Title: A Shattered Mirror
Author: The Lyrical Eli
Rating: PG
Summery: A decision changes Sara's life.
Disclaimer: Don't own it.
A shattered mirror
is all it takes.
Just a scratch
and the image breaks.
Could you take
a different gaze?
Forget the reflection
of early days?
The 'beautiful warrior'
claims no cares.
A little scratch
isn't worth her tears.
But what if her looks
no longer shone?
What if her title
became 'warrior' alone?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am a monster.
It's true what they say. You never appreciate something until it is gone. I have always valued my strength and independence and my mind, but I never cared if I was pretty or not.
Well, at least I didn't think I did.
But I did... I do. It was because I was all ready pretty to begin with. I rarely ever used make up, except for special occasions when I felt obligated to. Make up artists would strangle me if they saw my stock, all old and over used, most past the expiration date. It didn't matter then.
It does now.
I'll admit, I'm reckless. I often jump before I look, not caring who it will hurt or how it will effect me. I guess it is my own fault that this happened. It was dark that day, night. We were after this guy for so long. He was the one bad grade in a whole string of good report cards for me. All cops have that one slick, sick bastard that got away the first time. Danny's was Dalek, he was mine.
And I wanted to be the one that got him.
Johnathan Andrew Heckley was the Carl Dalek of six year olds. Ten girls taken, molested, killed, but was never convicted. I knew he did, but I never found the evidence that linked him to any of it. He's a snobby, cocky S.O.B. And I knew he'd do it again. But this time, I had witchy girl to help out.
He could run, but he couldn't hide.
I went in too soon. Danny tried his best to make me wait, but I was too impatient. I wanted this guy dead now! Before he could get away again. I could hear the child screaming in between him covering her mouth. She was screaming for all her lungs were worth.
"Help!!! HELP!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
I had followed them into into the apartment he had broken into. He wanted silence, so he covered her mouth. I could hear her soft whimpering through the wall. I looked over the corner. He had set her down against the wall, her mouth gagged with her legs and arms bound. I came toward her, the witchblade beginning to come out and play. She saw me through the darkness and shook her head. She didn't want me to come.
She knew she was only bait.
I ignored her and came toward her anyway. As I expected, he came out, gun drawn, ready to take me out. He pulled the trigger.
He pulled it five times.
The first came toward my chest, but the Armour reflected it to the ceiling. The second came at her, but I guarded her from it and it hit the wall opposite from us. The third and fourth connected with Armour and flew back at him. It was going perfectly.
Damn that fifth bullet.
As a last chance at life, he pulled it once again to try at him me. It didn't, but it hit above me and the little girl. It flew straight into a mirror, and time went slowly. I remember exactly how it happened. I heard it break and pulled the little one toward me, covering her from all the broken glass. As I moved, I felt a sharp slice against my face. I hissed, but sheltered her from any injury. I let go once all the glass had fallen.
That's when I passed out from lack of blood.
I don't remember much between that and waking up again a week later. I think I saw darkness by me, waiting to see if I would die or live, to see if it could take me. It couldn't and I lived.
Well, sort of.
I didn't come back to my life, but a different one. One from a world I had never had to deal with. As I said before, I had always been pretty, and I never had to deal with being anything else. That is, until now.
That mirror cut me up like a cat and a leather couch.
My face had one huge scar running down across my eye onto my forehead, along with a dozen are so other smaller ones that made me look like something that crawled out of some B-rated horror flick. My body looked like I have lived three lifetimes of being a whipping boy. I bit my lip and cried out of self pity.
I'm ugly.
I felt as if I had lost a part of myself I never knew I had. I couldn't move, couldn't speak for the longest time. In my selfishness, I wished that I had never saved that girl. That we had never known she had been taken, and would have just faded into the hundreds upon hundreds of missing persons that we get each year. Terrible, yes, I know.
I wanted to be terrible then.
