[fic] Hʏᴘɴᴏᴛɪsᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴍɪʀʀᴏʀs. Yᴏᴜ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡɪɴᴅᴏᴡ.

[ohstarryeyed]

 On the rare occasion Brax isn’t in his study, Cassie still goes there to sit and entertain herself. She knows, eventually, he’ll make his way back there. If it weren’t for these quiet times, she would be sure he practically lived in his study – but it seems even Brax has to sleep at some point. She seems to find out plenty of weird things about him these days, the more she gets to know him. His sleeping patterns is definitely one of them. He never seems to sleep every night like she does. It must be part of that whole thing of being a Time Lord. Or something. Aliens are weird.

She lounges with an array of sheets about her, scribbling down new ideas for songs to write in silence until a familiar voice breaks it with a loud, unhappy sigh and an uttering of:

“Oh for Rassilon’s sake, where have you gone now?”

She almost jumps, looking up from her work and looks immediately to the door. But the voice hasn’t come from the door, but in the direction of Brax’s desk and Cassie sits in bewilderment for a few moments until she finally speaks.

“Irving?”

There’s a long silence and when she hears him speak again, there’s almost a very, very slight reluctance to speak in his voice. “Cassie?”

Cassie stands suddenly, knocking her pieces of paper to the floor, still looking around. “Yeah, it’s me.” She still can’t see him. “Where the bloody hell are you?”

Another hesitant pause. “The mirror.”

She stops for a moment, wondering if she actually heard right. The mirror? Surely, of all things, a mirror would just be a mirror and not something weirdly alien. But then again, this is Brax and she can’t say she knows him best. Really, anything could go. She heads over. She’d never paid much notice to the mirror on the wall before. It’s… just a mirror, after all.

But as soon as she sees him standing there, looking back at her in place of her reflection she does a double take.

“Irving…?” she peers into the mirror then peers behind her. “What’re you doing in there? This is a mirror, right?”

“Ah, well, yes.” He replies. “Although, not… entirely.”

Cassie frowns for a few moments, “Right. You’re gonna have to start explaining.”

It turns out the mirror isn’t just a mirror. But more of a… communication device of sorts. He doesn’t give away much, of course. But enough for Cassie to work out she isn’t talking to the same Brax, but another, from another time.

“So you’re Irving… from the future?”

“I am.” There’s a small smile.

“So… where am I then?” she asks with a small frown.

“Right now? You’ve gone home for a short while to visit your family.” He tells her, “You’ll be back tomorrow, I believe.”

“But… I mean, why’s he… why are you.” She gestures vaguely. “Why’s this a thing?”

“A number of reasons,” he shrugs a little. “On occasion, you come up.”

“He asks about me?”

“Well.” He considers it for a moment. “Truthfully, yes.”

There’s a beat. Cassie frowns. “Questions about me. As in… wanting to know things about me?”

His lack of answer says it all. She seethes for a moment, clearly unimpressed.

“I’m going to bloody kill him.”

Brax can’t help but look amused for a moment, a small smile twisting the corners of his mouth. It soon straightens when Cassie catches it, not impressed in the slightest. “And don't you dare laugh because I’ll come through this mirror and kill you too.”

She knows it sounds stupid. She doesn’t care.

“You can hardly blame a man for trying, Cassie.” He points out calmly.

“But it’s cheating.” She explodes, “It’s not fair. You can’t just reach for the walkthrough guide when the game’s too hard, that’s cheating! I don’t get to do that!”

“You could.” He shrugs, although there’s something in his face that looks like he already knows the answer. “Whenever I’m not around. You could always use this to speak to myself here.”

“No, Irving.” She snaps and sighs. “I won’t do that. No easy way-outs.”

She folds her arms across her chest, turning away from him. She’s angry, very much so. The fact he would try to use his futureselves just for ease of getting to know her or well… it’s almost as if he’s finding ways to deal with her. That’s something that hurts her much more than anything else. It’s almost like lying. He’s lying to her. Finding the easy way instead of actually being real about any of this. And that hurts.

“Cassie.”

