A/N: Time for Mistoffelees to get some backstory- here, from his perspective, is a bit of his life with Miranda before the events of "From Alley to House."

Dawn.

From long habit I wake up as soon as the first slivers of light trickle through the dusty half-windows. Pushing aside the thin blanket I slip off my cot and crouch on the floor on my hands and knees. Slowly, deliberately I stretch myself out, each limb a separate exercise.

Once I've thus woken up I go to the windows. They're not proper windows, only small slivers of glass. Still, better than what I should expect from a basement. They let in some light, and if I stand underneath them during the middle of the day I can watch people going about their lives out there. Miranda used to yell at me for looking out the windows. She was afraid someone would see me. But then she went and checked from out there, and with the angle and the dirt that's never washed off, she said there was no way for anyone to really see what I am. So now she let's me watch.

This early though, there's nobody out there. I'll have to occupy my time another way.

Slowly I start pacing around the basement, making a circuit around the space that's my whole world. My cot and blanket stand in one corner. Nearby, a bookshelf of worn volumes. The books I learned to read with, the books I learned mostly everything from. I've memorized them all by now, but they're still comforting. Old friends that I know very well, but can still keep me company. Especially on rainy afternoons when there's no one to watch outside.

In the corner opposite from my cot is a small television set, with a worn table in front of it. I like to eat my meals there, the only time I turn on the little black and white machine. Miranda wouldn't let me spend too much time with it on when I was younger. Said it would rot my mind, corrupt my values, distract me. I was only allowed to have it on during meals. From habit I'm used to that, and frankly I'm not overly fond of television. I like watching the real people outside and imagining their lives, but the shows that I see…I don't like the kind of lives that they make up.

For my 16th birthday she brought down a beat-up looking VCR, and that's been very nice. It's only allowed at night, but it's great for whiling away the dark hours before I can manage to sleep. Sometimes she brings down tapes I can keep, sometimes she borrows some from somewhere. Mostly science, nature, or history tapes…things to keep my mind sharp, she says. But I like them, especially the science or nature ones without people in them.

There's one tape in particular that I'm fond of, but I hide it under my cot. It was borrowed, but since I hid it away she forgot to return it to wherever it came from. I feel guilty about it sometimes, but… it's the only bad thing I can remember doing, so I hope it's not too big of a mistake. The tape is all about evolution, and how people and animals are related. I like to watch it and pretend it explains what I am. Or that it means there might be others like me…half way between animal and human.

I wonder if Miranda knows what I am, and if she does why she won't tell me.

I pace a little faster now.

In another corner is a chest, filled with toys I should have given up years ago. If she asks, I say I don't play with them of course, I'm 18. I don't play with baby toys. But sometimes I still take them out…if I hear her feet on the steps I put them away quickly. There's a set of blocks in there I like…I've spent days building the most elaborate structures only to tear them back down again in a flash. There's also a ball that I love, bright red. I've had a few balls before, but this one is special. It's solid rubber, so I couldn't accidentally pop it with my claws like I did all the others. I'd be embarrassed for her to see me, but I still take that out and bat it around the basement from time to time.

My legs are warmed up enough now from pacing. I stop my circuit of the basement and start my real stretches. Slowly, carefully I go through all the stretches I saw in one of my favorite books. The illustrations are burned into my mind, and I follow them precisely. It's calming in a way.

Once I've done the required warm-ups, I start my morning routine.

It's good the basement is bare except for those few things, and that the floor is very smooth cement. My feet slide easily across it in my soft shoes. I start off slow, a few easy movements. As the morning light grows stronger, so do my moves…by the time the sun is strong and warm I'm spinning and leaping through the basement.

For a little while I escape to somewhere…somewhere else. Somewhere I'm good at something. I've studied that book on dance for years, forcing myself to practice over and over and over until I felt like I'd learned to do it right. This may be a human art, but it's something I can do right where I am, and just as I am.

Finally I stop, panting for breath. The sun is warm, and my body is hot from exertion. Now I'll slip away into the little bathroom that I have down here, shower away the heat and the muscle pain, then sit and watch the morning commuters. Soon Miranda will bring down some food, and after my meal it's back to sleep for awhile. Then back up to study the books she'll bring for the afternoon, the new textbooks Miranda keeps bringing for me. Schoolbooks are the only new books I ever see, and the novelty almost makes up for the irritation of the assignments they contain. But I'll do them so she'll be pleased, and so she'll take them away when she brings down food again for the evening. If I do really well, an extra treat comes down later that night while I'm watching videos.

Another day. Always the same.