That was weeks ago. I've gone back to work since. Danny's been great. He has made a perfect mix of 'nothing has changed' and 'You're only stronger now'. He's been a good support and has been there as much as possible. (He does have a new baby to look after.) He didn't stare at me in horrified shock like the rookie did.
I guess he doesn't have a crush on me anymore.
Everything changed. First off, I was no longer hot. No more guys hitting on me, no more whistling or stares. The hundred of little things men did that I hated, all their attention, gone. I can see now why women took such big lengths for men to notice them. Maybe if I'm lucky I won't feel like I need to go to such lengths as well.
Men like Conchobar, who never did quite call me back after he recovered make it hard to be myself.
As for Gabriel.... Well, he has been a good support. He did stare a bit at me, and anything he wanted to happened after we kissed went down the drain. I'm not sure if I'm relieved or disappointed yet. All I know is that I have a new little brother type trying to make my life better the best he can.
And THAT I am thankful for.
The little girl is okay. Turns out he swiped her from an orphanage a day prior to the incident. I went to go see her as soon as I was able to. Her name's Margaret Anne Warren, but everyone calls her Maggie. She's missing both her front teeth, which is shown very clearly when she smiles at me everytime I come to visit her. She's the only kid in the whole place with red hair, so she's easy to spot.
Glad to know I'm not the only one that sticks out.
She's the sweetest little thing to ever walk this earth. From the moment I met her, I knew protecting her from that mirror was not a mistake. That what I have done is worth it. I've never been one to go all maternal at the mere sight of a little one, but Maggie is the exception to the rule. I just want to hug the living day lights out of her when I see her. I want to sit and play with her hair. I want to make her night terrors go away when she sleeps at night. I want to get her out of that place so bad that.....
Yeah, I think about adopting her.
But I have no right to even think about that. She deserves better than any life I could give her. Homicide detectives with insane sentiment bracelets with a blood drive do not make good mothers. And who am I to tarnish another human being who is for the most part normal?
Nobody, that's who.
Lord knows she wants me to. She's hinted enough at it, whether she realizes it or not. She jumps me the minute she sees me and clings to me until I have to go. She talks to me endlessly, and gives me pictures that she drew for me earlier. She laughs and plays and damn near cries when I have to leave.
And sad as it is, it makes me want to as well.
But the sweetest thing about her is that she has never flinched at what I now look like. From day one, she's told me that I was the most beautiful person she has ever seen. That I look just like an angel. And I laugh and say 'If you think so' and she nods, totally convinced that I am beautiful. And I look at her, and it makes me melt when I think that she is being perfectly honest, too young to think of any reason to lie.
She's the angel, not me.
I've just left her there, again. The temptation to just carry her out with me gets greater each time I go. I should stop soon, or else one day I will just take her home with me, law be damned. I park my motorcycle and walk up to my apartment, no whistling is done as I walk by. No attention what so ever from the male population.
I guess if beauty comes with a price, ugliness must as well.
My apartment is quiet, lonely. Not even stalker boy has paid it a visit since my scarring. Funny to think that this was the same guy that tried to give his life for me. Guess it was the pretty face, not the bracelet, that inspired it.
Oh, how quickly they turn away.
Not that I really wanted his attention. Never expect assassins to be honest with the girl he claims is he object of affection. And the object of his hatred.
Talk about mixed messages.
I'm just glad his father is actually dead now, at least to the world. In a coma or such last I heard. Well, to hell with rookies, Irish boxer/singers, eccentric billionaires, and especially to stalker boys who leave their stalkees once their looks are ruined. I go into my bedroom and notice the window is open. I feel something brush against my hair and I sigh.
Spoke too soon.
"Thought you were avoiding me." I say sarcastically.
"I was keeping out of your way for the time being." He replies quietly. "I knew you would have enough annoyance from your injury without me bothering you, as I always seem to do."
"Well, thanks for the consideration. Now, what the hell do you want?"
"To see you."
Brave comment. And straight forward. Who knew he knew another language besides cryptic? I'm tired of his b/s. I'll just do what I know I can to make him leave me alone forever.