It’s only after she feels the first dribble of tears down her face does she finally move, wiping quickly at her face. “Go away, Irving.”

He’s silent for a few moments before he inclined his head. “If it means anything at all, I’m very sorry.”

By the time she turns around again, he’s gone.

Cassie pulls in a shaky breath, wiping at her eyes once more. “Stupid man.” She utters miserably, turning away from the mirror and returning to her seat. She bends to collect her pieces of paper that she’d knocked to the floor when she got up. “Stupid, stupid man.” Throwing herself back in her seat, she silently rages. She doesn’t know how long it is until he gets back but she’s actually going to kill him.

He’s going to get hell about this.

Comments

[needsmust]

It takes a moment or three before Brax - the Brax of the current timeline and not the ghost of his future self that lives in the mirror - returns to his study. As much as he's content to spend the majority of his time there, so to are there things that require his personal attention. The general maintenance of the assorted systems that keep the weather working as it should, various administrative duties, certain acquisitions that only he is capable of dealing with correctly... such is the way of his life. Today, it happens to be that last that's occupied his attention, and it's only after he's made sure said acquisition is safely set up in the proper gallery that he makes his way back to his study.

Unfortunately, the fact that it's his future self that Cassie's spoken to means that he has not even the slightest idea of what's in store for him. As such, he walks through the door without even the slightest care in the world - as far as he's concerned it's a day just like any other thus far.

[ohstarryeyed]

The fact he isn't long means he's not away long enough for her anger to subside, which in all honesty, she's glad for. Anger is hard to keep going, especially for her. Being angry just... isn't her nature. She struggles to stay angry for very long but this is something she wants and needs to be angry for because how dare he. How dare he and why did she even think it would even be a good idea ending up here, barely knowing him?

She's up on her feet, almost as if it's the anger that's carrying her - pushing her to move. Her hands curl into fists and she nearly does punch him but for some reason, she thinks against it and loosens her right hand. She doesn't say anything, her face clearly saying it all. She's pissed off, at him, and he deserves every part of what comes next.

Taking a swipe, her hand collides with his cheek with a resounding snap with enough force that it actually hurts her and she can feel her fingers burning in pain. She pulls in a breath: "You lying, cheating idiot of a man that I--"

Was stupid enough to run off with. She stands, glowering at him, shaking with a sheer fury that almost makes her raise her hand again. There's venom in her voice, one so rare that she would probably frighten any one else she knew.

"I'm fucking done with this. All of it. You."

He's never heard her swear yet, not that she can think of, that is. She doesn't swear normally, doesn't particularly like to. She certainly doesn't use his last name either. It's always Irving. Mr. Braxiatel if she's playfully annoying him. But she's hurt. Betrayed might be another word. She doesn't even know how much of them is build on lies, trying to find the easy way out to well... deal with her. "I'm fucking done with you, Braxiatel."

[needsmust]

The crack of her hand striking his cheek echoes in the room, and for a long moment, Brax is quite simply stunned. In fact, he looks very nearly poleaxed, even if the expression on his face might read more as mildly bemused were it anyone but him. But even so, it's clear that her actions have come quite completely out of left-field. It is clear that she's angry about something, yes, but about what he can't for the life of him figure out. It's been a normal day, as far as he's concerned; nothing in that should have prompted this sort of anger.

It leaves him speechless for a moment or three, too, and that's perhaps the greater sign of his confusion, his hand rising to where she's struck him although it hovers inches from his face rather than touching the reddened skin left behind.

"Cassie?"

It's a single word, but it's offered hesitantly. As if he's not certain where to start but is aware that he has to start somewhere; has to say something rather than just boggle at the complete oddity of this whole situation. He manages, too, to not ask if everything's alright. It's obvious enough that things are very badly wrong, and even if that leaves his single comment to stand on its own he figures better that than end up saying something he'll regret given the current mood of the room.

[ohstarryeyed]

"You--You--!"

She can't actually get the words out in her anger. She stares at him incredulously for a few moments, shaking. Even the breaths she forces herself to take shake and she struggles to actually take air in. Her hand burns still from the slap and it takes just about all the self-restraint she has not to slap him again.

