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Title: Preening
Author: Ky
Notes: Written mid 2007. Probably a dare, as well.
***
One day, he looks
in the mirror and sees the face of an old man staring back at him.
The face is wrinkled, the hair is grey. Lines around
the old man's face do not speak of laughter; they tell of sorrow and worry.
Two dark eyes are clouded as they stare
back at him; the once bright pupils reflect hardship and times of trouble.
When did this happen? He asks himself,
touching the mirror as if it were an illusion in water that would morph when he touched it, rippling under the pads of his
fingers.
The face remains.
He smiles and watches as more creases form.
When he runs a hand through the
hair, strands cling to his fingertips and he eyes the receding hairline with distaste.
Chakotay wonders at the life
of this old man. Wonders if the lines are more deceptive than he imagines.
Was there love in this mans life? Family?
Did he marry? Build a home? Live a good life?
He knows the answers, of course, but the enigmatic look on the old man's
eyes is enough to make him question it.
Does the face tell a different story to the one I know?
He sighs.
The
only saving grace against the old man in the mirror is the woman that stands behind him, watching his scrutiny with a raised
- also grey - eyebrow.
"You never used to be this vain." She says, touching her hand to his arm.
He agrees,
nodding. "I never used to be this old."
"I'm not exactly a spring chicken either, you know!" She laughs and it's still
the rich, throaty laugh that he used to think of as whiskey and seduction all of those years ago.
Turning to her, he
runs a hand through her long grey hair, noting that no strands part from her head.
He used to love her hair; its rich
auburn colour fascinated him for years before he had her in his life and in his bed.
Now, however, there is no trace
of the auburn left, but he loves it - and her - all the same. "Ah, but you're beautiful."
"And you're distinguished."
"Says
you."
A hand moves to her hip in a familiar gesture and her gaze hardens. "My opinion is the only one that matters."
"Yes,
dear."
"Come on, we're going to be late for our granddaughters birthday if you don't stop preening in the mirror."
Chakotay
stares into the mirror for a moment, taking one last look at the old man. The face that stares back at him now is alight with
happiness and the lines of sorrow from just a moment ago clearly tell of laughter and light now.
"Hey!" He protests
as her words penetrate his distracted mind, "I do not preen!"
***
End
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