I turn around.
"You've seen me."
Damn, he's good. The guy didn't even flinch. Bet he was watching when I wasn't looking and has gotten use to it. Wait, no. He's studying me. That's weird, even for him. This is pissing me off. Why won't he just run away from disgust like every one else on the planet and leave me alone.
"You can go now."
He shakes his head, slightly. "Not yet." He looks closer, way too close for comfort. I back away slowly, only to find that he follows. I eventually hit the wall and can't back up anymore. I don't know what he's trying to do or what he's thinking. His mouth opens and words come out, quietly. Does he know I can hear him?
"So..... Beautiful."
I flinch and push him away. "You've mocked me enough. Get the hell out of my apartment, before I make you get out." I raise my arm, flashing the witchblade, trying to get it to wake up.
Knowing that it won't.
The look on his face now is readable. Pain, confusion. What's there to be confused about? He's making fun of how I look now, and I want him the hell out of my sight for doing so. "Are you hard of hearing, Nottingham, or what? Get the hell out of my apartment!"
He shakes his head, again. "You are angry. Why? I know you hate lying, but I have yet to do that." I choke down bitter laughter.
"Not cute. You know what you've said. I don't want to hear it. Now get out!" I turn away from him. I can't take that damn look he's giving me. The same thing I saw that day he was on his knees before me. I couldn't take it then, and I can't take it now.
Damn kicked puppy dog look.
He's still behind me. He hasn't left. So close. Why can't he leave? What's the use of loosing your looks if it won't get rid of your stalker?
Useless.
I hear him fumbling with something, trying to either to take something out of his pocket, or shove something in. He moves closer, over crowding me, and I can feel his hand, his bare hand mind you, brush over the scars on my face, one at a time, slowly.
"You do not believe me when I say you are beautiful. I do not understand why. I have seen the little girl that you saved. You visit her often. You took after her villain so quickly that he had no time to touch her, to corrupt her. She is still an innocent. He did not kill her. He will kill no one else. All this came from you. Selflessly, bravely. All thanks to you. After that, how can you not be beautiful?"
I hate to admit it, but I like his logic.
He traces the large scar I have across my eye and then with draws his hand. Hm, did I want him to? I turn toward him, and he's taken a few steps away from me, faster than humanly possible. His head is down.
"I have something for you." He mumbles out as he takes a folder out of what looked like no where and hands it to me.
"What is this?"
"Papers, money, everything you'll need. I all ready told you I have seen you with the girl, Maggie I think you call her. You make each other happy. She is the only person who has made you smile these past few weeks. I can see that you love her like a daughter. She can be your daughter now. You can go back and get her today, if you like. They will let you, no questions asked."
My mouth drops open in shock. "Why?" Barely audible, but he can pick it up.
"Because I believe you two can help each other. Because I think you could be a good mother to her. But most of all, because I know it will make you happy." That's when he looked up, during that last line. Of course, it was one of those looks that could floor a gal in .5 seconds flat. Thank God I looked down.
No wonder he does that so often.
"I'll go now." He walks over to leave the way he came.
"Wait." He turns around and looks at me. "Thanks."
Hm, a smile, or something much like it. Had forgotten he knew how. "You are welcome."
And he's gone. I open the folder and look inside. He didn't lie. Papers that say I'm her guardian. And, hell, enough money to put her through Harvard till she's fifty. He even has papers that can excuse me from work when I need the time.
I close the folder and get ready to go back to the orphanage for the last time. I'll have to call Gabe or Danny to come pick me up, since I can't take her on my bike. They'll be so surprised after all this. I'm sure they'll fall madly in love with her from the beginning.
Just like I did.
I can see it all ready. They'll have her call them 'Uncle'. She can have playdates with Una, and can learn how to hack a computer with her Uncle Gabriel. We'll have our own little family, of sorts. The only thing that would be missing would be a father. I look at the folder again, her picture inside. I smile. She thinks I'm beautiful.
Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea for me to get her a father that thinks the same.
