Disclaimer : I own only Ilehana. Blaze belongs to Lamby.
A/N : This is the direct sequel to Lamby's 'Open Your Eyes' and Corrinth's last piece of work. It has taken months to write and much courage, or possibly stupidity, to decide to share it with you all. Mild language... apologies.
SHADOWS, CHAPTER FOUR.
"Where are you going?"
Christmas past, and back in Westchester, home for barely a few hours, Ilehana turned to where an all-too-familiar voice addressed her from a darkened corner. Blaze – having returned home herself, though not as swiftly as the Vixen had predicted - had not been amongst those who had gathered to welcome the Xaviers home, but if the Vixen had been saddened or relieved by this, she had given no sign of it. Instead, she had allowed Logan to bear her from the hangar and up to her room. His strength had been most welcome, and though no words had passed between them, his touch had been full of a gentle intensity that had taken her breath away and only made this parting all the more hard to bear.
"Away." Vixen replied cautiously, her tone even and a little sad.
"Because of me?" Blaze stepped from the shadows of the darkened hallway, her rosebud lips contorted into a frown. Her brown eyes were cheerless, panicked, her fire-power sparkling in their depths. It saddened the Vixen that in that moment the two of them were so far apart that there could have been star-systems between them.
"Yes… and no. You know me by now, one inkling of pressure and I run. It's how I cope. After spending most of your life running, I would have thought that you of all people would understand."
"But what about Logan, the Professor…?"
"They'll believe that I'm going away for some R and R. It won't fall back on you."
"You really think I'm that selfish?" Blaze attacked roughly, angered by her companion's words. "My concern was for you, Vixen, and for them…"
"I know that." Ilehana sighed, slumping against the door-frame and letting herself slide into a sitting position, knees drawn up to her skeletal chest. Her time on Muir Island had been quiet, isolated, and she had eaten very little. She felt more tired in that moment than ever. Her abject misery was like a drug, sedating her and sapping all her strength. "I didn't mean it to sound that way."
"Well that's how it sounded. But you're the selfish one – for someone who's supposed to be loyal and strong, you spend an awful lot of time running!"
"Maybe I'm tired of being strong by hiding that I'm not." Vixen sniped back wearily. The words were barely audible, and the metamorph's face dropped into arms folded on her knees. Blaze stared down at the shell that had once been her friend, once so full of life and vitality that seemed to have all but faded away. Where was the woman who had stood by Blaze from the moment she had first been carried into the mansion, supported her through that first briefing and mission, and through so much more. Was this shadow all that was left? But Ilehana was speaking again, raising her head only enough for Blaze to hear her words, not to see her face. "Look, Blaze, I know I've been negligent of my friendships, but you know me by now – my work is my life, whether it is my science or the X-Men. I've always been straight with you about that. My responsibilities are my priority – they may not be straight forward like a home and kids, but they're still there."
It was a low barb, cheap and cutting, Blaze thought, but only if the Vixen knew the truth. Did she? But when Ilehana raised her head, the expression on her face was as unreadable as ever. Blaze was left wondering whether the Vixen knew about the daughter she had given up as the silence stretched out between them. Could she know? But it seemed that Ilehana was determined to plough her point through now that she'd got started, and Blaze listened politely. "I know I let you down, but I didn't realise how much it hurt. I'm telepathic, Blaze, not a mind reader."
"I thought they were one in the same." Blaze scoffed the words.
"Far from it. I choose when to open myself to people's thoughts. If you wanted my help, you should have asked – directly, so that there could be no misunderstanding. You masked it with pointless questions. Next time just tell me you need my help. If there is a next time."
The words were a challenge, though where the strength for such a challenge came from, Ilehana had no idea. The words spoke dozens more, telling Blaze that she was willing to try, but at the same time she would not be painted into a corner again. Enough hurts had been caused here, Ilehana had admitted her faults, shouldered the blame as Blaze had requested, but she would not take it all. She knew, even without her telepathy, that Blaze was taken aback by her words, and when no reply was issued, the Vixen sighed. Clambering to her feet, feeling every bone grate in hallowed and hard-used joints, a sad expression settled on the blonde's face.
"I'll see you Blaze." She reached for the door handle. "Take care."
"I needed your help." Ilehana was almost out of the door before Blaze uttered the words, so quietly that if it wasn't for a predator's hearing, Vixen might have missed them. Vixen let the silence reign for a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, before stepping back inside and going to envelope the smaller woman in a warm hug.
"Tell me what happened." Ilehana offered, steering her friend toward the kitchen.
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Vixen, after spending many hours talking with Blaze, came to doubt that things would ever be the same between them. She knew that somewhere deep inside themselves, a part of them would always remember this rift between them – Blaze because Ilehana had let her down so very badly, and the animorph because Blaze had doubted her loyalty. Would their friendship forever be a shadow of its former self? Vixen didn't think so, but it would take time for their joint wounds to heal. For many weeks afterward, Ilehana was morose and solitary, even Logan and her father pushed aside, trying to regain the health and vitality that had once been hers. Yet, she knew, in the long run, as many of the X-Men were fond of saying, what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, which – Ilehana was sure – Blaze would translate as "Shit happens". And the two of them had dragged their friendship through shadow and flame. Surely that, plus staring Death in the face and spitting at it at least once a month, could only make them stronger? Ilehana hoped so, for to lose such a valued friend… it was too painful even to consider.
A/N. If I'm honest, I know Blaze and Vixen would have found a much more dramatic way of making things up, but I couldn't find it in me to write it. I hated writing this, but Ilehana insisted. As my characters do from time to time. I'm off for a medicinal coffee… or maybe a beer… I'm all emotioned out now!
