A Couple of Author Notes:
-This may or may not become a prologue to a full-fledged story, depending on my schedule as well as this small piece's 'popularity.' If it would become a story, I assure you that the plot would not be fully Syndrome/Mirage-based. Believe me, I have an entire other idea in my head..
-I would also like to mention that at this time, I haven't written any kind of fan-fiction (or any kind of fiction) for over a year and half. So I apologize if anything sounds wrong or incorrect.
-Please let me know what you think in a review!

A Couple of Story Notes:
-Please keep in mind that this piece takes place several years before the events of The Incredibles!
-I use the word 'partner' a lot in the banter between Syndrome and Mirage. I don't mean for them to refer to each other as marriage 'partners,' but rather in a business-like way, like they could be referring to one another as 'associates,' etc.

A Disclaimer: The Incredibles and all its features belong to Disney/Pixar. I own nothing but the story here which derived from my own imagination.


"Where love rules, there is no will to power; and where power predominates, there love is lacking.
The one is the shadow of the other."
-Carl Jung

____________________________

Stirring quietly from his sleep, Syndrome awoke with a small intake of breath. As his head cleared from the sleepy daze, his felt beside him a cold spot, one that was normally occupied by another. Getting up and clearing his long, fire-red hair from his face, he looked around the dimly-lit room in search of his companion.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and face as he glanced blearily toward the panoramic windows which faced the rest of the island and stretched from the floor to the ceiling. There, silhouetted in the moonlight, was his partner.

She stood silently with her arms around her body, as though searching for a way to keep herself warm. Her long, silvery hair lay against her back, stock-still as she stared coolly out the window, wearing only a long night-shirt of his. Though the night was late, it was clear from the way she stood that she had been up for several hours.

"Mirage? Hey baby, what're you doing over there?" Syndrome ran his hand over his face once more, trying to wake himself up.

She turned suddenly, as though surprised he was awake, "I'm sorry. I couldn't fall asleep and I didn't want to wake you. I thought it might be best if I simply waited for the sleep to come to me." She tucked part of her hair behind one ear and gave him her little half-smile, the one that reached only one side of her mouth but couldn't be considered a smirk. Buddy heaved a small sigh, returning her smile with the equally cocky grin of his own. He still couldn't figure her out sometimes.

"Well, I'm up now," he replied, pulling the covers off and, motioning toward the small computer screen and keypad that were attached to the wall next to the bed, he asked with a his small grin, "Coffee?"

Mirage shook her head, turning her back to him once more, "No, thank you. That won't be necessary."

Syndrome frowned and stood up from the bed wearing his boxers, his normal sleeping attire, scratching his belly with one hand and still holding part of the covers with the other. Awkwardly, he paused, unsure of what to say. Her body looked so peaceful in the moonlight, so petite and thin, almost like glass. But delicate glass that, if touched, would shatter into a million, tiny little pieces, never to be put together again. He let go of the bed covers and quietly walked over to her, putting his arms around her shoulders and squeezing her arms tightly, looking closely at her face and then following her gaze to the rest of the island outside the window.

A disjointed and fragmented construction site lay in front of them outside their room, which was on the highest floor of the thus-far completed facility. Enormous cranes and caterpillars stood silently among other construction machines in the island night, their huge forms casting equally large shadows which cascaded over the bare and jagged earth that had been cleared of trees and all life for the construction of his life-long dream and goal. Silent and oppressive, the machines neither moved nor made any sound, creating an imposing and impressive scene. Power was represented in those tools. Power that showed the superiority of man over all other life. Destructive and uncontrollable Power that represented his own spirit too well. Power that drew the attention of certain other people.

He smiled and whispered close to her ear, "Hey, don't you worry. You know that in a few months the rest of the facility will be complete, and I can begin the next phase of the project. I knew this was going to work. I just knew it. I wouldn't have it any; other; way." His grip tightened on her shoulders, and abruptly Mirage pushed herself away from him, pacing a few steps to the right.

"Don't you mean, we knew it was going to work?" Her cool, green eyes met his own fierce blue.

"Mirage, Mirage, baby, of course I meant us..!" Syndrome held his hands open in a gesture of peace, "Without you and without my sheer will and determination, none of this could have happened. Without you, I never would have found this place. Without you I never could have gotten this far in the research of the Supers." Syndrome's voice rose, and his hands began gesticulating faster and fiercer, and his entire being began to get fired up, "And without me, none of this would have been possible! We may not have superpowers, baby, but between the two of us there sure is a heck of enough brainpower for "Mr. Incredible" and the rest of his damn Supers! This place, this island, this opportunity, has all been part of the plan, and in only few short months all of it can be realized!!" Mirage lost to his eyes and his attention solely on the scene before them, Syndrome stared at island, his chest heaving and his hands clenched tightly in fists.

Mirage stared in him, her eyes wide in wonder and awe, while she quietly responded, "Do you know why I admire power so much?"

Syndrome turned to look at his partner, wondering what exactly Mirage could be referring to. Several months ago, he had told Mirage to collect and organize the complete histories of all of his staff, yet strangely enough, only Mirage's own file contained less information, excluding that of Syndrome's himself. Meeting her gaze now in their room, Syndrome for once stood speechless at the look in her eyes; a look that was very unlike Mirage and her normally cool and controlled gaze: unbridled and uncontrolled hatred.

"In my line, my family, my entire blood history, there has never been a mother to live past the birth of her first child," Mirage's eyes narrowed, her voice growing ice-cold, "I grew up never knowing what having a mother was like. I grew up without the warmth of a mother's hug, the love in a mother's kiss, the touch of a mother's hand.. All because she was too weak," she spat the word as though it were something dirty in her mouth, "too small, too pathetic, too powerless to hang onto life after I was born. There is nothing admirable, nothing noble in a mother that abandons her child so soon after giving it life."

Her voice as cold as ice, she turned to Syndrome, who was looking at her with a look not unlike surprise, "So I grew up, desiring.. Power, believing that if I found someone with power equal to and greater than the weakness of my own 'mother,' I would be happy." She paused, and slowly began to walk toward Syndrome, "And then I found you."

"So now, I have that exact power, within my very," she reached out a hand toward his face, "own," she touched his cheek with her hand, "grasp," she whispered, running that hand down his cheek, before touching her lips to his own in a passionate embrace.

Finally, she broke away and murmured into his ear, "Something needs to be worthy of power before it can be loved," and stared coyly into his eyes. "I think that you, of all people, can realize that, Syndrome."

She stepped away from him, resting her hands on her stomach. Silently, she looked at her sleek and flat stomach with a indescribable look on her face for several moments before looking back up at her partner, "I believe that sleep has finally caught up to me," and gave him that infamous smile. "Come on, 'partner.' I know that we have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.."

Climbing back into bed with her, Syndrome turned his back to his partner and settled back into sleep, pulling his pillow and covers this way and that, until finally he felt his own exhaustion grow. Dimly trying to keep himself awake for a little longer, his last thoughts of Mirage's words before succumbing to the encouraging calls of slumber were those of both pity.. and fear.