Post MoM AU, general post

[use_everything]

And then one day, it was over.

The memory of how it happened was hazy. Perhaps it was as simple as being ported out, perhaps there was a great experiment, bringing together physicists, chemists, alchemists and scientists to get something WORKING. But like the memories of that time, that other dimension, singular events come and go, like a dream, or an age past.

From the very start, however, there were changes.

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[use_everything]

[It had been years since their lives had changed. Almost a decade of it, so much so that it had permeated, become normal and just another facet of a complicated lifestyle. After years had passed so ... well. Quietly, at least in ONE single, sole aspect of Miles' life, Aral had become to optimistically hope - and then assume - that Miles and Gregor wouldn't be showing any signs until the ages that they had first found that strange alternate dimension... It left a nice, respectable 20s for either Miles or Gregor, easily ages that they could understand and deal with what was happening.

As the groundcar pulled into the Imperial Residence (things were better with Piotr, the old man had offered to ... forget, in his own backwards way, that he'd thrown his son out, stripped his revenue and all but his name. It wasn't perfect, it wasn't even to where it could be, but better. Aral decided for now that the Residence would be fine, much to Simon's great relief.) his mind had already turned to the needs of the small group of decorated men waiting by the entrance, flimies and clipboards at hand.

The words "worn out" may drift by Miles on their way to Cordelia (a spark of something- concern, fondness among the murmurs, warm then weary) before Aral straightens his uniform, puts on a stony face and pushes the car door out, striding with intent and purpose.

He might hear Cordelia sigh.. but certainly feels Bothari's enormous, gentle hands gather him up from the back of the groundcar. That axlike face watching his, dark eyes looking for injury or fever.]

[dendarii]

[ Miles wriggles a bit in Bothari's grip, as he alway does, if not with quite as much enthusiasm as usual. "Worn out" is a good descriptor for him. The excitement of the trip, the horses ... and the slowly building surge of telepathic noise in the back of his head are all contributing to a Miles who is well and truly tired. But no injury. Or fever, or lingering signs of anaphylactic shock, or anything else physical. It looks for all the world like one of Miles' usual downswings.

Except, perhaps, for the fact that Miles is quietly transmitting his incipient misery on a frequency that few people can hear right now. Light, wavery, and uncertain.

He wriggles again, more demanding this time. He wants to go back to his room and sleep. Maybe find Gregor... ]

I'm okay. I just rode a whole lot, that's all. And real horses, not ponies.

[ A spark of enthusiasm despite everything. ]

[use_everything]

[The wriggling, as usual, never gets far. He's hefted up with exquisite delicacy and a certain stubborn refusal to yield that marked this particular caretaker. Of the twin shadows of Miles' life, neither were easier, they just had different ways of being protective.

Aral is swallowed up by the dregs of the day, Cordelia vanished as well, presumably to pull together the staff, make sure everyone was fed, and pull back into her own, quieter agendas.

Bothari, on the other hand, was a walking vacuum. Silence followed him, servants gave brief looks at him and scurried on, and conversation dried around them in advance of those heavy, distinct bootsteps lest a stray comment about the Regent's son make their way to hostile ears. Even in this brooding quiet, there was still the noise rattling in Miles' ears.

Bothari's concern was not so easily waved off, though the prickle of a foreign thought didn't, at first, register in that upset mind.]

You overdid it.

[dendarii]

[ It should be quiet. Miles can see that no one is talking around him, just like no one had said mutant out loud during their brief excursion to a local village in the Dendarii countryside. He still twitches his head as one of their servants, a district native, passes by. He's so tired. It's so loud ...

He sags against Bothari after a moment, having given up even on wriggling. Not even insisting (as he normally would) for Bothari to put him down and let him walk. ]

'cause it was fun. And Da was there for three whole days. And we went all over the mountains with a picnic and everything. Can't be tired when you've got all that.

[use_everything]

[The lack of fight, even exhausted, was concerning. The little tics of tension and strain obvious and blaring signals of ... something. Bothari wasn't sure what.

After eight years, he was good with the details. Better with Miles, in some ways, than he was with his own daughter. For a moment an intense image, Elena from an entirely different vantage point than Miles is used to. She is a light. Brilliant and luminescent. When she's in the room, the rest of the room is dark, useless, ancillary. They eat in silence, neither talking. A want to say something, to ask something, but a fear he'll break her by being too close.

It's over.

All Bothari answers with is a doubtful snort.]

[dendarii]

[ Miles gaps faintly at that. On the plus side, the immediacy of the image drowns out the rest of his nascent links strongly enough to silence them for a little while. But it's not exactly a happy image, is it? The brightness of Elena is enough to hurt, and the longing aches too much for him to bear properly. He's a bit shaken by the image overall.

Where did that come from? Did he think of that himself? It felt like the rest of the noise, just clearer ... Maybe Bothari said something and he didn't realize. ]

I like Elena. [ He says softly. ] And she's strong. I don't think you can break her at all.

[use_everything]

[Bothari's head swings to look down at Miles fully, rather than little glances he'd taken before, measuring the young child's willingness to move or feign exhaustion. The stare is troubled, alarmed.. not an expression he'd shown his young ward yet.]

Why do you say that?

[dendarii]

[ If Bothari is alarmed - and looks alarmed - that's a bad sign. Miles quails a bit at the sight of it. What's really going on here? ]

Because - you said that, right? About Elena. You have trouble talking to her.