"How dare you." she spits, "You--you lied. You--"

She pulls in another breath, tries to. Her chest hurts, she still can't get air into her lungs, can't quite catch her breath. It's in her face, ever-so-slightly, under all the anger. Something that's clearly pain.

She's never felt this angry before and she doesn't know why it very literally hurts and why it's hard to breathe. But it does. There's the emotional hurt, the fact she feels hurt by him, but there's this other hurt too and she tries very hard to push it away.

"Is this what you do all day?" she hisses, "Sit and talk to yourself in that bloody mirror of yours? Getting all your answers?"

[needsmust]

There's a moment of silence, as Brax takes in this new information. It's certainly not the first time he's been accused of lying (a side effect of his chosen profession, really), but it is the first time that it's come like this. Even if only because the last time had involved a good deal less physical contact.

(For which there were a number of reasons, but the point still stands.)

"Cassie," he begins, letting his voice show a little more emotion that it might normally, in the hopes that it might help matters, "you've been here for stretches of time. Long enough to at least see that I'm hardly always talking to myself. Things would never get done, if I did!"

For now, he's not addressing the matter of having potentially gotten answers for his future self and while this may, in fact, prove to be a mistake in the long run, his hope is that perhaps if he defuses some of the tension and anger in the air first it'll make it easier to explain the finer details of his discussion with his future self.

[ohstarryeyed]

Cassie stares at him, absolutely livid. His answer does nothing to make her feel better about the whole situation. He avoiding it, avoid it completely. That hurts her more. Because now, of all times, she deserves a little more direct answers from him. Yet here he is, skirting the issue.

In fact, it makes her only want to smack him again. She very nearly does, but instead she reaches for him and grabs him roughly by the labels of his suit jacket, balling up the fabric in her fists.

"Don't even try to be funny about this, Irving Braxiatel." she sneers, starts trying to shove him back. He's in trouble. So much trouble. "I'm not in the bloody mood for you trying to be a smartarse."

[needsmust]

He startles, for a brief moment, when her hands fist into the cloth of his jacket and if anything that's what tells him that either this is more serious than he'd expected or that he's gotten things wrong somehow. Or possibly both, he amends a moment later, although it's still too early which is the more accurate. But that brief moment is all he offers, before he digs in his heels (more so literally than metaphorically, in this case). Something is wrong, yes, but soulmate or no, he will not suffer himself to be shoved around willy-nilly.

(And never mind the fact that it might actually help make things less tense over all.)

"I'm not," he answers, and for all that it's not much of an answer - and likely not what she wants to hear besides - it's perfectly honest. "And..." there's a pause there, as he reaches for what he's learned of navigating moments like these, details pulled in bits and snatches from both his own experiences and things that his future selves have implied "I am sorry."

Exactly what he's apologizing for, he's not entirely certain. But he does mean it. He's not so blind as to miss that there's been a misstep somewhere, although he deeply regrets the fact that his future self has been involved. Things always have been more difficult in those cases and it means that he'll know of this moment when it comes round to his turn to be on the other end and yet will be utterly unable to change the outcome of it.

(The sort of paradox that comes naturally of doing something because you know you will always have done it, that he can live with. But not the sort that would come of altering a moment like that.)

[ohstarryeyed]

The anger fizzles out of her. She's been holding on to it for too long while she waited on him getting here. The initial blaze of it when he first arrives dies down both by her inability to keep it and the sincerity of his apology. She wants to be mad at him, wants to stay mad at him - but she's struggling. He is sorry, he does mean it - but whether she knows he knows about what he's sorry for - is another matter.

Silently, she lets go of him and turns away, putting her hands to her face. She draws a breath, trying to settle herself. "I can't do this."

Wiping furiously at her eyes, she shakes her head. "Having mirrors to talk to yourself is one thing," she tells him, "But using them as a cheater's way out, using them to find things out about me..."

Another shake of her head. "I can't--I can't do it. I can't have it." She's had long enough to mull it over, what it means, what it means to her. "I mean," she turns back to him, gesturing between them. "Does this mean nothing? So... little that you have to cheapen it?"

