Cleanup

Despite the fact that the sun had already begun to rise when they went to bed, Miranda still found herself awake after only a few hours of sleep; the bedside clock read 11:30. Peter was still sleeping somewhat soundly beside her, every so often he would stir or cry out and she would run a hand down his back until he was calm again. She would miss their odd form of domesticity when she went back home, sure his company would always be there, but she had grown to crave having a warm body by her side at night, even if it was one she had to soothe back to sleep on a regular basis. She gave his back a final pat and flipped back the covers, scanning the floor for some already dingy clothes to work in. That room needed to be finished. She pulled on a pair of jeans and one of Peter's old shirts, it was a little tight but it would do. Miranda made up a new bucket of god awful smelling bleach water, grabbed a scrub-brush and made her way to the end of the hall.

It still held the scent of death. Granted it wasn't as strong as it once was, but it still lingered and mixed with the bleach the stench overall was enough to make an onion's eyes water. She had went out the day before and managed to find some painter's masks and that helped somewhat, she still had to pry open the windows and stick her head out to breathe every fifteen minutes so she wouldn't pass out. At some point she managed to get bleach in her eyes, ripped her jeans on the mangled bed frame, her clothes were covered in large patches of white; but by quarter to five the room looked almost normal. She managed to break down the bed frame and stack it in the corner and had leaned the bed against it, the walls would still need a good patching and fresh paint and new carpet was inevitable but the room itself no longer looked like a crime scene. The door slid across the carpet revealing a disheveled Peter snacking on a handful of cheerios.

"You should wear my shirts more often," he smirked popping an o into his mouth.

Miranda wiped the sweat from her forehead and leaned against the windowsill, arching an eyebrow in question.

"Seriously." He held up his hands and motioned outward in front of his chest and mouthed "huge" with a grin plastered on his face.

She chuckled in disbelief and shook her head. "Peter, I swear to god, if I weren't covered in bleach-"

"Like mega huge," he went on, "gargantuan even, looks nice on you Cooper."

Miranda was about to give a witty comeback of her own when Peter stepped into the room. It was the first time since the first time they had been there and that didn't go so well. She closed her mouth and watched him tentatively. He paced the floor, walking in a small circle examining the walls and carpeting.

"You see, Miranda, amazing," he declared softly with a small smile. He padded over to her, his chocolate colored eyes scanning hers a moment before tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Thank you, so much," he whispered, his hand now cupping her cheek as he brought his forehead down to rest on hers.

"Well, it's far from done, Peter. You'll need to find some sort of contractor, the walls need work-"

"So call one, my parents had credit cards," he breathed.

"And what about-"

Peter silenced her mouth with his own, the pressure of his lips firm but tender. His tongue traced the seam of her lips and she let him in, he tasted sweet and her fingers fisted in his hair when he nipped her bottom lip.

"Peter I'm covered in bleach," she shuddered while he moved down to her neck.

"So I've heard."

He returned to her mouth and let his hands travel to her hips, backing her onto the windowsill pressing into her and she moaned into his mouth. His hands slipped under her shirt and unhooked her bra; Miranda placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed back.

"Wait."

Peter blinked, "Wait? I have been waiting,"

"Peter," she giggled.

He shook his head, taking her hands in his and kissing the finger tips. "You really don't get it do you?"

It was Miranda's turn to blink now as she watched Peters struggle to find his words.

"It's you Randi. There is no switch, while I'm sure hormones have a large play in this game, it's all you. I'm crazy about you Miranda, ever since that day you made me play tourist. It'll always be you. And while this really sucks right now, there is absolutely no one I would rather be by my side."

She smiled at him through tear threatened eyes and pulled his face to hers, kissing him long and slow.

"I'm going to take a shower-"

"Company?"

"No," she laughed, "then I'm going home to see my dad. I at least need to stop by and say hello."

"You're coming back right," he asked suddenly, fear flashing in his eyes.

"Yes, I'm coming back," she assured him running a hand down the length of his arm. "And whatever this is," she motioned between them, "we'll talk about that too."

Miranda had almost hoped that her dad wouldn't be home; she would just leave him a nice heartfelt note on the fridge, grab a few more clothes and be on her way; so naturally her actions came to a halt when she saw his truck sitting in the driveway. She hated lying to her father; they had had a tough enough relationship with him being away all the time. Chris had tried to hire a nanny to look after her but she only drove them away after a few days. "I'm too old for a damned nanny!" she would shout as he argued that he only did it so she would have some sort of company during the day. Miranda would have rather been alone anyway. Nobody could have replaced her mother, and she wasn't that great at making new friends so she had always sought some sort of comfort in her own solitude.

