I'm not sure if I should completely give up on an updating schedule, since the last chapters have been so late, but I also probably won't get anything done without them. So maybe in another month I'll get the next chapter out, cross your fingers.

Also for this chapter, well, maybe have a stress ball or something to yell at...you might not need it, but I did. :P

Chapter 20

Slipping past a frayed screen door. A splinter in her finger from the rotting doorframe. A key hidden under a ratty rug.

Searching through rooms piled with old pizza boxes and empty beer cans. Nothing. Clutching her head, trying to keep the memories away.

Tires crunch on the driveway; the slight skid of rubber on ground resonates.

He's home.

Whirling around trying to find someplace to hide, any place. He's too close to risk trying to sneak out the back door – she can hear him getting out of the car now. He slams the door behind him. There's only the sofa or maybe under the bed. But if she goes in that room again…no, she needs as clear a head as she can get. So she dives behind the sofa and thanks Aslan there's more than enough junk under the couch to conceal her. She finds a position she can hold for a while just as a key clicks in the front door. She barely even gets in a calming breath before he's coming through the front door with a bang juxtaposed with lazy footsteps.

Now that he's inside, in the same building, the same room, she hardly dares to breathe. It seems as though her heart is loud enough for him and every neighbor within five miles to hear it, but she doesn't hear him coming toward her hiding place. Still, there are awful moments when she hears him walking closer and it's those times that she truly can't breathe.

"Well done, Bates, well done indeed." His voice, as slippery and disgusting as ever, floats over her way. Is he talking to himself? She supposes he must be; there's no one else here. Aside from her, of course, but he doesn't know that.

He lazes about the disastrous excuse for a kitchen for minutes that feel like hours, muttering to himself the whole time in an entirely too pleased sort of tone. Miranda knows without a doubt now that he does indeed have Leila, but she can't work out where; he never mentions so much as a syllable about her whereabouts.

After far too long of this – he even recalls to himself some of the grotesque details of what he plans to do when he gets back there tonight – Bates clomps along down the hall, presumably to his room. Yes, she remembers how his footsteps echoed in the small corridor that night, and they sound similar now.

He rustles around in there long enough that Miranda starts to get a cramp in her side from curling up so tightly among the trash and junk. She doesn't want to think about what, exactly, he's rustling in there for. She wishes he hadn't declared it so loudly to what he thought was an empty room, because now she has to fight rather hard not to focus on the sobering fact that he planned to do all those things with Leila, with her best friend, with the person she sort of came back from the dead to protect.

If only she had some sort of weapon and a little less fear – she hates him enough now to drive a knife through his throat. It would save Leila, wouldn't it? Wouldn't it?

At those thoughts, Miranda gets a sudden wave of shame, and at once she knows it's Aslan. He wants her to find another way, a way that does not involve spilling blood. He wants her to know that there is another way, more importantly, and that she'll find it soon.

'All I have to do is look,' Miranda thinks to herself, though the thought isn't entirely her own.

'Alright Aslan,' she continues. 'We'll do this your way.'

A cheery chirp wakes her from a light nap. Mira jolts, hoping the map didn't leave an imprint on her cheek as she sprints out to put her materials back. A faun with grey streaks in his curls prances inside just as she puts the last map away, and on instinct Mira jumps behind a shelf and waits for him to turn away before sprinting soundlessly from the library.

'Please Aslan, don't let anyone else be up yet,' she prays. How to explain herself if they are? If someone, mainly Suncloud, finds her not in her room as expected and asks where she's been?

Mira skids to a rather ungraceful stop outside her door and grasps the doorknob with clammy fingers. No sooner has she started to turn the handle than it jerks out of her grip, sending her door flying open.

Mira stumbles and her arms fly out to stop her tumble. And oh Lion, she just barely avoids crashing into Suncloud. The old Mira would have shrieked and perhaps smacked his arm for scaring her. This Mira just stares, frozen and with wide unfriendly eyes. She's learned to keep her silence under most circumstances.

"Lion, Mira!" Suncloud grasps her upper arms, as if afraid she'll still lose her balance and crash forward at any moment. "Where were you?"

Her mouth flaps open and closed, her tongue like sand against her teeth. What to say, how to explain…no she can't tell the truth!

"I'm sorry," Mira finally answers, voice as smooth as molten glass. She's far too startled to lose her cool, and no one can see weakness in her. "I woke and couldn't go back to sleep, so I thought a walk around the castle would do me good."

