Visions of a Winter Scene
Chapter II: "Whatever you Believe…little Anya"
Disclaimer: I do not own the Incredibles or any of the characters there within. (owned by Pixar/Disney…)
February had rolled around in all of its white splendor, Mirage noted from one of the frigid window-panes of the Manta-jet. The sun had begun to set and the soft, mechanical precision of gears moved the dark sun-glass away from the large expanse of the frontal view port. Mirage rotated her swivel chair to see the vast mainland stretch before her. She leaned casually on her hand, elbow resting on the leather arm of the large chair in which she sat, one leg crossed comfortably over the other.
Winter was an awesome season. Its power over nature was vast—enough to chill the land and freeze the water that fell from the sky. It was a time when the planet was farthest from the warm reassurance of the sun. It was a time for people to take up heavy coats and gloves and scarves to shield themselves from the chill. It was a time to spend more time indoors with a fire on the hearth and mugs of hot chocolate shared among loved ones…
Mirage sighed, turning away from the glass, trying to waylay an array of emotion that shook her resolve. She was saved the effort by a voice that came from her right. She glanced up to see Syndrome, a boyish grin on his face and something hidden behind his back.
"I have something for you," he said softly, just able to contain his excitement as he presented her with a beautiful white fur coat. Mirage inhaled sharply at the sight of it.
"It's lovely." She answered in awe as she rose from her reclined seat. Syndrome, no Buddy, smiled and motioned for her to try it on and she complied. The satin of the inside layer sliding over her skin gave her chills, as the fine, silky fur brushed the back of her neck. The coat was light in weight, but it warmed its full length to her mid-thigh. She realized, suddenly, that this coat was fitted to her measurements precisely and how Buddy had done this she was unsure, but she was in wonder all the same.
"Let's have a look at you!" Buddy said and Mirage turned, unable to conceal a smile of delight. Buddy looked her up and down, giving a great smile of approval throughout. "Perfect."
Mirage could feel the blush that marred her cheeks and she drew her gaze down to recollect herself. Buddy laughed, "It is kind of silly, you won't be needing such a heavy coat on Nomanisan, but it should last you out the weekend for our stay on the mainland. What do you think?"
"I think it's beautiful." Mirage said as she moved to embrace him. "Thank you." She murmured from his chest, the heat of the coat doubling with the added warmth of his arms around her.
"Of course," he replied, "I'm just happy you came."
"How could I not?" Mirage asked, breaking the embrace to look into his baby blue eyes.
"You're right, there's no telling what kind of trouble I can get myself into." Buddy plopped himself into the seat adjacent her and ran his hands through the fiery red hair that had somehow miraculously cooperated with the comb to lay flat on his head. He had it tied back in a ponytail as an added measure lest it decided to act up on him. He exhaled a sigh, "If we're lucky, we should be in and out and I can finally finish this experiment once and for all."
"Remind me of this friend of yours?" Mirage prompted him with a raised eyebrow. Buddy waved a hand of unimportance.
"Just an old college buddy of mine. We both loved our tech."
"And you went your separate ways because…"
"Different fields of interest," he shrugged, "but this particular device he should know how to repair." He fiddled with the little seeker robot that attached to his wrist cuff on his supersuit as he spoke. "We sort of invented this one together and I was young and reckless and tossed out the schematic for it. Remind me never to do that again…But besides all of that I have a special something waiting for us when we land." He glanced over at her with that boyish grin on his face once more, that same simple smile that would always leave Mirage guessing. She could not help but to return the smile.
Having landed the Manta jet at last in private air field; the two exited the plane in the close vicinity of a brand new car.
"Aha! There she is!" Buddy jogged to the car while Mirage followed at a more casual pace. Buddy busied himself by inspecting the car making small remarks to himself as he went. When Mirage had caught up with him he stood before the car leaning against the door casually and patting the roof.
"Say 'hello' to your new car."
Mirage's eyes widened. "My car?"
"Sure! You're the one who tracks down the supers for me and you'll be needing a vehicle far more than I will be, so this one," he opened the driver side door for her, "is yours."
"Buddy," Mirage placed a hand over her heart as her eyes ran over the car, "you spoil me!"
