The OutsideTheLines
Feature of the Month

For December, 1998

The "Guess the Author" Challenge

"Behind the Mirror Lies..."

By "Reflection"

DISCLAIMER: The X-Men and all related characters are the property of Marvel Comics Group. Twinkies belong to Hostess. (and taste great frozen!!) -- David@OTL

[Please note: I gave this name to this author, please don't sue. -David]

Jean Grey-Summers looked straight at me, pointed a finger and hissed,

"I swear to God, if Scott sings ĎMacArthur Parkí in the shower one more time, Iím going to leave his cake out in the rain!" She heaved a heavy sigh and then walked away.

Apparently, she needed to get that off her chest.

I get a lot of that. People walk up to me, look at me, see themselves through my eyes and often spout off about something that is getting their goat.

There are worse jobs, I guess.

Jubilee came up to me one day with a real winner.

"I have to say it. Out of every guy here, Drake has the best ass!"

I have to admit that he does have a firmly toned butt. I even caught Elizabeth pinching it one day. That was a long time ago. She pinches Worthington these days, but thatís hardly a secret.

I admit Iím mean sometimes. There are days when people look at me and donít feel so good about themselves. I have been known to accentuate the negatives every now and again.

Everyone has off days. And besides, I make up for it. The days when people see themselves through me and all they see is beauty and wonder...

I help there, too.

Basically, though, I just hang around and hear what no one else hears.

Like the time Logan glared at me and murmured that he really didnít like his hair.

Who would have seen that one coming?

Now, admittedly, there are others like me who are closer to some inhabitants of this mansion.

I understand that in the bedroom there are all sorts of confidences, dreams and desires whispered that I am not privy to and probably never will be. I just wasnít designed to be in a bedroom. Iím too large, I think. Or too ornate.

Itís not as though people actively seek me out. Any secrets shared with me are spur of the moment. They breeze by me and cast a glance out of the corner of their eye.

In that glance they see the eyes of an old friend and that gives them pause. That pause brings out the anger, the desire, the wish or the secret. Itís a nice way to pass the time.

Did I mention the joke that I share with Scott?

Thatís a good one! Scott hid Hankís Twinkies one day. Everyone thought it was Bobby. While Hank was grilling Bobby for the whereabouts of his beloved snack (and Iíve seen him sneak into the kitchen for those cakes so many times I have, quite frankly, lost count) Scott looked at me and we shared the smallest of conspiratorial smiles. I donít know why Scott did it, but I have never been one to reason why. Iím really just an observer.

I do remember thinking that if one hung around long enough one would eventually see everything.

Shh! Here comes Charles!

The soft hum of the hoverchair quietly announced Charlesí arrival in the foyer. He paused in front of the large foyer mirror and looked at it thoughtfully. It had hung in his familyís mansion for two generations. Charles met his own eyes in the mirror and a small smile crept across his face. He pointed at his reflection.

"I know what youíre thinking!"

Chuckling softly, Charles exited the foyer in the direction of the kitchen.

See what I mean? Hang around long enough and you see everything.

The End

The song the Scott is murdering, "MacArthur Park" is performed by Donna Summer.

Give up?

This story was written by Dandelion!!!

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©David D. Amaya

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