Mira isn't sure where that calm and logical explanation came from, but she's at once grateful for the past month that trained her how best to react to surprises. She'd never have been able to lie so smoothly before.

Suncloud seems to realize a new facet of her change; he stares at her for a long moments, looking at her like she's suddenly a stranger. She needs to add a kernel of truth to this explanation, make it sound more like her old self.

"The shadows," she murmurs, looking down at her feet. "They wouldn't stop dancing around. I couldn't sleep much."

It works; Suncloud softens and releases her arms. "I'm sorry, Mira," he says, though he probably isn't sure what he's apologizing for any more than she is. "I was worried you'd gone again."

Mira forces a tentative smile and slips past him into the room. "Come now, I'd have left a note."

The attempt at humor falls flat, and for a moment Suncloud stiffens beside her. Mira quickly taints her smile with sadness, and he softens again. The manipulation makes her insides curdle a bit, but it's better than him knowing about the library and the maps. He'd never understand, he'd try to keep her here.

"That isn't funny."

Suncloud's tone only further convinces her to keep her mouth shut. He'll know her true intentions only when she's gotten away. Still, Mira softens.

"I'm sorry," she finds herself whispering, looking a her old friend in the mirror. "But really, I just couldn't sleep. The room doesn't look so friendly at night."

"I can stay with you, if – "

"No," Mira answers, perhaps a little too quickly. "No," she tries again, less harshly this time. "I've no wish to be subjected to your snores."

There; the centaur smiles now, and a little of their old merriment from years ago twinkles back into the present. It dawns on Mira just how much she missed him, even if only for that month.

They manage an only slightly awkward round of small talk before the maid brings breakfast in. Mira thanks her before Suncloud ushers her out, as quickly as before. She convinces him to eat with her, and they sit on the rug at the foot of the bed to remember their old times in the Shuddering Woods a little better.

"Could we go to the beach?" Mira asks through a mouthful of eggs. She's vaguely heard waves crashing outside, and the wild impulse seems right to suggest.

The suggestion wins her a smile. Suncloud looks immeasurably pleased at the proposition and agrees to go with her within the hour. He even brushes off his morning archery, something she's sure to tease him about. Let him think she's only half so damaged and heartsick as she is. Besides, it'll be good for him – she sees the telltale lines around his eyes that speak of his long held concern.

"You're sure I'm not getting you in trouble?" Mira knows well he doesn't care even if she is, but it's a piece of her old playfulness.

"Don't be silly, Mira. Why ever would I care about that?" Suncloud replies with something close to ease. The worry engrained in his face lightens a touch more and Mira swells with pride.

"I should thank you for that nickname, you know." Suncloud tilts his head toward her, and Mira has to squint against the morning sun to meet his eyes. "Feels like a fresh start. And it's so much easier to say." She tacks on that last bit with a grin that very nearly reaches her eyes and things almost feel as they should.

Suncloud shrugs, but his smile is genuine. "It suited you. But I'm glad you approve."

Brief silence stretches between them, but it's not so burdened as usual. They could stride along the shore for hours like this, and Mira thinks neither of them would mind. She wouldn't, at least.

"You should come to the archery range soon. The fresh air may do you good." Suncloud breaks the silence with relative ease, but his words are almost too soft to hear over the waves.

Mira takes a deep breath of the salty air and renews her smile. "I'd like that. Though I'm afraid I wasn't ever much good with it."

A gull shrieks overhead just as Suncloud opens his mouth to answer. They smile up at the interrupter before he continues. "I am a patient teacher."

"And so you are." Mira turns her face into the sea breeze and remembers how they first met. "You told me endless stories of Narnia, remember?"

"How could I forget? And you were still convinced all of this was a dream!" Suncloud laughs his first real laugh since she's gotten back. It's small, rumbling from someplace deep in his chest, but Mira feels a swell of pride. She can still be of some use to the people she cares about.

"Can you blame me?" Mira answers with a new lightness in her step that the thrill of memory brings. "I woke in the strangest place with talking animals for company! What would you have thought in my place?"

Suncloud shakes his head, a smile left over from his laugh still lingering on his lips. "Coming from a world without magic, I suppose the same. At least you've worked it out now."

"Yes," Mira says. "I have."

And just like that the silence is loaded again. Perhaps Suncloud doesn't sense it, but Mira does. She can practically feel the double meaning of her words pressing a wall between them, hiding her behind some impenetrable defense. She's learned to be that way, but for the first time in months she wishes it wasn't so.

