Title: Magic Mirrors
Author: MercuryPheonix (Your Angel of Music)
Fandom: EastEnders
Warnings: Some violent imagery, some sexual references
Spoilers: Begins in the period following Tamwar and Afia's wedding (early July, 2011).
Summary: In the midst of a turbulent period in Christian and Syed's relationship, a mysterious figure from Christian's past emerges with a revelation that rocks him to the core. In a world of uncertainty, there is only one thing that can be guaranteed: the couple's lives will never be the same again.
A/N: A huge thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed or put this on story alert so far. I couldn't do it without you. Also, a huge thanks to my beta lady in waiting, who makes sure that I treat these characters right!
'Family faces are magic mirrors. Looking at people who belong to us, we see the past, present, and future.'
~Gail Lumet Buckley
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Chapter 2
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As if on cue, the rain started to patter on the roof of Walford East station, providing an almost ominous drum roll as the young woman emerged from the gates.
She cut a striking figure amongst the usual humdrum crowds of the East End. The bleached blonde of her hair was like a beacon shooting outwards from the greys and blacks of the raised hoods; it would have been neatly cropped had it not been forced upwards, waxed spikes frozen stoically in place against the wind and rain. A few eyes glanced in her direction, lingering on her instead of bouncing off – drawn to her like a moth to a brightly coloured flame.
A shiver ran up her spine as she stepped out into the rainy street, shifting the bag further upwards onto her shoulder and drawing the dark jacket as tightly around herself as she could. The raindrops drenched the exposed skin of her face, catching hold of the dark make-up of her eyes so that it ran down her cheeks like blackened tears. Another tremble shook her body as the wind caught at her, threatening to rip the bag from her grasp as she braced herself and soldiered forward.
Her progress was stoic, but uncertain; the worried, almost fearful expression on her face providing a striking contrast to the outward image of her clothes. Her head flicked from left to right, eyes scanning the crowds that thronged the dripping street. It was clear to all around her that she was looking for something, but the brightness of her exterior, coupled with the dark, fearful stand-offishness that shone from her eyes, was like a defensive shield, deflecting anyone with intentions of offering a guiding word.
Instead, they left her to wander, the gathering puddles splashing against the material of her jeans and soaking through to the skin beneath. The weather was more reminiscent of the depths of winter than the summer months; as if the brightness had been sucked from the sky and transferred straight to the newcomer's hair.
It would have been easy to blame her. She had the resigned, wary look of someone who was used to accepting blame for things that were not necessarily her fault.
A hand came up absent-mindedly as she put one foot in front of the other, fiddling with the shot of metal that pierced the inner part of her ear. The area around the skin was reddened, and a grimace creased her features as the pads of her fingers worked the silvery stud, indicating that the wound was newly inflicted. The manipulation clearly hurt, but she continued anyway, twisting with more force and sinking her teeth into her bottom lip.
Suddenly, the tinny sound of a mobile ring tone split the air. The young woman started, almost dropping her bag onto the sodden ground as she fumbled around in her pocket for her phone.
Eventually she drew the phone from her pocket – but made no attempts to stop the ringing. Instead her eyes fixed on the screen, fingers vibrating as her thumb hovered, frozen, over the keys.
"You gonna answer that, love?"
She jerked upwards as a jovial voice cut through her reverie, suspicion clouding her features as she was met by the friendly – far too friendly, for her liking anyways – face of Alfie Moon.
"Actually," her voice was slightly shaky, yet with a ring of determination as she punched down onto the keypad. "I don't think I will, thanks."
She pocketed the phone, readjusting the bag on her shoulder and making to head off in the opposite direction.
"Woah, hang on, love," Alfie shimmied around her, effectively blocking her path. Her eyes seemed to flash daggers, shooting outwards to wrap her would-be aggressor in their dark, muddy-brown depths. Alfie took a step backwards, creating a bubble of personal space around her.
"You look lost," there was a note of uncertainty to his voice now, but he managed to keep an upbeat tone. "Maybe I can help you with that."
Her shoulders dropped a little, like a spring loosening some of its tension – not wound quite as tightly, but still capable of unleashing itself with some force should the situation arise.
"Okay," her tongue came out to swipe at a raindrop on her top lip. "Okay."
"What's your name, darlin'?"
A huffing laugh bubbled up from her chest.
"Can we just…y'know…skip the names and go straight to the getting me where I want to go? I'm not particularly keen on giving out my name to complete strangers. Sorry."
"Nah, don't be. S'probably sensible, anyway," he managed to look suitably abashed as he shrugged, tripping slightly over his words. "So, what you lookin' for then?"
The newcomer shifted almost uncomfortably, her gaze dropping to the floor as the sun began to crack through the clouds; as if the sudden glare was a spotlight, singling her out when what she really wanted was to fade into the scenery.
"I'm not…I'm not looking for something. I'm looking for someone…" she took a breath. "Christian Clarke. I'm looking for Christian Clarke. You probably don't…I mean, I'm probably wasting my time …but…"
"I know Christian," the young woman's head shot up, fixing Alfie with a penetrating glare.
