Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue
A/N: This came to me when I was in my grandparent's bathroom, looking at the three mirrors. Thanks to my beta for fixing all manners of abysmal mistakes! Hi, Chelle! So, yeah. Here you are.
Without You:
The mirror shatters into uncountable pieces, each one shining a rainbow of colors in the florescent light. It doesn't help. I see your face in every single reflective shard now. Instead of one large picture, there are many.
Why does this keep happening? No matter how far I teleport, not one mirror I see will show me any face but yours. I can't see my much altered face anywhere, not in the still waters of a shining lake, not in the shimmering surface of a well-washed car, not in the bright eyes of passerby I meet on the streets of many countries. Nowhere. I always see your gentle face, eyes wide as the bullet flies into your back, mouth curved in your radiant smile. It doesn't matter how, but all I see is you.
I should be happy to see you in any way possible, and to be protected from my terrifyingly beautiful visage, but I'm not. I stare into mirrors that cover entire walls and imitate the graceful way you always moved so I can see you move, trying to let the sight of you comfort me. But it never does. Each time I catch even the slightest glimpse of you, my heart breaks again.
When I move, you move as if you truly were my reflection, but your clothes are never mine, and the expression on your face is your own. And when I am still, or when I can only see my face, your are as you were at some point in life, at some distant time I too clearly remember. And some horrible times, some horrible moments when life torments me, I see you as you died. Just trapped in that horrible second.
I've come to know your perishing face all to well. Your soft eyes are wide, your full lips slightly parted. There is a terrible betrayal there that took me so many hours of just gazing at that frozen final moment of your life. You were lost in our sanctuary, the place where we shared our most precious moments. The place where you should have been safe. How that desperate expression chills me. The fact that you are gone is one thing that all of my power cannot fix, I cannot take away that betrayal.
I shatter the mirrors sometimes. Only when I see you as we fought, or as you died. I put them back together afterwards. I will fix this one. I promise. But I just want to look at the hundreds of tiny, angry, and betrayed images of you. There are so many...But I cannot stand to see the pain in your eyes. But I always fix them. However, with the amount I've broken – I shall have bad luck until the day I die.
The shimmering mirror-shards float into the air and arrange themselves into one delicate sheet of reflective glass and return to the wall on which they were hung, solid. I told you I would fix it. I always keep my promises to you. I could never break one of those. Though I have broken a great deal of things.
I must admit, the only way I can look at myself now is through the eyes of others. New stores of power I have gathered have made me much more beautiful. My hair is no longer dull and like dry ink, it shimmers wonderfully, and it's like threads of silk when I pull my fingers through it. My still, raven locks are long now, past my waist. For some reason, I can't make it shorter. Maybe the length comes from some bit of power I gathered from the earth. My eyes are still black, but now they are filled with sparks of dark colors. Midnight blues, cherry reds, emerald greens.... The dark veins disappeared as soon as Rack's power – which lasted a very long time – wore off and left my skin snow white and glowing quite radiantly. My lips are a rich, bright, blood-red. My waist is smaller and my curves are slightly more drastic. I think I am far more beautiful. Because I look so different, I have had to change my wardrobe and my style of make up quite drastically. Black eye-liner, with arrows pointing outwards. All black clothes, just less bulky. More form-fitting.
I've tried to find other lovers, I have had a few. All of them blond, and busty, and as much like you as possible. They are drawn to my eerie beauty. It's that simple. They like my darkness. Would you like it if you were here now?
But they don't help. They are the ones I can touch. But they are the ones I don't want to touch. I want to touch you. But I can't. I can't ever touch you again.
The irony of life. What you want you can't have, and what you have you don't want. That's the way it is, the way it will be. And no matter how hard, I try am without you. I am without you.
A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this! Feedback is highly appreciated. Who am I kidding? Feedback is REQUIRED! So, come on, people (and extraterrestrials), put me in a review-getting high! (I write a lot when I'm on those.)