :) This is just a filler chapter. Again. -cries- Sorry. :]
Chapter 6 : Family Rebel
"Cosa?!"
Miley swallowed, standing her ground, her own piercing blue staring right back defiantly into those of her father. "I--"
He cut her off, holding up a hand. "Miley-- You--" He took in a shaky breath. "You are my daughter." He loomed over her, and she almost trembled. "You will do as told."
She frowned, swallowing back the sob that threatened to spill out. "T-that's exactly it, father," she said, trying to put spite and venom into that one word. "I'm your daughter. Not some.." She curled her lip. "Not one of your 'soldiers'!"
"As long as you are in this family, you'll be both," he hissed, glaring at her, making her own gaze falter. "If I have to risk my life for this family, so do you."
She couldn't hold back the sob this time, feeling a tear trickle down her cheek. "What family?!" she whimpered, slumping against the wall. "This is no longer a family. Mom and Jackson are gone-- And it's-- It's all about the money," she said with contempt, hating it. She stood up straight, turning on her heel and walking towards the stairs.
"Where are you going?" asked Lacost
She didn't respond, simply shooting a dirty look over her shoulder before dashing up the stairs, sniffling as she did so.
Her father sighed, resting his elbows on the back of the couch, wondering what had gone wrong.
Upstairs, Miley slammed her door shut, enjoying the ringing echoing in her ears. She threw herself onto her bed, letting her body bounce on the springy mattress before curling up into a small ball.
She tugged her cardigan a bit tighter around herself slipping her arms out of the thin sleeves and pulling those around herself, imagining her mother's arms around her instead.
Her lips twitched upward a little at the thought of that memory. She let her eyes close a little, then a little bit more, until she was comforted by the darkness of her eyelids.
A sudden buzzing from her bedside table broke her sleepy trance and she groaned grabbing a nearby pillow and pressing it over her exposed ear.
"Stop it!" she barked, feeling frustration rise through her. She had a sudden urge to blast her phone apart, but resisted and sighed, fumbling with things on her table before grabbing the offending object.
She peered blearily at the caller, waking up a little when she noticed it was Oliver.
She shuddered, remembering her father's accusations, wondering whether they could be true.
She pressed 'talk' on the phone, and pressed it to her ear. "Hi," she said dully.
"Miley! Oh- Miley! Thank GOD you're okay!"
"Amen," she mumbled. "I'm glad I'm okay too." She paused. "Wait. How did you know?" A feeling of dread went through her.
"Did you get hurt?" he demanded.
"No..." She sighed. "Oliver.. I-- I w-want you to be honest, okay?" Without waiting for a response even though she heard him take in a short breath. "D-did you or did you not.. have anything to do with that?"
He was silent for a little while.
She trembled again.
"Did you?" she asked softly.
"Miley-- My dad-- And deLuca--" Miley heard the twinge of anger in his voice. "T-they-- They're planning something-- I--"
"--So it was you?"
"No!" he exclaimed desperately. "Miley-- I d-don't want to hurt you--"
"How do I know that?" she cried, suddenly sitting up. "Y-you-- Y-your parents-- The reason why my mother and brother are dead," she spat.
"Miley--"
"I have to go. I'll talk to you later," she said shortly.
CLICK.
She tossed the phone beside her and curled back up with her pillow drifting off into a restless sleep.
Oliver stared at the phone, horrified.
He sat back in his chair, wringing his hands nervously. He didn't want to bother her if she was agitated and distressed, but he still needed to warn her.
He sighed, deciding on waiting for her to call instead, when she was more at ease.
--
Miley was dreaming. Or in a more accurate sense, she was having a nightmare.
She was driving sitting in the limo, with her mother and Jackson - Although in her memory, she remembered leaving with her father first.
Why was she here?
"Mom?" she asked quietly, reaching out to her mother's shoulder. Her hand swept right through, and she recoiled, petrified. "J-Jackson?" she tried.
She studied her brother's younger features - He had been so young.
Her mother was speaking to her brother. "Do you miss your sister already?"
Jackson nodded, grinning at his mom. "Don't tell her, but I think she's like my best friend."
"It'll be out little secret."
"Where are Miley and daddy, anyway?"
"Your father and sister went off first, remember? We're going to meet them now."
Miley could only shake with sobs wracking her body, silently thinking of a prayer, begging God to let her wake up.
She knew what was going to happen before it did.
The limo swerved and suddenly, it rolled over, and terrified screams filled the space.
And then all she could see was smoke.
She was dying.
Miley screamed, waking up, finding that she had fallen off her bed in the process. Sweat trickled down her face and back, and her arms and legs felt like jelly.
"Mom--Mommy--" She exhaled shakily, finding that she couldn't get herself to calm down. She pressed her hands against her face, feeling how heated it was and groaned.
She got up on her knees, leaning over her bed to pick up her fallen cellphone from earlier and pressed the speed dial.
"Hello?" came his sleepy voice.
"O-Oliver?"
"Miley-- Miley!" He became alert. "What's wrong?"
"C-can-- I --" She repressed a sob, her voice leaving her for a moment. "I n-need you."
"Oh God, okay-- Uh-- Meet me by the beach, okay?"