All at once, Mira realizes she doesn't want to leave. Doesn't want to do that to Suncloud, to Caspian, again. Doesn't want to miss them again, doesn't want to have to be alone again. For a foolish, fleeting moment, she believes she could do it – just stay here at Cair Paravel and wait for Caspian and say hello. Someday, she'd tell them enough to quell the curiosity, and they'd go on as close as ever.

But it's just that – a fool's moment. A thing of no substance. Mira knows well she can't stay here. The only way past all of this mess is to work it out on her own. She won't make them watch that awful process. She won't let them.

"Mira?"

Suncloud is noticing the change now; he looks down at her like he can feel the secrets she's keeping. Something in her stomach twists.

Mira slips into a smile. "Sorry," she says. "Lost in thought. Easy to do by a sea shore."

Suncloud accepts this with little trouble – the lilt at the end of her voice must've done the trick. But the deception keeps her from meeting his gaze directly.

"Were there shores like this, in your world?" Suncloud asks, innocently enough. But oh, Mira knows him, knows what he's eventually getting at. Her world. Where it all happened. It's a clever segue, she has to admit. She plays along anyway.

"Lots. I lived near a coastal area with my family. Every summer we'd rent a house right on the beach for at least a week." To Mira's surprise, she actually recalls a particularly lovely summer there with ease. She can almost see the rustic wooden walls, the hammock underneath the porch where she'd read the latest book her mother had recommended. She used to pick up seashells and make necklaces for Leila for those rare years her friend couldn't make it.

Leila.

The wistful smile of childhood memories falls off Mira's face quicker than she can catch it. She's too late, and now Suncloud's glancing over and watching the whole thing. He waits, cautiously expectant. Does he think they'll come spilling out so easily, her secrets?

"It was busier than this, lots of houses and so many people on the beach. But still, nice." Mira is determined to get back on track; Suncloud won't pry it from her with his silent stares and his vaguely hopeful eyes. These are her secrets, her agonies, and she'll be damned if she lets him take them from her. She tells a memory of picking up the seashells. Let Suncloud see she won't be fooled, won't be pulled into divulging her tales.

This. This is precisely why she has to go. How can she work through it all in the midst of all this concern and overbearing attempts at help? Mira doesn't particularly care that Suncloud means well, that he only wants the best for her. She doesn't want to share; that should be enough.

"Do you miss it? I know you just went back, but…" Suncloud isn't taking the hint, apparently. It's a gentle probe, subtle enough that months ago she might not have noticed it. But oh, she notices now.

Mira shrugs and buries her turbulent thoughts behind her well-practiced façade. "It had its virtues, but I think I like Narnia better. Besides, it's not like I can go back. Dead, remember?"

Suncloud winces, the memory of her disappearance still too fresh. Perhaps Mira shouldn't have brought that up…but what else to do? He'd worm the truth from her, she had to stop him. Even now, Mira is still protecting herself.

Then an idea seems to descend on the centaur – he straightens just a bit and fixes his gaze straight ahead. His words, when they come, aren't what she was expecting.

"That's what happened, isn't it?"

Mira frowns. He thinks…what?

"You died, didn't you?" Suncloud continues. "That didn't happen before, did it?"

Mira is moments away from shouting curses and marching away from Cair Paravel for good, moments away from telling him he's oh so wrong and how dare he try to guess what awful things happened in her time away. He may be her friend, but this isn't the sort of friendship she wants right now. She opens her mouth to tell him so, her eyebrows pinched almost to touching, but before the ugly words can tumble out Mira has an idea of her own.

Let him think that. Let him think that's her big secret so he won't press her any further. If he thinks he's solved the mystery, he might finally leave it lie.

So Mira makes her shoulder slump and her head hang in the closest thing to confirmation she can give him. "Nicely done, Sherlock," she bites out with a strange mixture of put-on sadness and genuine anger. "You've unraveled the mystery."

The sand suddenly feels coarse and hostile against the soles of her feet. Mira doesn't want to listen to the crashing of waves or the screeching of gulls any longer.

"We should get back," she says, before Suncloud can reply. "I think some reading would do me good."

Suncloud stutters something about walking her back and he's sorry for whatever happened, but Mira doesn't want to listen to him right now. Maybe later, in the darkest parts of the night when she's in the library poring over maps, she'll think back on this and forgive him with the ease of practiced friendship. But that moment is many hours away, and all she really wants is to be alone.

