A/N: This is the product of procrastination (not only of another story, but of an essay I really should be writing . . .)

Anyway, I think Mimi is a facinating character, and this is just me getting inside her head. :)

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What I Will Be

He never sees me anymore.

At one time, his life revolved around me; for every move of mine, he shifted, following me as a lost puppy follows a potential mate. Because that was what I was: his mate, his lover, the other half of his soul. He belonged to me, and I to him. For centuries, this was how we lived.

But beneath all our endless proclamations of love, our undying promises, I knew he yearned for another. Allegra. Gabrielle. I knew he longed for her touch, her love; but he knew also that I was made for him. My flesh was his, his purpose mine. We were Dark Angels. We were two made of one. His and mine. Heart and soul.

My hand fits perfectly into his.

And yet, still he yearns. She was bonded, as were we. She belonged to another, just as he belonged to me. I knew of his desires; it wasn't something he could ever keep from me. He can't keep any secrets from me. He never could.

And I can't find it in my heart to hate him, though sometimes, in the dead of night, I wish I could. I long to place my hands on his neck; I can almost feel my fingers clutch the tender skin of his throat. But I love him, so I can't.

I'm not evil; not to him, not to any of our kind. But that dark desire lies buried deep within me, asleep since the days of our fall from grace. They tease me, lurking at the edges of my consciousness. I know they haunt him too—it's part of our nature, our very being. He might wish for the light, but I know better. I embrace the darkness. He fears it. It's one thing I will never understand about my soul mate—how can he despise something that is so ingrained in the very heart of who he is?

Yet he can still see my heart. One look, that's all he needs—one look, and he knows my deepest desires, my hidden thoughts. He reads my silence as one might read an open book.

His eyes are the windows of his soul.

I am his equal; his match in every way. I am the one who stayed true throughout the centuries, who never wavered in my conviction of our love. I never doubted.

He did.

Does it lessen my love? Does it cheapen his? Does it matter, when humans live and die, and we stay, forever, living again and again in the endless cycles of life?

I long for him, every cycle, every life my skin yearns for the touch of his familiar hands and lips. Before I even know my true self, my soul calls for my partner.

When the darkness becomes too much to bear, I wonder if he aches for me. Does he dream of a girl who can see him for who he really is? Does he search like I do, listening for the heart that beats in time with his own?

I do.

Every life, I look for him. I know I must have him, in every life. Compulsion drives me to own him, to renew our vows.

He knows what I was, what I am, and what I will be.

I know the same for him.

I am Agrippina to his Valerius; Elisabeth de Lorraine-Lillebonne to his Louis d'Orleans; Susannah Fuller to his William White.

I am Mimi Force. He is my Jack.

And that is how it will always be.