Chapter Thirteen

Done

Done: adj.; Having been carried out or accomplished; finished; completed, or used up.

"Smiley Miley?"

"Aha?"

"I was thinking."

"You were thinking?"

"That is possible, actually. I'm not just a dumb blonde."

"Sorry."

"Much better."

"So what?"

"What?"

"You were thinking?"

"Oh yeah. I was."

"What about?"

T

H

E

N

O

T

L

E

G

A slight pause, worried to bring this up, worried to actually say it, "I was thinking about the notleg."

A knowing smile, seeming not to mind at all, still very happy, still very much a Smiley Miley, "Wow. I haven't thought about the notleg for a very long time."

"Well, it's been a few weeks."

Some good few weeks, mind you.

Brown-haired girl shrugging, still seeming happy, "I have the first check-up soon. Probably not a problem. I've been doing alright. I have been, haven't I?"

Nodding, agreeing, thinking that she had been doing better than anyone else, "You've been doing awesome, Miles. You've been happier lately. You haven't had any pains in the leg that isn't there?"

Phantom pains?

Nah.

Shortly, "Nope."

About to say something.

Continuing though, "I'm done."

Lilly arched an eyebrow, rested a hand on a thigh (whose?), wiped a piece of hair away, said, questioned, "Done?"

Shrugging, "I'm over that. I don't wanna think about it all the time. I just wanna live my life. It won't change – ever."

That's right, Smiley Miley. You have a notleg. It's artificial, it's not really there. But it's not icky, and it won't change, ever. You have it. Deal with it. Be happy. Be with me. Be my girlfriend.

Continuing again, mouth moving up and down, talktalktalking, "So I figure… what's the point? I might as well live my life. Give this a shot, give us a shot, Lilly. And – and I might not have Hannah any longer, but I have Miley and she's just as good, isn't she?"

Leaning in closer, lips barely hovering above hers, almost touching, only almost, "Miley?"

Hoarse, "Yes?"

"She's better."

--

It was now. Or never. Nah, just now.

It was right now and Lilly could feel her fingers itch as she sat there in one of those chairs, watching that stage, knowing that Miley would soon be out there, singing. Because she had tried to overcome it. She had been singing, been playing, been more Miley. She had not only tried to overcome it, she had done it.

So it was now.

The room full? Check.

Robbie Ray, Jackson, Oliver there? Check.

Other contestants pretty much suckish? CHECK.

Lillian Truscott there? Che-che-check. There.

Miley ready behind that stage, guitar in hand, lyrics in mind, all dressed up in love?

Lilly couldn't tell, but she was pretty sure that the correct answer to that question would be check as well.

Amber had already done her horrible deed and Lilly really wanted to listen to some good music – please Smiley Miley, just get on stage, won't you? Lilly had no idea what her girlfriend would be singing, but she knew she could not wait to see if she would be able to. She hopefully would not freeze up on stage.

And so then Mr. Corelli entered in his green-slice-brown sweater vest, "Thank you Sarah for that… amazing choir song." He clapped politely, and so did the audience (amazing? Not so much. Could Sarah sing? Nah, not really.), "The next person on stage is Miley Stewart singing and playing a creation of her own."

Lilly pulled herself up in her seat and glanced quickly to the side. Across the isle. There was Ms. Scribo. And she gave Lilly a warm smile. She was Bunburying away.

Oh, and so then Miley came on stage. She looked beautiful and Lilly held her breath. Adjusting the microphone slightly, Miley took her seat, opened her mouth slightly, said, beautifully, "Howdi everyone!"

Laughter rolling across the roof.

She continued, amazingly, "A lot of you might know that I've had some pretty horrible things happen to me these past few months and it has been hard to get back on track. I truly feel though, that it has made me stronger, and I could not have done this without Lilly, who… stood by my side and never gave up. She signed me up for this and made me realize that I could do it."

In her seat Lilly was blushing. Red streaming through her body to her face, feeling dizzy, feeling loved. And special. And Miley was talking to her, about her, in front of all these people and it was incredible and she did not want this moment to end.

"She fixed me and I love her for it. She called me a lingerer, and I'm happy she did. That's why I wrote this song for her."

--

The show was over.

It was good.

And Lilly was nervously tripping on each foot, hovering right outside the entrance to the school, watching through the dirty windows, Miley, Robbie, Jackson, smiling as they talked and chatted with people. She did not want to be in there with them, she needed air, needed space, and she would be with them later when they all went back to Miley's.

Someone cleared their throat behind her, and Lilly turned her head to the side, covering her arms – it was chilly. It was…

"…Rico?"

He gave her a charming smile and a blink, "Toots, it was quite the show Miley put on in there."

Raising an eyebrow, slipping to the ball of her heel, "Well Miley can sing. Surprise, surprise."

Suspicious, squeezing his eyes together, throwing his hair back; so little, so mean and oh so Rico, "She can really sing. That's what I've said before, isn't it?" he guffawed – like really, "I've told you so before, Blondie. She reminds me of Hannah Montana."

Sighing. She readjusted her hat a little and looked down at him, "She does?" pause, "And why do you say that?"

Rico crossed his arms. He stared right back up at her, a match for her, definitely, "You know why I say that. Because her voice is exactly like Hannah Montana's. There's something fishy about that, and I still want to find out what it is."

Placing a hand on his shoulder, saying, "Rico? There's nothing fishy about that. She's from Tennessee, alright? They talk like that."

He took a step back, out of reached, terrified of the contact, "Alright… but I still don't like it."