The End
Author: The Lyrical Eli
Rating: PG
Summery: A decision changes Sara's life.
Disclaimer: Don't own it.
A shattered mirror
is all it takes.
Just a scratch
and the image breaks.
Could you take
a different gaze?
Forget the reflection
of early days?
The 'beautiful warrior'
claims no cares.
A little scratch
isn't worth her tears.
But what if her looks
no longer shone?
What if her title
became 'warrior' alone?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am a monster.
It's true what they say. You never appreciate something until it is gone. I have always valued my strength and independence and my mind, but I never cared if I was pretty or not.
Well, at least I didn't think I did.
But I did... I do. It was because I was all ready pretty to begin with. I rarely ever used make up, except for special occasions when I felt obligated to. Make up artists would strangle me if they saw my stock, all old and over used, most past the expiration date. It didn't matter then.
It does now.
I'll admit, I'm reckless. I often jump before I look, not caring who it will hurt or how it will effect me. I guess it is my own fault that this happened. It was dark that day, night. We were after this guy for so long. He was the one bad grade in a whole string of good report cards for me. All cops have that one slick, sick bastard that got away the first time. Danny's was Dalek, he was mine.
And I wanted to be the one that got him.
Johnathan Andrew Heckley was the Carl Dalek of six year olds. Ten girls taken, molested, killed, but was never convicted. I knew he did, but I never found the evidence that linked him to any of it. He's a snobby, cocky S.O.B. And I knew he'd do it again. But this time, I had witchy girl to help out.
He could run, but he couldn't hide.
I went in too soon. Danny tried his best to make me wait, but I was too impatient. I wanted this guy dead now! Before he could get away again. I could hear the child screaming in between him covering her mouth. She was screaming for all her lungs were worth.
"Help!!! HELP!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
I had followed them into into the apartment he had broken into. He wanted silence, so he covered her mouth. I could hear her soft whimpering through the wall. I looked over the corner. He had set her down against the wall, her mouth gagged with her legs and arms bound. I came toward her, the witchblade beginning to come out and play. She saw me through the darkness and shook her head. She didn't want me to come.
She knew she was only bait.
I ignored her and came toward her anyway. As I expected, he came out, gun drawn, ready to take me out. He pulled the trigger.
He pulled it five times.
The first came toward my chest, but the Armour reflected it to the ceiling. The second came at her, but I guarded her from it and it hit the wall opposite from us. The third and fourth connected with Armour and flew back at him. It was going perfectly.
Damn that fifth bullet.
As a last chance at life, he pulled it once again to try at him me. It didn't, but it hit above me and the little girl. It flew straight into a mirror, and time went slowly. I remember exactly how it happened. I heard it break and pulled the little one toward me, covering her from all the broken glass. As I moved, I felt a sharp slice against my face. I hissed, but sheltered her from any injury. I let go once all the glass had fallen.
That's when I passed out from lack of blood.
I don't remember much between that and waking up again a week later. I think I saw darkness by me, waiting to see if I would die or live, to see if it could take me. It couldn't and I lived.
Well, sort of.
I didn't come back to my life, but a different one. One from a world I had never had to deal with. As I said before, I had always been pretty, and I never had to deal with being anything else. That is, until now.
That mirror cut me up like a cat and a leather couch.
My face had one huge scar running down across my eye onto my forehead, along with a dozen are so other smaller ones that made me look like something that crawled out of some B-rated horror flick. My body looked like I have lived three lifetimes of being a whipping boy. I bit my lip and cried out of self pity.
I'm ugly.
I felt as if I had lost a part of myself I never knew I had. I couldn't move, couldn't speak for the longest time. In my selfishness, I wished that I had never saved that girl. That we had never known she had been taken, and would have just faded into the hundreds upon hundreds of missing persons that we get each year. Terrible, yes, I know.
I wanted to be terrible then.