She whimpered, nodding her head even though he couldn't see her, and hung up before she dropped the phone from her shaking hands.
She grabbed a pair of sweat pants and pulled on a long sleeve shirt, still reeling from the reality of the dream.
She slid out her door, stealthily making her way downstairs. She barely made it out the front door when a rough hand grabbed her arm and she nearly shrieked in terror. She whirled, ready to kick that person's ass when she noticed it was Lacosté.
"Ou va toi à ce temps, mademoiselle?"
She yanked her arm out of his grasp. "Out,"she said shortly, not bothering to respond in French.
"Ça ne peut pas attendre jusqu'à demain?"
"No."
"At least take a bodyguard with you," he said, speaking in English for the first time in a few years.
"I'm f-fine," she breathed. "I j-just need air." She looked desperately at him. "I'll be on the beach," she promised.
He scrutinized her. She looked deeply troubled, worry etched into her features, and her eyes were widened in fear, which he had never seen in her eyes before.
"Be careful," he whispered. "Your father won't be happy if you get in trouble."
"I won't."
She stumbled out the front door, and that's when he noticed she was shaking. He sighed, planning to follow her afterwards.
Miley hugged her arms around herself, feeling strangely bare and vulnerable without some sort of weapon strapped to her.
She let the grains of sand tickle her feet as she dragged them in swathes across the sandy floor.
"Hey," a soft voice said quietly. She jumped, startled, turning around to see Oliver standing there, looking worried. He walked towards her slowly, hesitant. When he had walked up beside her, he tentatively sat down, playing with the sand.
"Miley?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper, as if he feared speaking too loudly would make her break down.
"C-can you j-just--" She sniffed angrily, brushing away her tears in frustration. "God, "she groaned. "I hate crying."
"It's okay to cry," he said gently. "You don't have to be tough all the time."
"When I'm not, everything hurts," she murmured, leaning into him, sliding an arm around his middle. "I hate remembering."
"Are you gonna tell me what's wrong, or just continue to tell me what you hate?" he prodded jokingly.
"My-- I had a dream," she said quietly, locking eyes with him, blue mixing with brown. "I was there with my mom and brother.. In the limo-- B-before.. Th-they..." She choked, letting out a sob. "It was so r-real-- but.. I couldn't touch them.. Or talk to them.. Or hold them..." She flung around sand pitifully. "I hate my life," she mumbled. "I hate it."
He brushed the hair out of her face, before turning her face towards his by placing two fingers on her chin. He leaned down, pressing a light kiss against her lips.
"Don't you dare say that again," he said, frowning at her.
"I don't want to die," she corrected, brushing her lips against his again. "I just.. Wish things were different. I wish we could run away," she said, staring at him hopefully.
"Miley--"
"--Oliver, just listen." He nodded obediently. "We could run away, and.. I dunno.. Witness Protection Program or something-- And.. We'd be happy... Don't you want that?"
"Miley-- My family-- My dad... I have a family to run..." He swallowed. "We can't just leave."
"Oh! So we just stay here! We'll stay here where people die left right and center!" she cried, standing up. "Oliver-- Do you even understand how I feel?! My mother and brother -- They're dead!" She was raising her voice now. "Dead!" she yelled, using her fists to hit him on the chest. He winced, ignoring the slight twinges of pain, and grabbed her hands, pulling her towards him for a hug.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I understand if you hate me, but I want you to know that I'll never hate you, okay?"
She shivered in his arms, sobbing quietly. He sighed, pulling her into his lap, running his hands over her clothed thigh. He pressed a kiss on her neck, burying his face against her skin.
"What, no dangerous weapons today?" he teased, trying to make her laugh.
She shook her head, curling up against him like a small child. "Not today," came her muffled response.
"I kinda like the dangerous Miley. It's the girl I fell in love with," he said, not realizing what had just come out of his mouth.
There was a short silence. She slid off his lap.
"...You love me?"
He froze. Did I say that? "Oh-- Oh my God, Miley--" he released her. "I didn't mean to say that--"
Her eyes watered again. "So you don't love me?"
His eyes widened. "Oh! No! Miley-- I-- I just thought you weren't ready to hear that kind of thing..." he trailed off, worried that he couldn't control what he would say next.
They sat awkwardly, both sitting further apart.
"I love you."
"Y-you do?" He paused. "I love you too," he said.
"Do you really?" she asked, leaning in a little.
"I do," he confirmed. "Quite a lot actually," he said, lowering his voice and leaning in as well.
"I think I'll let my naivety get the best of me today," she whispered. "And I'll believe you, because I love you that much."
He brushed her hair away from her face, then cupped her cheeks. "Don't cry, Miley. I hate it when you cry. I realize that now. It hurts me too," he pouted childishly.
She nodded obediently, brushing away the tears from her face hastily, just as he captured her mouth with his own.
She smiled for the first time that day, pressing her lips against his slightly more forcefully.
Crunching footsteps sounded, and a snide voice cracked like a whip through the serene silence. "Do my eyes deceive me?" They snapped apart, both whipping around to see Roy de Luca smiling quite contentedly and holding up a phone and a gun.
I haven't updated since October 12th, 2008. o_O About 7 and a half months approximately. xD Wow. So, uhm, review please? :)