"You do?"
"Yeah, saw him working out in the park earlier. Not seen him since, but he usually pops down to the watering hole in between clients to refuel the tank. I can take you over there, if you'd like, once I've grabbed a few bits for the missus. You up for that?"
There was a moment of silence that seemed to stretch for an eternity. The newcomer took a few slow, deep breaths, her fingers coming up to fiddle with her newly pierced ear as the other hand clenched tightly on the strap of her bag. For a brief second she glanced backwards towards the train station, as if weighing up the possibility of retreat – but her head snapped back suddenly, her whole body twisting towards Alfie as she nodded.
"Yes, please," there was a stubborn, almost infantile determination to her voice which Alfie found scarily familiar. "Go on then. I wanna see him. Take me to see him."
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Christian's fingers toyed with the rim of the bottle, running gently around round the glass as his eyes ran over the papers spilling from the torn packaging. He'd stuffed them into his sports bag on the way to his first client, unable to leave them in the flat as if they were tethered by the heartstrings. But he'd felt them all day, a thrumming presence only he could sense.
Like a dog and a dog whistle. Great.
He took another swig of the beer, swilling it about in the bottle and watching the sloshing liquid intently.
He'd originally only come in for a lemonade – he'd originally considered an orange juice, but the childish side of him had quickly decided that that was off the menu, at least until Syed would tell him just what it was he was doing wrong. It was silly, but he couldn't help it. There was a strange sense of satisfaction that came from rejecting something as simple as Syed's drink of choice.
Somewhere between stepping over the threshold of the Vic and handing over his money to Kat, a lemonade had morphed into a bottle of beer. Somewhere even further down the line, a bottle of beer had turned into two.
His fingers tightened around the neck, forcing it to his lips to take another mouthful before slamming it back down onto to the table. He'd had another two clients booked in today, but he'd had to ring up and reschedule; the clients he'd had this morning had mentioned to him that he'd not been as alert and focused as he normally was during their work outs. He'd had to lie and pretend that he'd woken up with a headache.
He'd seen the knowing look they'd given him as he said goodbye and shuffled away to the pub.
Hungover.
If only it was that simple, he thought to himself as his fingers left the bottle and began to play with the corner of the package.
He could never have believed, during all those years of partying and blessed solitude that a simple package in the mail could drive him to the depths of insanity that he felt he'd been driven to today. Then again, he'd never have believed that an empty bed could make him feel as though the four horsemen of the apocalypse had come trotting through the bedroom.
He guessed he was learning a lot about himself recently.
Only problem was, he thought as he picked up the photograph that lingered on top of the pile of papers, there were certain things that he would much rather have remained oblivious about. He'd had enough worries swirling about in his mind to last a lifetime and now...
His finger brushed over the image on the paper, smudging a finger mark onto the face staring up at him. He had no idea what to do. He'd never thought that…well, let's just say that there was a large part of him that was screaming and thrashing and railing about the impossibility of it all. Call it denial, call it bloody-mindedness, call it the vain hope of an easier life, but…
"Hey, Christian!"
Christian looked up, quickly flipping the photograph and pressing the face into the table top.
"It's only just gone lunchtime, mate, you wanna watch how much of that you're chucking down your neck."
Christian forced a quick smile, Alfie's incessant 'cheeky-chappy' demeanour having exactly the opposite effect to what was obviously intended. Usually, he found himself swept along in the waves of joviality – today, he just wanted to drown in the bottle of liquor rather than have it inflicted upon him for one more second.
"Yeah, well, some circumstances call for extreme measures," he took another swig to prove his point. "Anyway, I'm in the middle of a very important meeting with the alcohol, so if there's something you were after then I suggest that you…" he waved his hand in the air to move on the conversation. Alfie let out a harmless little smirk, but nodded.
"I found this one in the Square," he stepped to the side, gesturing with his hand at the previously-shadowed figure behind him. "Said she was looking for you. Right proper lost, she was, so I thought I'd give her a nudge in the right direction and…"
But Christian wasn't listening anymore.
He was more concerned with the young woman who had stepped forward into the light. The young woman who was the older version of the child whose face had been shining up at him from various photographs ever since that package had arrived this morning.
The young woman who had the same fearful, uncertain, yet unstoppably stubborn and abrasive glint in her eyes as he'd seen on himself in the mirror this morning.
"Thanks, Alfie, I'll take this from here," he tried his best to disguise the tremor that was rumbling deep in his chest, waving the other man away with a hasty flick of his hand. Alfie, thankfully, took the hint without any questions, moving away and behind the bar with a curious look. Once he was out of earshot, the mysterious figure stepped forward, the knuckles of her hand popping from the skin as she held the strap of her bag in a death grip.
"I'm Mara," her voice cut through the air, slightly shaky yet shot through with determination. "And I think you already know who I am."
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TBC…
Thank you for reading! If you have any comments, I'd love to hear them. Your views and comments really do help to shape this fiction.