That was weeks ago. I've gone back to work since. Danny's been great. He has made a perfect mix of 'nothing has changed' and 'You're only stronger now'. He's been a good support and has been there as much as possible. (He does have a new baby to look after.) He didn't stare at me in horrified shock like the rookie did.
I guess he doesn't have a crush on me anymore.
Everything changed. First off, I was no longer hot. No more guys hitting on me, no more whistling or stares. The hundred of little things men did that I hated, all their attention, gone. I can see now why women took such big lengths for men to notice them. Maybe if I'm lucky I won't feel like I need to go to such lengths as well.
Men like Conchobar, who never did quite call me back after he recovered make it hard to be myself.
As for Gabriel.... Well, he has been a good support. He did stare a bit at me, and anything he wanted to happened after we kissed went down the drain. I'm not sure if I'm relieved or disappointed yet. All I know is that I have a new little brother type trying to make my life better the best he can.
And THAT I am thankful for.
The little girl is okay. Turns out he swiped her from an orphanage a day prior to the incident. I went to go see her as soon as I was able to. Her name's Margaret Anne Warren, but everyone calls her Maggie. She's missing both her front teeth, which is shown very clearly when she smiles at me everytime I come to visit her. She's the only kid in the whole place with red hair, so she's easy to spot.
Glad to know I'm not the only one that sticks out.
She's the sweetest little thing to ever walk this earth. From the moment I met her, I knew protecting her from that mirror was not a mistake. That what I have done is worth it. I've never been one to go all maternal at the mere sight of a little one, but Maggie is the exception to the rule. I just want to hug the living day lights out of her when I see her. I want to sit and play with her hair. I want to make her night terrors go away when she sleeps at night. I want to get her out of that place so bad that.....
Yeah, I think about adopting her.
But I have no right to even think about that. She deserves better than any life I could give her. Homicide detectives with insane sentiment bracelets with a blood drive do not make good mothers. And who am I to tarnish another human being who is for the most part normal?
Nobody, that's who.
Lord knows she wants me to. She's hinted enough at it, whether she realizes it or not. She jumps me the minute she sees me and clings to me until I have to go. She talks to me endlessly, and gives me pictures that she drew for me earlier. She laughs and plays and damn near cries when I have to leave.
And sad as it is, it makes me want to as well.
But the sweetest thing about her is that she has never flinched at what I now look like. From day one, she's told me that I was the most beautiful person she has ever seen. That I look just like an angel. And I laugh and say 'If you think so' and she nods, totally convinced that I am beautiful. And I look at her, and it makes me melt when I think that she is being perfectly honest, too young to think of any reason to lie.
She's the angel, not me.
I've just left her there, again. The temptation to just carry her out with me gets greater each time I go. I should stop soon, or else one day I will just take her home with me, law be damned. I park my motorcycle and walk up to my apartment, no whistling is done as I walk by. No attention what so ever from the male population.
I guess if beauty comes with a price, ugliness must as well.
My apartment is quiet, lonely. Not even stalker boy has paid it a visit since my scarring. Funny to think that this was the same guy that tried to give his life for me. Guess it was the pretty face, not the bracelet, that inspired it.
Oh, how quickly they turn away.
Not that I really wanted his attention. Never expect assassins to be honest with the girl he claims is he object of affection. And the object of his hatred.
Talk about mixed messages.
I'm just glad his father is actually dead now, at least to the world. In a coma or such last I heard. Well, to hell with rookies, Irish boxer/singers, eccentric billionaires, and especially to stalker boys who leave their stalkees once their looks are ruined. I go into my bedroom and notice the window is open. I feel something brush against my hair and I sigh.
Spoke too soon.
"Thought you were avoiding me." I say sarcastically.
"I was keeping out of your way for the time being." He replies quietly. "I knew you would have enough annoyance from your injury without me bothering you, as I always seem to do."
"Well, thanks for the consideration. Now, what the hell do you want?"
"To see you."
Brave comment. And straight forward. Who knew he knew another language besides cryptic? I'm tired of his b/s. I'll just do what I know I can to make him leave me alone forever.