[use_everything]

[There's a look adults get when they know something a kid doesn't. It's a narrow thing, and cast between two if another happens to be in the room. Miles has likely suffered a thousand between his parents. Between his Armsmen. Between his teachers.

Bothari is a very, very new source of it. The area between his narrow set eyes creased.]

I didn't. [He opened the door to Miles' room carefully, swinging it wide, scanning the corners, windows and shadows for intruders, strangers and family alike, before setting him on the bed.

That look settled back on Miles.]

[dendarii]

[ Miles settles himself in his usual nest of pillows without resistance. But that doesn't mean he's stopped watching Bothari, or fearing the newness of that reaction. Seeing it on his parents is one thing. Hell, seeing it on Tex is one thing. Bothari ... never him. What the hell is going on here? ]

You know something though.

[ His voice quavers slightly. ]

[use_everything]

My lord. [Bothari looked to the chair and then back to Miles, asking oddly enough, for permission, instead of looming like a great mountain above him.]

[dendarii]

[ Bothari asking permission. Bothari looking worried. What is he going to say then? Is Miles a mutant after all? Is that why his head feels full to bursting.

He just nods his agreement to that, unable to say anything out loud without potentially bursting into tears. He stubbornly holds them back even now. ]

[use_everything]

[He settles, the mountain making himself into a molehill and considered Miles. He knew. His Lady had entrusted Miles to him. And one day, out of nowhere, shortly after Miles was born, they gave him a secret. Miles was his. His frustration, his headache, his greater task. It's not redemption. There's no redemption.

But there is this.

Miles was nearly weeping. It was a rare sight, never put on. It wasn't in the child's formidable armory of manipulation and games. Water was honest with this one.

His hands clenched and released, jaw set. He was never strong with words, wasn't any bloody Vor. So he picked them, careful, brushing gold out of dirt.]

It's loud, right?

[dendarii]

[ Miles has tried out nearly every other tool at his disposal, up to and including breaking his delicate finger bones in Bothari's grip. But not tears. Part of that is Piotr's influence; part of that is Miles' sheer stubbornness and refusal to let others see him weak over his injuries. Pain is inevitable. Showing it is not.

He gulps in deep breaths until he thinks he can speak without crying. It's still close, though, and he nods jerkily before anything comes out. ]

It was - it was the worst in the village. I could hear them whispering even when they didn't say anything.

[ Mutant, mutant, mutant. Like acid dripping directly into his brain. ]

[use_everything]

[It's not the same. It's not the same. His lips pursed into a hard line, chasing that thought. He knew it was different. Felt it once when he made Vorkosigan prove it..]

It's not in the ears. [Like his. Sometimes. The medications were good this time. Kept the right parts sharp, and the right parts fuzzy and sleepy.]

Deeper.

[dendarii]

[ Another nod. He stares back at Bothari with his mother's clear gray eyes, curiosity mingled in with his exhaustion now. ]

Yeah. Inside my head. [ His voice falls to a whisper. ] Do you know what they are?

[use_everything]

[It's the eyes. It's always the eyes. Looking at him like there's more of him. He straightened a bit, unconsciously.]

Thoughts. Other peoples'.. [Compulsively, he added:] not yours.

[dendarii]

[ It makes a strange kind of sense. And Miles is young enough to accept that such a thing can be true even without an explanation.

It doesn't quite soothe the underlying fear, though. ]

... What does that make me? Am I a mutant after all?

[use_everything]

It's something else. A wormhole accident. [That had made sense, when Vorkosigan had said it. Pilots always said jumps could do some weird things. They had stories. He believed them, kept his own charms close when the Vorkraft made those sickening lunges.

But none of those stories were worse than where he was before that.]

Your parents.. [He trailed off, eyeing Miles' reaction before making that cautious continuation of this particularly laconic story.]

[dendarii]

[ Miles, meanwhile, furrows his brows. A wormhole accident? Despite his initial relief (and desperation to believe any explanation but mutated), that explanation is harder to swallow than the thought of having telepathy in the first place. ]

I've never had any wormhole accidents. [ But ... there's something else in his expression now. That dream he'd had ... ]

[use_everything]

[Bothari was sharp to details, almost always when his young Lord didn't want him to be.

He didn't ask, just made an "out with it" gesture.]

[dendarii]

[ Miles hesitates even then, but - in the end, he really doesn't have any secrets from Bothari and Tex. Not at this age. ]

I had this weird dream. It felt real. I was on this other Earth, and Da and Mother and Gregor were there, and Tex too, and we all had superpowers. And I could sort of remember being older.

[ He shifts a bit on the bed. ]

But I thought it was just a dream.

[bothari]

[He didn't answer for long moments. There was a tic around Bothari's eyes, expression drawn and pinched into thought. It was wild enough to be a dream. Might have been.]

We'll talk to your father.

[dendarii]

[ Miles' eyes instantly widen, a spike of horror cutting through their link. ]

-- No! No, you can't!

[bothari]

[He had been prepared for the argument. He wasn't prepared for the emotion. It lanced through him, shuddering up his spine as if it was his.

Something went red around his eyes and his breath caught. He focuses on unclenching his fist, one finger at a time. For a moment, that was his world. Breathing. Index finger. Breathing. Middle. Breathing... The only feedback coming across the link to Miles is red and white noise.

He look over slowly at his ward.]

Why not?