Chapter 16: Meanwhile

Miranda slipped off her shoes and coat at the door as her mother called out from elsewhere in the house. "It's just me!" the courier assured, walking into the living room and finding her mother sitting upon the couch flipping through an old photo album.

"Hello, dear," Vivian greeted her surprised looking daughter, "Laurna not need you for that long?"

Miranda shrugged as she came in and sat down on the couch next to her mother. "She just needed me to have Wraith spin some illusions to make the place look creepy," she explained with a shrug, "And she needed me to make sure Misty didn't get lost. Having her walk into one of the lab areas would have completely ruined the effect."

Vivian nodded sagely, turning the page and tapping an old black and white picture. "There," the woman said quietly, "that's the place I grew up in."

Miranda glanced down at the old, rundown five storied building and wrinkled her nose in disgust. Even without colour, the building looked awful. The shabby, falling apart looking brickwork of the exterior made it seem as though the entire structure could collapse at any moment. The fire escape on the side of the building looked as though it had actually caught fire, and was leaning dangerously to the right, having come loose from most of its supports. And the small, grimy looking windows that looked in on every apartment seemed as though they'd offer little light.

"It looks horrible," Miranda said honestly.

"It was," her mother replied with a nod, setting the album down on the coffee table, "But it's where we moved after my father lost his job."

Miranda looked up at her mother so suddenly her glasses fell off and landed in Vivian's lap. "You- I-" she stammered.

Vivian smiled sadly. "I know, dear," she explained, "I don't like to speak of them. But now, now that we have a little time alone, and I see that you're getting your life on track, and Frank's finally willing to commit to my sister... Perhaps. Just maybe it's time to dispel a few old ghosts."

Miranda nodded, pushing down the selfish thoughts of Misty that the word ghosts invoked.

Vivian sighed, suddenly regretting that Bob had gone off on an errand and that she'd not brewed herself a fresh pot of tea. "I know that I seldom speak of him, Miranda," she said in a careful tone, not meeting her daughter's intent gaze, but instead looking across the room to the glass ornaments that sat upon the overly large black and white TV the family seldom used, "But I must tell you. Your father..." she paused, catching her breath and sensing the tension her daughter felt, "He was a kinda and gentle man. He abhorred violence, for the most part, and he taught me what love really was."

Vivian turned to meet Miranda's gaze. The courier had yet to retrieve her glasses, and her stormy gray eyes seemed either on the verge of sadness of anger. "Nicholas," Vivian continued, reining in her emotions as she always did, despite her daughter's sadness, "He... He more than made up for my parents. I think it was intentional..."

"You almost never speak of them, mother," came Miranda's whisper quiet reply, somehow unable to raise her voice so that even the ticking of the clock in the kitchen seemed loud by comparison.

"I know," her mother said distantly, thinking for a moment.

"And I know you've said that they were... Unpleasant people."

Vivian wasn't sure whether to laugh or to cry. Instead she gazed into her daughter's eyes intently for a moment. "I don't want to burden you with the details," she said carefully, "but I can give you a small example of what they were like."

Miranda raised a suspicious eyebrow and nodded, prepared for the worst.

Vivian's right fist shot out from around her, hitting Miranda's arm with surprising alacrity. And though she'd pulled her punch, Vivian caught her daughter's wince, sending a surge of guilt through her.

"They'd do that from time to time," she explained, trying to keep her voice level, her expression blank, "And they'd say... Oh, Miri... They'd say 'That was for nothing, now try something... '"

Miranda's eyes widened, the feeling of numbness she felt at the thought of such people having control over her mother and aunt's lives being pushed aside by a sudden feeling that mixed deep sadness and amazement.

"I- I'm sorry, dearest," said Vivian so quietly she wasn't sure she'd said it as tears fell from her eyes and Miranda felt paralyzed, uncertain of what do, having never seen tears in the woman's eyes before, "I shouldn't have done that..."

"Shh," whispered Miranda, forcing her arms to move at last and putting them around her mother sympathetically, "It's alright."

"NO!" Vivian cried, clinging so desperately to Miranda, that the courier felt more helpless than she'd ever felt in her life as the woman she'd always thought of as stronger than stone, crumbled before her, "No, it's not alright, Miri... And that's why I never raised my hand against you as a child. Why I never stopped you from making a lot of mistakes I should have. Why I've never just arbitrarily pulled you off the Courier Crew and forced you to stay here..."

"Look, if you're trying to make me call you a bad mother, it's not going to happen," said Miranda sternly, finding it odd to have to comfort the woman the same way she herself had been comforted. Miranda also wondered at the fact that her eyes felt suddenly very dry, as though all of her tears had gone to her mother. 'I suppose one of us has to be strong, ' she mused inwardly, 'To be there for the other.'

Vivian nodded, not caring at that moment who walked in on them at that moment. "Your- Your father," she went on, drying her eyes with her fingers and catching her breath and leaned against her daughter for support, "He didn't just take us away from all that... He saved us. Because if he hadn't have driven us out of town that last night, I would have finished what Viper started."

"He killed my step-grandfather, didn't he?" Miranda said distantly, forcing the thoughts from her mind as things began pieces themselves together, "To help Aunt Laurna."