mirror shards // matthew fairchild {1}

twenty-eight // parallel

The last time Sydney was at one of these galas, everything had gone to hell. Kind of literally. Barbara had been tripped up by a monster from James's Shadow World, and it had set everything in motion that led them here.

Leaning on the balcony railing, Sydney looks out at the stars with her strange, newfound other-sight and hopes it doesn't happen again. She's had enough excitement in the past ten months to last her a lifetime.

She still doesn't entirely understand this new step past the illusions and the rage. She knows it focuses her vision, it focuses her mind, allows her to block out the things she needs to ignore in order to focus in an eerie, not-quite-natural way, as if the world slows down and goes silent and she's left standing there like an actor in a spotlight for a soliloquy. 

She knows her reflexes are faster. She knows it makes her very hard to see – not as if she's invisible, but as if people just see her and don't think anything of it, no matter what weird thing she's doing. She knows because she went right up to Charles Fairchild and thumbed her nose at him and all he did was kind of bat her hand away and keep talking to Jeremiah Lochlyn.

Sydney drops the illusion and lets the warmth and noise of the gala crash back in. She can guess where this magic comes from, but what she can't guess is what its purpose is, its telos, its final goal.

"That bastard. I can't believe –" Matthew marches out onto the balcony, slamming the glass door shut behind him with a rattling bang. "Oh, hell. Hello, Sydney. I didn't realize you were out here."

"What bastard?" asks Sydney. "What's going on?"

"Alastair," says Matthew. "He went and corrupted our Thomas and I had to set them both straight."

Sydney puts her head in her hands. "What'd you say?"

"I told Tom about what Alastair said about his father and my mother. And I told him what he said about your father and you."

"Matthew." Sydney plants a hand on her hip. "You told him that and you didn't ask me if you had permission to tell it?"

Matthew blinks. "But – he needs to know, Sydney. He needs to know the truth."

"Matthew, I broke into the Academy accountant's office with a slide rule, I'm lucky I didn't get myself expelled with the four of you. Nobody was paying anybody anything, least of all for my spot in the class. It didn't matter that I was a girl, I earned my seat fair and square like everybody else. Case closed. I confronted him about it myself. And I made my peace with it. It's my story and I get to decided who hears it and when."

"Sydney, I'm –"

"Sorry. I know." Sydney swallows, hard. "This is how it's gonna be, isn't it?"

"How what's going to be?"

"Us. The two of us, together. We have our good moments, and we have our passionate ones, and then we have this. Where I throw your flask into the river and you tell Thomas about my rumors and one of us yells at the other one and we always repair it but how long can we keep repairing it for? Fuck, Matthew, I started this because I saw you in the space I was three months ago and I was trying to fix it. And then I fell in love. That's no way to start a relationship."

"Sydney –" Matthew reaches out for her, his eyes wide with distress.

Sydney pulls back. She's expecting Matthew to pursue her across the balcony, almost hoping he will, but he doesn't. He just stands here.

"Sydney," he says, "don't do this to yourself. Please."

"I'm not doing anything to myself," Sydney says. "I screwed it up and I don't know how to fix it. I didn't ask you about any of this, Math. I didn't ask if you wanted my story, or my clumsy attempts at healing, or my desire, or my love. I didn't ask if you wanted me overtaking your life like this. I just barged on in, and..."

"Syd – Melbourne. Can I call you that? Melbourne. I – I reorganized entire pieces of my life. Because of you, or for you, or in reaction to you..." Now Matthew approaches her. "If you end this what do I have then? I've got a bunch of reorganized pieces around a big jagged hole. If you really want this to end, I'm not going to stop you, but please don't end it because you think that'll make things better for me. Because it's only going to make it worse."

"So then how do we fix it? Tell me."

"I'll make you a deal. James says you're getting a flat? Yes? No?"

"Yes. It's in –"

"Ap! Don't tell me, not yet. Here's this: we call it for a week. We go back to being friends, or we try to. It'll give us some time to think about how we want to go forward. End of the week, if you want to end this permanently, meet me at the bridge, and we can do it properly there. If you want to keep seeing me like this, you send me the address for the flat. I'll meet you there, and we'll talk. Deal?"

"Deal." Sydney reaches out and shakes his hand. "I'll see you next Friday."

_____________
Author's Notes:
So I wrote the last two chapters and I was going to try to stretch them out longer, but then I caved and I was like, "Nah, I feel like updating in the middle of the afternoon on a Thursday."