She turned away from him, heard his footsteps leave, and stared through the window again. Miley turned to her for a second, their eyes met, she was talking to one of the music teachers with her father, but she looked bored. A smile, then she turned away from the window, almost jumped out of her pants – Ms. Scribo was there.

"I saw it from the first time I laid eyes upon her."

Startled, confused, "Eh… what?"

Ms. Scribo took a wheeze at her cigarette and started at Lilly through her thick lashes covered in black, "Miley." She blew out and held out her cigarette for Lilly, "I saw the resemblance immediately. I have a – a little sister who absolutely adores Hannah Montana. Her voice, her… her face. Everything. It just screamed out Hannah to me." She paused and moved her hand slightly, "You gonna take a wheeze or what?"

Lilly bent down and gently sucked in; needing to control her nervousness and her emotions and the fact that Miley's cover hadn't really been that great of a cover, and that she was now smoking on her teacher's cigarette even if she didn't smoke, "Thanks-" she coughed slightly, "-I don't know what to say."

Shrugging, dark hair blowing softly in the wind, "You don't have to say anything."

Smiling, "You not gonna say anything?"

She threw her cigarette to the ground, placed the front of her black stiletto on it and moved her leg, "'Course not."

There was a silence and Lilly turned to look through the window again; Miley was still talking to that teacher, showing off her guitar. Lilly felt a hand on her shoulder, turned back around again, smiled up at Ms. Scribo.

The teacher said, taking out another cigarette and her lighter, "She seems so happy now. Much better."

It was nice to have this conversation with someone; nice to feel like she could say anything and it wouldn't be a problem; that she could open up to this person and it wouldn't matter what she said, "I've… I've really tried to fix her."

"You've done a great job then, though it seemed rather Quixotic of you. She wasn't good at all."

Lilly chuckled. Don Quixote? Funny much. Oh yeah, "It did seem like an impossible task."

"But you did it."

"I did do it, didn't I?"

She leaned in closer, not appropriate for a student and a teacher, but since the teacher didn't care, the Lilly didn't either, "So are you two going out now? Did you talk about it all?"

Feeling like she was very close, like almost too close, but not saying anything because she didn't want to, "She's my girlfriend."

She smiled, leaned back, "Congratulations, Ms. Truscott."

"Thank you, Ms. Scribo."

The teacher handed her the cigarette, "Take this, and I will see you on Monday."

Her heels clicked walking away. Lilly couldn't help but watch, heaving on the cigarette – now. The door opened on her left and she greeted Miley with a smile.

Stopping, short hair stiff in the wind, "Smoking?"

Throwing it to the ground, "Don't ask."

"Okay."

--

(Kiss

"Hey Miley?"

Kiss

"Yeah?"

"I'm so glad you're not broken anymore."

Kiss

"So am I."

"I fixed you."

"You unbroke me."

Kiss kiss kiss kiss)

--

A starrier evening. The night was clearer, but not colder at all. Lilly was wearing her grey and black check-patterned bowler, a jeans skirt and a simple t-shirt. She knew Miley would love to see her in a skirt for their date. Especially because. Because Miley couldn't wear a skirt herself anymore.

She had borrowed Oliver's car (that didn't have a name, which totally didn't make any sense to Lilly). She was going to take Miley out for dinner, perhaps a movie and they would end up at the beach.

She knocked on the door to the expensive Malibu beach house. Her heart was beating. Faster.

Robbie Ray opened the door, "Hiya, Lilly, here to pick up Miley?"

"Certainly am, Mr S.!"

"Come on inside. She's still in her room, getting ready."

Lilly stepped inside, felt her heart beat faster-er, and moved up the stairs, as one two three, knocked on Miley's door, couldn't wait to see her again; perfectly, "Girlfriend?"

Door opening, Miley through the crack, "Hi."

Pushing the door open, entering the familiar bedroom; finding Miley only in her underwear, dresses thrown across floor and chair. The blonde took a seat on the bed, "Wow, so yeah. Will you go out like that?"

She let her eyes linger at the valley between her breast, the curve of her hip, the lace of her underwear.

Miley reached for two dresses, "You wish, but I just can't choose."

Quickly deciding, quickly just saying something, "The red one."

Threw the black to the floor, the red above her head. Turned to the mirror, "The red one, I agree."

Moving to the door; butterflies in her stomach, geese bumping across her skin; outside, in the hall, stopping – Miley? Turning back inside, Miley still in front of mirror, "Eh… Lingerer?"

Turning around, teasy smile across her face, questioning, happy, oh so happy, "Who are you calling a Lingerer?"

Pausing, loving the way they were and they way they are; loving all about the moment, and the persons they had both turned out to be, loving exactly where this was going, "You… Miley, I'm calling you a Lingerer."

There was a moment.

And it was almost perfect.

"And thank you… for that, Lilly."

They were almost perfect.

Softly, "…anytime. Miley, anytime."

Their eyes locked, and for the first time in a while, Lilly really felt that it was all going to be okay.

So there you have it. Finally, after a sort of delay (which I'm sincerely sorry about, btw), I have given you this chapter ;b I really hope you've enjoyed reading this chapter as well as the entire story. I've truly enjoyed writing it and your support has been the most important thing. I'm very happy that even though this is sort of different, so many still seem to enjoy it.

A special shout out to Skye Montana because she pointed out something very important in her last review; something I knew I had neglected, but only decided to incorporate in this chapter because she mentioned it as well – that really did the trick, and it gave this chapter something extra, so thank you so much for that.

And again, thank you all! I've loved reading every and each review from you guys, you've been the greatest readers ever.

Disclaimer; I don't own Hannah Montana, however, this entire storyline and the ideas for this piece of fiction are all mine and may not be used without my permission.