~Reflections~
By ShinraWepn
***** Well, this story just goes to show that it's not cool to write when sleep deprived. The weirdest crap comes out of your head when that happens. I was looking in my mirror at the time and I started thinking about what if my reflection was just another me on the other side of the glass looking back at me. Hence, this fic. Please excuse the weirdness. ^_^;; *****
He's doing it again. How often have I told him to give up the hopeless battering upon the walls that have imprisoned him? He's not me anymore, nor am I him. We look the same, but there are differences as vast as the ocean of stars above the Earth. I watch his struggles, the hands that beat against the glossy surface of the mirror. Such futility. Doesn't he know that he is bound as securely to his world as I am? Maybe, on his side, I am the one who is beating at the glass. Maybe, I am the one whom he sneers at. And I know he sneers. I have often felt it on the back of my neck as I pass by this place every day. I see it in his eyes as I brush the tangles out of my hair or get dressed. He looks at me and mirrors my every move. He smiles when I do, and turns his head the same way. But he is not me, this reflection, nor am I him. That's not how this relationship works.
"Hello there," he mimics, watching my lips move as I watch his. Those eyes, so cold and chilling. Not like my live, warm ones. His are soulless. The look sears into my brain and brands me. I cannot escape the feel of them as I watch him looking over my face, studying me intently. "You are truly an enigma. Two sides, two voices, two faces...What are you...really?" We smile at each other now, shaking our heads at the question.
"Does anyone really know?" I answer. He looks thoughtful.
"I know what I like. I know what I don't like. I know my limitations."
"But is that the same as knowing yourself? Is that the same as knowing who you are and what your purpose is and what role you play in the lives of others?" We shrug at that.
"Who can say?"
"Indeed." I lean my head on my hand and he does likewise. He brushes a strand of hair out of his face. I breath a sigh. " Are you happy in your world?" I ask abruptly. His expression doesn't change as his eyes bore into me again. Slowly, he nods but it looks unconvincing. "Are you really?"
"Who can say? What is happiness? I have known so little in my life. Only a few things have made me truly happy."
"What things?"
"Oh, you know. Sunlight, the rain on the roof at night, flying in my Gundam..."
"Same here. My friends make me happy too."
"Yes..." he echoes, his expression drooping slightly. "Friends are good. My friends are the best. We watch each other's back. We fight to protect the Colonies and each other."
"We're close," I agree, nodding. I pick up my hair brush and he does the same. Gently we begin brushing our hair, the calm, soothing rhythms lulling a quiet smile to our faces once again. "I always thought prisons were supposed to be lonely places."
"You're the only on in prison," he retorts. I frown.
"Am I? I always thought it was you?"
"No, not me. I have freedom here. You have only despair to look forward to."
"How so?"
He sets aside the brush at the same time I do as well. He leans his chin in his palm and thinks about this for a moment. He watches my expression as I watch his. At last he says, "We're reflections. That's the way it's always been." He says it so matter-of-factly, as if it all makes perfect sense. For some reason, this makes me angry. I lean forward till his nose is within and inch of mine, staring hard into those cold, cold eyes of his with such intensity that I can almost feel the barrier warm between us.
"Maybe I don't want to have a reflection. Maybe I want to be happy, like you say you are, and be free. I want to be able to enjoy things on my own, without having you watching over my shoulder, experiencing them with me."
He chuckles now, drawing away from me. "But don't you see? We are forever a part of each other. Your bloodstained hands are my hands. Nowhere can you go that I won't be by your side. From the Colonies to the Earth to the very depths of Hell itself, we are bound together. I am you, and you are me, and this is our curse, our prison. We reflect, and rebound, and echo each other."
"You make me miserable!" we shout.
"You kill, you hurt, you maim things that I care about!" I cry. He curls his lip at me.
"You whine, and blubber, and sicken me with your weaknesses! I'm ashamed to be associated with you! You're not worthy of the title Shinigami!"
"Oh, like you are?"
"Of course," he says, smirking. "I am who I am."
"You aren't the real me!" I yell, slamming my fist down on the table top. He does likewise, anger on his face as it is on mine.
"And how do you know that? How do you know that I am not the real you? Maybe YOU are only the reflection!"
"It's not possible...It's not," I whisper, shrinking in on myself. He copies me, mocking me.
"I think it is. But it is time for me to go."
"Me too."
We get to our feet, moving towards the door to our room where already we can hear Heero shouting for us. The door opens and Heero's glare greets us. "I called you five times," he says. "We have another mission." I'm not looking at him. I'm looking at the mirror on the vanity where I can see the two of us standing, looking back across the barrier. Heero's double is watching my double with a strange look on his face.
"What's wrong?" the second Heero asks. My double narrows it's eyes.
"Heero, look at the mirror and tell me what you see?" he asks, a cool smile on his lips. The other Heero glances at me across the glass and shrugs.
"I see your reflection," he says. "I see Duo Maxwell." My copy nods once, firmly. I feel my heart sinking as I grasp the concept of those words.
"Exactly," we state, as we turn and walk out the door.