"Would you like company for dinner?" the now contrite centaur asks when they stand in front of her door with servants bustling by around them.

"Please," Mira finds herself saying. "I'd like that very much."

Suncloud opens the heavy wooden door and ushers her inside with one final apology. He leaves her be then, just as she's been wishing for. No sooner does the door rumble shut than Mira scrambles back under the bed, retrieving the fire poker on her way.

It's an awkward dinner that night. Suncloud tries to break the obvious ice, and so does Mira after a little while. She knows she'll be leaving soon, and not knowing when she'll see her friend again brings compassion from behind the anger. But no matter both their efforts, their talk on the beach looms thick and heavy in the air. At length, Suncloud breaks.

"Mira, I can't stand it anymore. I'm sorry for this morning, truly. I shouldn't have pried." Suncloud shifts in his seat but he isn't afraid to meet her eyes. He really is sorry, and seeing the sincerity in his familiar brown eyes softens Mira.

"You're right, you shouldn't've." Mira says. "But it's all right."

Suncloud's eyes widen just a bit, the relief palpable alongside the surprise.

"I know you'd never mean anything but the best." The words meant to comfort her friend end up comforting Mira too. She was short this morning, shorter than she should've been. Though her mind is now more made up than ever about the necessity of leaving, it stings now to think of leaving Suncloud again. Deep down, she knows she can always trust him.

Mira spends the next few weeks training. She passes off the archery as a pastime and the books as a way to keep busy, the long talks with the healers as mere curiosity. But at night when she studies the maps, it's all business. Mira works out the best way out of Cair Paravel without being noticed, the quickest route southward after that. She chooses a large mountain named Stormness Head as her destination. On the border between Narnia and Archenland, it should be relatively safe, but remote enough that she won't have to worry about other people much. Stormness Head is perfect, as long as she stays away from Stormness Gap. She's been carefully cataloging anything related to living in the mountains: food to find, medicines, common illnesses, weather to plan for, clothing to bring, and anything else she can think of. Just because she's going into self-imposed exile doesn't mean she won't take care of herself.

Her nights get longer as she nears the final stages of her preparations to leave. She's been stockpiling food from the meals she doesn't take with Suncloud, anything that'll keep. It should keep her fed for a few days as she makes her way out of reach. The maps are practically burned into her skull by now, so permanently Mira couldn't forget them even if she wanted to. She dreams about the maps, sometimes. The other things in her sleeping world, she won't think about. At least, not until she's safely at Stormness Head and well established with her new life. Living off the land still sounds daunting, but not nearly so much as staying here does.

Then one day, Mira runs out of time.

"King Caspian has reached Galma," Suncloud tells her one sunny afternoon during lunch. "We expect his return very soon."

"Oh." Mira can't muster up any more words than that, but Suncloud seems to understand. He's really been wonderful these weeks, all kindness and understanding. He hasn't asked about her time away since that morning on the beach.

"He'll understand, Mira." Suncloud seems entirely certain of this, but Mira is not. How can she face him again?

During her weeks of training, Mira had put Caspian from her mind and refused to think about him. Now, she can't avoid him. She remembers well how gentle and kind he was with her during her first time in Narnia. He grew into the person she felt safest with. But he was so worried there at the end, and just the little Suncloud's told her indicates he's not about to let her off the hook so easily as her centaur friend has done.

Lunch ends in silence, and Mira goes to her favorite spot under the bed when Suncloud leaves her. The fire poker waits for her like an old friend. There, curled up on the floor with the occasional dust-bunny for company, Mira realizes what's truly bothering her.

She's afraid of him. She's afraid of Caspian.

She can't pinpoint why. Perhaps it's fear of disappointing him, perhaps it's fear that he's angry with her. Or perhaps she's afraid he wants too much from her, wants more than she can give. Mira can't evade both Caspian and Suncloud – evading the latter was difficult enough. Suncloud still hopes she'll tell him something; she can see it in the flickering hope when he thinks she isn't watching. But she's always watching now.

For a fleeting moment, Mira gets the wild idea that she can hide under the bed forever, just pretend she doesn't exist. It'd be cozy, and she wouldn't mind the loneliness. It's just safer that way.