Buddy's smile broadened. "Let's give it a spin!" He jogged over to the passenger side and opened the door, pausing with a short exclamation. "Oops, here you go!" He tossed her the keys to the car as well as a pair of new sun-glasses over the top of the car. Mirage stood speechless. Never in her life had she been so spoiled as this. A sudden thought struck her, were these possible tokens of love? Could her employer have an infatuation with her? Why all of these sudden gifts—all new—all now? Mirage fought to keep the impending feelings at bay; all except one of deep gratitude. She slid the shades over her eyes and forced her trembling hand to keep still as she slipped into the driver's seat.
"So I'll give you the directions to my friend's place and you get a feel for the car. If it doesn't suit you I'll have a new one made." He watched her through a pair of his own shades. Mirage smiled at him from the driver's seat and thanked him for his marvelous gifts. He waved a hand and shook his head with a chuckle. "Let's hit the road."
The car drove like a dream. The ride was smooth and the leather interior was more than comfortable. If ever Mirage had to confront a long road trip, she would not have minded it in this car.
Buddy had her stop in front of a rather shabby looking house as he jumped from the seat.
"This shouldn't take too long, I'll be out in just a little bit. Bert's a packrat so he should have the schematic somewhere or other, I'll just borrow it from him and have it sent back through the mail. Wait for me, ok?" Mirage agreed and in truth, his adventure did not take long at all. He was essentially in and out, apparently not much wishing to make up for lost time with his old college companion. He appeared to run out in a hurry as he swung open the car door and skidded in with an angry Bert on the doorstep waving a cane and calling Buddy a "traitor".
"Drive!"
"Trouble with your good friend, Buddy?" Mirage asked teasingly.
"I guess he didn't recognize my genius, Bert always was a little short-sighted."
Buddy gave no more insight to this and Mirage knew better than to ask.
The two made their way to a rather expensive hotel that had been previously booked for their stay. Buddy instructed that Mirage should park so that they could visit a café that he had been dying to visit since he had left the mainland. They left the car at a leisurely walk.
The people they passed by would sometimes stop to stare at the elegant figures in their fine clothes and handsome beauty, for they were the country folk of the region. Mirage had thought it would have been better to have dressed down to avoid unnecessary attention, but Syndrome reckoned that they would still stick out like a couple of sore thumbs; so why not dress to the nines?
Syndrome and Mirage walked side by side along the stretch of sidewalk that had been cleared of the snow. Snow angels littered the ground in the fields beyond and one rambunctious youngster drew out a devil in the snow complete with tail and forked spear. Mirage smiled at the children's unabashed creativity. Syndrome seemed to have noticed it too.
"That's an individual that one is."
Mirage laughed at the idea as a child crashed through the dead shrubbery and landed right before their path, sprawled in the snow. It was a young girl with blonde hair and blue eyes, her scarf torn and mittens askew. Right before the two adults the poor child began to cry.
"Oh my…" Mirage inhaled in concern and moved forward to aid the little girl as Syndrome glared into the shrubbery as callous laughter issued from somewhere beyond it. He barked at a small boy who stood laughing and pointing at the fallen girl. The boy found having been discovered, his face fell and laughing ceased as he took off into the field. Mirage heard Syndrome mutter "what a little punk" under his breath as he followed the child a ways to make sure that the boy would not come back.
Mirage, meanwhile, looked over the little girl who seemed a little bruised but further over had no real harm done. Mirage knelt down, balancing on her toes as she placed a comforting hand on the little girl's shoulder.
"Are you all right?" she asked softly.
The little girl looked up into the older woman's face and her crying immediately ceased. She was a lovely little girl, Mirage had to admit, had only the child been smiling it would have made her heart sore. "There now, you'll be all right."
When nothing seemed to register on the little girl's face except shock, Mirage glanced over to the dead bushes and discovered the remains of what appeared to be a rosebush. She snapped a wrinkled twig from the bush and concentrated on the branch. The girl watched with interest. A moment later, green overtook the brown, engulfing the dead into a living thing as rose petals sprouted and blossomed into an adult rose. The girl looked up at Mirage with wide eyes and mouth agape. Mirage smiled at the flower and offered it to the girl as a peace offering. The girl smiled up at the older woman and sniffled, accepting the rose as she stood. Mirage stood also as the girl adjusted her torn scarf and mittens around herself and gazed up at Mirage with wonder and awe.