I turn around.
"You've seen me."
Damn, he's good. The guy didn't even flinch. Bet he was watching when I wasn't looking and has gotten use to it. Wait, no. He's studying me. That's weird, even for him. This is pissing me off. Why won't he just run away from disgust like every one else on the planet and leave me alone.
"You can go now."
He shakes his head, slightly. "Not yet." He looks closer, way too close for comfort. I back away slowly, only to find that he follows. I eventually hit the wall and can't back up anymore. I don't know what he's trying to do or what he's thinking. His mouth opens and words come out, quietly. Does he know I can hear him?
"So..... Beautiful."
I flinch and push him away. "You've mocked me enough. Get the hell out of my apartment, before I make you get out." I raise my arm, flashing the witchblade, trying to get it to wake up.
Knowing that it won't.
The look on his face now is readable. Pain, confusion. What's there to be confused about? He's making fun of how I look now, and I want him the hell out of my sight for doing so. "Are you hard of hearing, Nottingham, or what? Get the hell out of my apartment!"
He shakes his head, again. "You are angry. Why? I know you hate lying, but I have yet to do that." I choke down bitter laughter.
"Not cute. You know what you've said. I don't want to hear it. Now get out!" I turn away from him. I can't take that damn look he's giving me. The same thing I saw that day he was on his knees before me. I couldn't take it then, and I can't take it now.
Damn kicked puppy dog look.
He's still behind me. He hasn't left. So close. Why can't he leave? What's the use of loosing your looks if it won't get rid of your stalker?
Useless.
I hear him fumbling with something, trying to either to take something out of his pocket, or shove something in. He moves closer, over crowding me, and I can feel his hand, his bare hand mind you, brush over the scars on my face, one at a time, slowly.
"You do not believe me when I say you are beautiful. I do not understand why. I have seen the little girl that you saved. You visit her often. You took after her villain so quickly that he had no time to touch her, to corrupt her. She is still an innocent. He did not kill her. He will kill no one else. All this came from you. Selflessly, bravely. All thanks to you. After that, how can you not be beautiful?"
I hate to admit it, but I like his logic.
He traces the large scar I have across my eye and then with draws his hand. Hm, did I want him to? I turn toward him, and he's taken a few steps away from me, faster than humanly possible. His head is down.
"I have something for you." He mumbles out as he takes a folder out of what looked like no where and hands it to me.
"What is this?"
"Papers, money, everything you'll need. I all ready told you I have seen you with the girl, Maggie I think you call her. You make each other happy. She is the only person who has made you smile these past few weeks. I can see that you love her like a daughter. She can be your daughter now. You can go back and get her today, if you like. They will let you, no questions asked."
My mouth drops open in shock. "Why?" Barely audible, but he can pick it up.
"Because I believe you two can help each other. Because I think you could be a good mother to her. But most of all, because I know it will make you happy." That's when he looked up, during that last line. Of course, it was one of those looks that could floor a gal in .5 seconds flat. Thank God I looked down.
No wonder he does that so often.
"I'll go now." He walks over to leave the way he came.
"Wait." He turns around and looks at me. "Thanks."
Hm, a smile, or something much like it. Had forgotten he knew how. "You are welcome."
And he's gone. I open the folder and look inside. He didn't lie. Papers that say I'm her guardian. And, hell, enough money to put her through Harvard till she's fifty. He even has papers that can excuse me from work when I need the time.
I close the folder and get ready to go back to the orphanage for the last time. I'll have to call Gabe or Danny to come pick me up, since I can't take her on my bike. They'll be so surprised after all this. I'm sure they'll fall madly in love with her from the beginning.
Just like I did.
I can see it all ready. They'll have her call them 'Uncle'. She can have playdates with Una, and can learn how to hack a computer with her Uncle Gabriel. We'll have our own little family, of sorts. The only thing that would be missing would be a father. I look at the folder again, her picture inside. I smile. She thinks I'm beautiful.
Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea for me to get her a father that thinks the same.
The End