Into the Mirror Black
CONTENT:
Rating: Teen
Flavor: Drama, Angst
Language: none
Violence: none
Nudity: none
Sex: none
Other: none
Author's Note:
As if I didn't have other things I'm SUPPOSED to be doing... uh, here's a blatant "A Christmas Carol" story. But no, it is not crack.
This just happened... in the middle (start) of June... because I was thinking about Malcolm after he sabotaged The Queen's Gambit, and wondering if he had lost any sleep over it. And imagining the nightmares he might have about his best friend returning to haunt him. The image of Robert's ghost brought to mind Marley's ghost, and... the rest just happened. Like I said.
The title (with help/support from Dark Empress) is from an album by Sanctuary. Props to all the Sanctuary fans! \m/
This takes place on December 24, 2014 (or actually, the wee hours of December 25). Oliver left a few days ago to face Ra's al Ghul, and hasn't been heard from since. (If that didn't happen exactly in that timeframe on the show, tough; it happened that way in this story, cuz I say it happened that way in this story.)
Philosophy cannot soothe your soul
But in the mirror the truth will be known.
...
In the mirror
You might not like what you see;
For the mirror
Reflects the fears that you feel.
In the mirror
You might not like what you see.
The mirror, the mirror's calling.
"The Mirror Black" - Sanctuary
Into the Mirror Black
===#===
Malcolm Merlyn suffered nightmares. Oh, you wouldn't know it to look at him; he'd spent a lifetime cultivating an impassive facade, an iron will, an icy mien. But deep inside, he was only human. Mistakes vexed him. The recently dead plagued him, until he could force them to rest, bury his guilt. He was the master of his own mind, after all. Eventually.
Oliver Queen returned of nights, broken and bloody, to exact vengeance. Sometimes they fought, Malcolm losing strength as the relentless archer overwhelmed him. At other times, he was helpless to move at all, his pleas, his explanations falling on deaf ears. Oliver came at him with a sword this time, not a narrow little arrow shaft. The huge blade sundered his heart. Brutal pain would wake him in shock.
That's why, when Malcolm awoke and found Robert sitting in his room, he was surprised. He hadn't dreamed about his old friend in over seven years. "Robert?" Malcolm asked groggily, sitting up. He looked around for Robert's boy, but there was no sign of him. No, the bedroom looked exactly as it should, barring the spectre of his murdered friend. "You're not really here." He rubbed his face, knowing he must be dreaming, but not sure how to wake up.
"You've always had something of a God Complex, Malcolm." Robert sounded exactly as he remembered.
Feeling at a disadvantage lying abed, Malcolm got up. When he stood, he found himself clothed in the familiar layers of one of his dark suits. Unconsciously, he tightened the already tight tie, straightened the already straight jacket.
"You can't keep on like this," Robert said, tipping his head in apparent concern.
"I have to. I can't just give up and die."
"There are always alternatives, Malcolm. You showed me that."
"I always found the best alternatives," he insisted. It was the root of his success.
"I don't think my children would agree with that."
Thea is mine. These words were on the tip of his tongue, but he refrained from saying them aloud, from causing his old friend any more pain. He was dead, why torment him? He turned away. "I did what I had to do."
"For yourself."
"What do you want, Robert?"
The man sighed and stood up. "What I want doesn't matter. I'm only the messenger."
"Messenger of what?" Malcolm faced him again, feeling a faint tinge of unease.
"Surely you know how this goes? You've read the story, haven't you? Or at least seen it on TV hundreds of times."
Malcolm frowned to himself. He looked over at the shelf, where an antique beehive clock stood ticking quietly. The hands stood at 12:03. On Christmas Eve. "A visit from the ghost of an old business acquaintance?" he mused. He looked back to Robert with a quirked brow. "Am I supposed to expect three ghosts to visit and show me the true meaning of Christmas?"
"Something like that."
Malcolm scoffed in dry humor. "You're joking." He rubbed his forehead. This is what he was dreaming? He really shouldn't have had the heavy cheese sauce and the Muir-Hanna Chardonnay at dinner. "If you're Marley, shouldn't you be wrapped in chains?"
Robert shook his head. "I cast off my chains when I decided to oppose you and your Undertaking. You are the one bearing their weight, my friend."
"Why do you care? I killed you."
"I was never your enemy, Malcolm."
"You tried to stop me!"
Robert's eyes met his, full of sorrow. "As your friend, Malcolm. Never as your enemy."
Malcolm wanted to press him for more, but Robert suddenly faded, like a dream upon awakening. Now Malcolm stood alone in his darkened room. Was he awake now? But how had he gotten dressed? He surely didn't remember doing so. Had he been sleepwalking?
The antique clock chimed softly, drawing his gaze. How had it become 1 am so quickly? He must have been dreaming, but surely he was awake now.
Then he felt a presence in his room. Slowly, he turned, tensing for a fight...
===X===