"Miss, are you an angel?"
Mirage stood in shock, mouth falling open; uncertain of how to answer such a heartrending question.
"Tanya! Tanya come home!"
The girl was startled out of her amazement and she started forward, running home. She called over her shoulder, "thank you, miss!" as Syndrome came up beside the shocked Mirage. He gave her a confused look, glancing at the girl that was running home then back at Mirage. He jerked a thumb in the girl's direction.
"What was that all about?"
Mirage shook her head, answering truthfully. "I'm…not sure."
Syndrome looked her over but did not press her of information on what had just happened. He instead drummed his fingers on his chin. After some though, he snapped his fingers.
"I know just the place! There's a coffee shop that can do wonder's for the taste buds and we can warm up while we're at it." Syndrome linked arms with Mirage which seemed to physically drag her from her reverie, of which she was grateful. "It's not far," he promised, patting her hand with his free arm.
They entered the coffee shop together and made their way to an empty booth. They sat opposite one another, neither speaking much until a waitress took their orders. Syndrome ordered a dark roasted coffee and Mirage ordered a tall cappuccino. The silence between them grew as Mirage gazed out into the darkness of the outside while Syndrome seemed content just to study the woman that sat across from him.
Mirage must have betrayed some ill expression because a moment later he commented on it.
"Do you have something on your mind?"
The waitress returned with their mugs of steaming coffee which neither of them touched. Syndrome thanked the waitress while Mirage seemed utterly lost in thought.
Mirage's eyes seemed to study something in the outside intensely before she turned a cool gaze toward him. She slid her arms from the warmth of her brand new coat's arms and placed her palms around the sides of the mugs to warm them. She paused as though choosing her next words carefully.
"It's a lot of things."
Syndrome gave a good look at his watch as if checking to ensure his schedule was all clear. "Well, I've got time."
Mirage locked eyes with him to see an encouraging smile playing around his lips. Mirage dropped her gaze and stared instead into her coffee mug as though it might give her answers to her dilemma. Nothing but steam greeted her forlorn eyes.
"I suppose it all began with my father…"
A young girl about the age of twelve tossed her platinum hair to one side with one mitten-covered hand as she dashed through the snow; her scarf muffling much of the cold that blasted her face and caused her eyes to tear, it also served to muffle some of the exhilarated laughs and screams as she evaded her pursuer. The man was fast, but she was faster as she evaded yet another swipe to her torso. She laughed heartily at his attempts, emerald eyes gleaming in the sunshine. The man seemed too tired to continue as he paused hunched over in the snow, resting his hands on his knees and panting hard.
"Maybe we should take a break?"
The twelve-year-old girl shook her head, preparing a snowball in eager hands. "You'll have to catch me first!"
He smiled a wry, devilish smile. "So that's how it is, is it?" He sculpted his own scoop of snow into a sphere and tossed it at the blonde-haired girl and missed while he caught a face full of snow. He shook his head animatedly, short brown hair flying. The blonde laughed at her brilliance and then gasped as the man took after her again. He was gaining on her fast. She propelled herself to move faster, for once the game of tag was over her father would surely want to go home. She did not want this to end. She dodged a hard left which he followed, she turned sharply right and still she could not throw him. His shadow grew before her like a reaching shadow-monster and she braced herself for a collision as a moment later she found herself caught and they both tumbled to the ground in a fit of laughter and giggles. When the laughter had ceased, her father stood and brushed himself off, offering a hand to his daughter.
"Oh Papa. I'm not ready to go!"
"Darling, I have to go to work tomorrow and you've worn your old man out!"
"Please Papa!" she begged, "Not yet, I want this to last just a little longer!"
Her father's soft brown eyes assessed his daughter; she was serious. He knew this could not be easy on her with her mother having passed away only that summer. He secretly wished that this moment would never end either.
"My little Anya, we will have so many more days to spend together—we'll do something fun together everyday! I promise!"
"I know Papa, it's just that…" she sighed as though searching for the right words, "today felt special, I don't ever want to forget today."
Anya's father placed a hand on her shoulder, thinking hard. He looked around himself, no one around…He glanced down at the snow and scooped a handful into his palm. He began to work with a studious effort which caught Anya's attention.
