Date:         Sun, 10 Jan 1999 20:54:16 -0500 
From: vampwrtr@INNOCENT.COM 
Subject:      The Mask and Mirror 1/1 
To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU 

usual disclaimers.  permission to mel moser to archive.  comments to author
at:  vampwrtr@aol.com

FOREVER KNIGHT

"The Mask and Mirror"

for J, mea culpa

based loosely upon "Prospero's Speech"
by Wm. Shakespeare

The sound of the slamming door still echoed in his head.  He had reacted
like he always had; with stoic mask firmly in place, and not a word from
his heart.  It was not in him to be any other way.  Not now, not ever.  A
character flaw, or a flaw by design?  This only he could answer.

He knew that she had only wanted to comfort him, to be allowed to love him.
But he had never really been able to abide it, much less accept it.  He
became even more difficult at the times he really needed to lean on others.
He saw it as a weakness, and he was never one to tolerate weakness in
anyone, much less himself.

She could not have known the impact her words and actions could have had
upon him, for he could not find it within himself to acknowledge his
vulnerability.  He kept it well hidden, especially from himself.  No sooner
had she left him, however, the mask fell away, and the mirror appeared.
The mirror of self examination and remorse.

What he saw in that mirror should not have come as a surprise.  It was not
as if he did not know himself.  Two thousand years and all his experience
would not have allowed for that.  Yet still, he was indeed surprised.  The
ugliness of his own soul shocked him.  Janette had tried many times to be
close to him, to be a daughter, indeed, a friend; and he always reacted in
the same way.  He pushed her as far away as he could, convincing himself
that it was for her own good.

"Strength is in one's ability to remain separate, Janette," he had often
told her, "allow a small access into your heart, and it will be the
beginning of your downfall."

But surely it was for her own good.  Was it not?  He was still not certain
which of them he was protecting.  He looked again in the mirror, at the man
with the fallen mask.  The icy blue eyes which stared back at him, haunted
him, for they showed two thousand years of self-loathing and overwhelming
anguish.  LaCroix had to look away.

He looked toward the door through which Janette had retreated.  He could go
after her.  He could say that it had all been an awful misunderstanding.
She would hold her arms out to him, in the offering of an embrace.  And
that was the worst knowing for him:  She would forgive him almost anything.
He was not deserving of it; even he understood that truth.

No, he would not compound it by seeking her comfort.  He looked again in
the mirror, and knew by the icy stare which greeted him, that he would
never change.  He would always be a protector, a friend if she needed him;
but he could not lean on her in his own grief.  It was who he was.  He
hoped she could exonerate him for his nature.

As the countenance in the mirror grew dark, the mask fell back into place.
LaCroix abruptly left the apartment and walked heavily down the stairs,
toward his soundbooth.  He saw no one as he passed through the door and sat
down in his chair.  He flipped a button on the console.  The red on air
light engaged, and cast an eerie glow across his masked face.  He leaned
into the microphone, and spoke in his most velvety laced baritone.

"Looking for forgiveness, mes amis?  Here on Nightwatch, our motto is that
forgiveness is a four-letter word, begged for by emotional cowards.  But in
the event that any of you is in need of a verse, I offer these lines from
Mr. Shakespeare.  Apologies to him, wherever he may be.....

"And now my charms are all o'erhrown.  And what strength I have's mine own.
Which is most faint; now t'is true, I must here be released by you."

He paused, closing his eyes momentarily.  It had been centuries since he
had thought of the bard's words, and he was paraphrasing badly as it
was.....

"But release me from my bands, With the help of your good hands.  Gentle
breath of yours my sails, Must fill, or else my project fails.

"Which was to please.  Now I want Spirits to enforce, art to enchant.  And
my ending is despair, Unless I be relieved by..... ....prayer.

"Which pierces so that it assaults, Mercy itself and frees all fault.  As
you from crimes would pardon'd be, Let your indulgence set me free."

As he punched a button on the console, and the on air light went dark, a
solitary tear streaked a path down his cheek.  He could only seek solace
and comfort from knowing that Janette would understand.  She would
understand that a being such as him, could not tolerate removing the mask.
He could not tolerate the clarity of the mirror.  The mirror of his soul
was cracked and damaged, perhaps beyond repair.  He would have to live with
that burden, alone.

fin

10 January 1999

end 1/1
vampwrtr@innocent.com
http://members.aol.com/vampwrtr/forever_lacroix/