A/N. Tieria's reflection is not perfect. Kind of season one but also season two-ish up until before the end of episode eight.

Disclaimer: Don't own it. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.

In The Mirror Glass

It had always been his reflection in the glass, cold and calculated, functioning just as planned, as made. Everything had its own perfunctory place, a reason and logic. Facts and figures and nothing else mattered, just the plan. Just being the best, being perfect.

Everything had made sense, even among the mess, confusion of the other Meisters brought in their wake, with their strange words and strange emotions. It was all just strange. Yet he had remained as he had always been, the way he had to be. Had been trained, had been programmed, and had been made. Their words made no sense. No logic.

But then HE had saved his life. There was no reason or logic to that. No sense: nonsense. It was not part of the plan. System shut down. Lock down. Fall down.

That was when he realised he had a heart; and it had just stopped. Stopped dead from fear, concern. Haro's words shaking him.

He did not - could not - understand.

Kind words like 'free will' and 'human'.

This was what it meant to be human.

And nothing made sense.

But his heart was beating loud and clear, and nonsense told him to act. It told him how to act - how to save a life - even if he did not know why.

So he changed the locks and scowled, determined to end this once and for all. And it was not part of the plan. But he was outside the plan now. He was a little different. Had been rewired, image over image repeating word after word.

But locks were broken. Lies were broken. Lives were broken. His stopped heart was broken.

Nonsense and free will and broken meant to be human outside the plan.

He blamed everyone.

He did not know why.

He lied.

But he was pieced back together. But he was out of place. Out of sorts. Mismatched. Missing. Parts of himself non-existent. Replaced. Overlapped. Patched up and reset. Memory banks filed. Neat. Tidy. Perfection in disarray.

Corrupted truths with more meaning and less reality. Only perfection, simplicity, twisted words and inflections.

It made sense to him, fixing his heart with half-truths and ideals. Believing it. Making it real. Wrapping it round himself like a blanket. A keep-sake. Safety and kindness.

Love.

It had always been his reflection in the glass.

Now the broken mirror refracted a half-lie believed to be truth. Living in a world outside of the plan. Living in a world outside of life.

This was not what HE had meant in telling him that he was human, in giving kind words, encouragement and hope. HE gave those to everyone.

The person in the broken mirror glass, broken inside and out, would be broken again and again and again.

Because in the mirror glass was only wonderland, and not the world in which he had to live. Clinging to the ghosts of the past, twisting words, twisting meanings, not knowing - understanding - friendship from love.

If envy had green eyes then obsession's red eyes stared out into the night sky.

And echoes of the past created his damned future, lips moving to the words and world he had created.

A dance macabre of mismatched wires.

System failure.