"Then, you will need something special to remember today by." He continued to work, shaping and molding until he was satisfied with what looked like a lollipop made from the snow. Anya gave her father a strange look as if inquiring his means but he continued to concentrate on the object. Ribbons of color burst forth from his palm and the snow smoothed into a form as pure and clean as glass. The lollipop took form into a beautifully shaped rose partially in bloom and tints of green colored the glass stem as well as red for the bud itself. Satisfied with his work and brushing drops of sweat and fatigue from his eyes, he offered it to his daughter. Anya's eyes lit up at such an extraordinary gift. She accepted it with trembling hands, admiring it's near flawless craftsmanship. She looked up at her father, mouth hung open at such a miracle.
"So you will never forget this day." He murmured softly, cupping her cheek in one hand. "Whatever you believe is in your power to control."
He could see that his daughter did not understand his sentiment. "You'll understand someday." He helped her to her feet as they stood once more. "But for now, I believe I am going…to beat you home!" he began to run before even finishing his sentence with Anya crying out after him that he had cheated.
A month after that fine day of frolic in the snow, that same girl of twelve made her way home from school, fighting the foot and a half of snow, piled high from the roads so that the cars would at least be permitted to drive, it made it all the more difficult for pedestrians to make their way amidst the man-made drift. Somehow Anya managed to pick her way with relatively little stumbling.
She
always passed her father's building on her way home from school and
she would gaze up its heights in wonder of what the adults must be
doing in such a structure. Sometimes she felt she could hardly wait
to grow up and work like all of the adults did. Her father would
weave stories of their world into her head, but she wanted to see it; to experience
it
for herself. This day however, she paused outside of his building
searching the great windows for a maybe glance at her father; for he
had said he was one of the lucky employees that got a window cubicle.
A hideous wailing noise broke her from her search; it took her a moment to discover that the noise was the wail of the town's siren. People around her screamed and dashed around her in a wild flurry of movement and sound, Anya was knocked to the ground, papers and books flying in all directions and in all of the commotion no one dared stop to help her up.
There was a maniacal laughter that filled the air and the panic in the streets seemed to increase two-fold. It was too late, the villain had arrived. He was known only as Suicidal Jack, a maddened man who had attempted to take his own life several times, each inadvertently foiled by one person or another before the police caught him and forced him into prison. He must have managed to escape and was now wrecking havoc on their town for revenge. The deafening sound of gunfire rang out into the air and Anya curled into a tight ball to make herself a smaller target as she covered her head with her arms. Bodies fell around her; she heard them as they collided with the ground. Two fell dead right beside her, the impact shaking her to the morrow of her bones. The gunfire ceased its reign of terror for a moment as the wailing of police sirens accompanied the town siren. Anya risked a glance upward to see the villain glaring up at a flying Super. She smiled softly to herself, he could save them.
The villain cursed up at the Super and sprinted into the building—her father's building. Anya gasped.
"Papa…"
Muffled noises went on inside the building and Anya took the chance to stand. Others followed her lead. She gazed in horror at the building, somewhere inside a villain and a Super battled…and her father was in grave danger. There was a resounding boom that shook the ground they stood on outside of the building and the building gave a violent, jarring movement downward. Anya screamed her father's name, rushing forward only to be held back by other on-lookers. Another groan of defeat and the building collapsed straight down upon itself like some demolition had just taken place. The Super flew out of the top of the building, villain in custody as well as many rescued civilians. Anya sprang back into animation.
"Papa!" she screamed and forced her way amid the throng of people to the Super that floated back down to the ground. Many of the saved seemed uninjured and Anya made her way among them as they were escorted to awaiting ambulances. She looked into every face and none were her father. Fear rose in her throat as she tried vainly to choke back her throbbing heart. She looked to the Super who was being congratulated for such a close save with claps on the back from fellow police officers as well as those who had been saved.
"Please sir—" Anya began as she approached the Super but she was rudely pushed back by the pressing crowd that clapped all around her. She could feel her eyes tear as she was pushed farther and farther away, and eventually ended up face-down on the snow-covered pavement away from the crowd. She tore her gaze from the crowd to the broken remains of the building, already sure of the outcome of her father. She threw a glaring, tear-stricken face at the throng.