[needsmust]

There is, perhaps, some truth to the fact that no relationship is without its ups and downs. And he supposes that something like this was bound to happen sooner or later - he is rather badly out of practice with the idea of friendship in general, and adding the complications of a soulbond into the mix besides only makes things that much more difficult. But honesty... that he can do, at the very least.

"I wouldn't say I learned anything," he answers after a brief moment of silence, and it's still honest, for all there's a sort-of bitter self-recrimination lurking just under the surface of his words. "I won't deny I asked, but he - my future self - refused to say anything. Remembering this conversation, I rather expect."

And given that his cheek still stings where she slapped him, he can't blame his future self either, for all that he knows better than to mention that particular fact.

"And, not in the least. It means everything to me. That's why I wanted to ask in the first place, to make sure that there wasn't something I'd been missing, or something I could be doing better."

It's a very strange sort of logic, to be perfectly honest. But he very clearly means what he's saying, too, and though the emotion in his voice is still comparatively understated it's enough to speak to the fact that he had been genuinely concerned about the idea that he might not have been living up to her standards, even if his chosen method of trying to find out had been... less than ideal.

[ohstarryeyed]

She shakes her head at that. The anger continues to fizzle away, almost entirely dampened. She doesn't care on what he did or didn't get about her from his future-self. "It's the fact you tried." she tells him, "It should never have gotten to this conversation in the first place. Because it should never have been happening."

She stares at him incredulously. It is a strange logic, one she can't agree with in the slightest. He's known, since the start, more about this whole bond between them than she ever has. She has no high standards, she has no standards to make because she didn't know what to create. She's only ever wanted his friendship; with no lying, no easy ways around things.

"I don't want you to be perfect." There's disappointment in her voice, bubbling forward from the initial hurt. "I never wanted you to be perfect."

And he's an idiot if he thought she expected him to be.

"It's not how it works. I want to be your friend and you mine." she tells him, "Friendships are built on learning things the long way, on making mistakes, finding things out for yourself. I-- I don't want perfect, it's not point-scoring for my approval."

[needsmust]

She might not have any particularly high standards for what this should be, where they should end up. But it always has been too easy for him to assume that people hold him to the same sort of standards that he holds himself to. Especially in a vacuum, as is the case here. True, he might be more than aware that Cassie is nothing at all like the politicians and social-climbers that he's spent long centuries dealing with, but even now old habits die hard. Not to mention that fact that this very occurrence means that he'll be unable to warn himself of this, down the line. It has happened and it will happen and to change that would be to chase worse paradoxes than the little ones that come of crossing his own timestream.

But he does, at least, listen to what she's saying. It's the least he can do, after having unwittingly driven her to the point of anger with his actions.

"It's... been a very long time since I had an honest friend. Nor can I deny that I've gotten very used to needing to be... beyond reproach, if not precisely perfect."

[ohstarryeyed]

It's perhaps a hard lesson to learn. She's different to his life, to the people he knows as much as he is different to her and the people she's known. Pulling in a breath, the anger gone, even the disappointment leaving her. He knows he's done wrong, he accepts that - and she's glad for that.

"No one's perfect, you know." she tells him, "No one can be perfect. I'm certainly not perfect."

She's only human, after all. If she knows one thing, she knows that humanity if full of mistakes and messes, flaws and failures.

"It makes a better friendship, anyway." she says. She sighs, wiping at her face, exhausted. "Just... please. Don't lie to me, Irving. Not to me. I can tolerate a lot of things - not that. Understand?"

[needsmust]

"I've certainly known people who have tried," he offers, after a brief moment of silence. Himself not included, and in more cases than not that perfection has to stumble somewhere. But that hardly means that people don't still try. On the other hand, he understands her meaning perfectly and there's the slightest quirk of a smile with his words; just enough to suggest that he's at least trying to lighten the mood.

"But... yes. I understand."

It'll be a change from how he usually does things, but if she wants him to not lie to her, he can do that. And he'll have his future selves to keep him honest too, not that he suspects he'll need the assistance.