Until Peter. Everything happened so easily with Peter, and now his world was being torn apart and where was she; sitting in her driveway, afraid of what daddy might say. The thought made her feel so incredibly selfish. Miranda swallowed her pride and slowly ascended the steps to her front door, taking a deep breath as she turned the knob.

Her dad was snoring in the recliner in front of the TV, he always fell asleep during the news, hell who didn't, their local anchor man was well into his sixties and had the world's most monotonous voice. Miranda reached for the remote when the image of Peter's parents flashed on the screen following a missing persons report.

"Shit," she murmured. Of course she knew people would notice eventually, she just figured they would have time to figure something out.

"James Carlisle, a lawyer for the well-known law firm Vincent and associates was last seen with his wife Lidia were last seen almost two weeks ago leaving a bookshop near Paddington. Their son, Peter Carlisle has been seen attending regular classes at Dunebridge academy-" The screen showed a shot of Peter and herself standing in the school courtyard from a distance.

"-The couple was reported missing my Lidia Carlisle's sister when she failed to make their weekly visit and could not reach them for the following week, which she reported was highly unusual for her sister-"

"Miranda?" Christopher's voice scratched from his chair. She quickly hit the power button and spun around with a smile glued to her face.

"Hi daddy."

"So are you still my little girl, or do I have to murder an underage kid in the near future," he grumbled while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Dad," she scoffed shaking her head, "You like Peter. Remember?"

"There's a fine line between like and trust, Miranda." He narrowed his eyes at her and held his gaze as if he were waiting for her to confess some sort of god awful teenage lustful crime. "You look well enough."

"I'm fine," she insisted, "you don't have to trust him, I do." She went to the kitchen and brought him back a beer, popping the tab before she took a seat on the couch. "So, with that said-"

Her father sipped his beer and eyed her carefully.

"I'm going to need a few more days," she rushed out in one breath, biting her bottom lip and nervously bouncing her knees.

Christopher set down the can and leaned forward with a sigh, rubbing the stubble on his chin. "Randi…does this have anything to do with what has been on the news?"

"T-th-the news?" she stammered. He was totally zoned out when she got home, there was no faking that.

"Yeah, It ran at noon today."

Miranda sat in silence staring at her father with glazed eyes not sure of what to say. She sure as hell couldn't tell him the truth, she didn't want to lie either, he always knew when she was lying anyhow.

"Look Randi, you have to know someone will try to come and talk to him sooner rather than later. Why it hasn't happened already I don't know. Do you know where they are?"

She shook her head.

"Does Peter?"

She opened her mouth, instead of speaking she opted to take a breath and said nothing.

"Does Peter?" Christopher repeated with more authority behind his voice.

"In a manner of speaking," Miranda answered sheepishly, looking to the window for some sort of escape.

"Miranda, I don't think that boy would pull the wings off a fly, but if he did something-"

"NO!" she cut in, moving closer to him and grabbing his hands. "No. Dad look," she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "Peter is in a real bad spot right now, he's my friend, and he needs me. I can't tell you why, not now, maybe later, but not now. You don't have to trust him, just trust me. Please."

Christopher squeezed her hands, leaned over and pressed a kiss on her forehead. "There is so much of your mother in you, Miranda," he said with a remorseful smile. "Don't go to school, the less people see of him the better-"

Miranda's eyes widened in shock and she felt the corners of her lips pull up. She never thought in a million years her father would agree if he knew any inkling of what was going on. Perhaps he felt as if this was some sort of way to make up for all the time he had spent away.

"-doors, windows, keep them all shaded and shut. If you need something you call me and I'll have it taken care of."

"I have a contractor coming tomorrow," Miranda said quietly.

"What for?"

She shrugged her shoulders and scrunched up one side of her face.

"Nevermind…here," he pulled out a credit card and handed it to her. "Nothing goes in their name, do you understand me. That will only make it worse for him. Use it for whatever…within reason, it was for you anyway, something your mother and I set up for when you turned eighteen."

"Daddy, why are you doing this?" She brushed away a tear threatening the corner of her eye.

"You're my little girl, Randi. I do trust you. That boy has been your world for the better part of three years, and unfortunately a good part of mine, I don't want that taken away from you. "Christopher pulled his daughter in for a hug and kissed the top of her head. "But that doesn't mean that if he hurts you that I'm not going to give him hell."

"Thank you, Daddy." Miranda smiled up at him through wet eyes.

"You bet pun'kin. And be careful."

A/N: Oh, I have nothing to say to you today, to tired. Just leave me some love in that box okay? Okay.

Shelly