Why had he saved all those others and not her father? Was he of no importance to them? He was to become just a statistic; just a number to be counted among the bodies that lay beside her on the ground? Was he to become a distant memory to all of these uncaring fools?
Anya felt a rush of wind and snow lift her clothes and hair as she glared into the crowd where the Super stood. A terrible, choking hate seared through her and the winter wind felt like a humid summer breeze. Fury and grief fueled the great anger into a rage until even her eyes seemed to burn with contempt.
A scream issued from somewhere within the crowd and Anya stopped the wild ravaging energy that coursed through her body. Her eyes wide with fear as the group separated and tore to reveal the Super lay dead on the ground. She inhaled sharply and leapt to her feet. Somehow, in some way, she knew…she had done this. Her heart hammered in her throat as she saw police officials pointing in her direction. Without a second thought, she took flight; leaping bodies and dodging past those who still lived, running on and on as tears continued to stream down her face.
Mirage paused, stirring her now cool coffee distractedly, keeping her gaze down.
"It turns out that the police only wanted to question me on what I had seen. I had to make up a story and things continued to progress downhill since that day."
She inhaled a shuddering breath.
"I left the town….and was forced to live on my own. The last of my family line had passed with my father." She shut her eyes, "but I managed. I made myself to play the adult role and worked my way into a difficult life at least…until you saved me from the lie." She looked up at him finally since the story had come upon her father's work building. She gave him a weak smile at her last statement. His baby blue eyes were filled with her pain and she could feel her own eyes begin to tear, but she fought to keep her composure. He shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.
"I had no idea. I'm…I'm so sorry." It was not the first apology she had heard for her story, even though she rarely told it, but his was special—as though he really meant it. Really, truly, deeply cared for her. She bit her lower lip, her control slipping, Syndrome—no, Buddy—leapt from his seat and whisked her from the shop, out into the cool night air. He kept her hand firmly in his own, fingers laced for comfort and assurance even as he allowed her to shed the pent up tears that had so long been forestalled. After the tears had passed, she felt like a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. On they walked; like she and her father had once done. She could not remember the last time she had felt so contented.
Mirage sighed in content and leaned into the warm, sturdy body beside her. Buddy came around and embraced her tightly. They stood like that for a moment, warm despite the chill of winter, until Mirage broke the embrace to look up into those baby blue eyes that gazed back into her emerald eyes with something she had not seen before. It had to be love. She had been so out of touch with the emotion that she had not noticed it in those subtle glances he would give her and perhaps the not so subtle gifts.
She moved to tip-toe and their lips met again, not since the truly miraculous gift of snow on the island mountainside. A sweet kiss of promise and adoration for one another.
Yes, little Anya had grown with the sense of a cruel world and the losing of her mother and father to such tragedies to compliment that grief, but to be in the arms of one who cared so for her….
Perhaps, thought Mirage, this would be enough.
Author's Note: Hey! I updated! (At long last, eh?) Whew, this story has been eating at me for weeks now!
To be true and honest with myself—I had fully intended to leave this story as a one-shot, but I got the inspiration one night to continue this into something a little further, a little more because the more I watched the Incredibles, I still came to wonder about Mirage and was feeling inspired once more to take up my pen and write!
How I came up with Anya, and Suicide Jack and the no-name Super? Don't ask because I really have no answers for you! laughs I guess that's my crazy side showing.
Ah, yes I know, some of the romance may not be as present as in the first chapter, I really wanted to focus more on Mirage and what shaped her character into what she had become. She seemed fairly unaffected with the luring and eventual slaying of Supers, so I gave a situation (in greater detail than the first chapter) in which to despise Supers and in order to do that I had to create another in depth, emotional attachment that could shatter the image of a Super in her eyes. (Speaking of eyes, AHA! I got Buddy's eye color right this time! (blue blue blue! I'm such a dummy in the first chapter! ))
Again for the lack of romance, I apologize and maybe to make it up I will dedicate a third and final chapter to Syndrome and just how he turned to the dark side (so to speak) with some more romance to sugar coat it? Just request it and I'll get right on it! Now that I finally have time.
Please Review!
Blackfire 18