But the moment passes as quickly as it came, and she's left on the chilly floor with more apprehension than ever. Of course she knew she'd have to leave soon, but so soon? A very soon return means she has days only, perhaps less, before Caspian is back. She's got to leave tonight, so she has a head start. Mira isn't sure, but her heart tells her Caspian will come after her if he can. She doesn't want to be found, so she can't wait even another day.

Mira spends her precious hours until dinner packing. She'd snagged a used flour sack from the kitchens a week ago, and now she piles in everything she's been collecting over the weeks: food that won't spoil, the book on botany a healer named Gavin gifted to her, the bow and arrows Suncloud gave her, extra clothes, and a white-grey cloak she's been working on this whole time. Mira doesn't think life on Stormness Head will bring her close to many people, but the Pass is still nearby enough stragglers might come. Her only plan right now is hiding, and the cloak for scaring anyone who ventures too close away. The last thing she packs away is parchment, a quill, and enough ink to last her a good year. Suncloud was a little suspicious as to how she kept using up inkwells so quickly, but it was worth it to have something to keep her sane in her solitude.

Dinner comes, and she takes it alone in her room, eating only the things that won't keep. The rolls go into her sack, along with the roast chestnuts and the fruit that was dessert. With all of her stockpiling, she should be fed long enough to get to Stormness Head, especially if she gathers along the way.

The last thing to do is leave notes. It's very similar to before, and Mira does wish it didn't have to be like this. But what else can she do? She can't face Caspian, and she can't sort it all out here. She wishes she could say a proper goodbye to Suncloud at the very least, because even if he's pried he's still one of her closest friends and she doesn't want to do this to him again. But she's sure he would stop her, and has no reason to think otherwise. She doesn't have a choice.

So while the rest of the castle falls asleep, Mira stays up and writes to Caspian and Suncloud both.

Suncloud,

I'm so sorry to do this to you again. I did want to say goodbye to you properly, but I'm terrified you'd stop me from this. Know that if I could have, I'd never just disappear with only a note again.

I can't stay here. I can't wait for Caspian even, perhaps because I think he'd try and worm the truth out of me even more than you did. You didn't do it much at all really, but it was enough. I think I'd have told you if I could, but I honestly can't put it into words. I dream about it, but I can't think about it. Words just don't work.

Thank you for everything you've done, Suncloud. I have a horrid sense of gratitude, you must think so, but you really did make these past few weeks bearable. I don't know what I would have done without you. Please don't blame yourself, as I know you've been prone to do that.

I wish I could tell you where I'm going. But I know you'd follow me, and I know that Caspian would come right along with you. I'm leaving because I don't want to be found, because what happened in my world needs sorting out. I can't do that here, I have to do it alone. I'm so sorry, but if there were another way for me to figure out how to deal with this, believe me I'd have done it.

I may come back someday, but I have no way of knowing when. Don't wait for me; in fact, forget me if you must. If I see you again I'll apologize for all this properly.

Goodbye, Suncloud.

Mira

The letter to Caspian takes twice as long. Mira doesn't know what to say, and what if she says too much and he figures it out? She can't have multiple drafts either, because he'd see them in the waste bin and see what she didn't want him to. And the guilt that came when writing to Suncloud only builds, until she's sniffling and blinking away tears for fear of messing up the page. By the time she actually gets something down, it's well past midnight and she'll be hard pressed to get any decent distance before sunup.

Caspian,

I know Suncloud will have told you that I came back, but I wanted you to read it from my own hand. I'm sorry you thought me dead; I never intended that. Time passes differently here, and four years for you was mere months for me. I'm sorry, but now I have to leave again.

I know you must be angry, and hurt. I know you probably think the worst of me for leaving with nothing left but a note again, but Caspian, you'd stop me if I waited for you. Suncloud too, that's the only reason I'm not saying my goodbyes properly.

I don't know how long I'll be away. I can't tell you where, because you'd find me, and I can't tell you why, because I've never even thought the words. I don't know how to put any of it into speech. That's why I have to go away, because I have to work it out. Alone. I'm sorry, but it's the best thing, it really is.

Please don't try to find me. I may come back one day, but don't wait for me. I think I'll be gone years again, and I need this. I wouldn't do this if I could manage otherwise. Please believe me.

I do wish I'd been able to see you, just once before I go. I knew when we first got started talking that you'd be a great king, and I know I wasn't wrong. I'd have liked to see the king you've become. Perhaps someday I will, but I can't promise anything without fear it might be a lie.

Goodbye, Caspian.

Mira

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